Shot

I felt uneasy as his presence neared,
a hooded man, his face cloaked in shadow
so with a gentle pull I bade you near
fearing that I may have to let you go

He drew his weapons as he came in reach,
I pushed you aside, no time to prepare
but as i grabbed at my waist for my gun
it seemed that there was nothing but air there

so there was nothing that I could have done,
as into me his bullets sped with fate
I felt nothing but anger as they went
and in his face I screamed a bitter hate

yet I stayed up until he turned to you
and only felt the pain that you felt too.

An Image

I climbed to the image i saw above
a radiant mistress of perfect beauty.
She called to me in a lovely voice:
"turn back, you will only find disappointment in trying to reach me.
I will not make your dreams come true,
and I cannot ever be happy with you"
but i climbed anyway.

It was a long ladder, the iron bars were cold as ice
and the rust cut into my calloused palms.
it seemed to stretch upward to the heavens, despite the roof seeming so close
my arms grew tired
and just as my strength seemed expired
i saw

She was there, in the arms of another.
And she asked,
"why did you endure such a trial
when i told you I would not be as you hoped
and I cannot be happy with you?"

But as she receded into the arms of this faceless man,
I told her:
"Because I'm bold,
I'm bold, and adventurous, I'm unafraid.
I'm not one to be ruled by what others think of me,
or what others say to me.
because i'm confident, comfortable with me, and free to be me
And most importantly, I'm already happy."

Said in earnest, my words echoed in her eyes
and it seemed she may yet fall to me instead
but with a smile she bade me leave.
Yet as I turned to descend, this shadow of me paused
she seemed less lovely, and I felt less so too
and knew I was dreaming before I woke up.

As All Things Do

I keep getting this feeling that there's a need for me to document my story. I'm still not entirely sure why. I doubt that there's anything significantly special about me. I'm not an incredibly talented writer with bounding leaps of brilliant art to share. I sure as hell don't have some life changing story for anyone to learn from either. Yet, despite my simple commonalities with the rest of a maddeningly large and diverse world, I still get this feeling, after every dream, following every politically charged thought, and chasing every emotional experience... 'I should write that down'.

No, I don't feel the urge to write so that I can think things out, or release any pent up feelings. I don't write to  tell future generations about who I was, or to warn them about any bad choices they might make in their lives, or to feed them uninspired inspiration. Though I admit that I lie, and I have some small fantasies of a grandchild of mine picking through my computer and stumbling upon all of my writings. However, this selfish and irrelevant tangent is not what I have written this for. I write simply because for everything I write, I write it only if i feel that it is the best way that I can explain myself to the ones whom I truly care about. I don't give a damn if the world understands why I do what I do. I don't care if people know how I feel.

I only hope that the people who read this understand how important they are to me. I only hope that those who are important to me know a few things about me before I come to an end for them, and I, like all things sooner or later do, will come to an end, at least as far as they are concerned. This writing is for them.

Yes, it seems incredibly dark and perhaps nihilistic to focus on my own ending, but I don't necessarily mean 'end' in terms of my life. I mean only that one day, you and I will interact for a final time. I am addressing you now, because if you still care enough to read this far, then I still care about you. This final interaction will happen whether or not you and I like it. It may be marked by a sad goodbye. Anger and apparent hatred may lead one of us to storm out on each other's lives with an abrupt ending. Perhaps we will simply fall out of contact, with no final goodbye to speak of. Perhaps one of us will die. Our final meeting is not of importance, however. As far as this is concerned, all that matters is that you understand that no matter how hard we work to stick together, look after each other... there will always come a time when that will no longer happen. Again - it doesn't matter why.

You are you, and I am I, because of the interaction we shared with each other. In some way, we have both shaped a part of each other's lives. It is in this fact that I find a little comfort in knowing that we will come to an end, for when we do, we will have stopped shaping each other. Again, a seemingly harsh finality. Yet, this ending means only that we have done all we can to change this other person, and impart to them the greatest parts of us into them. In this way, I would only think it fair that this carving of our image into that person's very essence lives on. That person undoubtedly goes on to 'carve' other people, and it is in this unending transfer of self to other that i find comfort in endings, because it seems to me, as someone carved into by you and many others, that we never actually end our relationship with each other - that we never die. Our influence on each other lives on, not only IN each other, but in those who we have passed each other on to, and they pass us on in turn.

I want to end this coffee-deprived, borderline hippie, 4 a.m. rambling by simply saying that no matter what end we come to, that image of me inside you cares about you as much as I did at the peak of our relationship. Though we will unquestionably come to pass, take comfort in knowing that you have helped shaped me, and that I will always be with you, indirectly guiding you through the ways that we have changed each other. Though that image we have of each other, in each other, will also die, as all things do, they will live on in those we passed it along to. It is in this way that we are unquestionably and unfathomably infinite. Thank you for being a part of that.

Special, Composed 12/18/12

Everyone wants to think

that they are special,

that their love is the purest,

their morals, most virtuous;

their upward drive unstoppable.

These lovers do not want to think,

in all the world, that there might be two others just as happy,

in all the world, that there might be two more perfect than them,

the thought could make you sick, if you let it hold your mind.

the thought could make you sick: if someone else's is better than mine.

Everyone wants to think,

that in the moment where they embrace in love;

that in the moment where they close their eyes, and

the whole world goes a perfect, feeling dark;

the whole world might be watching, jealous.

These lovers do not want to think

in this moment, of dark pasts that haunt them;

in this moment, of darker futures that will ambush them.

They lie there in their embrace, a photograph of an instant;

they lie there in their silence, a recording of perfection.

Die Perfect, Composed 12/17/12

I only hope that when I die,

I will be one of the lucky ones.

I hope that someone else will cry;

I hope that happens when I am done.

In someone else's eye, I hope they see

someone that they think is perfect;

someone who they will try to be,

and in their actions resurrect.

For though I am flawed,

for though I have sinned,

is it not natural for a son of god,

to wish his end could make amends?

For You 12/17/12

Looking into her past I see that I

am not the first that felt a good filled heart.

Unlike I, though, this kindness they defy;

return to her deep felt pain on her part.

Even in this light fast to me she spilled,

No hesitation, nothing too rough to say.

'tween us I found love needing to be filled;

My mind and heart have never felt this way.

Carrying her out of her past's dark abyss,

A long and daunting task is set to be.

Remiss of fear we now find happiness,

daring the past not to repeat in me.

Look behind us, I see your devil's eyes,

Ever will they be staring back at me.

The Mahogany Heart

So finely sculpted is your name
a gilded trim of mark
To match a perfect dancing frame
that flows with hair so dark.

Of you I value one thing most
that which to my eyes dart
The Perfect craft organ you hold
Your Mahogany Heart.

Those richest colours and their grain
Do captivate the eye!
When once attached to roots of blood
It beat for you and I

But oh how rigid is a heart
of wooden craft and make
No matter how hard you strike back
no beating does it take.

O! How cold is living wood
that can't be set alight!
I burn for you in verse, and your
heart turns from such a sight.

When in frustration I chose poor
decisions so unproud
you seemed ready to take me back
Were it not for that crowd.

I asked you to wait there for me
you told me that you would
when I returned I only found
a splintering of wood.

Around that broken heart I wrapped
the poems that held your name.
An errant tear fell on this shrine
and sadness sparked a flame.

Alexithymia, composed December 2012

Frustration is the only thing I know,
Everyday its presence clouds my mind;

Every night I try to let it go

Lest it explode and leave nothing behind.

In others there is nothing to look for,

No sign of the turmoil I have known;

Going from day to day with something more;

No sign that I'm anything but alone.

Others all seem to use words to negate

Those demons in me that my mind abuse

How do they use them to escape my fate?

I understand none of the words they use

Nothing they try can help me understand

Getting my mind to feel more than my hand.

Morning Monster

He saw the car coming and immediately read its intentions. “You CAN'T kill her!” he screamed to no , as he sprinted across the pavement. The beautiful brunette turned around, and a smile breached her face as she saw him running toward her. She stretched her arms outward and began to move toward him, but as she came close enough to see his face, her smile turned to horror. “What's wron-” “Kate, look out!” he screamed. He leapt toward her with a forceful jump that he could never hope to execute again, and as gently as his desperation would let him, checked her back onto the sidewalk. As she fell out of harms way, he smiled. An internal smile that could not be broken, even as his body was thrown by the force of the barrelling black SUV.
A minute passed in a second. His arm was wet, bleeding and numb, but he could not move it out of the rainwater filling the pothole it had landed in.

A blurry face broke the weeping sky. “K – Kate?” He sputtered, gasping for breath. “I'm so scared. I don't want you to leave.”
“It's okay Jake, I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here.”
Blackness began to creep toward her face from the edges of his vision. Her face grew farther and farther away, even though he could still feel her hand holding his. No matter how tight he held on, he was slipping. As she bent toward him with pursed lips, the blackness began to shrink back, and an intense brightness swept over him as he woke up explosively, sweating profusely and hyperventilating. He was exploded into reality with a spasm that wracked his entire body. The tingling sensation on his lips turned to a bitter and numbing poison. Usually, waking up from a bad dream gives a feeling of relief. Waking up from that dream only made him want to finish dying. In his mind, he'd rather know that she was beside him as he died, than have to live without her ever speaking to him again. 2:46 am. Three and a half hours. He'd slept for three and a half hours. Heavy eyelids closed, only to be immediately wrenched open. Her face, her eyes haunted him every time he tried to close his. Focus drifted to the ceiling, counting the patterns of shadows upon the blackness of the night. He didn't sleep the rest of that night.  

20/20

Why is it that our powerful foresight,

Is always looking backwards to obtain

A map we used before, some how more right

Than last time, yet expect to dodge the pain?

For when I saw you, I was overjoyed!

There was but one thing left for me to do,

And yet the ghostly grasp of pasts destroyed

Led me to only be afraid of you.

A chance has come and gone, been lost to fear,

My thoughts for you, however, still remain.

Yet still, the past whispers into my ear

Reminding me of that repressed pain.

One day I hope that courage will take face,

So that her ghost with you I can replace.  

Nightmares

You're gone, and now I finally move on!

No second chances here, gone are goodbyes...

But why is it that I still sleep upon

This paper mattress of ill lullabies?

Why is it that I still can see your face

In every waking dream and absent thought?

Why is it that there's nothing to replace

The loving and the memories you brought?

There is no way to have you back here now,

And there are no words left for me to say.

Though I still wake with sweat upon my brow;

Thoughts of you paired only with my dismay.

Though dead to me you may now all but be

In dreams and mind now you are all I see.

Majestic, Composed 4/25/11

Remember when you had majestic eyes?

That charged into my soul and spied some fate;

A shame to see the way it falls and dies,

for the mistakes they cannot penetrate.

I stand alone watching us both destroyed;

If only I see it, the World is blind.

Where you had love you left a burning void,

For what I give is not returned in kind.

You overlook me, yet cannot look past

The errors, though I profusely repent.

For if no longing memories can last.

We part strangers, and thus not as was meant.

If for me though you spare a part of mind,

Returned is for you what I gave in kind.

4/1/10 Masquerade

A happy face, it only means so much

when everything around you is a storm

and something that you thought they couldnt touch

inside is now upset, no longer warm

and though you keep that smile on your face

your thoughts are anything but so serene

“what if I just...”, a dark and scary place

but you will never do the things you've seen

for that is just a show of what could be

if lesser of a person you were now

but something deep inside had made you see

that sadness isn't worth it, then nor now.

So on the outside you show nothing new

keep moving on and smile as you do

Opera Ghost 3/29/10

All eyes are focused on the lighted stage,

and none care to look back to see a pair

of sorrow laden eyes, which are a page

of a true romance laden with despair.

This man, once whole, degraded to shadow.

Mere specks of light is what was once a sun;

A light of brilliance muffled and stuffed low,

and love shut down before its time had run.

The last light source, a blue, with green and gray,

Through mask of darkness watch'd her perfect art.

No form of expression can match the way

The dance he sees can tear apart his heart

Though when the dance is over, back he goes;

back to the dark place which no other knows.

Opera House, Composed 3/29/11

It was but days ago; it was alive-

A splendid show of young vitality.

The singers and dancers did seem to strive

To light the room and set all passion free.

The artists' crafts that made the glorious set,

Once lit by light in shadow now do lie.

But memory still does that stage beget

to bring back life and colour with a sigh

Now derelict that place of glory stays.

Now not but ghosts can dance to shift the dust.

Still memories don't come in better ways,

Than on that stage where success was a must.

To sing and see her dancing there again,

Are memories lost to a thought of when...

The Terminal, Composed 03/08/2011

Step onto the platform and take my hand

To see you again is so new to me

A wondrous tonic of a different brand

Those eyes inspire passion; set me free

Passion I grew, and as it grew we soared

We rode around the world and laughed as one

And despite all the wond'rous sights we toured

My thoughts of you elated, slowed by none

A rising riot split us from the core

I thought I'd lost you; reached for you too late

I cried your name but you heard me no more

And your eyes never saw me at the gate

As you no longer love like yesterday

Let my hand go and fade into the gray

Want composed 11/2/10 in TEN MINUTES win.

 I make a mistake and my year has died

Just one slip of the tongue and there she goes

Want, oh how I want to never have lied

Her mind makes her heart forget what she knows

Back in the start, how nothing would have ceased

More love I felt for her, yes even more

Than life itself, eternally she creased

Anything in love to my heart she bore

Ever I will remember what has gone by

In words and love what was all gained and lost

The simple power of a single lie

World shattered, love gone, hope to the side tossed.

Right then I thought that she would never leave

Now I fear I may never cease to grieve.  

The Clock, composed 10/29/10

Uncertainty is in no short supply;

Stability and power changes lands.

Friends that will never leave somehow all go.

Why all this happens, we can never know.

But no matter what, we are in good hands,

For time, the clock’s best friend can never lie.

Yet Damn that face for with its simple sound,

It spells out timely ticks toward our last breath.

While mockingly it knows that it can’t end.

Yes, nothing can we do to make it bend

As all of us in time must come to death,

At that time when the man doth come around.

And so in all I hope you learn my friends,

Don’t fear the message that the bell toll sends.  

10/28/10 (productive day i guess)

Oh Strains, how long and rough upon us both have been

And oh the things that should not have been said.

Sadness, long fought, we swore we could have seen

it fall; how could we know it was not dead?

for rifts it left unbridged and scars it gave

despite it all we still could not revive

our friendship from the fate we could not save.

Such makes wonder why I am alive.

Conflict and drama, both an evil thing

it drives me mad to look at what was done

there are so many songs that I could sing

but forever to nowhere I will run

Whether or not you know that you still care

I know for sure: for you I’m always there

10/28/10

I long would sit and think aloud to you

And paper listened to my dancing pen

But in the end I never saw it through

I see it now, if only I could then

As beautiful as art can speak and show

Louder than the words The actions will speak

You need to Do, not tell, to let her know

That which your heart and mind do truly seek:

I long for once again to be a whole!

In days when for the first time we did meet

When we found out the deepness of a soul

And when my tears saw you, and not a sheet.

If you still wonder: “what does all this mean?”

I simply want to talk to my Irene.

Death and His Friends

By evening, through the forest, I walked, when,

The strange sight of a Pale Horse I was blessed;

Rider followed by horde of ghostly men.

In deepest gown of night Rider was dressed.

Dark hood consumed light from surrounding space.

He said, “Come, walk with me, forget your age,”

I knew him not, I could not see his face:

I ran fast, but could hear his silent rage.

And just when I had thought I had escaped,

I fell. I woke up, to find with me: Death.

Around me ghostly cloth had so been draped;

I knew long past was taken my last breath.

And for my foolish thought, I make amends:

Thought I'd not follow Death and all his friends.

The Stars and Us

The stars that shine on high remind me of

you; sparkling in the night, near bright as thee.

How deep my Twin, I do revere and love,

But too much of your face is memory.

You know your absence is quite deeply felt

deep cut into the soul it makes me pain

never before in so much hurt I've knelt

Yet no words does my patient waiting gain.

Your silence is a tome I cannot read

I need not say that I have barely slept

for misery in full force has been freed

and yes the stars threw down their spears and wept

but solely they cry not for you, nor me.

They weep for right now we are not a we.

Your silence is a shame I cannot bear.

It burdens me day and night; on my own,

A vestment of sadness my mind must wear,

For I could have stopped it if I had known,

But I never look back with wish to change;

Only for memories which I adore.

And so I cannot the past rearrange,

But I can change the present I abhor.

So help me to forget the troubles past,

And make more memories for us to share.

I surely hope your silence will not last,

Because I know you know I'll always care.

Now rid yourself of such foolish good-byes,

Know you'll fore'er be sister in my eyes.

Know that, I am aware that I was wrong,

And stress sends fractures through a friendship, true.

Though I know this, the bond is much more strong;

Even much worse cannot us two undo.

But why is it you feel that we must part?

A notion like that disappoints me, but,

I never could be mad, and let me start:

Let know that I will never to you shut.

Excepting not a love of mine at all,

You always will be highest on my list.

Remember that no matter what befall,

I know my care for you will still persist.

Come now, accept me back into your life,

Exorcise this evil sadness and strife.

holy crap it's not a sonnet

He left her standing there that night,

It burned her face, each tear she cried.

Perhaps her friends warnings were right?

But no, he never would have lied...

As soon as the wait time is past,

He's off to find somebody new.

And though she thinks that she will last,

Not long before her time is through

New day, another girl in tears,

When he claims them so early done.

He realised her deepest fears;

She thought she was the special one.

He says he loves her so, but then,

He leaves another one again. 

5/11/10

If I were to know that you would say yes,

Forever I would wait for a reply,

But uncertainty has a heaviness

That burdens patience, makes me wonder why:

Do you hide your feelings behind a lie?

Do not say no; there must be something there.

There is no reason that you should deny -

A way to show you just how much I care.

I know to you this thought is far from new,

Yet discontent you are with such a shift.

As it stagnates, what would you have me do?

For only your words can prevent a rift.

So wisely choose, but for long do not wait,

For left alone too long will be too late.

5/9/10

I found her, bitter, weeping to the night,

Mourning a friend who too soon did depart.

Tears on her cheeks shone in the bright moon light;

Over I went and held her to my heart.

“Why did they have to leave so soon?” she wailed,

“All that time yet, I never had prepared;

It seems like some injustice has prevailed:

I never said how much I truly cared.”

“Fear not,” I told her, “that need not be said.

They knew it all, and so, yes, they too cared,

Regret the loss not, remember instead,

All of the joyous times that you had shared.

Take comfort now, give your sadness its bane,

Know that, some time, you will see them again.”

A Duet

[12:20:15 AM] Wesley Barr Saxena: Beyond civilization, far away

[12:21:35 AM] Jake Dustin: lives one who plays the bass and has long hair

[12:22:41 AM] Wesley Barr Saxena: but we're not gonna talk of him today

[12:22:58 AM] Jake Dustin: oh yes we are, you fool, its only fair

[12:23:28 AM] Wesley Barr Saxena: touche, young padawan, but you're still wrong

[12:23:50 AM] Jake Dustin: says who my friend, we're still conversing now

[12:24:39 AM] Wesley Barr Saxena: just shut up, you are weak and i am strong

[12:25:25 AM] Jake Dustin: well no, depends entirely on how

[12:26:00 AM] Wesley Barr Saxena: duh, you naive, I speak of physical strength

[12:26:50 AM] Jake Dustin: well then in that case you succeed by far

[12:27:34 AM] Wesley Barr Saxena: and you win when it comes to body length

[12:28:01 AM] Jake Dustin: but both our sonnet talents are a brighter star

[12:28:50 AM] Wesley Barr Saxena: well, we just wasted our brains and our time

[12:29:01 AM] Jake Dustin: creating conversation in a rhyme

The night is when friends reveal more of life

Heavy minds are unburdened, to the few;

Of that which causes wonder, fear, or strife;

My companions, whose love and trust we grew.

And so we sit and talk, for endless time,

Such details conversation did revolve,

Much of which I will never put to rhyme.

So with our mates our issues we resolve;

Champions of the tasks which we'd foreseen.

Howe'er, while at these times our triumphs shone,

Lately, lacking your presence I have been

Empty of company, I think, alone,

Good friend, it is on these nights that I find,

Loose leaf cannot compare to your great mind.  

Silence

The most uncanny sound that's known to man,

Is that which not a single ear can hear.

With elegant simplicity it can,

Toll out a pensive state which leads to fear.

And though the strength of it can potent be,

Only to those who listen does it show,

Straight through its nothing, where the mind can see,

That which without it one wold never know.

And though our world with noise forever teems,

It often helps to take a step away;

Hear the great wisdom which the silence screams,

And then one finds a better choice to say.

But though it is a fearsome tool to use,

Against well spoken word, silence will lose.

Stares, Composed April 12, 2010

Across the room I see you glance at me,

Another chance, a second so sublime.

You blue eyes hide your mind's complexity;

You look away, the chance now lost in time.

Fast turn your gaze away, head to the side,

And innocently twirl your golden hair.

We wonder if we know what our minds hide;

Why must this game have to be so unfair?

Ignoring eyes now pretend you don't know,

You fan the flames of jealousy; they burn.

Is it truly so hard to let it show?

But it is not long 'fore your eyes return.

The question then I almost ask again,

Your answer lies in wait, in time, but when?

What makes a Twin? I often ask aloud,

It's not as simple as when we were born

And not the fam'ly name of which we're proud;

Rare so easily can the name be worn.

True twins are not born of such basic traits,

Exceptional must the relation be:

Such deeper things as interwoven fates,

Not of what your blood tells of family.

Of hopes and dreams and traits the bond does hold

Ev'ry shared thought a glorious symphony

No connections lost, no idle thought untold

And minds are laid between for both to see.

Who is this person held so close to me?

Discovered just by chance, given so free.

Some Soppy Apologetic Bullshit

Oh lord, my god, whatever have I done?

I can't believe I let it slip to this;

I simply want to turn away and run!

But now I turn and start to reminisce,

Of nights when we first talked without a care.

How wondrous the words said between us were.

What was it that has changed 'tween here and there?

I now doubt we will ever know for sure.

I know there was more than your share of stress

But must we so cold and abrupt depart?

And must I also face such dire duress?

I'd quite prefer you rip out my own heart.

Since with my simple failure I must live,

Please know the fastest heal is to forgive.  

Knowledge is a burden which I must keep:

A looming cloud of dark reality

Thoughts trouble me e'en as I try to sleep

Even though my mind tries hard to break free.

But no, I would not trade my gift for gold,

Although these ideas oft encumber me,

I love the way the brilliant thoughts unfold

Lavish theories and fears of what may be.

Extent of thoughts out of proportion grow

Your mind talks faster than your brain can think

Remember mem'ries which you do not know

Inside your mind, normalcy nears the brink.

Conversing, though, these topics rarely see:

Except with few, who mean the world to me.  

Swans

I lie in bed, imprisoned by my thoughts:

Mind wide awake, and Soul to tired for sleep.

Such troubles hath creativity wrought;

When suddenly the Pen begins to leap;

Opens a tap which mind will freely flow

Creating endless brilliant words of art;

Now all I have to say the world shall know.

How heavy tears will be when I depart.

You out live me upon my final breath.

Now travel wide; make good friends as you go.

Each hour of mine tolls out a nearing death:

So if you reach success I shall not know.

And as my work; as sweet Swan Song climb high'r,

May one of you fill my Soul's last desire.

In the Dark Composed 4/1/10

It seems that shadows are the only place

Where people can be seen for who they are.

For when you cannot see the shallow face,

The Mind and Soul shine through like brightest star.

Because the darkness hides such simple things,

The selfish Body can't the Spirit hold,

So Soul and mind are free to take their wings,

And show a person's side t'was yet untold.
Then through the dark ethereal Light does show;

and bathes them showing them at their true best:

thus through the shade the brilliant mind can glow,

What truly separates them from the rest.

And though the daylight chases out the night,

One can't forget the spirit twice as bright.  

False Hood, Composed 3/31/10

Unspoken words are oft louder than those

Spoke freely but without sincerity.

The lie: you planned it well, good words you chose.

But why do you hide such a thing from me?

Although you never spoke of it aloud,

Deception falls to your betraying eyes

And though you thought it muffled in dark shroud,

The truth screams out, loud, high above the lies.

And now you’re caught, no shadow hides your shame,

But still you cannot accept you are wrong;

You wonder why nobody trusts your name!

And don’t let me keep you from your false song,

But as you go I leave you with a line:

One thousand lines can’t beat a truth divine.  

Rain, Composed 3/30/10

The saddest sky of grey so sheds its tears:

It weeps for those who likewise fell in vain;

It mourns for those who succumb to their fears,

And those who pass in noble crimson rain.

“Look!,” it cries, “see on the window pane,

See how the raindrops fall, form, drip, and fade!

Likewise a lion sheds his noble mane,

And humbly falls, to where his father laid.

But man unknowingly tries to hold fast

And looks for fame and fortune which he holds.

He would have known that it was not to last,

If he had list' to what the rain had told.

And though no drop can know what path is right,

The best ones sparkle when they cross with light.

Remembrance, Composed 3/30/10

Remembrance is a feat which will soon fade;

To nothingness and Black as power shrinks

No glorious feat of man, can Time dissuade;

Its claws do drag to nothingness and sink,

And dark nothing is such an empty Hell.

No human mind can comprehend so well,

When soul and mind the body do depart,

As mortal man is taken to his knee

They race off to dimensions with no chart;

Blithe wisps of life and light they fast do flee.

And though the mem'ry withers with the flesh,

It slows, as in the text, genius they see!

They bind these words unto their hearts own mesh,

And this is how they shall remember me.  

Winter Crown

The snow is falling gently to the ground

there through my window pane a world of cheer

I stared into the fire as I frowned

thinking of what to do to bring you near.

Leaving us all alone out in the cold

You cant be here with me to watch the snow.

Why cant you listen to what you've been told?

Where ever did you go; I miss you so.

I thought that I saw you here with me, but

another ghosted memory replays.

My door will to a friend never be shut;

My heart can never close to you these days.

A new year surely brings you back around

My leaping mind will never touch the ground.

The snow is falling gently to the ground

And once bare trees now gently clad in white

the holy stars watch as we look around

as we waltz through their ethereal light

deep into your eyes I look and I see

The light of heavens sparkle back so bright

I'm not sure what it is you see in me

I care not on this magic Christmas night

As we approach my home, I see the glow

of Tannenbaum, the Chrismas tree inside

adorned with strings of lights for all to see

topped with a star of such majestic pride

Magical more because you are with me

I point for you to see, and hold you near;

there through my window pane a world of cheer

There through my window pane a world of cheer,

but stuck inside alone I cannot feel

naught but illness, which like a bandolier,

weighs down on me, but it is barely real.

While outside children spread joy in the snow

my mind is blanketed in painful thoughts

How much longer can I take all these No's

it chips away my happiness and rots

the spirit which in me still strives to see

the perfect person I have never met

I need that person now to set me free

cut me loose from this choking tangled net

as cries go unheard echoing around

I stared into the fire and I frowned.

I stared into the fire and I frowned;

It seems to me the flame in you went cold.

A passion and persistence both now drowned

In shattered dreams because of what you're told.  

Ghosts of Summers past

Is that even good? Does it make sense? Reclining in the false wicker chair, I sigh and lean back a fourth time. I bite the end of my pen hard, but my thoughts are a mess. Weak, cliché, boring, stretched. The tip of the pen scrapes back and forth across the mentally discarded lines, and as the ink fails to come out, embosses the paper in a scribble. Furiously scratching against the loose leaf, I manage to coax some blue out of the pen, and redouble my efforts to remove any evidence of now lost art. How can I finish this? I shift my weight and place my hands on the armrests, propelling myself towards the door. Grabbing my notepad and a mangled pen in my right hand, I head across the room. The sound of bare footsteps is indiscernible against the cool white stone tiles as I tread past the keyboard. My hand clasps the golden doorknob and turns, and the door swings open into the moonlight. As I slither around the door, I slap the lights off with my left hand, and shut the door with a sealing hiss of air.
I step out into the night; a heightened sense of awareness grips me. A mysterious quality fills me with a sense of life and elation. Peace is in the air of the night, tranquility radiates from the moon, and solitude lies in the stars. My eyes follow scan the slithering path, leading me to see the front garden, dressed humbly in a gown of black and grey. To my left, moonlight that managed to find a way to peek through the tangle of leaves and branches spots the grass, but can barely overcome the sea of darkness that coats the lawn. My attention is broken as a light comes to life in the window across the street. After a few seconds, the petite silhouette of a young girl dances past the window, invoking memories of a night that stole its grace from a novel. An ethereal hand gently brushes mine; I imagine I can feel the breeze of the ocean mist on my cheeks as I look up at the stars. From within them, I think for a brief second that I can see those passionate eyes burning back. The light is soon flicked off, the memory recedes, and I begin to grow increasingly aware of the simplistic beauty of the world given to me.
As I come to, I make my way towards the middle of the lawn. Dampened grass kisses my well calloused feet as I wander into to the centrepiece of the yard. I continue on, and thick wooden bark grapples with my skin as I run my hand along a branch hanging over my head. The natural world ignores my disturbance, and floats on in its I sit myself down in the swing, and take out a pen and a small notepad. Freely swaying, the momentum of the seat creates a lullaby of calming motion. Looking around again, I think: “I've been here hundreds of times. Why haven't I seen any of this before?” I write down every phrase and word that the night environment inspires, every emotion it evokes, every passion it ignites. After a while, my mind runs out of creativity, and to recharge, I decide on a walk.
Someone, perhaps imaginary, told me: the trick is not to care that it hurts. The numbness of my feet against the unforgiving pavement is a testament to that. In the silence of the night-time, my sense of hearing is amplified, and at the same time, tricked by no one else but myself. If there is any sound in the world that could be considered ambient, the randomness of the night would have to be it. Half a mile in every direction, a car begins to accelerate out of a turn. The whistle of a summer breeze rustles the long grass, and flirts with the leaves. In a strange harmony, crickets sounded off their chimes. Above my head, a narrow column of golden dust floats, creating a vortex of particles shining in the luminescence of a solitary street lamp. It becomes exceedingly hard to think that this sight isn't magic, seeing how the air seems to be filled with these specks of gold, invisible until placed into the light. Despite a multitude of noises, the air is tranquil, and inspires a sense of relaxation. The nighttime is a sanctuary in which I can find some peace from the chaos of the day, from the week, ... from the month of May. In my mind though, the sounds I want to hear are all but absent. In my mind, a sense unknown to the other five plays through a traumatic series of fights. As I experience these, a longing to hear the apologetic voices of lost friends taunts me,and places me uneasily on edge. Why could I have let myself slip up so badly? Hindsight bias and regret pair up to create a surge of uneasiness and sorrow. Despite this, the gentle night is there to comfort me, and looking back down the street, I realise at this time, that I should go finish.