My goal with this page constantly evolves – there was a time when all I wanted was to pique a woman's interest in the hope we connect through writing, dialogue … today, with all of the wonderful inspiration I've received, my need is to further my respect and intrigue in the sensual nature of 'woman' in all of her grace and elegance. I do hope you might enjoy!

Posts tagged “depression

Inside The Mind Of Depression


I wonder if they know,

his mind was quite unspoken,

when a revelation

of sanity would steal his passion.

 

Sitting alone again,

alone again,

sitting again in the quiet of an evening,

wondering just how this happens,

wandering throughout the many avenues,

the mind will take this forlorn

mechanic

this human condition,

this interaction,

a travesty one might suggest if only anyone else

really cared as much as

the real victims that exist around

our selves

all the time.

 

Ever do we wonder about the soul,

when lost in the critical masses

of exceptional reasoning.

 

Inside that depression piece,

seems to speak its own mind

when no other reasoning

comes to mind.

 

On a given day,

the world,

no matter if it might be local,

perhaps across the world,

there is a reason,

if in the beat of our audible pulse,

the heart can speak,

and she will honor love.

 


A Silent Reckoning


Absolute stillness, a quiet,

has its own foreboding feel,

footsteps of an animal,

ever soft, nearby,

curious,

eyes will look, though concern,

only for affection.

 

Back to silence,

ticking in the distance,

soft notification,

an eternal reminder

how quickly august has arrived.

A person might smell the fear,

the unknown,

a wonder of purpose.

 

If there were a music,

to bring me somewhere,

I would choose its tantric

melody

to hide this anxiety,

though it is the will of the mind,

a trapping of this questionable

sanity.

 

Is it all artificial,

this world we live in,

everything man-made

without suggestion

of miracle,

divine intervention,

a thorough timeliness,

to a clear definition.

 

I wonder out loud,

a heavy gasp,

air traffic overhead,

I realize now just why,

sitting in the comfort of my home,

the restlessness does continue,

without offering a solution,

only further reason to …

sigh.


Feeling Isolation


It is sometimes not a choice,

this element of a stationary hold

on moving forward.

A desire, a passion, a sense of drive,

suddenly sedentary,

asking for little in return,

yet the payoff is frightening.

 

While standing in the middle of a storm,

sometimes wishing to be caught,

whisked away like a piece of dust,

no longer apparent,

just a brief tug on someone’s imagination,

maybe nostalgic,

a sweet reminder

of a different time.

 

How often is it they never really knew,

the leftovers,

a salad with every favorite spice,

and yet

the element of taste

is its final departure.

 

When long ago,

I first gained consciousness,

I remember this immediate sadness,

I cried for many hours,

holding on to a memory,

a lasting storyline

that after awhile,

rather soon really,

it bored my closest allies,

or so they seemed,

and I had to let it go,

yet we all know love always returns.

 

I suppose if I let the notes continue to

dance upon the keyboard,

I might suddenly realize,

perhaps soon enough,

or maybe …

there is a purpose in feeling,

in responding to the emotional drain,

in gathering strength,

in overcoming.

See this is the apparent flaw,

that part that only wishes to dull the pain.

Where is that urgency

to step up the dopamine.


When Shock Numbs the Soul


It is a relief,

a quiet release of air,

then a somber tone,

maybe a tear.

 

It’s when we finally,

understand,

or we recognize we need to.

 

So often in our lives,

we pretend we haven’t any more time,

and yet,

look what happens years later,

we suddenly come to terms with mortality.

 

We are funny sometimes,

the way we protest,

create a mountain out of

a simple phrase,

then afterward, we cry.

 

And the beat goes on …


Deceptive Isolation


Have you ever really looked,

studied expression beyond a comment,

the quiet afterward,

if you could be inside that bubble,

how soon would despondency return.

 

I’m asking a question,

I already know the answer,

because it always returns,

despite my effort to want to move forward,

it’s the questions, the unknown,

the desire to feel wanted,

and then everything goes to hell.

 

Have you ever wondered if a person’s frame of mind,

is solely built upon interaction,

what if you put them in the words,

with an assurance of human isolation,

how long would they last before they decided,

nature might be the best solution.

 

Next time you wonder,

take a moment,

realize your impact is far greater,

than you might quietly ever imagine,

in the space of your own reasoning.


When Driven By Words


Have we been replaced?

the crumpled being in the corner mumbled,

to a jury of peers

who in quiet realize,

believe they will never allow themselves …

 

Yet his clothes are shabby,

the same pinstripe with a Jerry Garcia tie

pink button down oxford, and well-shined shoes,

he possessed years earlier,

during that last summit,

the day he resigned from today’s society.

 

Still, no one wonders where he is,

why he became,

how a life can turn beyond,

the normalcy of the human condition.

The new normal some might argue,

he might argue,

she might not care anymore,

given all the energy she spent defending

a frame of mind,

he no longer understood, or chose to wonder …

 

The idealism in surprise,

the beauty of spontaneity,

the sacrifice of one’s own belief system,

in order to complement

The Man.

We are all too easily duped

by pretty sights,

and warm surroundings,

to such a degree of departure,

we sometimes do forget …

 

the crumpled man in soft murmurs.


Writing to Fill an Empty Heart


I struggle with words,

they seem to carry on a certain storyline,

one I can never really grasp,

until the print allows my eyes to remember,

the swimming in motion ends

when it becomes the right time to let go.

 

I’d like to find the imagery in pain,

is it the steel edge cutting into a red ribbon,

where eyes might watch the soul slip away

in steady stream

no more hesitation,

a quiet, soothing, not so eternal release.

 

A friend of mine once said to me,

it is true we live our lives a very short time,

so in that span of countless hours,

we might remember love,

for it is that spiritual energy allows our smile,

if only for a brief instant,

to give us hope, a meaning and reason to survive.

 

I know that sometimes words might convey meaning,

but if it isn’t felt then they do become

only a semantic journey filled with imagery and pause.