She said,
"I'm looking for someone,
Looking for something."
I asked,
"What is it?"
She replied,
"I can't exactly remember."
I questioned,
"How will you know you've found it?"
She said,
"It's something one can't forget,
Someone never forgotten."
I asked further,
"Well, who is it?"
She said,
"I don't really know,
But I think I've seen them before.
There's an image in my head
And an idea in my mind,
They feel innate to me."
"Are they, though?"
She didn't answer,
"I think if I just do
As my parents have done
And their parents have done,
I'll be all the closer."
I just shook my head and laughed.
"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you.
I just find it funny.
You say you're searching
For something or someone,
And you only have the slightest idea
Of what that is."
"I know, it's a bit silly."
"Why, they could be
Talking to you right now
And you would never know it then!"
"Maybe, maybe not.
I'd like to think
I would recognize it, recognize them."
"Well, you don't think
You're special do you?"
"No more so than anyone else."
"So, how would you know?"
"I guess I just believe,
I have faith in that
Hope shall deliver me.
I try my hardest
To be the best I can be,
I always try to be honest
And act respectfully.
I love with all my heart
And shelter it from nobody."

"Ah, but do you reach?
Do you search your mind
As much as the tangible world?
Perhaps what you're looking for
Can't be found
Without exploring within first.
Perhaps this is the only place
It exists.
Maybe it is a mystery
Confused with fantasy,
Maybe it is a fantasy
Confused with mystery.
Perhaps it can
Only be discovered
By any one individual.
Maybe by elusion,
Made by illusion.
Perhaps it is,
Perhaps it isn't,
Maybe you're just not worthy.
Perhaps you've already eclipsed it."
I had said.
"I'm looking for someone,
Looking for something."
I said.

"What is it?"
She said.
"It's something one can't forget,
Someone never forgotten."
I said.
"Yes, but who remembers?
And what memories?"
She said.
"It's something that can't be held,
But something one must hold.
It's something that can't be told,
But something one must tell.
It's like the melody of a song,
Like the lyrics sung.
It is only as old
As it is young."
I said.
"What is it?"
She said.

"What is it?"

For those pieces you long to see put back together again,
Be the stitching which is sewn.
Let your sleeve wear your heart,
And from that sleeve
Let there be a spool fit for knitting.
In your mind, be bereft of emotion
And kindle virtue begat of logic.
Then your words may pierce like a needle Focused,
By & on all the love you know.

I scream so silently
That the voice is loud
Enough that others might hear,
In this state like a snake
My tongue is forked
So that when I speak
I am having multiple conversations
Slithering across many fields.
Like the ocean tortoise laying eggs
Ever near the shore,
My children join me in the waters
Only after they have fully formed.
You say,
Nature is yet cruel
And shall lay claim
To many of your young.
And yet,
Is it not nature who spawned them?

When one self-medicates,
Sometimes they grab the nostrum
Rather than the cataplasm.
Trying to clean the well, they mistake belladonna for myristica.
Perhaps it was the region or the season,
Maybe the water table atop which they were building.
Were it a town,
Perhaps its citizen lacked hygiene
Or had no care to maintain things.
Maybe they sparsely talked things over
And thought little of one another.
Of the many circumstances,
It could've been the building materials
Or the architects.
The dictates we lay out
For ourselves and those around us
Rarely are truly followed
In the case of relations between each other,
And typically less so
In the case of the larger world.

The old man eats his TV dinners,
He's never learned to cook.
He believes it's a woman's job
But he never quite has the nerve to approach one.
Sure, there have been some
But far & in-between.
They don't stay long,
Bar the ones who have been there
Not to love but to take.
But he was smart enough
To cut them off
And not ache for a connection
Even if it wasn't genuine.
He has sense enough
Yet, not exactly a kind which is common.
For he finds it hard
To stand on ground equidistant.
But what is normal?

Is it such a thing as loneliness or love
Which more people take apart of?
In love there is loneliness,
Just as in loneliness there is love.
Whether it is from hearts together
Who can't stand each other,
Or from hearts seperate
Yet readily love one another.
Is it such a thing as loneliness in love
Or love in loneliness
Which more people find themselves in?
Of the equal strength it takes to stay
There is someone stronger in leaving,
Of the equal weakness it takes to wane
There is someone weaker in longing.
Yet, of the unrequited,
These are but fancy words
Which don't always flower to fruition.
And love can be won through persistence,
But to some it is akin to attrition.
The foundation of it loose & unstructured,
Rather than unbound & liberated.

Perchance, by the eye which beholds;
Some think it cowardly -
Some think it bold.
To go on loving, nonreciprocal.
To go on loving, unconditional.

I'm talking to you;
Is it because I have to
Or because I want to?
I'm talking to you;
Is it to understand you
Or so I am understood?
I'm talking to you;
Is it that I like you
Or that I don't?
I'm taking to you;
Is it to hear myself
Or to be heard?
Is it solely from the verb
Or by the noun?
In this rhetoric,
Is it mine or ours or yours?
In this dialogue,
Is it gossip, chitchat, or conversation?
By the course of it
Is it chance, choice, or demand?
I'm talking to you
Or I'm talking with you?

Think it a wound
That has been cut open,
All of this
Pouring out of some person.
As blood like ichor.
Of Uranus a pouch, a receptacle, a quiver;
Time in consumption,
Like an arrow autochthonic
In the breast of existence.
Nursing the young.
Of Cronus a reflection, a refection, a ripple;
Time in digestion,
Like an innominate derivation
From the navel of continuance.
Bringing them up.
Of Zeus a reverberation, a spark, a sliver;
Time in expression,
Like an aborted secret
From the honey of speleothemas.
Shaping them out.
Of Apollo a radiance, a ray, a participle;
Time in extension,
Like an auspicious countenance
From the mucilage of angiospermae.
Birthing the echo.

This turkey pardon is nonsense,
Clearly symbolic.
But people seem to
No longer grasp the extent
To which that symbolism goes.
The gobblers which we free,
Where do they go?
To live out their lives in solitude
On a quiet reserve.
The rest?
Well, we just put them to death
Enshrined in a yearly ritual slaughter.
Nothing like that situation of the natives
When we boil off all the water..

And you may say,
"You think of it too much,
Sign to it too much importance."
But I say you think too little
And too small.
You think of all the easements
As entitlements
And not ones which we took
Through invasion and subjugation.

Plenty, long - it is pitiful.
Is it never better than to taste of it?
Empty, numb - it is pitiful.
Is it naught that is more flavorful?

In the living glass of the universe
I am a liquid,
Drink the drink.
By the marsh like mixture of life,
Split the iris,
Eye to eye.
As the electric echo of an echo
Waves as expression,
I am a particle.

I am the light

By the gypsum rose grown.
I am the order borne out of the primordial.
In weaves & webs perennial,
I am the pyramid doubled.
By the barycenter offset zero,
I am without mass & weightless.
In the predeterminants of the hypermatrix,
I am a bolt of lightning and the thunder.
By the storm of the ocean struck,
I am a standing wave in motion.

Material and immaterial.

The juxtaposition betwixt
Hope & agony is often sharp,
Short but sudden.
Yet, is pain not longer suffered
All the times worse?
And of the flames snuffed?
Is this not the worst?
Of our fatigues,
They are addressed only in comfort,
Dressed by the garbs of one who understands
Our needs for medicine.
For the soul downtrodden
And the body corrupted,
As healers or like doctors,
Those whom we love enough to be as companions.
For the best remedy of any wound is care,
Borne out of love & not necessity
But because they wish to be there.

If she were a celestial,
And I among constellations -
Then she would be the sun,
And I the moon.
Then I would be a star,
And her a heavenly angel.
Then I would beam brightly
At the mere presence of her.
Whenever needed,
Never receded
Neither eclipsed,
The light shone would be ours together
No matter the luminous object.
From the pledge of our marriage
There is a beauty so rapturous
In a love bathed to our family,
Fellow friends & strangers
To whom too are showered
In light of our joy & happiness.

"I am a victim of circumstance."
Are we not all?
Play not devoid
But freely strum the chords
Of sympathy and even empathy,
Far from pieces which are familiar,
For situations one might sparsely fathom.

When someone's fallen
Reach out a hand to help them up
Even if it slows you down,
Even when it is not expected.
For when is a fall the expectation?
And who among us is the exception?

Reflect, act, remark.
If I am to cross the line which signals finish
It will be knowing you
Have completed the marathon.
Having waded the haze that is "competition,"
In a day & age where that means so little
And should still mean less,
I will have been obscured by nothing.
For in that trek, I won;
In the journey of the sport of love
I went the distance for a companion.
When I knelt,
I chanced a "prize"
But it was you who made me champion.

5:30, 4:30 -
Up ever earlier.
40, 50, 60
Pages of the encyclopedia open.
All with tabs,
Of the many windows, pages, & folders.
Through the looking glass,
Roaming far & near as an extraterrestrial.

Love is as to a dry well,
The heart akin to the empty bucket.
I would be convinced that this is hell,
Had I not tasted of heaven.
Is this a shadow realm?
Like mirrors' reflections?
Is there someone like myself?
Aching & longing for one to reach out?
True in their intentions?

I draw on cigarettes,
Doodle with resin-
Blisters on my fingers,
They all think I'm playin'.
The colors brown & red
Are escaped when I shut my eyes,
And when I turn my face inside
I'm fine with what I see.
It's not dark, pretty light-
It's all clear skies,
Even with a chance of showers
There's always a sunrise.

How unrealistic the idealistic can be
And yet, there is still our commitment
To something far realer than any war-
When you realize it's what it's fought for.

I'm asking a question,
Yet, I already have an answer-
What is the purpose?
That the question isn't rhetorical
And that I seek your honest opinion,
Is it not to broaden my view?
In time, horizons expand
If the increments are spent
With the goal of understanding-
Otherwise, it doesn't mean a ****
And we're cursed to repeat again
That which we have already gone through.

It is out of great hate
Where it is so easy to find equal love;
For it is not my hate which I speak of.
Of the many desperate,
What makes us separate
Apart from perspective?
What keeps us from happiness?
That there is a difference,
You are measuring out the parts
And forgetting the sum.
That you choose to live in memory
And think not of the future,
Your race is already run.
Tell me, did you win?
And, if so,
What have you won?

Truly, as stated previously;
I hate nothing & I hate no one.
Dislike delight? Not I.
And what joy it is merely to be alive

That luck would so have it
And countless chain reactions
That I should be a human on this planet-
I can breathe easy staring at the sunset
As much as a sunrise.

Whatever twists, warps, & bends
I may experience;
They are all worth it
Just to exist.

When water condenses to vapors
We can curse the temperature
Or we can be grateful
For having had any liquid
So life giving.

So, life may be giving
And life may be taking-
That I strike out some balance,
It's always teetering.

Yet, I am still.

You may do exactly as one requests,
Just for them to still have complaints.
Go the extra mile,
Only to fall short.
You can be asked to speak openly,
Only to be punished for your honesty
And shamed for what are your thoughts.
Still, the strongest of us have no care
For them to cause such a thing as silence;
That I am only human,
Is this my fault?

Experience was without form,
And so I shaped instinct.
Between them was love,
And so they gave birth to intelligence-
But intelligence grew alone,
So they adopted wisdom.
And wisdom loved intelligence,
And honored their parents,
So they created a family.
There were all the emotions,
And all together they built a home.
There was the body,
Something physical to provide shelter.
We called the land Elysium,
And we were the Ethos.

The maxim has come to mean:
Forgive me for my transgressions
But don't forget them-
I fought for what I have,
So what if you were the victim?

You think you have everyone eating out of your hand
Barely & Oats-
I say, parley
Let me speak to the captain
Or whoever it is that steers the rudder
And commands the oars.
I see before me terrible animals
And in all, worse men.
You think it some great gallon,
But, to me, it looks to be
Much closer to a life boat
Punctured with holes.

I got a little book,
A LifeLog I've put
All the aggregated data I can collect.
I buy up every market share I can get
And run my little freak simulations
Where I stimulate all of life
Because I'm such a ******* coward
And obsessed with control.

What started small
Now extends to everyone
Without a concern for your privacy,
In ways wholly unconstitutional.

You know you are unworthy & undeserving,
Beneath me, love;
And yet, with shame,
You feel the same as you have always
That heart - of mine.
It is kindred, and full of lust.
Hopelessly infatuated,
Though you know we were all wrong.
You can't help it,
And you assure me it isn't obsession
For you have known that,
This is not it.

Just painfully unrequited,
For all your faults.

You are as
The silver moonlight
Which with its grace
Dances on the surface of this lake.
You, who penetrates my depths
And ripples into my being
Causing waves to quake.
I will be your shelter,
In my open arms
I will be your rest.
I will be as the caves of old,
Within me you may find peace
From the raging tempest of the world.
You may shutter your eyes and dream,
For the fire will remain
Even if to fuel it, I must burn.

To a master,
There are only slaves.
To a lord,
There are only subjects.
To a king,
But vassals.
To a boss,
Are only subordinates.
Yet, in reliance
Who rules who?

The joy of simplicity entertained,
Is the death of false airs-
Like that of the faux intellect.
Fancy as a fop,
Gay as a dandy-
Yet, still the poorest sops.
That the point went overhead,
To me, it merely was beneath me
But you could get no lower.
Just wait till you drop! :)

I know I am unworthy & undeserving,
Beneath you, love;
And yet, with shame,
I feel the same as I have always
This heart - of yours.
It is kindred, and full of lust.
Hopelessly infatuated,
Though I know we were all wrong.
I can't help it,
And I assure you it isn't obsession
For I have known that,
This is not it.

Just painfully unrequited,
For all my faults.

Be unrealistic, congratulations!
You are privileged.
And think me wrong,
I am only a realist.
If you don't like the observational
It's because you fail to see
Things as they really are
And rather, how you'd like them to be.

I urge you to put in
An abundance of thought,
Is there resemblance of the rational in what you've wrote?
The ropes are taut, caught in a knot
Of the mind besot. Break out the raincoat,
Over skin lepidote does cashmere run like the water. Its moves are rote, yet nature is mute
To those who have no want to listen.
You crave the fire but hate the smoke,
If not for the purpose it served
You'd ***** out every spark
And never let it burn.
That candle on the mantle,
Over the roaring hearth;
Fair knowledge & justice blaze the wick
Of which is human.
And even in deluge, the flame billows-
For there is nothing to put it out.
Your thinking otherwise is simply hubris.

You wear the chain around your neck,
And it reminds me much of Cain-
Cursed to wander the Earth.
That mark of the beast
Which celebrates human sacrifice,
Still better than the star.

Refulgence,
That a star should ever be penitent
For only having shone
For those who prefer the dark over light?
No.
The clouds hang heavy,
The hazy fog creeping in
Halts for some-
As for others that it overtakes,
There are those spared completely.
Like that it is arid for one,
The other views it as humid;
Your dry may be wet,
Their wet may be as the dirt of the desert.

"Malodorous," Said from one with a stench.
And the bath was drawn
But the water was reflective,
So they chose only to stink
Rather than sink.
Their sin was antisense

I know you don't think you are,
But you are capable of being loved.
No matter how much pain you've endured,
No matter how much pain you've caused
You are still deserving & worthy of love.

What are the point to these words?
To anything of language?
For the same could be said
Of all of which we do;
For understanding,
For that is care.
That I want to hear,
To want to share,
That I wish I were there.
To express my love for you,
What that is my love for life.
That I lived & it was good.
What I think-
There were negatives,
But I developed my own pictures.

If you ask who this is,
It's not important.
That a man has a name,
What is its purpose
But recognition?
I don't care about the hate,
But I don't want praise-
Yet, I would hate to leave you in confusion.
The double edged knife,
When the answers hurt us both.
Perhaps it's better not knowing.

I have an answer,
I had one prior to the question-
So, why ask?
I would rather wonder
Than assume to know fact,
Even if I am proven wrong.
Even if it is painful.

I never usually dream,
But I dream of you
And the fact that I do is torturous.
Perhaps, it is punishment
For what my mind perceives as guilt.
And like every poor sod
I wonder,
Do you think of me too?

Spitting up blood;
Living, dying,
What's its worth?
I feel as the Emerald Ash Borer,
Hated by those around me
And stamped upon
Until I am eradicated
Whilst those same people
Attempt to find some use from me
Before I am killed.
These are not loving societies,
Reflected in our treatment of others;
It was very nice to have known all of you.

What will the horizon bring us?
I wonder,
Can you feel my heart?
In dawns of days gone,
In coming eves of twilight;
When I said
I shall always love you,
I meant it.
And days now start
Within a sky where there is no sun,
Within the dark of night, no stars;
Inside of me there is light
All formed from the memories
Of two kids in love, young.
Spiderwebs still entrap
Yet the venom is tapped-
How I wish I was still poisoned.

Closer in time,
Your heart is
Aching in your chest.
Fading lights
The stars wander
Out of the sky, just chance.
And inside
The warmth of
Just one more night.
From my lungs
I feel a tugging
Catching my breath.

In your sea, I am but a drop
Yet, you are my ocean.
On the field of love, I am but a rock
And you are the mountain.
I feel as sisyphus,
In love with his punishment-
But I've pushed too much.
This torture is redundant,
We get nowhere and feel as though
Further down the hill.
And yet, I love you as such
I would never cease pushing
Till my heart stops
And muscles grow still.
For what is love
To the stone heart?

Lovingly, to fall for Medusa
Onto my own sword.
For were I tasked to **** her
I should sooner forgo my life
So that she may have her own.
For I looked into the eyes of the Gorgon
With my last breath,
And when she spoke
It was clear she was no monster
But a disgraced goddess.
Never did I turn to stone.
As I lay lifeless, she wept
And offered her *****.
Every touch was like lightning,
Though I was the center of the storm;
She showed me kindness
The likes of I had never known before.
And when I was revived
I wept too.

Be the recluse,
Be the hermit,
And make your assessments of others
Based on short and fleeting interaction,
Drenched in the sweat of "purpose" & "agenda,"
And be met with statements
Which really convey nothing and rarely
Encapsulate honest thought in brevity
But are said only to end the conversation.
Close knit,
The threads choke,
Living your turtleneck life.
No collar to be turned up,
The cotton already hugs your throat;
Nothing to end abrupt,
That which never saw its start.
Those who talk
Simply to hear themselves,
Do they have anything to say?
Those with the blinders on,
They never see the entrance ramp
Neither the turn-offs
Till it's too late.

Some Conway Cabal;
It's a regular circus,
In the capitol.

You should follow the law,
And if it's wrong
It should **** you off
And make you motivated for change.
Motive with your discipline should result in action,
Whether you merely speak out for what you believe,
In verbal or physical protest.
Your ancestors had freedoms to yours in fractions
And wealth the same,
Still they fought
To edge out a line in the sand
For a land with equal rights for every man.
Do you wish to return to such old & backward ways
As feudal days with no say?

I have no stock in a generation
Who does not care whether
There is social security enough left
To secure my retirement,
A system I have paid into tiringly.
If you want to end it
Be sure I receive my back checks,
Or risk being strung by the neck.
I have no assurances
I will even be allowed to retire,
Only assured those in the house
Could not care less
As to such questions of great importance.
They busy themselves with war,
While we suffer and only grow more poor
And have no interest in developing industry or infrastructure here at home.
They know nothing of the branch
Only the rich fruit of the olives,
Whatever ripe can be harvested.
Yet, they know not how to sow.

Our chariot soared through the tunnel
And from out of the dark, light.
The sight of the city erupting
With fires' glare burning bright,
Venom like a snake's bite.
Vast buildings careening down,
As we maneuvered around them
The air was thick with smoke
And the smell of lead & sulfur,
The ground shook in violence.
We landed in a clearing,
The end was close at hand
The limits to see it, subjective;
For many laid dead in our stead,
Many enemies & siblings come to head,
And long did we have to tread before rest.
I unfurled the flag
And hoisted it up overhead,
Flying high on the mast.
I said my prayers
And made my peace,
Before the rain began.
All around me was storming,
Shutters battered marble
Amid crys for no quarter-
Blood was to be our recompense

Get disconnected,
And find you are detached from life.
Your fight becomes for the trivial,
And what is obvious to others
Eludes your sight.
You are choked up and smothered,
The fire you started, snuffing out all oxygen-
No longer beneficial.
And then you die