Substituting Drugs

Finding that balance

a combination

what’s right for the mind,

the music,

atmosphere,

has to be a reason

to wonder,

or is it wander

where do we want to go,

a little flute music

can take a crying man

quite a distant

before he might be found

listening to

‘spa tribe’ with no idea

why, just

some way he feels,

he might,

he could

he wants to and yet

deep inside the reservoir

once fed his ego

a barren landscape

no longer is there the bounty

of love and compassion,

his oxygen,

a being,

instead she is near,

he can feel her and he knows,

and yet

that’s the hurting moment,

for it seems likely

seems forever

tonight,

that hypothermia

might be his

greatest achievement.

I Knew Love

Now when I see passion

spread upon satin sheets entwined

a pang remains

reminders

a fantasy might travel miles

yet the road runs out

a barren landscape

whereby recall

manifests a desert of wander

trying in desperation

chilly oasis

of familiarity.

 

Now today only reminders

of the changing winds

no longer prevailing

far away

and brisk

with a certain chill

suggests some frozen reality?

lost inside the fear

when will be

a thaw

 

That if will not return …

Wondering The Hemingway

The first time I read he died,

I thought it a plot line.

I wondered how could a prolific artist

make such a morbid decision.

I thought, characters, roles

in the book please

-real life, fantasy-

 

the strain of alcoholism is real,

as is,

the dangerous notion of

escape,

I am living proof.

He reached a level of proof he close to not deny.

I have walked through life with suicidal notions

the majority

of my life.

 

Most often the reasons are very real

mistakes I have made

a reputation of not meeting a standard

the simple notion of

exhaustion.

 

we all have a job to do

we all have a job to do

 

yet today I am worthless,

barely able to complete a sentence

and yet here I am

speaking to this society

– we are all warriors –

some lost in our own fear,

others drawn upon the beauty

inspiration provides a healthy life.

 

I don’t feel healthy today.

Someone told me recently I have

touched so many lives.

What happens that day they wake and reslize

I was trying to convince myself

more attempting to guide them,

and I realized, I lost.

 

what happens then!

Waking

In water skiing there is an element

of risk.

The ability to ride the wake

sometimes an art

more often

a comfort zone whereby the player

may gasp freely for air

while being thrust upon a sea of

shattering glass.

 

Still they hold on, still reliant.

 

In love

there too is a wake

a place of sometime fortune

elsewhere loss,

 

it is the finding balance

the.conscious eye

the some way riddled body

must learn then

withstand freely

an ever changing

wind-swept horizon.

 

still they hold on, still reliant

 

In death

there lays the wake of memory

always marvelous

an eternal glow

and yet

the hour of loss

the same calm

such similar pattern of holding on

finding balance

plays silent

in the rush of

our wandering mind.

 

still they hold on, still reliant

 

would rushing through the water

with all my strength find my wake

 

without her sweet guidance

 

~ finding my way, a personal journey –

for Zelda

In The Manner of Truth

We delve many avenues

our effort sublime

to offer wonder to that

worthwhile mystery of finding

integrity

in the words of a lover’s fire.

 

There is a passion in the mind

of a wanton creature of design

that of which might take

little form

if not drawn by such is a mystique

her beauty

her wisdom

the charismatic nature of what

compels me into her arms

from the beginning

that very moment

the cry of a young child

needing warmth

and only sensing

sweet wonder

is her.

 

In the manner of truth

of if I could now define, dear wanerer

she is that’s turmoil o the mind,

the riddled creator

sings lullaby

while cradles my soul

in this our eternal, autumn

Waking With Purposeful Shades

ED7977C5-FF18-44BE-A5BB-B92A19E732BB.jpegI don’t wish to see the light

only the shadow

of my quiet reality

me and my animal now

her eyes

just love

no agenda drawn

a quiet wonder of some seeming

loyalty

not feigned

no imagination

just silent breathing

waiting

perhaps there is wonder

yet she will

always know

always be

always … awaiting me

always she may trust my presence

always here.

Wanting

A sinking feeling remains

the cold breeze of autumn return

whereby with streaking skies

the accent of winter will loom

gives a romantic flair

to a sunny afternoon.

 

Yet now the night,

the breeze turns slowly to a chill

the response to events

yet offering remedy at stake,

the craft of attraction

brought to a silent halt.

 

What we know today

feels like a lean upon slippery

rocks in a natural pull of gravity

seeking peace

yet lowering our sad yes

to find the chasm scream below.

 

We are the least important value

when a solemn regret is our scheme.


 

~ just finding my way, a personal journey ~