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.

Much To Say Little Reason

I feel I’d like to explode

the words will pour

feelings will bury the mind

in contemplative scrutiny,

the lunacy of the ludicrous

nature of acceptance

within the perfect structure

that is reason to disagree.

 

Yet I am alone with this fear,

this tension, this concern,

a need to vent,

remember getting your feelings out,

feel better after a good cry,

a good cleansing wrenching of our

internal demons,

or wait,

wait a second,

I’m almost done,

just one second please,

and I will finish that which

I began,

or perhaps

chose to not even getting started.

 

Right now, struggling with reason!

Listening to the Moody Blues

When I was just a kid,

I’d listen

there were rhythms with such skill,

I would look at a stone

on the ground

with a different lens

by the way the music spoke to my mind,

and I never understood why.

 

Then one day I found this song,

the lyrics of which,

struck me,

perhaps she was in my mind,

yet it seemed

so perfect,

every word crying to be heard,

“A turn of the page
Can read like before
Can we ask for more”

 

Seemed so easy, to read the purpose

of ‘Isn’t Life Strange’

so fitting

telling us all to stop and breathe,

to realize the world the same,

perhaps not absolute,

yet certainly can we all fall in love,

yes we can,

for we do turn the page,

though we know

the words remain.

 

They could always be the same,

our lives, our loves, our words.

A Distant Reminder

this lake

I stood on this pier

more times than I might remember,

this picture speaks to my reality,

and yet,

everyday another sun rises.

I don’t understand why

I live this life of

melancholy,

a person told me once,

after awhile we get good,

practice, practice

I’d like to find a new routine

there are certain realities

that I can never let go of,

constant reminders

that tell me to remember …

I don’t understand the concept …

letting go.


~ finding my way, a personal journey ~