The unknown road

I Don't Say Much (Improvised Write)

"For a writer, you sure don't have much to say," she spoke with vehemence. I respond calmly, "Speaking is not a strong attribute of mine.  I'm rather more of an observer." I never saw eyes roll so far before in my life.  I was afraid she was having a seizure, though she quickly struck that fear away with a swat of her tongue.

"You are not gregarious, adventurous, or even slightly entertaining!  I thought I was going to be dazzled by some brilliant mind.... do you have anything to say?  Anything?"  She raised her eyebrow.

If only I said anything... wit is a weapon that I rarely unsheath when the opportunity arises. I sat there in disbelief... the nerve of someone putting expectations on me!  I already have a hard enough time with the pressure of writing (casually, mind you!), and now I'm expected to speak?

~~~~~~~

She sat there in judgement,
Unable to connect
the disconnect -
Vocal cords
slow to react
to the onslaught
of accusations.

I never claimed to be a writer,
just that I write.

She sat there, in anticipation
to hear my lips
entertain on command.

The verdict was made
 -  Death to the Wannabe

She doesn't know I died two years ago
and all that is left is numb.
She stabs with her knife,
and I remain calm and without pain.

She sat there - because she knows me so well.

I left the room abruptly -
     I dare her to try to keep me
       in contempt of Her court.
----

I am now the Judge,
Unable to connect
the disconnect
Vocal Cords
bend to my will,
and be ready for
my wrath.

I never claimed to be anything,
Just that I am.

She sat there, in anticipation
to hear my lips -
it wasn't what she expected.

The verdict was made:
   - I am not sorry.

She doesn't know I died two years ago
and all that is left is numb.
She cuts at me to see if I feel,
and I remain calm, slightly annoyed.

She sat there - because she knows me so well.
               
The gavel dropped -
     I died two years ago
         and she's all alone.

The Weight

Stand upon my shoulders,
and let me carry your burden.

Father, where were you
when I was young.  I sat
teaching myself how to be man.

Mother was neither here,
nor there.  She was swept
up in a tidal wave - liquid
fire, clear and precise.

Where were you?

Here, stand upon my shoulders,
and let me carry your weight.
Dialysis, amputations, loneliness -
I know them all to well.
Different forms, different ways -
but I know them -

Hatred posioned my blood,
and I needed it purified.
My limbs have been removed,
as I was unable to fend for
myself.  I was alone, a rock
in a sea of midnight blue.

I've overcame it...
though mine was not physical.

Stand upon my shoulders,
if you can -  I will carry your burden,
As I always have -
On my own two feet.

Waiting for the bus

At the bus stop ...

Life rushes by

Unable to take the time

To appreciate the beauty 

Right outside.  Windows 

Uses not for viewing,

Just for going. 

Sit back, relax, and 

Enjoy the ride.  Rushing

Won't change fate,

What's a few minutes

To breath, and really

See the beauty -

Architecture, trees, and 

Sky... There's so much 

More, and I just now

Opened my eyes.

Experimentation

Impromptu Poem -

Life

Stale bread life...

It's food, we survive

For now as we watch prices rise.

Change is coming.

It's in the air we breath,

And the blood that flows

Through our veins. 

Green faces stare 

Scared and angry

Of what we represent,

The changing of the Guard.

Yesterday was filled with laughter,
Ignorant to the sufferings of today.

We survived.
Threatened only by our own self,
Stale bread feeds,
yet the spirit breaks.

Change came,
and the air we breathed
became toxic,
and the blood that flows
became the same.

Red faces stared,
Angry and fearful
Of what we had represented.
The old guard.

Stale bread,
we survive, it's food.
Prices rise, inflation
never lets us get ahead.
____________________

Random Thoughts

Gluten-free, peanut allergies.
What's with food that wrecks havoc, or worse yet, kills?
I've heard it said , "You are what you eat?"
So is a vegetarian a vegetable? And if they are,
does that mean they're in a coma?

I've been watching the sky,
especially at sun down.  It's amazing,
with the man-made clouds... yes,
I don't know if anyone else notices
the contrails that expand and cross
over into other contrails.  I'm no
conspiracist... but what the ....

I don't like cursing, there's really no
use for it.  I know, it can express anger,
but subtle anger is so much more fun. Plus,
there is a much bigger effect when you
do use a curse word - there so much more
power and meaning behind it...

Walking is a dangerous thing. Pedestrians
need to be careful because I think some
hunters drivers believe it's Pedestrian season all
year round.

Some days fade into the background,
never to be remembered.  365 days in
a year, and how many of those do we really
capture and appreciate?  I know I get lost,
caught up in the sea of work and bills.
The ebb and flow of the economy.

A man smiled at me, and waved...
It caught me off guard, so I waved back.
He approached, and as he neared...
A frown fell upon him, and he
walked away in disgust.  He thought
I was someone else.

Cell phones make people rude.
Just because you have a phone,
doesn't mean you can use it
wherever you please.  I don't
want to hear your conversation
about how you contracted herpes.

Kindness is a rare thing.  I like
to think I'm kind, though I know not
as kind as I use to be.  I just don't understand
why someone would ask to borrow
my phone so they can call their
social worker.  I gave them a dollar
to use a pay phone, yes - pay phones still
exist.  You just have to hunt them out,
though I don't know if a dollar
is enough to make a call now days.
______


Good night!

A Conversation Covered In Darkness (stream of consciousness write) Who knows where I'll go (read at your own risk, or own waste of time.)

It approaches, the end.
Bright light engulfs,
Tunnel vision into
black.

'Do you see
anything really?'

Just darkness rising
in the East. The night
before the stars fell,
and vanished behind
the lunar eclipse, and
I rose inflamed.  Where
is the light?

"Fluorescent street lamps provide light!"

The moon never returned, and the Sun,
the poor sun never rose again.  It burned
in the Horizon - and all that was left
of it was ash.   How can one mourn
for such devastation?

"The Government will provide."

The troops move in, and we lay
huddle in groups, arm in arm...
Tear gas rains down...

"The Government will protect..."

The troops move in, and we lay
covered in darkness, though we
 are all brightly lit for the television,
broadcast as rabble-rousers...
Mass hysteria ensues, and we lay
upon each other in mass graves...

"The Government will provide."

When did we begin to trust the Government?
The peoples interest never is
at heart of any issue... just distraction,
distrust, and keep us apart, so the
mysterious powers that be, known as
"They," can continue to rule...

Darkness descended, and artificial light
took over.  Divide and conquer,
Distract, and play on fears and irrational rationale.
"They" own us.

"You're a conspiracy theorist."

No, I just see the truth.
Minimalist, spiritualist, blahist...
It doesn't matter... we're all
Inside the "Matrix."

"I see the light.  It's a Thursday, 11:01PM...
It's coming from a screen, and it's telling
me the truth.  It's name is Dell, and it provides
me truth through electronic signals...
I read the words, I read the news... I know
the truth.  I believe the Gossip, the fear mongering..
I believe..."

I hear a hint of sarcasm.  Does Mom know
you're speaking to me?

"Mom is an alcoholic, who cares what she knows."

That's just plain disrespect.  

"You're ignorant, and slightly off your rockers."

I'm just tired, and my mind is going to fast to keep up.

"Get some sleep."

Insomnia is my best friend right now.  We have conversations,
much like the one you and I are having.  Usually
I'm a little more passionate though.  I may end
up writing a poem, though I've been working
on a sci-fi/horror/mystery/something story.

"Really?  How much have you written?"

A paragraph.

"You call that working on it?"

Well, I have an idea, and I got that written down.  That's what counts!

"You're a casual writer, I forgot."

Writer?  I'm a revolutionist!

"You're a conformist, and you know it."

I'm as programmed as the next person. I don't know
what thought is mine, or what that is "Theirs."  Education,
it tends to seep in and take over your unique thought.

"Lame."

I ran a mile the other day, did push ups, and then took the bus to work.  I think i died on the way to work... I hadn't ran a mile in 10 years.  What was I thinking?  I feel young, I look young... but my bodies telling me I'm not young.

"This conversation is supposed to be covered in darkness, you can't see anything."

You're right!  Stream of consciousness writing is a b....  tough.  I don't like cursing, or using swear words... but you're right.  I completely got off topic.

"Then get back on topic."

I've written too much to get back on topic... though I'll share it anyway.

"This is good, it lets out thoughts and potentially feelings.. and helps free up creativity to be inspired."

Time will tell... though i'm dwelling in this stupid darkness.  Hopefully the sun rises tomorrow.

"It will, it always days."

The Bell Jar

A cloud swooped down and landed on my head. The cloud grew thick and dark. Visibility became non existent once the downpour began.  All was cold and wet, every step I was alone.

I knew there were others out there... somewhere.  I often cried out, "Hello?"  I never heard a voice respond over the torrent rain.  My vision was darkness, my thoughts were drowned, and misery was dumped upon on my shoulders.

Eating, sleeping, dreaming... all were impossible!  Living was instinctual because survival was coded in the genes.  Hope, is all we have to hold on to.  Dreams, do not let them go.   Tomorrow is another day, and we can be whole.

_______


Life - why is it so fickle?  Someone always needs to lose.  There is no utopia, only an ostrich society that keeps their heads in the sand.  Time brings bitterness, and bitterness brings coldness and indifference.  I say rebel against time, rebel again fickleness... don't become bitter.    The wind changes, and so does life...  from an idiom a friend of mine love to say, you got to "roll with the punches."  "Don't let no one hold you down."   I wish he was able to listen to his own words.
 

Update - :)

FYI - I'll be contributing to PRL Serials, probably mostly poetry, and I'll continue writing my usual random improvised poetry here as well.  Check out it out if you enjoy science fiction, creativity, and yes, there is poetry! Thanks to Roy Cureton.

On another note, the previous pictures posted below was not from my driving, but my ride.  I decided to start taking public transportation... err, Commuter Bus.  I figured it would eliminate one car from the road, give me some more exercise, and help me be a leader at being Sustainable... Green.. or um, save money and the environment?  Either way, there isn't many passengers besides myself.

It gives me more time to think of things to write, or to see more things to write.  :)

Ride home

Grey days are here

Need the rain

Without the tears

Emotion, pain 

Drought for years 

Now alive

With the fears

Homeward bound

California roads

Blue has faded into

Dull grey light 

I'm home

The ride to work

Silence through the vineyards

A thin fog blanket covers the road

and the sky patchy grey white.

Quick Write

Everyone I know is dying,

Or at least have been for years. 

They tell me, "Don't get old."

Yet I feel it in my bones.

My back aches, my knees are sore...

and I see the white hairs sneaking in,

I still feel young in my heart.

"Don't get old, it takes me four hours

just to get out of bed."  They need

me, and are lonely.  Desperate

for me to connect to them.

I was young when I needed them,

they didn't need me then.  Now,

I'm older, and it feels nice to be needed.

They're all dying, slowly - painfully...

It's sad to hear their tells, their pain,

though they don't want to hear mine.

They can only handle so much.

Weekly calls on the weekends.  

They always say, "I wish you lived closer."

I had thought the same thing, when I was younger...

I wish I knew you then. 

They walked away, lived their lives,

and left a young boy alone

with a raging monster.  Do I really

owe them anything? Why do I feel guilty?

I close my eyes and am thankful,

I don't live closer.  I feel death

approaching me... the irony...

They're dying, they have been for years -

but I'll be the one dead.. .like they were

when I was young. Lost and gone,

unknown...  abandoned.  

Why wait until your dying,

to connect?  No legacy left,

nothing but contempt.  I placed

my heart in ice, and let my rage

freeze... just so they can die -

In peace...

Alone

We stood hand in hand,

against waves of destruction,

and our family laughed.

They shrugged and left us to 

fend for ourselves, the onslaught

that life threw at us.

Abandoned, we became one,

bound together tightly. Interwoven 

laces of love, pain, distrust...

we share everything, and everything

is us.  

We are alone - together.

Blue

Childhood's roots run deep,
As adults we're still suffering.
There is a way we were,
that make us the way we are.

I see the waterfall,
running down her throat,
and drowning out sound -
I was not heard, nor seen.

You see the blinding light,
that shined upon her.
Leaving you in the shadows,
Darkness, loneliness... we share.

There is a way we were,
that make us the way we are.

Together we form roots,
in a midnight blue ocean.
We float away easily,
With no solid ground.

Luckily our roots intertwined,
and remain together... drifting
Lost in a confusing sea,
Together... just hold on.
____________________________________________________________________

A Link to Janis Joplin Documentary

Impromptu - Burning

Bare feet on shattered glass
Reality never grasped.
Hidden head beneath the sand
Always needing helping hand.
Independence never known,
Denial wanes on a dial tone.

"Pick up the phone, pick up."

Desperation rises,
Flickering images flash
"I'm in a crises,"
Family abandoned-  trash.

City streets cold and dark,
Habitat of fear - hark!
Danger lurks in shadow
Heart races for battle.

"Pick up the phone, pick up!"

Help's never there,
Your family never cared.
They started this pyre,
You are the fire.

~

Reflections upon the past,
recollections never last.
The call was never answered
Remove them all like cancer.
Alone, without any support
You burned with no thwart.

Risen from the ashes, lure
New blood to the pure
Unadulterated truth -
We're all burning
I'm proof.

Improvised Write on a Saturday evening.

My Ancestry

I stray from the herd, and walk
against the flow of a generation.
The raging force knocks me to,
fro.. legs weak from resisting.

They came before me, a long line
marching alone,  abandoned,
we all were abandoned.  Fathers
unwilling to care, unwilling to love.

America's greatest past-time,
is passing time independently,
alone.  A fatherless generation,
lost in the fog - disillusionment.

One of the founding fathers - found me,
lightning struck a kite held key,
and the rest is history, rewritten,
retold, resold... it changes every day.

Where do I come from?
 A long line of success,
and of failures.. the only
common thread is survival.
Ancestors who survived to breed
and pass on their genes to me.

I've heard stories:
A son's murder by the mob,
a mother suicide... a police
officers affair with the neighbor,
the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
There is a bad, and there is good,
and I'm made up of both...
Humanity is imperfection perfected.

  - I had a vision. -
A white light drowning
in a sea of blue. My forefathers
sat on clouds, bleeding into
the sea.The water and blood mingled into black,
and the white light imploded into nothingness.
My ancestors' bodies piled onto that nothingness,
forming a house. A skeletal door opened, and
I walked into death, having no fear.

Moonlight shadows dance on walls,
whispering secrets, singing ancient songs.
I see grandpa laughing with his blue eyes,
mischievous smirk, and grandma cries.
It's all lost, gone for a long time.

I sit wondering why this all comes now?
Ancestral calls of the wild,
Rebel against societal conformities,
Break free - Revolutionary War.

'Give me Liberty, or give me Death' -

It's easy to conform.  It's easy to accept.
Difficult is to stand up for what you believe.
It's hard to be free...

Original Shared on Poets of G+ - Prompt of the Week

The Stranger

He lies there helpless with failing kidneys
Dialysis three times a week, four hours per day
Should I call to ease his guilt?

He cries out for forgiveness
A shadow vanished my very first night
Darkness, confusion – what is manhood?

I sit with a phone in hand
It will mean the world to hear my voice
My past, my pain – sacrifice and flames. 

Prompt of the week

Just For The Sake Of It

Writing doesn't always come easy.  Words never fail to come to mind, they just don't always make sense, or form a thought that translate into beauty. Here's one more to the Muse, Red  ~

The Stray

It always begins with 'She',
She haunts me.

A Muse comes momentarily
to feed you wine, food,
to nourish your soul.

They always run off -
Leaving you starved for more.

Red came before the New Year
Her voice -  music
Her smile -  art
Her eyes - poetry

I could not get enough.

She came and laid herself bare
    - I ran, overwhelmed
         Lost without a pad and pen.

I have not seen her since,
Though it always begins with "She,"
She haunts me.

She always will.

From above the clouds

Miles high above

Clouds glide by - fascination 

Drifting within dreams 

Abstract Dreams.

I awoke in the sea
floating gently, spirit free
drifting wherever the current bid
watching flesh become liquid

My eyes opened in the sky
burning heat down upon my soul
watching, observing where I float
emblazon in light - magnificent sight

my ears locked on to a tune
New York - a kiss - moody gloom
Blue - yellow - white fade to black
Darkness begins to attack

I awoke in the earth
It was raging, shaking, smoking
The ground above rumbled and roared
Fear demanded attention - though I ignored.

Laughing - I mocked it's roar for
my heart was implanted in its core
beating life throughout its plates
Silence - that is our fate

My eyes burned until supernova
A force of power - destruction
my vision spread throughout the world
I saw everything at once.

My ears popped, and then imploded
forcing all sound to rapidly flow
straight into my inner drum -
beating, sound thumping

I awoke - sat up on a cloud
and I fell like rain to the ground
free falling, pouring onslaught downpour
all I, and any else could see - was me.

Slamming a beat into the ground
repeating again, and again - droplet of me
splattering upon the concrete...
I awoke on the ground, wet.

Without sound - without sight
I felt the cold, moist cement beneath.
My eyes belonged to the sky,
and my ears were a black hole.

I felt the world - and I awoke - alone.

Napa - 8/24/14

I woke to screams, and I soon joined

the chorus of horror.  Sat up to liquid

motion, waves of destruction -

    The sound blocked out the crashing dishes,

     dressers, books, pictures - rumblings

     of the Earth.

It stopped, and I ran to my son.

His door was blocked - adrenaline

overtook and I forced my way in.  

Half-naked, we escaped to the outside.

Dark, blind - no idea at the devastation inside.

Outside was a beautiful night. A billion stars

alight in the sky - blazing glory and brilliance  - 

inspiration and escape from the destruction at hand.

Reality still hasn't kicked in... it was a dream,

just a dream - and the rage inside

towards the heartless beasts that flooded

our streets - sensationalist compete...

rage inside towards the heartless business

owner that curses at us - we traumatized few

who are still picking up the pieces.

Shatter glass, memories of the past -

still being realized in the aftermath.

A week passed - and I'll never be the same.

I went to sleep that night innocent and naive,

and woke up to screams - horror and terror filled.

        I floated into a zone, reactionary and responsive to duty,

    duty called and we check on Their business... we took care of 

    their business.  How are we thanked?  Curse words and harassment.

     The "F" word flew freely from her lips.  Her business comes before her kids.

Her business comes before her kids?  They weren't here, 

they weren't here.  She is full of... I won't drop to her level.

Anger flows freely, and these words are relief. 

The ground may have stopped shaking, though I have not.  

A Bad Night

I've erased 4 attempted poems in the past half hour. Frustration abounds... here's my last attempt 12:01AM PST. 

To The Muse

I beseech you, oh muse!

Return to me now.

Pale flesh, red hair

Green eyes stare. 

Words lost in air.

Anonymity fades, 

and you slip away

Drifting swift,

wild with the wind,

So wild with the wind...

How can anyone hold on to you,

when you come and go

with the wind?

A quick write before bed (c:

Meteorology

Destiny does it again
two hands lock
sway
break away

The sun sets
the moon doesn't rise
all the stars hide
Tomorrow?

Bleak.

Poets of G+ (Prompt of the Week) Impromptu

 

Prides' Desolation

I remember her voice,
soft, alluring, mysterious.
She often spoke of philosophy,
her philosophy was simplistic -
"Do what you enjoy."

I forgot what I enjoyed.
The way her lips moved
every time she spoke.
She slurred words together
on a poetic journey - a movement.

I remember her poetry,
flowing smoothly - symmetric
and precise.  She sliced words
like a surgeon, perfection
was her goal - she reached it.

I forgot what I enjoyed.
Her mind was incredible,
I could get lost in her thoughts,
the depth of her imagination -
endless, perpetual... redundant.

I remember calling her redundant.
Frustration from drowning in her
creative forces that overwhelmed mine.
She was the real artist...
And I was just blind.

Silence

What If...

Oppression smothers voice.
She stares at me, cold and indifferent.
My lips vibrate with desire - disabled
vocal cords, mind blank with fear.
She walks away, and I'm left wondering.

Memories from childhood

My Brother (from another mother)

He was a beacon of light and hope.  Inspiration dripped off him.
Life interferes with greatness.

He stood tall, creating lyrical music with ease.
Genius with rhyme schemes, a genius indeed.

With a heart of purity that always spoke truth.
He was the gentle giant of my youth.

Life interferes with greatness, a genius indeed.
His life was taken, at least in theory.

A bullet through the forearm.  He lived.
The light was snuffed out, along with truth.

Voices raged inside his head, he believed
everyone wanted him dead.

The last day I saw him homeless, prophesying the end.
A new beacon of dark and death.
_________________________________________________________________________________


I've been there, on the verge of homelessness,
and I've seen my friends fade into the background -
                Black and white is just grey.

A dull grey - violence was everyday.
We're all the same, we are the same.
                 Black and white is just grey.

Individualism is non-existent.  It's a pack mentality,
society ostracizes those who are different.
                 Black and white is just grey

It is no different on the street.  Burnt skin, stupidity -
all just to fit in.  Bullets had names and dates.
                  It's always a drought, it never rains.

No colors - no light of day.  Just grey.
Is it any wonder so many people are not saved?
                  It's always a drought, it never rains.

Broken records - original?  yeah, right!
There's nothing new under the sun.
                  It's the same drought - it never rains.

The Woman Series # 5

I was challenged, and this is my response so far...   :)

Desire

Her name is Red,
pale white skin, green eyes,
she is my demise.
I stand hypnotized,
weak with desire,
heart's passion is fire.

She is putty in my hands,
I mold her to me,
arms criss-crossing,
legs interlocking,
lips ever so slightly touch,
electric currents spark,
nerves pulsate.

She is my demise,
pale white skin, green eyes
Her name is Red.
She stands hypnotized,
weak with desire,
I'll never tire.

She is putty in my hand,
obeys my every command.
Power overflows -

  she
    makes
 soft
      sounds
             rise
           into
                crescendo

Red gasps, then her body falls
limp.  She dreams about a lucent
liquid love flooding around her,
she closes her eyes and floats
gently through the night.

I sit quietly beside her,
contemplating the dawn.

White Streaked Skies

A woman spoke of chemtrails,
I listened as she pointed up high,
and followed her finger to the sky,
a revelation - a New World Order.
"The Government is up to something,"
she said.  Cirrus clouds spread -
wispy strands of white merged
with blue. Skeptical, I rose my hand
and asked, "Why?" 
"Mind control," she answered.  

I walked away in contemplation,
wondering whatever happened
to Power to the People?
I see a lot of focus on "I"
Including myself.

What stops us from changing?.
Is it new shoes, a new phone, 
or a new car that stops us?

White streaked skies stop us
from seeing the stars,
and if we do not see the stars -
how will we reach for them?

Some word play before bed

Inspiration blooms

Muse petals, heat rises insane

Thank you red lips

________

Muse Petals

Pluck slowly, exposing inspiration
Patience build passion - pressure
expanding within.  Heart races with
anticipation.  Time speeds up and
everything fades to a blur -
except the Muse - eyes focused, locked...
movement becomes rhythm melting
into creation, melding into life,
forming from connection between
Artist and Muse. Both lie exposed.
naked upon canvas.

~~~~~

Poets of G+ Prompt of the Week (Cliches)

Time waits for no man

She slips away like crust of earth
eroding into the the ocean,
Sinking slowly like sand through
an hour glass.  She changes with
with the tide, shifting with time

I spoke of love, dreamt of love -
she said, "Rome wasn't built in a day."
I responded, "No, but it fell."

We grew older, we grew a part
she always asked for, "Just a minute."
She never had time, she didn't wait for no man.

I watched her sink into the ocean
a slow death. She never new love,
and I dreamt... and I learned.
Wisdom comes with age - 
It has it costs 

Grey hair, wasted youth. 

Seven Faces *First Revision :)

Note:  I think it needs more work.  I usually do not work on what I write - I like to leave it as is.  For some reason this one caught me, so I'll be refining it over time... perhaps it'll never be done. Anyway...

Seven Faces

She has changed like landscape
over decades - time passing
from wilderness to city,
Nature to concrete.

She is the seven seas,
mapped to the ebb and flow
of the tide - she has
her highs and lows.

Her moods rise blue,
red, white... then fade to black -
drowning in the horizon's
cold bitter-salt - kisses.

She is both peace and rage,
lapping gentle waves
rearranged with a passing
torrent storm - raging into madness.

Her eyes flicker with passion,
on and off - dull to bright...
Grey shadows hover - clouds
over take midnight blue.

I struggle in her current,
gulping her in - breathing her,
Silently sinking into her -
Confusion in black

Another quick write

Started this without pad and pen near by, so it didn't come out as it was originally thought. Try to recreate it but not the same... basic concept, needs work.  They always need work. :) 

Seven Faces

She has changed

Seven seas – ebb and flow

predicitability

low and high tide

Moods rise blue,

red, and then white

bitter-salt kisses

cold to warm oceans

She has changed

lapping gentle waves

white peace rearranged

into red passion

raging into madness

Her eyes flicker, dull

to bright. Grey shadows

hover above. Blue, dark

midnight blue overtakes

Struggling in the current

I gulp in her breath

silently sinking in her

Confusion to black.

Pictures of Yesterday

Memories fall like rain
soft drumming beat
images flash on repeat
night fades to day
and nothing remains
but these fading pictures
of yesterday

Farewell, My Friend

Your words echo within the heart

though the fade gently away

swiftly leading to silence

I stood staring into the distance

the setting sun creating illustrous

colors across the sky

You did not stand by my side

As I stared at the mixture of color

Red and blues mingled into yellow

and you vanished into the dark

that stood behind me

Alone - always alone I stand

Unable to speak a word

in comfort to anyone

Do you remember me?

I often think of you, fondly 

and wonder what has become of you

Do you think of me?

I see you, with your family 

Laughing, and you happy.

Is that not what friends what

for each other?  It does not matter

if you do think of me, or 

remember me. All that matters

is if you are happy.

____

White crescent smile

pulls eyes into distraction

thoughts fade into daze

Memories slightly out of reach

though you are there - watching

and waiting - Memoires out of reach

Burnt image,s engraved thoughts

you stand there staring from a distance

were we ever really friends.

~~~~

Today is Thursday, and I went out for an hour.  

I felt what it was like to be a flower.

They (you know them), stared at me with delight

and for once, I did not run in fright.

I just smiled, and made eye contact.

They actually looked away, in fact!

I had overcame the shyness, but I still

did not speak.  I just did not have the will.

You know my shyness, It's hard to overcome.

I just shut down and become real numb.

Do you know why I can just be me?

I know they look, and they do see

that I stand there lost and alone,

but I'm a man - fierce on my own.

Instead, I just begin to freeze,

though it should be a breeze

for me to speak with eloquence,

and charm - I should stand with confidence

that I am true, I am not you..

False, and quick to run.  Blue

ocean fades to black, and the flower

begins to wither away - losing power.

The truth is I'm scared, and you know it.

I hide inside everyday, letting time waste away.

You live outside, amongst the masses

and I do not envy you - I admire you. 

You'll never understand, and that is okay. 

Go live your life, be yourself, be free...

and I'll stay behind and remain me.

A Poem by Her - and then a poem by me

Black & White photo

Taken some time in the Fall
A farewell hug or desperate hello

Happiness etched within
a tightened embrace
in front of a 1950's Chevrolet
                                                             

To Grandpa and Grandma S.

A captured moment -
History in black and white
Leaves fall gentle
Crushed beneath feet
Poised embrace

Normality

He sits there with mediocrity

weighing heavy on his life.

He looks back, and only

sees wasted time.

Where did the years go?

The Light House

It stands on a cliff above crashing waves,

guardian angel for ships seeking passage

Into the bay. The Golden Gate stands proud,

off in the distance, and the lone island prison,

long abandoned - sits ghostly with intrigue.

The cliffs decay, and an old foundation of what

once was a house is all that remains.

A new white bridge leads towards the light,

steady above the Pacific.  Beauty caught on 

film, and we stand together hand in hand - 

Adventurers exploring the old historic coast.

Romantic ideals - this is our place.  

Together we stand tall above... between

the bay and ocean -  and everyone is visitor

that we allow into our lonely world.  

Like the light house, we endure time, 

and stand on a cliff - watching the tide

and the fog... the wind of change.

We remain the same, we are the same, 

we are one - and the light house is us.

Rusty and old - and everything is decaying

around us.  We hold strong and stand tall,

proud - even in rags we remain a beacon

of hope to those who want to see the beauty

of love -  everlasting and overcoming all

obstacles, all erosion that is only natural.

We will endure, and remain...

just follow the light, and follow me

I will not let you crash into the rocks.

Friday Night

Music of the night

Dancing moonlight shadows laugh

Cricket serenade

Where is the Light?

There once was a light that held hope.  It shined down on a slender path.  I followed it through hills and deserts, and it guided me across waters and over mountains. On one such mountain, I slipped on a pebble and fell over a cliff into a deep crevice.

It was absolute darkness.  I wandered my way around in the dark trying to locate the light once more. Instead, I came upon other people in the darkness, and I asked them, "Where is the light?"  They pointed to a screen that had moving images. It appeared to be as light...but it was false.  It gave messages to help point people in a direction.  It spoke, "Buy, Consume, Borrow, Take."

The false light spread over into all avenues.  It was in reading materials, on the side of buildings, inside buildings, on the side of moving vehicles, on giant signs found along pathways, and it even evolved into sound.  I heard the message sent across invisible airwaves - "Fifty percent off if you buy now." It was consistent with it's inspiration, with its definition of hope.  "Fill the void, buy more."

I stopped wandering, and stood confused.  I cried out for the hope I once felt.  I cried out for the light that once guided me through darkness.  I began to search for it, asking everyone, "Where is the light of hope?" Everyone pointed to the electronic screen.  No one really knew the way, even those that claimed to know. They gave incorrect direction because they were distracted by the false light.

It was always right out of my reach. It was always right out of their reach.  We were consumed by the darkness of the crevice, though I continue to seek out the light.  Perhaps you could show me the way to the light?

The Woman Series # 4 (Sonnet)

The Beginning

I found her hidden behind a stone wall,
with dark fierce eyes that penetrate the depths
of man. I approached her slow, standing tall
and confident. She trembled with my steps
inching closer to her being. She stared
in disbelief.  I offered her my hand.
Distrust raised her hairs, no one ever cared
to reach out and help, not in this sad land.
She grabbed hold, and I brought her to her feet.
Gently I touched her cheek, "It's alright Dear."
My voice soothed her fear - She made my heart beat.
I placed my arm around her, brought her near.
"I am your home now, and you will be mine,
As long as the sun continues to shine."

Sonnet # 2

The Muse Named Red

Red: Passion blazing heat on full display.
Lips kiss soft, pleasant touch - inspire daze.
Painted heart box with silver tears, blurred haze.
Golden lights flashing white, signal the way,
The Sun calls inspiration to obey.
Cicling white strokes of a painters brush glaze
Blue waves blending land and sky... Music phase -
Ocean roars melodic tunes - muses play
Abstract rhythym, symphony of the sea.
Peace and calm - focus on the inner light.
Dancing sirens call, "Come poet, be free!"
Vision is lost when the Muse takes her flight.
Red captured ,she says, "A poet you be,"
"For now, until I flee  - hold on - I bite."

My First Attempt at a Sonnet

Abstract Praise to the Muses - Thank you

I reached for the stars to grab a lovely
Muse, whose sweet voice sang to my heart's love tune.
Beauty and inspiration - her name's Moon;
Pulling on gravity's strings, waves in sea
Crashing upon the shore - amused by me.
Siren of the heart, calling me to swoon,
Lifting up my soul, creation will boon  -
Passion burns rampant and the Muse will flee.
A spark by her touch ignites the poet,
Sweeping out the dust, bringing in the new
My hands grasped upon a dream, I know it
Will slip and fade from my eyes, like the dew
on the morning grass - dissipating shift.
The Muses grant words only to a few.

Definitions # 1

Unrequited Love

Locked inside a tiny box
passion filled with flames
petals of a blooming flower
plucked in disarray

Wander into silence
she is deaf to the heart
voices of romance
vanishing in the dark

The Woman Series # 3

She is

Veins - highways of life
poisoned by venom
purple lips kiss
Frost

Heart - pumping
cold and fear
switfly
ice

Eyes pierce
indifference
lost and
frozen

The Woman Series # 2

This is a quick improvised write on the spot.  9:30PM - 6/20/14

The Seven Year Itch

Dreams drift and life fades
listening to echoes - in a daze
time is ticking swiftly away
Where's my heart - locked
in a maze - she stands there
in disarray, hoping and praying
this goes away..

 She knows the truth,
Stands firm and somber.
In her eyes I squirm,
denial... she knows it
when she sees it.

Life drifts and dreams fade
listening in a daze- time is
tick tocking away- echoing
the hearts confusion in the m
aze.
She stands there - hope lost
and disillusioned.  Will this
ever go away?

Doors locked, changed -
nothing happend, yet nothing the
same. I am who I am, though
I'm not the same.  Can she live 
with me, I do not know.  Only 
time will tell, though it will
not slow.  

Tick tock, the hands move on,
and I wander in thought.
Will she remain by my side,
Or will the dreams slip like
nights, changing with the sunrise?

She is my heart, she is my light
She is the one that creates the spark
That makes me write.

In disarray, I pray and hope
That she will not go away, I 
could not cope.  She is my heart
she is my home..

An itch I scratched,
and now she's gone.
It's now dark.

The Woman Series -# 1

Silence is a Woman

She stands blind and deaf with clenched fists.

Her lack of voice is a violent wave of desolation.

In one hand she holds my heart, and in the other

she holds a knife.  She gives no sign of reaction,

leaving imagination to run wild with anticipation.

She is a statue, unresponsive to any stimuli. 

I scream with all my breath, and she just remains

still, staring off into another world.  

Shattered, I crumble before her. She is sick and

disturbed by the image of my ashes. She sweeps them

up and drops them into the trash. 

Calmly she walks away never to look back,

silent and unabashed.

A Portrait of My Muse

There was a melodic hum breezing through the air.  
The sun filled the room through skylights and windows,
illimunating a woman. She sat cross-legged with a paint brush
 in one hand and a tube of acrylic gold paint in the other.  She was amidst the foreplay of creativity, the prelude to creation....
she swayed in rhythmic motion - emotions flowed through
her intense strokes upon the canvas.

Pure inspiration, though she left none for me. 

How Do You Mend a Broken Heart?

She still sleeps on her side,
king size loneliness - his lies
tantalize and surprise...
time he tries to bide.

She cannot abide,
though she wants to turn
back the clock - rewind
to better days, clearer mind.

Her life's on pause, but not
he runs to a new spot
She cries alone, midnight hour
Reliving her wedding shower

How do you mend a broken heart?
Time only brings forth scares -
and will they ever go away?
Will innocence and faith ever reign?

Yesterday

Youth, naive innocence

processing information

through lenses of clear

untainted purity -

I recall those days,

blissfully observing

environmental aspects

of life - feeling intense

emotions and passions

that could not be explained.

Logic was futile, 

I just felt, and

that was more real

than anything.

Today I see my faults,

Yearning for my roots

to expand out and bring

forth the fruit of the past.

The drive for justice

has been pacified by

the constant beating

of the work drum.  Feed

the ever lasting economy,

feed your family,

feed your mind,

feed...

Consumption is our purpose,

and I fought it for so long,

Minimalist, non-conformist 

(not by appearance),

and overall rebel with a

cause - Anarchy.

Freedoms ripped away,

speech watched, and

any opinion can be repudiated,

measured, judged, and 

found to be faulty.

It's my word against yours,

and the mob rules by 

design.  Runs over the rights

of everyone... walk on

egg shells, fragile and

scared to speak up.

Where did the heroes of old go?

Conformed into leadership roles...

Where did the people go?

Enslaved by their masters.

Revolutions rarely succeed...

Yesterday,"they" screamed

for  peace and equality - 

today, "they" bring

police brutality.

Some things never change.

________________________

Impromptu Poem

Wandering thoughts

falling on you,

memories, ocean blue

waves crashing beats

melodies too

vocals of the sea

roaring in tune

 

Arm in arm, 

feet step into sand

momentarily tracing

our path - 

 

Love blooms in spring

blossoms into flames

and we walk as one

upon the white foam

 

Warmth radiates from eyes

breathe softly, relax

and embrace my heart

 

Lips touch, sparks ignite

and life explodes - by

your touch.  

To My Heart

The stars are innumerable,
glimmering in beauty, inspiring awe,
acquaintances in the dark -
cold and distant.

The sun is my star, the only
one that touches skin
with warmth, brings forth light
into the day, revealing life

into my world.  I revolve
around my sun, circling 
seasons of birth and death -from
loss to renewal, winter, spring...

My sun keeps hold of me, and I
do not spin off into distant galaxies.
I stay by her side, 
warmed and loved in perfect union.  

Short Story 5/9/2014

I'm feeling dark tonight...  

Dysfunction

He grabbed my shoulder with his greenish hand.  My heart raced as my eyes opened wide, and I sat up in bed breathing hard, gasping for air.  He's been haunting me for years.  I see him not only in my dreams, but he appears in crowds during the day.  

He laughs at me, manically with rotting teeth.  His skin tinted green and eyes yellowish, bulging out. Why does he follow me everywhere?  I don't know.

Memories flood in all the time.  He was in the war.  His one moment of action is when he took a piss while on guard duty and bullets flew past his head.  It was during the Tet offensive.  He didn't speak of anything else.  He wanted me to join the army.  I was an anarchist then.  We got a long quite well.

I saw him try at life a few times, here and there.  He loved my mother.  I know he did, in his own way.  She, well... she just is incapable of love.  What do you expect from an alcoholic though? Dramatic scenes in public were her specialty... she always made him look like a dope. He made himself look like one.  Why did he love her?  I do not know.

He took his life when she left him.  I was still living with him at the time.  Luckily I didn't find the body, she did.  Unfortunately, she shared too much imagery with me, and now I'm haunted by it.  He cries out in regret to me all the time. 

He is now the color of Army Green, and he talks like a machine.  Constantly pushing me towards joining the fight for our country.  As he put it, so eloquently, "You'll get to see the world."  Really?  I rather not see the world, I rather not see you, and I rather be free from this curse you placed upon me.

Uniform, he's always in uniform with a pistol in his hand.  He points it at me, demands me to get a life.  Who is he to demand this of me?  He's dead... he doesn't have life.  So why?  I always ask myself why?  I can't comprehend, I can't understand... I can't grasp reasoning.

I'm losing it. My mom points her finger at me and says, "You're just like him."  What's that supposed to mean?  His pistol begins to appear in my room at night. It is sitting on top of my dresser.  I have no clue where it came from, but it's there!  It's calling to me... and I hear her words echoing in my mind, "You're just like him."

I scream!  Primal and enrage I run out of the house.  I run down the street, and do not look back.  I find a hotel, and rent a room.  I sit down upon the bed, pull back the covers, and there's his pistol. It's waiting for me.  

My eyes bulge out of my head, and I feel the insanity racing in.  It doesn't make sense, no of it makes sense.  I can't rationalize it away... I hear the echo's, "You're just like him."  I see fingers pointing at me, I see his green tint flesh upon mine.  I look in the mirror.

Horror!  Terrible horror fills my heart.  I see his reflection in the mirror.  I rub my eyes in disbelief and look again... it's him, I am him. 

I break.  

Well...

There's a story in progress, but in the mean time..

Entranced

Bright eyes flicker flames
Scorching images
Passion untamed
Wild fire spreading fast
Searing hearts in it's path
Destined to entice
Excitement and fear
Holding gaze in vice

Bright eyes flicker
Fanning flames, building
passion higher - untamed
Sparks flashing everywhere
Soon everything will be bare.