A hurting soul,
one fully aware,
there is a cosmic energy
takes over beyond the real
when two lives cross avenue
to begin a trail
of flowered symphony,
of delight in passion,
when skies above
are always blue with
orchestrated by the mind’s eye.
I am in that place
where only tears remain,
overlays the reality of my dreams.
She is my harmony,
her mystique and empathy,
her brilliant capture of my psyche,
she does offer the muse
of my need to recognize
the value of a life.
Yet, burdens they may be,
a time is not forgotten,
only built upon to satisfy a tear,
to know this is
we did understand
It is a relief,
a quiet release of air,
then a somber tone,
maybe a tear.
It’s when we finally,
or we recognize we need to.
So often in our lives,
we pretend we haven’t any more time,
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 …
They are just now,
as you read the words,
know they pour from my soul,
layers my check,
dresses the faint dampness,
a quiet midnight sky,
would not reveal,
unless it were your eyes,
that I might count on,
your gasp, your love,
to dress my heart,
to show my world,
you exist inside me.
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.
Oh it’s true, not simply a mockery
we often appear to be more cagey
I’ve carried the wounds of childhood,
in order to find comfort in that I would.
This life I lead is sometimes a travesty
I hurt people to benefit me, simplicity.
A long time ago, she seemed to agree
yet still today I haven’t a place to be.
I live in a bubble some might decide
if pierced life would surely need subside.
Yet, somehow I maintain an integrity
one that surely lives on in subtlety.
She is the maker of my dreams I swoon
though it is me shatters imagery too soon.
I wonder about this state of mind tonight
is it really all that matters or that might.
I can feel my body is resolute with despair
I cannot move from this place to there.
I wish that I could feel a sense of response
to rather know the pain than cause a ponce
I’m a quiet man inside my lonely mind
there’s far too much memory to remind.
I hope that time might heal the pain I cause
for as much as time for me does give pause.
I love to know that my life here does exist
for the need to disappear I then might resist.
my mother would reference this place,
a sort of mental ravine,
her heart might nearly stop,
eyes would glaze?
blood flow in her feigns might suddenly,
spill into one pool of spun lethargy.
This was not a place
she liked to be,
she’d often howl at the nature
of love and all it’s failings.
yet, she never discovered a solution?
only knew when inside?
not a lesser degree of pain
could ever exist.
where my mother was always never to pull the plug,
I might decide otherwise,
though my freedom would be sought?
there leaves a ring of memory,
clinging to everyone’s personal psyche.
I won’t reach out again,
to find more misery,
the hours have dragged with ideals
none of which belong here tonight,
only soft, passive, realities of time.
We did find humor in our caprice,
then lost all imagination when slow
the world began to change,
I should have known the signs,
they’re typical with cliches abound.
What happens when a dream declines,
the atmosphere of weak reason
overtakes our simple design.
when then we wait to know the end,
when then we wait to know the end.