Poetry,

Pent Up Dream

There’s a few things I’ll never get over

Like those thousands of tomorrows that never came

The waiting, the wishing, searching and hoping for signs that I’m on the right track, am I getting somewhere, anywhere, or am I going in circles like a skipping record—-or am I moving full-steam-ahead towards an inevitable cliff?

There’s a belongingness in learning that we are all in a shared aloneness, and I once foolishly thought you knew me, I was wrong, my words were intended to be poetry, warm damp words whispered from my lips into your ear, tickling and sending shivers down your back, you said you always fell for the weird ones, poets, madmen, musicians, but I think I scared you away with my intensity, I so badly wanted to touch you, I accidentally called ya baby, suddenly your smile became a question mark, it left you bamboozled, you said you thought I put a hex on you

You came searching for pieces of yourself, lurking in the shadows between your light and my darkness—You too, felt the sadness in this world, and for a time, the sadness held us together, there was just you and I—and then all the rest of this nihilistic world against us

How many of our lost yesterdays gave birth to stillborn todays

And, how many todays do any of us have? who are you fated to spend your tomorrows with?

It’s a sin to squander once in a lifetime moments, but I did so, with you

Will this ache in my chest ever subside?

From some mystic place you conjured up your black magic

One part love and a hundred parts regret

I don’t believe in the concept of time

There’s only a greased and slippery “now”

I don’t try to hold on to things anymore, Because the Buddhist were right. The attachment to people and things is the root of all suffering, but I never could let go of you, I’ve choose to suffer

I mess things up, I say one thing and do the other

I’m a wandering contradiction, avoiding the lines on broken sidewalk cracks, tripping over forgotten promises, facing my inexcusable lies, living with all those pent up dreams of what might have been

I’m a victim of this relentless, aimless love

I’m Gonna Treat Ya Like You’re Not My Wife

If you were my lover

I’d hold ya tight

But you ain’t my lover

You’re just my wife 

If you were my lover

I’d make ya moan and scream

But you’re not my lover

Who gets naked in my dreams

If you were my lover

I wouldn’t holler you wouldn’t bitch

But you’re not my lover

You no longer scratch my itch

If you were my lover

I’d take ya home

But you’re not my lover

So I’m sleeping alone

I’m gonna take ya on a date

I’m gonna treat ya right

I’m gonna treat like a girlfriend

I’m gonna treat ya like you’re not my wife

If you were my lover

I’d give ya hugs and kisses

But I’m not your lover

You’re not my mistress

If you were my lover

You’d be my fantasy

But you’re not my lover

What ya get is what ya see

If you were my lover

I’d take you to bed

But I’m not my lover

That’s what you said

If you were my lover

I’d ask you to marry me

But you’r not my lover

You’re already my wife ya see

I’m gonna take ya on a date

I’m gonna treat ya right

I’m gonna treat like a girlfriend

I’m gonna treat ya like you’re not my wife

We All Need A Home

Home

Everybody needs a home

Family

Everybody needs a family 

Dreams

Everybody needs a dream

A dream to awake too

Friends

Someone to pull you thru

Hope

Something to hang on too

Take a seat

There’s plenty of room at the table

For me and you 

Time

There’s never enough

Kindness

Should never go unnoticed 

Love

Is to be shared

Shared between me and you

Forgiveness

Everybody needs forgiveness

Laughter

Everyone should have their share

Smiles

They’re always free

Free to you, free to me

Home

Everybody needs a family

Family

Everybody needs a home

Dreams

Everybody needs a dream

A dream to come true

Prodigal Son

You grew up

I grew old

We couldn’t see eye to eye

So we headed down separate roads

Tried to teach you 

Like my father taught me

To be brave and honest 

And nobody’s fool

I guess we all

Gotta make our own mistakes

I’ve made my share

Had to learn the hard way

Wherever you’re headed

I wish you well

Give it all ya got

Give-em hell       

Father and son

Man to man

Know this for sure

I’ll welcome you home again

You and me

A lot the same

A bit hard headed

Always different from the rest

Think things over

Be strong, have faith

Do this and I know 

You’ll find your way

Doesn’t matter who’s right

Lets make amends

I’ll let my guitar do the talking

Cause worlds fade in the end

I want you to remember

When my days are all done

I was your father

And you my prodigal son

Father and son

Man to man

When this world lets you down

I’ll welcome you home again

Soul Purpose

The only people for me are the ones walking in circles, silently struggling while getting nowhere. The ones who are not self assured, or at peace with themselves. These are the ones who are estranged from their soul purpose. It’s only through suffering that we find out what we’re made of. I wish it wasn’t true, but it takes troubled times to grasp the meaning behind this place in which I now have chosen to call home. I am the product of the choices I’ve intentionally or unintentionally made. Time silently rolls by, inherently taking no passengers.

I feel at home with the lost ones who are misunderstood, the ones fired from jobs, behind on their rent, fighting addictions, crippled by heartaches, tripping over broken dreams, the ones holding on by their last shreds of hope. These are the ones who’ve made bad decisions, foolish choices, and considered by most to be a lost causes. Sitting on a broken-down couch, empty bottles, empty dreams, full ashtrays, the sound of cars rolling by my sun streaked window. 

And there’s nothing as unsettling as knowing you are a lost cause. Make no mistake, we must all fight for whatever we want to get out of this life. Who’s to say who’s the winner.  When in the end I’m only shadow boxing. 

“Never cut what you can untie.” Robert Frost.  

For the crazy ones

There are many brands of mental illness.You’ve got your garden variety schizophrenia, Bi-polar, chronically depressed, OCD, PTSD, ADHD (not to be confused with LGBT). There’s Anxiety disorders, Mood disorders, Personality disorders, Alcoholism, Drug addiction, Paranoia, Narcism and insomnia. 

If you string all those psychobabble labels together and allow them to infest a soul, you’ll find the makings of a poet. Poets possess a menagerie of mental health disorders. They come with many of the same symptoms defined in The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, often known as the “DSM,” To be a poet is to be demented, a lune, batshit crazy, fool-hearted, delusional, insane and a vessel of junkyard beauty. 

Poets hear voices, see visions, are paranoid of the demons and devils that chatter incessantly inside their echoey heads. Some are being channeled by Jesus or Lucifer. Some claim to have been abducted by UFO’s who’ve inserted micro chips under their skin. There’s the ones with tin foil caps covering their skulls to blockout the micro waves that control their thoughts. They possess super powers, they are the cursed, the blessed and the god forsaken chosen ones. 

As far fetched as this may sound, these poets believe they can inhabit your brain and silently transmit disembodied emotions into your flesh. They scribble little black markings, or what we call letters on paper, arranging them into words and sentences. If these markings are assembled with perfection, they have the power to unlock revelations hidden within the readers gray matter. These words; these poems exist only in the readers imagination. They can’t be seen or touched, they mysteriously seep from the subconscious to the conscious mind. The author may be dead, but their words carry on in the readers head, like the breath of gods, omniscient, immortal——omnipotent. 

How crazy is that?

This is more than an observation I’m sharing with you, it’s a warning. If you choose to go down that path of becoming a poet, then you’ll need to go all the way. You’ll have to fearlessly peer into the heart of the darkness. You’ll have to force yourself to see and feel the things that most avoid. And there you’ll find death threats, condemned love, contaminated truth, the meaninglessness of life, a fools complacency, naked truth and simmering nihilism. 

If you can get past the fear and madness, if you are willing to endure the song of the sirens, you will find your own voice. There will be peace and wholeness. In the sadness there is beauty, behind crumbling walls of the fortress there’s freedom. In this secret place, time means nothing, reality is malleable, love is forever sustained and a poet is ordained.   

For The Lonely

When it rains in the forest

I imagine you beside me

As Nightfall is coming down

In the dark gloom of December

A damp fog reclaims a wounded sky

I wonder what becomes of the likes of  you and me

Look how these years have blown thru us

Maybe we aren’t so young anymore 

I have a place I like to go

A bench overlooking an Andrew Wyeth meadow

All I want to say before it’s too late

I lose myself when I find myself in you

Branches sway, shadows dance

Winter is made for the lonely

It’s hard to wait on something new

To lose another day lost

Stranded behind our silent walls 

Between Love and Disaster

Soundtrack by Ruston Kelly “Hellfire”.

This is your life, take it or leave it

Thru your tears and laughter

Were’e all just finding our way

Ya never know what ya got

Till you find out what you’re not

And most the time there’s nothing

There’s nothing there at all

Make your choice between love and disaster 

This is your life, to use as you choose

There’s anger and there’s forgiveness 

They’re both out there waiting for you

Grab a hold with both hands

Sometimes ya win sometimes ya lose

It’s no good to go it alone

Inside your soul make a home 

Made of Glass and stone

Make your choice between love and disaster 

This is your dream, to awaken

Watching your life unfold

Some give in, some give up

Trust your heart, trust your gut

Search the edges of your thoughts

What’s illusion, what’s not

Be careful what you’re chasing after

Make your choice between love and disaster