mine is confusion
my look
my glance
a picture cannot hold
a weight
inside the eyes.
mine is confusion
the world
around me burns
I miss
realizing the metaphor
when we would share eyes
mine is confusion
while the city
holds a promise
a memory
once alive
now a burden
mine is confusion
I’ll no longer lie
©️ Scott F Savage 5/2020
I remember the first day, discovering a picture
that would step well into my childhood,
I had looked at it earnestly,
a fall afternoon,
the two of us in posture as children,
his the leather bomber jacket,
and me,
a sort of camel coat, endearing,
effeminate in relation to his own
though I didn’t know the meaning,
only my personal response.
I saw that picture within the time frame
before the snow fell,
it stayed with me,
defined me for the weeks ahead.
I could never decide whether I liked it or not,
certainly the memory together I will
always cherish,
the response from my own ego
as a nine year old,
causes my mind to wander,
and accept how that began my own
response
identity,
fear and perhaps
though again,
I couldn’t define the term,
agony of my departure
of confidence.
I wonder if today,
he would stand by my side,
and suggest,
cousin you are such the funny man,
there is unconditional love among idiots.
We would then laugh and go along our way.
© Scott F Savage 5/2020
the ‘b’ series
I took lines of pills
afterward alone again
lonely climbing hills
We are in such unknown territory,
our lives subjected to an invisible fear.
Last night I felt a quieting sensitive tear.
forced acceptance in horrifying history.
I cannot find a way to settle my nerves
it isn’t cabin fever as much as some sign
of wanting to stop my own incessant whine,
lives travel mountain roads in swerves.
Last night I listened to the winds in a howl,
the building shook and my windows rattled
I was not interrupted being stuck, saddled.
I couldn’t help noticing this menacing scowl.
In the winds of morning I did come to terms my own
life matters, be conscious, let the howling be known.
© Scott F Savage 4/2020
(for a dear friend I am grateful)
I wonder why I so easily found love,
a certain flattery perhaps,
a quiet afternoon, with a sense of passion
moving through the minds of travelers,
a cup of coffee,
a familiar posture,
and suddenly there began a return
in immediacy,
no need to wonder,
we knew decades before.
Yet when love
does become a primary mystique
in our lives,
the confusion we feel
is like the storm passing over
drops no rain,
only a hint of our
dependence on living inside
the climate of weather.
We could repeat,
take a risk,
and we did for a time,
while the world did continue
to exist
in whatever pattern of purpose
we might imagine.
I remember seeing the balance of weights,
offered our lives a reality of finding peace.
© Scott F Savage 4/2020
We could feel the rain
before it falls,
we could get a sense of our refrain
long before our fails.
Glancing upon the morning sky,
a streak of cloud
slide through the atmosphere,
it is that one warning peace – of mind
I’m alone at my own disposal,
an animal nearby is instinctual,
somewhat restless,
perhaps an intuitive concern.
I have a quiet demeanor,
as I see a world through the slats
of my apartment window,
this life I have now begun.
I wonder how easy it might be,
to not come back,
to suddenly be free,
less worry and all memory.
I would care about you,
wander in my ethereal
nightmare
hoping I may never hurt you.
Of course we all wish we knew,
sliding through the parallel
what would our universe be,
if a shadow could become our free.
I do think about that reality
that you and me we once used to be,
and now,
I haven’t any choice left to dream.
I only have what may be ahead of me,
in the privacy of my want to forever, see.
© Scott F Savage 4/2020
I felt you go that day in October
we began to think about the holiday,
and I mentioned the blues,
your look went the other way,
I didn’t know what I meant would hurt you so,
but I wanted to let you realize
that even in those days,
my love for you would always be real.
We started to slip then,
when different doses of reality
would speak more amplified
than the quiet passions of our own,
sweet elixir of desire.
I could feel our days were now narrowing,
as the blues began to take shape,
I knew there was no turning back,
we couldn’t be what we were,
and no matter how hared I tried,
I ended up in the corner I cried,
and every time,
so sublime
was the departure of your love.
I walk along icy winter paths,
I know the treachery of a slip
could be the final straw,
a piece of Nature’s reality
could if centered correctly,
take the life of a breathing man.
© Scott F Savage 2/2020
Because long before we parted ways,
we would ourselves speculate
wonder about the now,
could it continue to hold the same candle,
the fire in our eyes,
when in the midst of a cool summer night,
only her glance, my cast eyes, our hearts
would play with the notes upon our dreams.
Now here I am,
this life I did choose so many decades ago,
suddenly the valued is torn asunder,
and doors are opened,
that may not be allowed to stay
remain accessible
to the one I love,
to the you,
to the moment when I am alone,
and I can safely
now
imagine you in your quiet beauty
such wonder
such delightful mystique,
would that I might know
the key to safe arrival
for it is you I respect
with all my heart and soul,
my love, my yearn,
my less foolish arrival
inside the sweet mystery is
her love.
© Scott F Savage 2020
Someone stated doppelganger
and we laughed,
remarked until we could no longer
imagine,
such is the truth
when we wonder
of another.
Perhaps we are curious
of their lives,
same way,
same outcome,
did your wrist burn
just the other day.
Maybe we can match up
all the scars we have today.
Wonder out loud
sometimes they might hear you,
just enough to say,
‘hey’
I’m still here
what is possibly
still in your way.
If might we make a
decision
to go another way,
we leave behind the passion
a realization once
counted upon,
would nw become
has begun a slow
deterioration.
At least that is what we say
to ourselves,
alone in the forest,
waiting for the sky
to find another twilight,
another reason to …
No one can possibly know,
except maybe,
you & me.
© Scott F Savage 2019
If only she might understand
there is a life we lead,
by intrigue
in inspiration,
a sudden desire to please,
for it is we who are receiving pleasure,
the sort that moves beyond
gratification
to the ultimate sacrifice
of another kind of imagined
purpose.
A hillside
I would climb
for the one I love
if it meant her knowing,
counting upon
my resilience
against all odds
of hurting her.
Seems there is that occasion,
when the trepidation
of losing focus
upon what is dear
to our hearts
suddenly
is a bombshell
upon our own security
when comes to
having to fall back upon our reality.
Sometimes, we would
like to forget
what it is we are
asked to live,
over the years,
coming to terms
with just how misguided
was our initial bond,
when given
the beauty of knowing
one that could
easily touch our soul
with the windows into her
sweet passion
for life
for people
for love.
Oh to know
the frail nature of
her own symbolic gesture …
I gave myself to you.
I would, my life, give to you.
© Scott F Savage 2019
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