In my mind's eye, I remember it still, innocence lost, summer soldier, war cries

I was told that my cause was right, why do I feel like a thief at night,

Stealing someone's birthright, watching so many die, children weeping, no good-byes.

I carry the scars that are never seen, wounded parts hidden within my soul.

I remember the death screams as they return to haunt men every night.

In my mind's eye I can still recall the smell of gun powder, the stench of the dead...

The many shades of blood scattered on the ground.

I remember the medals we gave to decorate another man's grave.

The sound of taps haunt me still.

I was blind then but now I see I was never fighting for liberty.

I fixed weapons that could kill, now and then the memories burn..,

I carry the guilt all alone, like a horror only I know.

No one ever heard me cry, no one ever saw how my soul died.

But in my mind's eye I still recall how so many others have died...

Without having a reason why.

Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat, choking in tears that no one understands,

Screaming words that only I know.

The war is over except for the memories that still haunt me.

In my mind's eye I remember it still innocence lost, summer soldier.

Haunting memories of the soul, tears are falling, winter causality, war cries...

On this day the sun won’t shine..,

Apollo will shred a hero’s tear.

Our children will weep

And grown men will cry.

On this day the world…

Will feel a little colder.

The rainbow’s colours

Will seem a little duller,

And the promise of tomorrow

Will feel, some how, tainted.

Superman is dead,

Long live Christopher Reeve.

He played the hero’s hero on film,

Never realizing

He was even a greater hero off screen.

He flew in the skies of my mind,

In a wheel chair, not a cape.

He deflated the bullets of self pity

To become more of a man

Then most of us will ever be.

He gave us hope,

He enabled our dreams.

On this day the sun won’t shine..,

Apollo will shred a hero’s tear.

But tomorrow

Will shine all the brighter.

Tomorrow I will see

All of the rainbows colours.

For a true hero had passed by

The echoes of my life…

And, in his name,

Many more will follow.

I can only hope

They will have his grace.

(Chris –superMAN-- Reeve

9-25-52 10-10-04)

There's a twisted mind inside my head,

That daily I find that I shall dread.

He speaks whispers of the truth,

Along with opinions so uncouth.

Perhaps along with cynic eyes,

He sees the world as its own demise.

A hellscape avenue atop the world.

He runs along the walls so steep

In a dreamscape while I sleep,

Where the laws of physics know no meaning.

There you can see the towers tall,

The bogs so dim and crazy calls,

About how the end is only the beginning.

During the day, the sun's always eclipsed,

The night is dominated by a twist

Of fate and logic so entwined,

They may as well be the dragon's eyes.

I suppose that I should get on with it.

I don't suppose the world' see fit,

That this shade should make his slip.

As his insanity is one I know well.

He dreams of some kinda forgotten hell

When he's not running along the streets

Of some unnamed massive city

That seems quite scary and never silly.

Save for the fact there's massive sleds

Upon rails where oil sheds.

And people ride them from place to place.

A bullet train that's g-force safe,

Serving sushi upon slate

And ramen that seems to never end.

I suppose this dreamscape sounds quite nice,

And perhaps you won't take my advice,

But frankly, that Shade is but a devil.

He's more dark than outer space,

He's got a twisted demeaning face,

He worships gods beneath the sun,

And during the moon he comes undone.

He's a third month in to insanity courses,

Perhaps more gifted than his discourse sells.

But in the end he's got it made,

He has but to ask for marmalade.

But like this world, there's a darker side.

Oh, leaders oh so chaotic,

Madness in the streets so sick,

Control at every single side,

And madness in every person's eye.

A way to run and a way to hide,

Is always scarce unless you have a ride.

But even then, it may not work.

We'll I've talked your ear off for too long,

I've got to go care for this dog of mine.

But maybe one day I'll actually sing you a song.

So whatever you do, make sure your lights always shine.

The Last Time

The last time I heard her speak

She was sure of her words

"Tell my children I love them

You, my husband, already know"

The last time I saw her walk

She spun on her heel

Giving me a glimpse of what first attracted me

And what kept me under her spell

The last time we ate dinner

I gave her the night off

Her favorite was eggplant parmigiana

The fine wine, I chose, covered for my cooking errors

The last time we said good night

I dreamt of our future together

Awashed in laughter and love

Void of pain and sorrow

The last time I saw you

Before they closed the coffin

I recited our wedding vows

Knowing we would (someday) meet again

When I last came to Gasworth

When I last came to Gasworth

In the middle of last May

I spied a lass who spied me

Going on her way

Her flaxen hair was neither sandy

Nor impertinently unkept

It mirrored the afternoon Sun

Perfectly brushed and perfectly swept

She introduced herself as Millicent

And I as Thomas Marlay

I inquired as to her destination

On this magnificent day

I might travel where thou dost go

If ye go with me

I have need for secure passage

To remain young and free

So I turned as she turned

Toward the setting Sun

Twas not the destination I would choose

But the choosing was not yet done

I learned of her past

I learned of her dreams

I learned of who would ruin both

I learned of their schemes

A single girl away from home

Makes an easy mark

But a married woman with her beau

Emits ideas that spark

I didn’t require more lecturing,

Reasoning, or the lot

Her dowry consisted of a single pledge

She gave as good as she got

Next year, I sojourned to Gasworth

In a carriage built for three

A Lord, his Lady,

And a daughter as a family

Where do I go to erase the sights of this afternoon? How do I unsee the object so often desired, enjoyed, and needed...until it is presented unwarranted or not even asked for? Why do I feel so terribly violated without having even been touched? The vision first tittilating, then disturbing haunts me and angers me. Was my dress too flashy, or my makeup insinuative? Did my smile invite the presentation? Why do I begin to cry and feel...shame? I curse myself for initially staring wide eyed at the magnificence of it and the wonder of what it must be like to touch. Then the shame returns and my tears flow as I feel reduced to being nothing more than an object or a conquest to be claimed. Never have I allowed myself to be used and yet, here, in broad daylight, on this expansive boulevard I have been used, abused, and debased. Where do I go to reclaim my life, my power, or even just to rebuild and recover from this devastation? What becomes of my self worth? Why does such a singular event threaten to destroy me so utterly and completely? I am stronger than this. Or am I?

Faint of Heart or Feint of Heart

She told me she loved me, but only after I said those words first.

I stood in disbelief at the church where she invited me to her wedding. She asked me to arrive in a tuxedo. She stated she would be wearing white. I thought A. She delivered B.

“It will never last.” I told her.

“It was never meant to.” She replied.

Weeks passed into months. Months never made it to years. She was free by Spring.

This meant she was looking for adventure.

I, however, was looking for investors. My ideas began to bloom as well as tulips and azaleas. All I required was financing.

All she required was a place to invest divorce capital.

Despite my reservations, I accepted her offer and she became the most vocal silent partner in the history of business.

Despite her machinations and impediments, I became (one of) the most successful entrepreneurs in the tri-state area.

That is until I offered to take her to dinner to celebrate our one year business anniversary. After she feasted, she revealed her intentions to sell her part of the business to my rival, effectively making me financially impotent.

“The way I want my men.” It was the last sentence I heard her speak as I paid the bill and departed for greener pastures.

Six years passed until I heard from her again. A traffic collision caused her to lose both kidneys. She arose every morning adhering to a strict diet and an even stricter regime of afternoon dialysis treatments. I wondered if I should send my condolences.

I didn’t have to wonder for long.

Her messenger arrived at my new residence bearing an offer worthy of reading. She wanted me to test for compatibility for organ donation. I sat aghast, waiting to discover a hidden reality show camera operating or a Publisher’s Clearing House crew arriving. Neither transpired. I made a few inquiries confirming the validity of the correspondence. I neither wanted to address the issue nor comply with the request. When dealing with her, it is best to have all questions answered, notarized, legally addressed, and sealed with blood.

However, the $750,000 check made my apprehensions easier to dispel.

I awoke from the surgery with a residual salt taste from remnants of sodium pentothal. The nurse laughed when she heard me continue my pre-op countdown knowing I responded to the anesthesia in the same way millions before me had. After informing the doctor of my condition, I continued my plans on how I was to spend my tax-free bounty.

She, on the other hand, did not fare as well as I. She did not awaken within the usual time frame as complications set in. By the end of the day, I was informed that she would never awaken. Between her fever and an allergy to the anti-rejection meds, the doctors felt it best to place her in a medically induced coma for the time being.

That was two years ago.

I stopped visiting just after a month. I was paid for my service and my kidney and under the circumstances, felt no obligation to continue a relationship with her. I invested my money in my new business and found a plethora of clients willing to reciprocate.

Thus, I became rich.

Thus, I could finally retire.

Thus, I had time on my hands.

Unfortunately, with this time, came thoughts of her.

I did my research and found she had died and was buried in the Lawn Memorial Cemetery.

I had to pay my respects.

Upon arriving, I found her grave stone desecrated and her burial site overgrown. I spoke to management and offered to pay the monthly service fee to keep it presentable. It was the least I could do, consider the circumstances.

When I returned, the site looked immaculate. I felt a sense of both pride and relief that she could no longer do what she did best.

Until I scrutinized her marker.

It read that she had died the day before her surgery, not the day of.

I went to the office to clear up the matter. I spoke with a young man, not the woman from before, and told him of my concern. He indicated that no woman worked at the cemetery and wondered if I was in the correct place. I asked him to confirm my monthly payment to maintain the grave site. He indicated he had no such record of a monthly payment. I called my credit card company and they told me they had suspended my credit card account for fraudulent activity.

It was her. It had to be her. Only she would act in such a personal manner.

And now two can.

Count my ribs with your fingers through my skin, I'm layered like a stone fruit.

My deconstruction is earth quaking

My aftershock is charming

My goosebumps are a compliment

I collect from the floor all that belongs to me and leave with a key in my pocket meant to unlock you later.

I'm a glow worm, attracted by my own light. I gut myself like you never could.

Don't worry dear, you're safe for now

since I've turned you into poems.

Unworthy of a name.

Pigeons are content with my offerings

and so should you be.

But

I'll shred you later.

Tonight I was preoccupied, bored of your songs juvenile love cries. Straining my ear toward the outside traffic longing for some real waves crashing.

Though I did leave you a memory,

the wallpaper above your bed unglued with the breath of me.

tonight my whispers carry 'cross the night air because here I am, again, sitting in the grass, staring at the same sky as you, remembering the midnight conversations by a volleyball court and the ones on the pavement and the ones on brick, and the ones accompanied by the cheap tang of Burnett's and the crisp bubbles of Bold Rock (and both, when we were bold); and the whispers of those conversations can swirl around me all they want, they can try to take over my thoughts and my head and my heart but I have learned how to keep them at bay. I look at the stars and I go about my day and I send my "I miss you"s as they pop up, on their way into the wind, hoping they'll just fade.

But I know they won't. I know, because sometimes, I get them, too. Sometimes I get an 'I miss you' when you must be browsing books; when you must be in the woods, telling trees by their leaves; when you drive past a school, when you play guitar and feel my fingers guiding yours, teaching you each chord, hear my voice tuning each string, humming the songs I sing along to daily. Just as I send you mine, when 8 see birds pass by and know them by color and song, and I see beautiful wood craftsmanship that someone's worked on; or when I fight with my computer, type in simple lines of code, call IT, do a lath problem, read tech industry news from my phone. Each one of these instances sends a message your direction. It's out of my control. I only hope that you don't mind the misdirection from your primary aims.

it's late and I am fighting sleep. My eyes are barely open, keep on closing, and I don't know that I make sense. But please forgive me, friend. I miss the thing we had. I know we can't go back. I miss the love we shared that was so unique to us. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I will wait a thousand years if that is how long it will take for you to remember that you once told me I was the only person you could and you would ever be able to be safe with.

Thank you for being safe for me. You have no idea. You are one of the few people who knows even part of it, and you have no idea. I will never tell you all of it because despite the fact that I know you and iz Know you're not a violent person, I don't know what you would do to him if you knew. (You know who I mean.)

Fuck. I'm writing to a ghost. You'll never read this. Things will never be the same again. I may have my best friend back but I don't have my soul partner, my missing link. It's difficult explain that. But it's a feeling, it's just.. incorrect. Fuck.

let go. let me go. fucking hell. I can handle this.

*I miss you.*