My dog buried his bone. A typical behavior, but this was not the typical bone. This bone had eye sockets. My dog buried the only remaining memory of my "beloved".
A Ghastly Barricade
We rip out phrases by their roots
Only to be met
With fistfuls of nothing
As the silence deepens.
We encompass the empty
And bleed into the barren,
And devoid of beauty.
And when disembodied voices whisper,
"Only a little farther..."
We tread these polluted waters,
Bartering souls with wraiths
For inspiration and haste
If they would only move us
Beyond this god forsaken waste...
I saw this challenge
Described so succinctly
And laughed a bit
I must admit
Because too much
Is too scary
It's never as easy
As two words
Or, "I do"
She is indomitable,
incomparable to anything else nature ever fashioned.
Tempests might devour the budding fruits of labour in seasons so short,
we barely remember the havoc wrought
Her storm seeks not tranquility
but new shores where it sweeps up everything missed on its last visit.
Sometimes the sun offers some semblance of a challenge
with golden hues so near the light her skin carries.
Dim attempts to shine as she did with infallible beauty.
One that matured instead of wilting
and Time himself was left to admire,
thus Death joined suit desiring her too.
As long as they coveted her, no mortal could hold her.
So long as they reigned, her beauty remained unrivaled.
An Open Embrace
I am tracing your shadow
The sandy white rocks
Wet and unappreciated
And beaten by
The waves of indifference
Walk with me
I will show you the Way --
His encrusted tomb
Sealed his eyes
Blinded by darkness
But awakened by Light
A poem could be roses,
A poem could be stars,
A poem could be you and I,
Or maybe a poem is roses,
A poem is the stars,
And you and I,Well we are a poem.
In An Effort To Contradict (a response to A Minimalist Approach by liescence)
In an effort to contradict those around me, and that person I do love most,
I offer only the statements of a rebel,
who really is no good at being a rebel,
(and never will be any good),
to say that a million things do make a man,
but most certainly not only himself,
and only that reaction if you are to say
that it is his reactions to the world
that make him make himself, himself.
But is it not the hands of those,
whom we have passed through,
in our course of life upon the waves,
that have shaped us like the potter at the wheel?
Surely, we have created ourselves many times,
within our own known and result,
but haven't we formed, at least in part,
by others when we were too young,
and too unaware, to have formed anything ourselves?
a denouement by
(sweet bounty of earth (cracked oil fraction
apples, planed trees extruded and reset
settled by finings) synthetic sheet)
take the medicine dearest
stout heart . be brave
slowly the ice needle
sends fattening tube
to flattening vein
it gives to the point
there is blood in
pressure pressing need to
pressure pushing plunge
into chemical rush
hot needle withdraws pulls
with it blood
on skin grows grows
half a blood orange
violet the skin
pressure. hole seals
seized by capillary
see only cotton
white before a flesh
Never speak to me again.
two loves, drunk, the irony of drugs, just say no to love and Drugs
I appreciate the willpower behind recreational drugs and social drinking.
It's the walk against the wind that gets me high. Going to edge of nowhere and feigning the jump. Adrenaline racing. You're numb and yet you feel so much.
The tentacles of the world are dismissed and there's freedom in the buzz. You fall with the safety net of your will.
I embrace the false truths of it all. Hope for demise but I'm overjoyed with the love I feel. It's a Catch 22.
But I toss the half smoked cigarette to the ground and I look at irony of you. And rhe acceptance in your eyes and I think of her. Alone in her prison pf clouds and darkness and I cannot help but draw away.
To love the love of indifference. How I long for your touch. How my soul feels severed without her.
I take a drink and hope for the best. My heart is rapid. Holding guilt for the hurt in her voice and from the intensity of your touch.
I'm a floundering bird without direction. The winter is cold and I need the warmth of her love and you are so far away. And you are so very cold. And the love is different and the high is filled with the beauty of it all.
And you'll hate me and she will hate me. But I wish upon the blacken star of my final edge...that I could hold you both forever.
The better of me wrapped up inside the beautiful tragedy of your love. Hold me until the end. For abandonment is unworthy of the beauty of us all.
And I will cherish her touch as I cherish your fading voice and I will exit this world in awe of the two.
You saved me from myself and she saved me...unwilling amd unaware. And my heart cannot bare the loss of you nor her.
And I cannot let you down, i cannot let my soul and my purpose fade. But I cannot let her down
Nor can I deny myself the love inside of her or the gentleness of a simple touch.
Ill take a drink. Ill light the bong and ill pretend for a moment that she's you but in the midst of the passion I'll see her eyes and ill make love to the hope we once held.
Tonight she'll fall asleep in my arms. There will be a twinge of pain and guilt as I kiss her goodnight.
But the better part of me is you... and her and without that rhe willpower is gone and I jump...I battle the wind and I become a ghost of what could have been