Abandoned Dreams

At the water’s edge where the bloom of purist thoughts advance then recede they have left their rich adorning your beaming smile the outer evidence of the hidden treasure within. “These were the best of times” From the land of Chaucer words have flowed so strong the great waters could not impede their arrival now housed in cumbersome stone but with life that pushes back the foolish and ignorant blunderings of human kind bound in covers simple but able to make all wise who would linger to turn a page.

The promise was true the living left no doubt this was where the care free met put down the roots that could hold against nature’s tempests and still awake walk blustering wind gusting paths with eyes that pierced the hidden strong holds gave you the answer to where and how to walk beyond the limits create a brand new day from the storms raging force catch the wind stand aside let it pass with this respect you avoid defeat take the thrill ride the wild wind within the blow there are those that know what it cradles also it will bestow sweetest victory can only go to the courageous.

Souls rich and full made that way by being laid aside the day and night where others go and do their best this one only knows solitude the silent wind only expounds his distant distasteful condition only left to remember when he led others made a difference now fallen to rise no more he beacons to the passerby they only see in him as a tree broken lying close to the living water but leaves browned showing the extreme suffering and then the standing trunk shows it was even twisted as it went down it fought with each of its wooden fibers only to seem to the observer as a former house filled with life and laughter now only abandoned only to be visited by strangers and lingering memories of days gone to soon never to be restored.

This kingly kingdom so kind in youth but when the easily tramped trails become a burden you lose interest you find and old chair can be quiet alluring you quickly find the doorway ajar to past triumphs a new day can be explored and exploited the body with its rugged sinew can be the freeing for the mind experience of golden days can be mined you can again be a valuable contributor you place the markers for others to follow keeping them from harmful pitfalls. Welcome to a great time of rewards well earned by a life time of effort.

Part I


My soul is tattered.
I long to be taken from this world
and yet I can’t let go.

My father’s closet
Third shelf on the left
Chilling metal.

I’m searching
for a place where I belong
to no avail.

The casing slips into the barrel
easier than
flipping channels

Day after day
I run tirelessly
in circles.

Down the stairs and out the door
No one can hear
my blunderings.

Is up a direction?
There is none
in this hopelessness

Click.
Ready.
Am I?

What is focus?
Shapes and forms
All is a blur

The metal is cold on my tongue.
finger on trigger.
Ready?

I am nonexistent
and the world goes on
without me.



Part II


I am here.
A whisper,
but existing.

Bustling crowds
are blind
to me.

Blood has been spilled,
across a splinter collection
for me and you.

A whisper
striving to be less
and let him seep through.

Backwards philosophy
permeates my thinking
I.  Must.  Become.  Less.

Once bold.
Now faded.
Soon lost in
the chalk dust

I LIVE for Him.

explicit blunderings, darkness descends

with out the need for words. pray for

forgiveness if you are so inclined.

she said it sounded sad, that is because

it ****** is.



sad.



she also said it looked sad. it ****** is

sad.



some things are

sad.



some things are happy.



some things are in between.



see.

explicit blunderings, darkness descends

with out the need for words. pray for

forgiveness if you are so inclined.



do not beg approval nor eat the chocolate

rabbit. that will be ****** sad. smiley.



sbm.