Wednesday, January 31, 2018

A Night of Shadows.

A Night of Shadows

Shadows are broken of stone.
Darkness falls; I dwell inside.
Nothing can be broken, not even
Myself.  Destiny is within.
Everything is bitter with age.
Friendships wan; new people come in,
And pick you up from where you were.
Trustworthy people collide in each other’s
Hearts and arms; shadows sing of us.
A nightingale sings its love to the moon,
Trust is not broken.  How I long to hold
The moon in my arms, when time is still
And becomes over and done,
Journeys are begotten and fade to gray;
And night stands tall.
I wish to break myself of this tide;
The heart is lonely and wants to speak of
Reason, the night comes and nothing is
Moved.  Hell is moved.  There are plenty of
Us that do not wish to live in Hell,
And we try to be good citizens but we are afraid;
And the abusers stand tall and seek resolution;
But outside of the universe the night wakens
And a lunar eclipse emerges,
A blue moon forms.

Light awakens.

Tuesday, January 30, 2018

THE TRUTH OF FLESH.

The Truth of Flesh

Truth is wrought of flesh.
Bones are mixed with temptation.
The burning, the yearning of simplicity
Is an era that is long forgotten.
Do not speak to me of your words.
Do not call to me in the dead of night,
Asking me stupid questions.
Speak now herein, forever and after,
The light that lights my way.
Some people are afraid of living.
Some people just wish to die,
And have their corpses be tossed
Into the shores of unreason.  You never
Listened to me in the first place,
You never cared, I explained to the furnace
One morning before going to work.
It was making funny noises and I hadn’t
Gotten any sleep that night. 
I didn’t think it needed to be fixed, it just
Needed to be by itself for awhile.
Sometimes the truth can smash you in
The butt.  I was always the creative one,
The one who could draw the art, the one
Who was always living.
Truth makes us live, just like, sometimes,

It makes us die.

Bankrupt of the Mind.

Bankrupt of the Mind

This is how I took the time to
Write words I would never say,

Never tell another soul.  My head
Feels like it is going to explode,
I am sick, delusional, on the void of

Going bankrupt in my mind.
Nothing can fix it, not even death,
And the words that speak the truth
Are nowhere nearby, and no one will say

Them, not them, or them, or them,
And one day destiny will try to force us
To come to the conclusion that we are
All insane, that nothing will ever go right.
Sometimes in the back of my mind I think

That the truth is harder than fiction, and I
Wish I could succumb to everyone’s lies
And not live the truth in the flesh,
And that the bones I have will not be of
Living.

Sometimes living is enough, and nothing

More.

Thursday, January 25, 2018

THE RAIN.

The Rain

Everything is etched in time, just like
The shadow of the world as it bends in
The rain.  Rain patters on my window
And it is wintertime.  Where it is supposed
To be snowing but it isn’t, and the birds
Have come back and the weather is warming.

Suddenly things become perpetually sunny,
And the warmth is on my back and I go outside,
Letting the warmth sink in me.  It has finally
Stopped raining and I think this is what it
Must feel like to be in God’s perpetual
Creation, forming things every second of
Every minute of every day, listening to the

Rhythm of every heartbeat, listening for
Perpetual reason.  There is a reason for everything
I guess, just like there is a reason for rain.
The rain is there, and it starts again, and the sun

Goes back behind the cloud, but the memory of
The warmth touches me, shatters me in its
Stillness, and I am a whole being, always

Waiting to be reborn.

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

The Kitchenette.

The Kitchenette

I look around the bleak and dying room.
My family has been torn apart.
Someone was dying in the den;
And now his ashes are resting in my mother’s
Grave.
There is something that is to be said about this
Kitchenette; it is small but brings back a lot of
Memories, some healthy, some not.  I have never
Made a single serving mistake here, when it
Came to feeding my family, and I know what it is
Like to be disowned from your husband or someone
Like that, like your grandmother or your nephew
Or a three-year-old child who is lost.
Once I got lost when I was five years old and no one
Knew for several hours, once I went into hiding
For four hours and no one found me and then I heard
Them ask out loud if I wanted some ice cream,
And if I did that I needed to come out in order to get it.
I guess that was the way to bribe a child, with ice cream.
Slowly and surely, our lives have changed, and we inter-
Change with others; and sometimes, these others
Have kitchenettes that do not resemble ours;
Sometimes their food is not the same and their lives
Are not the same, but they are exactly like us on
The inside, and that is the most important thing about
It.  That we can find a place of recognition so we won’t
Be destroyed, so the ending of life won’t come any
Nearer. 
The destruction is in the kitchenette, not what it represents.

Just what I told my mother after my husband left me.

MY ESSAY ON THE RAVEN.

My Essay On The Raven

The raven, by Edgar Allan Poe, was
A bitter realization that not everything
Goes as planned.  There are bigger days ahead.
Just you wait and see.  Don’t give up,
Keep on trucking, don’t bend in the wind,
Let the wind behind you.  The better days are not
Bigger and better in the past, but they are
What lies ahead of you-destiny is what you
Make it.  You can keep climbing to what you think
You should have, or you can roll over and die
Like the narrator of the raven thought there
Was a ghost in his house even though there wasn’t,
Because, sometimes, the mind plays tricks on you
When you’re alone, and most people do not dwell
Very well on the account of being alone.  Then the
Darkness of the night sinks in and you wonder what
Lurks under your bed, you wonder what lurks in
Someone’s heart who lives down the hall, you
Wonder what bugs are lurking under your pillow.
Sometimes wondering is the only thing you can do.
Sometimes doing nothing is better.
But all in all, you keep trucking, and everything will
Get better; believe me, it does.


Saturday, January 20, 2018

HOW TO BELIEVE.

How To Believe

I want to believe you, I really do,
She said, with unkempt hair and big
Eyelashes, batting at them like a
Batter getting ready to make a fly ball.
Some chances are gone in the wink of
An eye.  Others are just around the corner.
Some people are selfish while others
Are kind, and the kindness in others can
Be vast as the ocean itself.  I stay at home
All day, playing video games on my computer,
All the while wishing I had seen better days,
Wishing I was the batter at the bat,
Wishing things would change.  Some things
Never change, she said.  I believed her.
For a long time, I believed her, but I also
Believe as long as you keep moving forward,
You can make progress-progress that will
Last forever.  Just like true love.
True love exists in the world and you have to
Find it.  No matter how long it takes or where
You have to go to get it.  It’s there, waiting
Just around the bend, something lost,

Something found.

From the Beginning.

From the Beginning

I have told him from the beginning
That he does not have to alienate me
From all his friends, that they have a purpose,
That they are there for a reason.
Sometimes I am bitter about them, perhaps
Because he has more than me and mine are
So few and far between.  Perhaps I am nonchalant,
And do not want to make myself known like
An introvert would.  I do not see the seed of
Redemption like every other person does,
Or every person will.  Destiny is for the strong,
And by strong, I mean they are not weak as
Kittens, that they can take a hit and still stand
Tall and strong, that nothing is bigger than
The need to survive, even if they never get
Their dreams.  Some people never get their dreams.
I see him standing now in the bathroom,
Quietly wasting his days at a job he does not like,
With an education he could not even afford,
But still the need to have him is strong in me,
And I take comfort in knowing he will never leave,
That we will be strong together as we are apart,
Because we are never apart for very long.
All the parties he attends mean nothing to me,
It is his strength which drives me still,

His strength in me and always will.

Wednesday, January 17, 2018

All the People.

All the People

There are people walking fast on the sidewalk,
Quick as a flash of silver.
The needs of everyone vanishes in a hurry
As they go on
To their final destination.

Some of these people are portent,
Or just highly skilled workers.
Some of these people are bums,
Living off their parents or
Families money.

And then there are the homeless,
That have no place to go,
Who wander about aimlessly

In the night.

Tuesday, January 16, 2018

A Fence Cat.

A Fence Cat.

There was a cat in Austria who sat on a fence
Every noon and night.  She was a calico cat
And had five toes.  She lived by herself.

The neighbors would often feed her tuna fish,
And leave the bowl out by the barn, for
The barn was a vacant place full of ghosts and

Old owls hooting in the roof.  Sometimes, bats
Lived there, but they were not large bats, they
Were fruit bats, and they liked to eat the tuna fish
Instead of the cat.  The cat pecked the ground
Like a chicken.  But there were no chickens,

They were moved or died out a long time ago.
There is no crime rate here, it is out in the country,
And the night comes on with a lonely sound that
Bends and whispers to its captors.  Sometimes shadows

Dance.  But nothing else moves.

Small, Poor Cities.

Small, Poor Cities

The spaces are large in apartment cities
Now.  Everything is spiraling downward.
There is a city within a city, and homeless
People are vast.  Cities are vast within
Themselves.  There are changes in the
City, that move the people, and the people
Are moved.  Everything is adjacent.  Someone
Is running a small button service.  Another person
Is filing for bankruptcy.  I think the homeless have it
Worse, because there is hunger and crime and
Frighteningly large pockets, so large that boats
Fall through them.  And then the timelessness
Exists, each and every day in the cities; some
Problems will never be solved.  But someone solves
A problem here and there for thousands of people,
And those are the ones who we should be grateful
For, and the calmness of it, and the grandness of it,
Exceed the ocean.  Because the ocean is vast and

It is calm.

Rigged Space.

Rigged Space

Shadows moving overhead,
Longing for a prince of peace.
Airplanes drop from rigged space.
Zooms of silence fail.
A doppelganger moves in the midst,
And I am waiting for my husband
At the laundry mat.  Suddenly
My cell phone screams at me,
And I am startled, awakened to doom.
I need to settle the score.
Someone has awakened my conscious.
The snow has stopped falling for five
Seconds flat; I saw it in a dream last night,
Along with my naked husband, throwing
Flowers on my warped grave.
Being dead is like being thrown from
An overpass, you never know which way you
Will flop.  The grass is greener over here,
But I didn’t know which way to go.
The darkness is like my only friend,
Telling me to go here or there.
I listen to the silence of my own thoughts,
And I wonder again why things are the way
They are, why the world is the way it is,
Why shadows march upon my blank

Page.

Monday, January 15, 2018

The Darkness of My Dreams.

The Darkness of My Dreams

I see the darkness of my dreams,
Strong and beautiful.  The sun glimmers
Down on me like a rising song.
Sometimes I feel the gentle arms of
The beast wrapping around me in a
Giant hug, and everything is safe.
The life is stronger than I know.
The secrets stay safe inside me,
And the darkness cannot reach me.
Sometimes, it tries to wreck its way
Inside me, and I am screaming,
Trying to claw away the evil thing
That threatens my safety.  The inner
Hatred is something unseen, far
Away in dreamland, I sleep.
Sometimes in the deep and the dark,
My life reawakens, and the flesh is
Scalding; words are torn from blood-drenched
Lips.
Life reawakens and I am still.
Still as nothing.

The death of flesh inside my evil heart.

Why Time Is Still, But Moves.

Why Time Is Still, But Moves.

Destiny moves me and moves the world.
Light is an alliteration of greed.
Time is transcending.  Hope is all things
Good.  Hate is in the mind; it shatters
All reason.
Look at the reflection of promise,
As the new day fades.  We see the abuse
Of the flesh; the rules of the law.
Everything is in the hatred of the flesh.
The dying of the flesh, the newness of it.
Light exists in a sunflower.  Time is
Grand.  Love is a transcending thing that
Encompasses all hope.  Take out the wildflower,
Put it in a vase.  Knock out the reason
Beyond the time that descends.  Newness is
Nothing.  Nothing remains but time that
Moves like a clock.  As it comes forward,
The day is grander.  Hate begets hate;
Love spreads the wall of hate.  Time transcends
The willingness of the flesh.  This is the
Wallflower.  The abuser of power.
Where the inner eye waits, beauty calls.

Everything leans forward in transcending time.

Friday, January 12, 2018

Love Will Be Forever.

Times are changing,
Changing fast.
The broken wind mourns its last note.
All the rivers have been drained to
The ocean.
Life has not risen.
Forsakened of promises, the land is gone;
Driven by reason’s unknown.
The earth, the devilled earth, has been
My domain and nothing is shattered
Or remained.
I see his eyes, his face, in my dreams-
And they will last forever.
Forever will the winds rise,
Forever will the lands have mountains;
Forever death remains true.
But so in my dreams, I love him,
And in his eyes it holds the truth.
He is my friend, and our love will
Grow with the whole of the earth,

And everything in it will remain.

Thursday, January 11, 2018

To Befriend an Owl.

To Befriend an Owl

The owl is in the tree.
I have befriended the owl.
The owl means nothing to me.
It walks on the ground, strutting its
Stuff.
It hoots to a nearby robin and laughs
Its ass off.

It contemplates its dinner,
And goes downstairs to make it.
The challenge is to befriend the owl while
It is eating.

The eating is the pleasure.  It is the fruit
Of it all.
When we do not know what we are
Supposed to do,
It defines us.
The definition is simple.

The bird’s the word.

Saturday, January 06, 2018

Time.

Time.

Although the time is waning,
And the mood is less than found
My love will not fade or disappear.
I’ve found true love’s calling,
And the light on the windowpane;
A blackhole is now dawning,
And the light is getting dim.
My life is forever moving,
And the water is moving slower.
The night is a teardrop that goes
On and on forever.
Everything flows in the heightened
Sense of alienation,
And night comes forth, like a
Glittering reason.
Senses are heightened.
Mistakes have been made.
Destiny is not but a dream to
Come forth and realize things
Unseen.

A dream within a dream, she said.

City Lights In Winter.

City Lights In Winter.

The city lights glow over me
In the winter snow.  The night is
A calm medley of bitter cold.
In Boston, a river has gone over
The banks, causing it to freeze
In the streets, and some cars
Are stuck in the ice.  It is a quiet

Way to end the last day of your
Life, without anyone even knowing
That you are there.  Some people did,

Perhaps, but they are gone now,
And as the snow swirls downward
From the sky, the light grows dim

In your everlasting mind.
All is quiet.  The street has been
Flushed.  A life has been finished.

Over and over again, lives are finished.