I walked barefoot on the pathway of life
When I came upon a crossroad;
And at its sight, I let out a sigh
Of sadness and displeasure
For now, I must make a choice

The crossroad looked like many before it
One path was full of light and color
With many leaves falling on the soft green grass
And the other was dark and cold
With many rocks and fallen trees that covered the walkway;

I looked at both and grew quite distressed
Because neither are as they appear;
In past experience, I have taken both
At different times for separate occasions;
Both were quite painful to walkthrough
And ended up making me regret my journey
in life;

The soft grass would ease my feet
Of their burden and pain
But it would make them soft and
Easy to tear and bleed and cause
Me to stop more frequently causing
My journey much delay;

The rocks would bring me
Much pain and make my journey slow at the beginning
But my feet would harden after a short while and
I'd be able to walk with much ease;
But the cuts and bruises still would remain
And I would end up messing my feet up
For the rest of my life.

Both have their benefits
But they also have their consequences
One to punish the weak
And one to punish those who think differently;
So, in the end, I will be in pain from
The decision that I will make;

I tire of making decisions
For no matter how long I ponder
I always seem to make the wrong one;
So this crossroad is no different from the rest
And thinking about it makes no difference
Because I'll make the wrong decision and
Mess things up for myself but,
Alas, I will still sit and think about which course is best;

It might take a second, minute, hour, day or year
To come to a decision that I believe best suits me;
It would be faster and easier to come to a verdict
If I wasn't without a companion and by myself;
Thinking of this choice will take all my thoughts
But for right now I'm too tired and
I think that I will lay down
In hopes that my next breath is my last one

Here at the crossroad, I lie
Dreaming of what would become
If I chose one path over the other;
I have a tough choice before me,
Shall I stay or shall I go?

But only time knows when I'll pick between those roads,
So I must wait until my mind is made up;
But truth is, I wait secretly with much hope,
That death will find me before I choose
So I don't make the wrong choice
And look back with regret at that decision I made
At that crossroad that once stood before me.

I came upon a crossroad
I had to figure out
If I should take the road with you
Or take the one without

I came up a crossroad  
I chose to let you go
Not because I didn't care
Because I love you so

You see I thought that we could find
A better road alone
We were born in different worlds
Too different to be one

I came upon a crossroad
And did what I had to do
But the hardest thing I ever did....
Was turn away from you

I came upon a crossroad
With tears down either lane
I didn't want the parting fork
But both trails led to pain

I came upon a crossroad
Which hurt would I prefer
There was so much love to miss
If I should turn from her

But my heart believed we had a chance
For better roads alone
As opposites from different worlds...
Forever's just too long

I came upon a crossroad
I did what I had to do
But the hardest thing I ever did....
Was turn away from you

I was standing on a crossroad while I had to choose between wrong and right
One side of the street was full of colors, the other one darker than the night
And I felt so close to you, I felt your heart in mine
You asked me if I was okay and I told you that I was fine

But I lied, I was dying and there was nothing left to say
My heart got filled with hatred while I took your pain away
And I'm still standing on this crossroad, I still don't know which way to choose
But I can't stay out of the darkness if my choice goes out to you

Could we consider this point a crossroad
Where we either turn left, right, or go straight
Taking us all in a different direction
Take us all to another place

Could we rise and call each other brother
Learn to love instead of fight
Have respect for one another
Give each other the benefit of doubt in life

Not place judgement based on falsehoods
Especially the color of ones skin
Black or Red, White or Tan
No matter a persons pigment

Realize it's not the outside that matters
But loves depth within a mans heart
Here were we stand now at this crossroad
Which way should we go and who's going to start

my liver may be ****** but my heart is honest
and that is something you could never say
I loved you for the person that you were
not for the person that you are trying to be

you always told me that demons were haunting you
and that you couldn't do anything to stop them
except to give in, give them your life, your soul

he just never understood the things I said
how badly I needed him and only him
I didn't care about his demons and his dark moments
I didn't care about him not easily showing his emotions
he just never understood how much I loved him

one day at twilight the girl woke up at a crossroad
she could choose between two paths, one time, one path
one path was filled with light and the other was filled with darkness

the devil whisperd softly in her ear to choose the dark path
and she knew she would, her demons were stronger than her angels
her love for this boy was stronger than the will of going to heaven

her choice was darkness
her choice was to be his forever

and maybe hell wasn't that bad
because from the start he was her only light in this broken world.

Leave me girl
move on down the road
when I think about my life
and see the crossroad
that it has been my life
i know that for you
it is the right thing do
but in my life with roads left a right
it does not mean I will not
bitterly miss you
so for old girl friends
this dark and lonely night
I miss you

The final crossroad

Look behind you at all the occasions you had , moments of truth , and forgiveness the times you tarnished the innocence of an affection.
The lies , infidelity, and unenthusiastic attention to moments special.
And yet their was still a chance , a way forward , and outstretched hand, and open embrace.
Corners , crossroads, in our journey.
Streets where unconditional love, fidelity, respect awaited at every turn.
Yet you chose to pass buy , this last time ,The eleventh hour , our final hope , you've turned your back on us , and said goodbye to our forever , my road has its own corners now , and your road without me , as you have just said goodbye to our
" final crossroad "

Each of us are on a crossroad to choose which are road to take.
Are we going to choose  the road that lead toward worldly.
Or are we going to choose the road that will lead to Christ.
It is your choice, but I have chosen the road toward Christ.
For I want to be able to praise him and worship him in heaven.
I want my life in the end to be meaningful and beautiful.
One that other true believers will be able to say yes he belong to Christ.

Sitting at a crossroad with decisions to be made, that conflicted feeling is one of the worst mindsets. A debate with yourself is the most pointless thing on earth. No matter how vast the victory, the defeat is also resting on your shoulders. So then, the question still stands. Which path will you travel? What turn do you take? Who is it that you really are, because if you don’t know, who will?

Starring at the Crossroad
Don’t know which way to turn
Demons on both sides~
Pulling me apart
 
Good & Evil
Fighting over Me
Cant wait to see
… who Wins …
 
Looking in the mirror
Don’t know the stranger
Starring back at Me…!
 
All I remember ~
She use to know ~
Who she Use to be…
 
Doing good – Helping others
Has drained the Life out of Me!
 
Dull grey eyes,
~use to be blue
The fake smirk..
Use to be, ~a beautiful Smile..
 
One day the world will see
What Evil, ~ being Good,
 Has done to Me…

I give you my heart son
For today you gave me my bread
And I knew it was time to pass the baton
Shift the crown on your head.

Today you passed me my bread
A precious gift in love I earn
To softly place on your head
The crown as it’s your turn.

I felt so great and so good
You’ve taken over my son
With the humblest of attitude
From my hand the long held baton.

Today as you passed me my bread
In the crossroad where we now stand
Happily I unburdened my head
Passed lovingly the baton from my hand.

Once.
It was only one time.
Yet,
I keep coming back,
to that place.

Tried to pretend
its over.
Told myself
I won't linger.
I was denied.
Cos i keep,
i keep coming back,
to that place.

If twice is too much
then
maybe it really is.
Its never
a crossroad
since then,
though i keep
coming back,
to that place.

I keep coming back,
i keep coming back,
to that place,
that is already
dead.

We are slaves of our thoughts, as they bifurcate down crossroad after crossroad, as they diverge in all different directions and force us to obey, and if you must defy then prepare for the pain of cracking bones and resting your head on a cinder block to sleep at night as your brain comes up with new, insufferable ways of torture to force you back down onto your knees, making you bow down. Rebel against yourself all you want but there is no escape from the dystopian society in your head. Knowing this will only make your hunger for escape even greater for we want what we can’t have.

Surely a train
standing in the rain
is a sad sight
in Chile
but what about those trains
that leave stations
like bullets
in search for unhappy men
at the crossroad of their life
and certain death?

By Nabs
Dear, My Past Self
I've always wanted to say a lot of things to you.
A lot of things that I would like you to change.
A lot of things I wished that you haven't done
(Like chanting hate to your self before you went to sleep).

But that is not the reason I am sending this letter.

We both know how the past cannot be changed, the same way we both know that girls will be girls and boys will be boys (which to say not at all, after all we are a firm believer that time travel and The Doctor exist).

I know that you are going through a lot of forked roads, right now.
Gnawing your lips and making it bleed, from worrying whether to choose right or left?
Afraid, not to take the wrong road but to take the road that you want, the third road that you've always thought off but haven't gathered enough courage to step to.
It's okay to be afraid of where will you get stranded in life. Being afraid doesn't make you weak.

But at the end we have to move forwards even if it will literally kills you to leave the breathtaking view behind.

At this point in your life, You will realize that the handful of people that you surround your self with are more of an aquantaince than friends. And you will lose some of the friends you have because of the directions you each choose to go. You will feel lonely and miserable.

A deceptive man called depression will lull you with the promise of kindred spirits and ask you to let him be your companion. You will accept this offer, not fully knowing the Concequences because Depression, in your neighborhood, is something that goes unacknowledged.

You will regret the decision of taking his hands
(He's a good friend of mine now, I know how to deal with his quirks and how to cope with him living in my home. He still ask me to join him in drowning, but I learned how to say no)

    There will also be a lot of people telling you that you are a freak. They will consider that being true to yourself is a sin and you will try to repent by torturing your self with soul leeching mask that will leave you identity in tattered remains (You will spent years trying to piece it back, taking new pieces and discarding old ones).

They will also paint names on your back, whispers lies and making a game on how much they can stab you in one day. (You always come home bleeding, but you covered it with 1000 watt smile and perfume to mask that fact that the wounds are rotting)

Do not try revenge, it will leave you with a guilt so heavy that the act it self would only taste like ashes and sour your heart. (I know how horrible that is, and I know you'll still do it because this letter isn't about changing the past)

Remember that you have an untapped core of titanium in your backbone.

I know you will spend some sleepless night thinking of ways to not wake up in the morning, how to keep dreaming, and letting the ghost take you away. I know how close you are to the temptation and how you almost bitten that forbidden fruit because you wonder if it taste like peace. I also know that you will deny yourself.

(Because that's the lesson that was taught to us since the beginning )

Society may tell you, to **** all the things that are different in you. The things that make you see a shade differently, the things that make your angle on the world askew, the thing that you were (and still is) proud of. You will ask why, and they will reply because you are not perfect.

Do not listen to them because a few months from now you'll learn that their reasons are poison and you had been fed spoiled milk all along.
(You'll get some stomach ache that will feel like butterfly wings, you will mistake it for infatuation. It's not. You'll learn that infatuations taste like sugar and the coffee that you'll grow to like)

At this point, You will also painstakingly build a shrine, made of ivory and desperation, for the one you mistaken as a saint (she's not but she's still one of the best things that happen to you). A shrine for a saint that you tried to be, a saint that was hailed from loneliness and envy.  

The shrine will be the invisible wall that you will simultaneously try to tear apart while build it everyday. You will always be the one who ask for forgiveness because you were a faithful believer who believe that you are a despicable sinner.

(You are as much as a sinner as she is a saint.)

The day that you look her in the eyes and burn the shrine, the wall will crumble and fall like the Berlin Wall. Both of you will become human ( Also you will find that she is easily bribed with pizza and you will find that you are different than her and that's ok).

You will also learn the taste of despair from the way the mother dove cannot understand that your screams are the way you say that you are breaking and you just want to quit breathing. Instead mother dove will translate it into screams of rebellion, and you were always the obedient daughter first, than you are a teenage girl.

(You will learn how to jab your scream into paper, and turn them into poems. You will truly make some bad ones at first. Don't worry I'll help you along the way)

One day, between where you are now and where I am now, the world will give you a present of awareness to the danger of smiling to strangers. You will cry in the hotel bathroom and try to scrub your skin until it bleeds, trying to feel clean but only managed to ***** the tub. The world and mother dove will tell you that its your fault and you were asking for it (You're not).

You will lose the ability to smile uncaringly.
(This is one of the things I wish we would have keep)

You will slowly watch the colors that you know fade from the world, leaving it a mottled grey. The same state that you are feeling now. You will paint lies and invent new colors to just make you believe that there is something worth living for. You will hate your self more and more for your new painting skills.

Don't hate your self, You are a survivor and you are still fighting (I know you wouldn't listen to this, that you would keep hating your self until you met some people who will be kind to you and help you hold up your forts from the monster inside your skin. Like I said this isn't that kind of letter).

I know that the day you smashed all your anger and hurt into the table that you sleep on, was the day where you first tried to draw red lines with sharp markers on yourself. It will be messy but you were addicted and soon all you can paint was release and the occasional victorian girl

(You will not draw boys because you despise the way that you cannot draw wide board shoulders, like the one you hate on your self but admire on your brothers because those shoulders look like they could carry the world unlike yours).

You will lock your emotions tight, and learn how to hide from the world (It wouldn't last long, you have the universe inside you that is screaming to be shared to people. You haven't learned how to say no yet, unlike me)

You will learn that you are also an idiot, that karma exist and it bites you in the *** as a payback for all those tyranny. You will laugh your self until you're sobbing and fallen asleep. The next day you will bring a book to educate yourself to your school.

You will be turned into a mess of paint, anger, bitterness, and dramatic flair. The only one that will be left without blemish will be the mask (not the face beneath). The woodcutters will saw your legs of from you, and you will be left without the means to stand on the ground

But you still will crawl your miserable 90 kilogram mass of body to the next crossroad, and the next, and the next, and the next, like the stubborn mule you (we) are.

And you will came out of the personal purgatory, that the world gave you, with a brand new legs, soul liberally littered with scars, and a tuft wings on your back (Albeit still very tiny. It's okay, It's still growing).

You will learn to walk again with your new legs, the one that isn't smooth like baby skin but full with callouses from all the road walking.

You will learn that being full of flaws is ok, that not being beautiful is fine.

You will also learn that you are allergic to cats (You will deny this fact when you find out until you almost passed out because you couldn't breathe. But we will still cuddle with them because cats are the best)

You will meet new people, wonderful new people. The ones that you care so very much and the one that cares for you back. The ones that's just wonky like you. (You will love this guy and girl that I am close with, they're very kind and sappy like you are)

You will get to fall in love, like in the romance manga that you secretly love, and you will broke your own heart (I wanted to say for you to savor it more, but like I said this isn't that kind of letter).

You will be ok with it, and you'll gain the skills of cutting people from your life

You will learn that the world isn't kind to your gender, and you'll ask for equality ( the same way you're asking for a new set of paint, which is to say with a lot of care and thinking). You will learn that the world will always be a ******* but there will always be change.

(The world needs its balance)
You will learn that patience isn't really your virtue. But you will learn to grit your teeth and wait.

You will learn to love your self. Even at some point the hate still managed to rear its ugly head. You will learn to be proud of your self and yet still be kind.

And you will continue to write your own story, you will make mistakes and learn from them, you will make unexpected plot twist and pull your favorite cliche. You will learn that not all people like your story and that it's okay.

That is so very okay.

This letter isn't about telling you to change yourself.

It's my way of saying thank you.

Because darling, ****** well done (pun intended)
                                    Love, Your Future Self

P.S :
(This isn't the end, how about we meet up for tea later?)

I met her at a crossroad;
She offered to come along.
I walked with my hand,
in her hand.
Singing away our melancholic song.
She was there for quite a while
but I knew what was true.
A girl from a world of sunshine,
would get tired of my world,
so blue.
Well, I cannot blame her.
I'm a broken string, anyway.
When bruises speak for themselves,
there is nothing left to say.
So, with a heavy heart
I kissed her on both her eyes.
And she didn't turn to look twice,
after we bid goodbye.
I started on my journey again;
and it didn't take that long.
for came,
another hand to hold.
Singing away our melancholic song.

I've seen better days in the fountain of my youth,
glimpses of the future impels me to see the truth.
Contemplating which path is best or worst,
through blood I've been ****** and cursed.
For once I take that first step to start,
I have no choice but to depart.
Standing at the edge about to implode,
the challenge of a crossroad.

Chapter 1

There was a woman. The cost to love her was your life. No other payment but a sending off, a revolver cocked to your temple’s side.
There was no spite in your death, just business.
Hell of a business to run.

I was protecting someone. Never been one to stick around, but this drag had carried for the past year. That gang-owned joint lay but two doors and a cold alley away. Popular place, maybe not the classiest but it had its patrons. Packed with your essentials: pool tables, dirt-licked walls and chairs, mean folk mixed in with the nice. Old fashioned joint with a history. You could almost feel it when you walked in. That small pressure when it’s about to rain? Felt like that had been building up for a decade there.
Some Madonna owned it. Names elude me, but she was just another front; as was the barkeep, the hired bouncers and those mean-eyed slingers that spoke loud in company, silent alone. Heh, almost like an old-fashioned saloon. Who the hell am I in this tale of cowboys and crooks?
I was holed up in that apartment block for the winter. Stiff drapes covering a stiff cold that seeped through the cracks anyway. Cold chills to wake to, and the whiskey don’t warm a **** thing. Maybe it was the ache of a past flame that led me to her. That old touch had languished and misted away in the night of some long dead memory, leaving an old kiss from a young lover on my shivering body. It grew faint with every year’s passing. I struggle to remember this keepsake.
Every night.
I was a no name protector protecting a no name ghost of a man. Yeah we knew each other. I’m no stranger to keep past talking terms . . . but, hell if I remember his name, how we got into this **** situation and why. Mind’s a little off. Been like that for years.

It was a stumble through the wrong door at the wrong time. Some spiteful voices in the back of the joint or the back of my mind telling me I’m headed for hell and ain’t coming back. See, every day is a crossroad, and I happened upon the worst one yet.
I remember that flaking paint; grime-covered white on a moulding door **** near off its hinges. That suited me, and I hated it. Maybe I grew sick of wandering the same way and turned my life on its spinning head. Spun me all the ways I couldn’t face. Saw a glimmer that fate had readied for me. Don’t think I’ve looked at anything with such eyes since; nor have they looked back at me.
The room was a cramped, dilapidated hellhole like every other room, but with her laying on that bed of hers . . . she was the only clean thing in the whole of this cursed city. Save, she wasn’t clean. No such thing exists; no such thing as clean since your adolescent innocence, and even that went up in flames. Hell, in a city like this I wouldn’t be surprised if the skeletons we kept so tightly locked in our closets outnumbered us ten to one.
Should have remembered that when I saw her, but my mind lay a blank canvas and I couldn’t help but fill it with all the details of this pretty bird. Even those that weren’t there.
No Name yanked me out quick. Never seen him so pale, ghosting further and further from a human being. He’d been running so long I don’t think he even knew what he was running from anymore. His past? Some cop chase from years back, ending with blood stains and shaky hands? A dead kid in the arms of a suicidal wife? Maybe he’s running from himself. Fear in the capacity we contain, and fear in the ways we unleash it around loved ones. I don’t blame him for running. If I was a worse man I’d run from him as well.
Now No Name has it all figured out, even if he won’t let on; and that bird in there ain’t part of the plan. Cash cash, first train out to some no name city for this no name man. In this together, he keeps repeating, like some broke down record player that only plays one song. Well I guess we share more similarities than I’d like to think so.

One night, about a month after settling in that old apartment, I hear raised voices. Not uncommon, but something about this still night woke some fear inside me. A fear I needed to meet with my eyes, a score to settle with myself. Sounded like some ******* outside was hoping to bring down the sky with volume alone. No type of gentleman, just a no ***** kid who doesn’t know the difference between command and screaming like a babe.
One gets you respect. Now, the other. . . .
I open those stiff drapes with stiffer fingers. Brush that layer of frozen breath and mist to find some mid-twenty good for nothing punk holding a struggling figure. The apartment ain’t exactly ground floor but even up here I can spot the difference between a gent and a sally. Some broad was in trouble.
Grab that six shooter, old man. The holster smooth from years of wear, small frays on the weathered jacket rubbing against goose-pricked skin. Comfort clothing that never really brings comfort. Not anymore. Guess I’m as bad as No Name. I’m just repeating routine.
Out the hall, no doors left in this apartment block. Stolen, broken, ain’t exactly your family fun lifestyle we’re living. No Name’s holed up in this fortress of upturned furniture and dresser-barred doorways. Lights flicker from between the cracks. The devil ain’t gonna bother with the door, I tell him. He doesn’t reply. Maybe he’s a religious man with one too many sins above his head.
There’s another yell and I feel my blood rise, hairs picking up static, a storm brewing inside that clenched stomach of mine. Take a tumble down the stairs in my haste. **** crooked balsa wood. Those stairs are gonna end me one day, I swear.
Ground floor. I slam that kitchen door and it cracks against the brick wall outside. ****. No Name’s gonna burst an artery. Call out for that ******* punk but he’s already eyeing me up. Only a few steps away and I can see the white in his eyes. No . . . those are his pupils. Wide, all cloud-like, he’s ******* dusted up. . . . Almost like looking into the past. Thrice-cursed ****. I’m in trouble.
This ain’t some lover’s quarrel, some twisted ****’s thought of a good way to end the night. This is a dusthead addict and I’m out of my league. His mid-snarl distorts and stretches past his cheeks and that devil grin sends an electric jolt from the wires of my brain to my heart.
This six shooter is as good as a pea gun against a Smiley.
He’s spouting some glossolalia drifts, layering it like an abominable duet. The coked-up boy in me yearns to understand again, but stiff joints and washed-out dreams have made me a cynic. Ain’t no beauty when you’re tearing things apart to see it. ******* Smiley’s on the edge and he’s ready to pounce right off. If that broad’s sobbing didn’t **** at those heart strings of mine I’d be running for my ******* life.
I lift that pea shooter and aim it straight at that devil smile.
He howls. Glass shatters from above. Some black monstrous thing comes speeding at me. I leap through that apartment doorway in time to see ******* Smiley consumed by it. All sharp, all solid that beast slams into Smiley, screaming loud enough to wake this dead city twice over. Smiley thrashes, he splays out to the ground, the beast’s seared flesh erupting in front of me. A piece slices past my cheek and I’m on the ground in tears. I hear No Name scream an incomprehensible curse above. I’m bawling now. Through my tears I spot that chunk of flesh. ******* balsa wood. Thrice-cursed balsa wood.
No Name had thrown a piano out that barricaded window of his. Tears of pure comedy, that’s what left my face. A Smiley taken out by No Name, I’ll never live this down. His mangled body lies under polished wood. Someone’s yearly worth gone in a second of frantic panic, reduced to twisted wires and cracked ivory. To see something so beautiful destroyed in seconds makes me wonder if the Smiley had gotten the better of us after all.
That broad’s in shock. Splinters covered every inch of ground save that around her; looked like a comet, trailing emptiness behind.  Should have noticed it then that something wasn’t right with that scene. Perfectly unscathed beauty sitting there with not a single scratch nor splinter on her, but I was too **** amazed I was alive. Knelt close to her and caught a whiff of some exotic scent on her skin. Some flower. Saw her face and it added another colour to that filling canvas of mine. This pretty bird from the joint. The one men died for. At least No Name had saved one life worth saving, funny it happened to be the one who could take yours in a night.
Names elude me, but the way I remember her . . . the way I remember her is Blossom, for when she came into my life she gave colours to my black and white memory, colours I didn’t know existed, and my black and white morals took a turn down some dawning grey-blurred alley.
So I’m a ******* gentleman and I walk Blossom home while No Name shifts furniture above us. Scrapes of hard wood against wood, filling that void in his once impenetrable bastion. I told you No Name’s got it all planned out already. Guess I’m just here for the ride.

I paused
not because
I was lost
events have
moved like
a cinema- screen
pictures upon pictures
have been tossed
all across
before the blink
of the sharpest eye
nor the smartest mind
could digest or think

whatever that's along
the road would never
make me sink
nor bring
me to the brink
of despair-- somehow
I would be able to find
(despite my unbearable thirst)
water to drink
from some remote spring

defeat--call it quits
never does enter
my thinking
it calls for raw unflinching
courage to be a human being^

man at the last
as was at beginning
never a paltry thing#

my pausing
is my renewing
a new breath
I'm taking
my just-resting
a while-- waiting
for my resurrecting

a personal drama
at the crossroad^
a performing
with none watching
the moment of truth^
in the budding

the hard ground
my bed--
with no pillow
nor blanket
but the stars^
are patient and kind
their gentle light
they shed
and these words
they seem to have said:
do not lose heart^
for you will find
your heart-land ahead
only that
you must have faith...^

Upon a path of trepidation
Walked I along with hesitation
I trudged forth in contemplation,
Remarking on my indignation.
I felt as though the road would end,
Each step came forth again and again.
To pass the time, I counted sins,
Not religious exactly, just decision’s wind,
I thought of my own life, and how much change
Had plagued my mind and my own cage,
The prison in my head that I live through,
Even though there’s worse that I could do,
I closed that link before I could
Think of things I knew I should,
I “forgot” them throughout the years,
To push away all of my own fears,
With that then settled
The road I reveled.
I noticed the dust on this forgotten trail,
Each step disheveled the dirt so stale,
I noticed I hadn’t been the only one
To walk this trail and be undone,
But I was however the first in a while,
The steps i left behind me were straight and filed.
-
Withered whispering romance had wilted away
A faceless me, within I decayed,
The road was vast and all omniscient,
The weather indeed was quite consistent,
Muggy, dreary, a hint of mist,
Melancholy so, that I wished to be ******,
I would have loved to be drunk again
As I had been so before like many men,
To take upon this journey but straight,
Would have felt like bringing train and freight,
It is important to realize
That I was alone and not in guise,
For to find myself, I was myself,
There was only I to seek for help.
-
about three days had passed along,
Wondering if I was even strong
Enough to find the cross in road
To decide which way that I should go,
When in sudden surprise there came,
The cross in road appeared to exclaim,
I could go straight, left or right,
As one would think it might,
But each direction had their own feel,
So much so, I thought it may not be real,
I gazed at each about an hour,
And witnessed their foretelling in my head as they showered.
-
The road ahead was static and unchanging
I found myself to be salivating,
Nervous, the feeling crept on through me,
The sensation of the same emotions, unruling.
I thought of the looming possibility,
That to change anything was not in my ability,
That I would be forced by past to walk this path,
Straight on and forward in a droning, mindless trance.
This startled me and I quickly thought
That I had best my chance be wrought,
Left or right, like straight, I felt both,
Like a voice somewhere inside bequothe,
“Lest ye not choose wrong dear boy,
Or you, I fear, will die empty in ploy.”
Chanting choruses of Gregorian nature
Repeated that stanza in mocking stature,
The repetition to the point of depravity,
I digressed, I became my insanity.

The rain came in rivers
Flooded the streets
Trees and debris everywhere
Up to my knees
In the sky's sorrow
I couldn't wait
"Till tomorrow"
To borrow your heart
I swam the roads
That overflowed
My heart for yours is what I owed
And at the crossroad
There was no water
No flood
No trees or debris
Up to my knees
Just you
Only you
Always you

Here I stand so shaky, as I begin to walk
Learning from Mom, learning to talk.
The examples I see will shape my way
The decisions I make, will shape my day.

Here I stand to begin, in life’s early hour
I’ll test the limits, I’ll test my power.
In the terrible twos, the decisions to come
Are made by the hand, and shaped by Mom.
—————————————————
Here I stand at the dawn, the edge of the day
With decisions to make and prices to pay.
The choice is mine and mine to make
The decisions I choose will make or break.

Here I stand a teen in the prime of life
A time of joy, a time of strife.
I stand at the crossroad as I start these years.
There is the road of honor, the road of tears.
—————————————————-
Here I stand to choose again and again.
Do I choose to loose or do I choose win.
One road I see will cause me pain.
The other I see will grant me gain.

Here I stand at a crossroad, to choose this hour
The choice I make is in my power.
To choose the wrong or choose the right
I will set my course, I will set my plight.
—————————————————-
Here I stand as I marry, the Love of my life
Become one with her, to be my wife.
The vows we say, the promise we make
Are made forever, we will not break.

Here I stand by my Love, our daughter’s first hour
Now Mother and Father, with our delicate flower.
The example she sees, the example I live
Is the greatest gift, a Father can give.
————————————————
Here I stand at the bedside, my mother’s last hour.
She withstood the storms, of time and its power.
Though times were rough, she withstood the test
Her love sustained me, she gave me her best

Here I stand in awe of the example she set
Of truth and honor, I’m in her debt.
The decisions she made were examples to me
Helped mold my life, in what I could be.
—————————————————–
Here I stand as the evening, of life draws near
I’ve tried to follow the paths found dear
Paths of love and honor, from examples I see
From those before me, that I strive to be.

Here I stand did I, make the right choice?
Did I follow the loud or the still small voice?
For I now understand, the power of love
It’s the power given by the God above.
————————————————

Here I stand to survey my life today
I began and will end, on the edge of the day.
The choices I made, He was always near
His Grace and Mercy has brought me here.

Now I kneel in His presence the race is run
His grace has sustained me, the journey is done.
He brought me through, the dusk, the night
To a brand new day, what a wonderful sight.
——————————————————

Tall tales of Death and misfortune
Appalachian nightmares of pearly rune
When the musics over and all is out of tune
Be sure to check out of the hotel
Before the clock strikes noon

Wear your plastic earrings and your shiny silk
Be careful when you open the fridge not to spill your milk
A heart shape tattoo in a burning building rises
No lover ever likes to see the other in ****** surprises

Touch the crystal fountain, but let not your hand waver
Horse tracks are aflame and no angel gives a favor
Green jade rests under clear rushing river savor
A father loses a son to a shot transformed to fever

After the vigils we cremated the afternoon in hand held pairs
The mourners pushed their thoughts out their minds and stared
Even the mountains and the trees and the wind made no sound - they did not dare
At peace a foreign thing for a family and friends who did so care

In time we are hurtling toward the end of life
Either to cease or to once again begin
All these theories of holy faith and sin
Falls to the wayside when a brother loses his kin

I give my thanks for the life that I feel around me
In my pores, my hair, my toes, my throat and eyes
Money, fame, power - these are material prizes
A friendship of love, respect, and trust is what binds me

We walk the trail
We read the signs
The road splits
There isn't much time

Do not fear to go alone
There will be others
Along this beaten road

Do not fear to venture forth
Into the foggy unknown
For all that will be sewn
Has been sewn before

You will always be you
Whoever that may be

Turn the coin,
The sapphire,
Mysteries laughter.

You will not be alone
Hear your own hearts tone
There will be many things
You'll wish to atone
Before you put down the phone

Head South, East,
North, West

You will know what is best

One foot in my future path
The other one in my past
Two lives before me
At the crossroad

One pushes me
Into the land of prospects
The other holds me
like I have unfinished business

One is a path I’ve known
The other, I’m yet to explore;
Clean the slate and start afresh

Memories hold me back
But new ambitions push me away
Forever is not my place here

But for now, I’ll be still
For a short space of time
Deciding what's best for me
And me, and me!

Sitting calmly aligning in-between the three sitters
Adorn with a silk from milk
Thinking about the libido of her crown
Like a star lost in the galaxy
After seeing a Ghanaian movie

A sudden push through her opening
as placenta push through during birth,
as water break through from underground
a cloth of blood,  fought  through
She felt it,
she saw it,
But what to do? What not to do? and how?
Was a question demanding an answer,
Like a man lost on the crossroad
On his wedding night,
On his bed
Close to the bride like a ****** bird
To be and not to be like Shakespeare

She shouted
What is this?
Blood!!!

This is the making of a woman
An end to her holiness
A new spring of emotion and pain
No more daddy and mummy play
Remember "Always" always
When the visitor is around
you are now a woman

oh my sister,
there are 77 dreams
I wrote in a journal
there is a glass of water I left
on some patio
there is a box of wisdom
I buried at a dusty crossroad
there is a beach where you are
I can see you in the waves
the razzle of the sand
like a billion speckled stars
and the horizon—black galaxy
next time I see you
you’ll be tan
like Cary Grant
but alive
and without the baby turtles
I asked for
I’ll ask how it went
and you’ll say
like a book
like a dream
like a starfish
are there even starfish
where you are?
if there are, please don’t
eat them
it would hurt your mouth
until then
look at the sun
she is beautiful—even I
a wannabe recluse poet
can appreciate nature
through my window

Dewy

(I) feel sad
A lot of the time
And I (have) so many
Doubts about whether
(To) bury my heart
Or (keep) it
With me
I am (trying) to decode
The echoes of myself
And I want to just
Give up.

There is no honour where
thieves are concerned
skidaddling along Old Compton Street
pretending to be rich
striving to drink anything before lunch anything
on
the hoof
just so long as it’s over 40% proof
that’s important
or
drunk on the beach at
Playa Manzanillo
tumbling dice
touch of Midas
maybe the gold will rub off onto me
like pollen on a bee stuck to the legs
stuck to the fur
cribbage pegs
croupier blur
dealt a hand
relax with a mojito
hands clawed in the sand
cursing the might-have-beens
wishing for the might bes
chips one square out
90 degrees north
45 degrees south
the painted boats pulled up on the shoreline
Venezuelan Coastguard Launches
scouring the Windward Island monied coke lines
louche and free and slightly depraved
devil you do devil you don’t

and maybe

I should have done the dealing
instead of playing with what is dealt
career crossroad choices
casino neon
instead of
hot strand paper
Chinese lanterns many
spectral colours
remember Brazil?
‘Praia do Diabo!’
memories of London days
Oxford nights
Brooklyn JFK haze
Sao Paulo frights
chewing Samurai pizzas
watching a thunderstorm spewing rain
over Granada
on a boardwalk mozzarella sticky teeth
swordfish and octopus ink throw on
some red capsicum peppers
sliced like dragons tails
now that’s some pizza
dreams of blackjack and ***
high tail and lucky spots
working out my next move
on Isla de Margarita
remembering

what was the name of that bar
in Bayswater?

With the gambling room beneath-
old school, East Enderesque
not all are run by Chinese you know and
not that one run by Laotians from Vientiane either
no no no the other….one
and you wore that dress
covered in red sequins the one you slinked off
to the summer ball in Oriel in
the one in which
you shimmered and crossed dimensions
polymorphed through parallel branes
with legs to lick
******* to ****
later limbs akimbo
in the good old days of propitious spots and slam ships
when the moon was less lonely
and the ocean had less reservation
and me, well
I had all the luck.