Essence In Time

The worst isn’t being over, no,
it’s worse to look back time and again.
When I look back, time is slow.

I see an essence nearly faded.
I tell myself my memory is failing
and a lifetime hasn’t been degraded.

I look back and I try not cry.
I see an essence nearly deceased.
I whisper apologies and I try not to lie.

I grab the ring ’round my throat,
the ring ’round my neck and soul,
and curse the hist’ry we tote.

I curse my empty hand —
as empty as my mind is crowded —
and cling to this silver band.

No, over isn’t the worst in throne.
Worst is having been once…
the time easily, willfully, blown.

When I look forward,
the nearly faded stand all in —
ethereal or almost alive, pointing norward.

I’m pleased — I grab the ring instead —
that my sight is failing.
I’m scared hope lies ahead.

When I look to the future,
time is lost in an ethereal glare
and I know you as my suture.

The worst isn’t being over, no,
it’s worse to look back time and again.
When I look back, time is slow.

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Puppeteer

If I played a part
across screen or stage
My voice would be heard
by none through the age.

I’d scream out my lines
but the sound would rustle,
lost in the display
and crushed in the bustle.

I know the rounding thump
of ever beating hearts.
I am well aware the signs
of the end when it starts.

I’m my own puppeteer
without a story to endear.
All I’ve written
leaves little to revere.

I’ve played the rhythm
and struck it well off key.
To sing along or cry alone
seems all the same to me.

I’ve been there once or twice;
maybe a few times more.
I’ve rigged up my own strings
from flesh to inner core.

Hindsight

The snow fell,
swirling like a beast.
Driving slower,
feeling my life was leased.

Six hours
swelled into nine.
I wish I’d known
how brittle the twine.

From Cinci
to the Caro thumb,
scared and lost
my hands gone numb,

I wish I’d known
how long I’d spend wishing
the car had swerved
with the tail-end fishing.

I wish I’d known
how slight the time;
just how far
the damaged climb.

Modern Love

I would never make a promise
I don’t intend to keep,
but I’ve never been known
to look before I leap.

If you need, I’ll take a job
and toss away my schemes,
if it means I’ll make up
all the stuff of your dreams.

I’ll stop writing stanzas
to satiate a sterile soul
and, instead, sell low cost
to make a dollar whole.

I’ll outsource my art
and draw for the mass.
If it baits your delight,
I’ll be a good lass.

I’ll break open the bank
and blow away the dust…
I’ll revise my very realm
and do what I must.

All you ought’do in return:
close your eyes and leap —
knowing I’d never make a promise
I don’t intend to keep.

Bond With Me

Hello? Are you stirring?
All reason is blurring.
Finally, the moon has dawned.
Bond with me — won’t you bond?

The hours I have stalked,
passions you have baulked.
Listen to my sound.
Believe what we have found.

Damn the dread. Damn the last.
We’re a world unsurpassed.
No matter how broken or shattered,
apart we’re simply more tattered.

Let no life before
paint our next shore.
Across the mile… and sea,
bond with, meld with, me.

Time Is Gone

I know you’re sleeping
and I know I’m leaving.
I can hear your dreams
in the winds of your breathing.

It’s over, I know it’s done.
Forgive me; forgive me, if I run.

I know what I said
and I said I would stay.
I promised through the tears,
but I can’t — not this day…

Not any under moon or sun.
It’s over, I know it’s done.
Forgive me; forgive me when I run.

I know I’ve done it
so many times before,
but I’m so tired
of living beneath the floor.

I can’t be that memory,
the one you love and hate;
I can’t stay in mind
and sit — sit and wait…

Until your dreams are done.
Forgive me; forgive me that I run.

I’ve locked up my doors,
my number’s in the mail.
I can hear your hurt
in the silence you nail.

I gave you the years
I had left to give.
I spent the hours
waiting to live…

While you ached for none.
Forgive me; forgive me, if I run.

If you come looking,
close your eyes.
Don’t take in the darkness
of hope when it dies.

It’s over, I know it’s done.
Forgive me; forget me, when I run.

I Am Not Alone

118 Lines

Oh, God, I’m so scared.
It hurts so to breathe.
Fear breaks down to tears —
tears just seethe.
There’s not enough time.
All I have is now.
Push has come to shove.
Time to wipe my brow.

I’m standing up now,
getting off the floor
I’ve cried the tears
’till I have no more.
I might be scared,
I might be lost,
But won’t pay the price.
Can’t afford the cost.

With two feet under
and a heart of stone,
where names are chiseled,
I am not alone.
With two hands held up
and a soul of steel,
where faces reflect,
I’ll make my appeal.

I’m not blind, you see.
I know what I’ve done.
The things I have said.
The words I have spun.
I’m in quite too deep.
Should I hide or care?
And from the mirror,
I just lay and glare.

I’m standing up now,
getting off the floor
I’ve cried the tears
’till I have no more.
I might be scared,
I might be lost,
But won’t pay the price.
Can’t afford the cost.

A day late again.
Just a dollar short.
Steady the tremble,
trapped in my own fort.
The walls are still up,
but my guard is down.
I’m ready to dance,
dressed sweet in my gown.

With two feet under
and a heart of stone,
where names are chiseled,
I am not alone.
With two hands held up
and a soul of steel,
where faces reflect,
I’ll make my appeal.

I couldn’t have known
the way it would go.
I couldn’t have seen
how the pain would grow.
But you must know now,
answers lay in travel.
I hurt… you hurt, too.
Sorry for the unravel.

Still without answers,
can’t say what to do.
I’ve searched everywhere.
The crow could have flew.
Can I come home now.
I can’t say I know.
I’m afraid to breathe.
Frightened of the woe.

I’m standing up now,
getting off the floor
I’ve cried the tears
’till I have no more.
I might be scared,
I might be lost,
But won’t pay the price.
Can’t afford the cost.

With two feet under
and a heart of stone.
Where names are chiseled,
I am not alone.
With two hands held up
and a soul of steel.
Where faces reflect,
I’ll make my appeal.

I may never know sure
just what I should do,
but I know I love
and love goes to you.
I’ll keep you in heart.
You keep me in, too.
I may return soon.
Back whence the crow flew.

With a heart of stone,
Where names are chiseled,
I am not alone.

With a soul of steel,
where faces reflect,
We forever connect.

I am not alone.
I am not alone.

Lessons Lost

I’ve learned so many things over the years.
I’ve been taught to cry and laugh through my fears.
Love has blinded my soul and hate my heart.
God has kept me from falling apart.

Today I sit where I can, lay where I will.
The world has given less than my fill.
Loneliness is a ghost… maybe a friend.
Togetherness is nothing some will lend.
I could cry, maybe I should scream,
but why when life must be a dream?

Parts are missing deep inside what I am.
Maybe hidden behind the proverbial dam —
lost behind walls made of fear and rage.
Building between bars of loss’s cage.
Maybe stripped away with passing time
or shattered after the fall of my prime.

I’ve learned the losses over the years.
I’ve been taught to cry and laugh through my fears.
Hurt has blinded my soul and joy my heart.
Love has kept me from falling apart.

Is it the love or the woman I lost.
That carries this atrocious cost?
Days have found themselves ruthless.
The nights snarling toothless.
I can’t be destroyed with it all,
but each year I steadily fall.

This day I let all the past go.
Tonight let the rhythm slow.
I love her — never doubt this verity.
This is all I’ve ever seen with clarity.
And I may never know how or why,
but I can still say farewell, goodbye.

I’d learned so many things over the years.
I’d been taught to cry and laugh through my fears.
She has blinded my soul and love my heart.
Nothing kept me from falling apart.

 

This is an older piece, by a few years, but I wanted to share it. It shows a viciousness I think we all live through – though some of us never make it all the way to the other side before we lose. I think that’s what’s saddest about the poem.

Your Voice Echoes

Then you hear, “Love always, from me” and the voice that echoes the memory is your own. You know then – the sound of loneliness ricocheting off the blocks of time, piercing the already shattered truth you so desperately pin beneath your mental palm. It’s a vision of isolation, the last of forever fading into the background. Tomorrow will be tomorrow, not a chance for salvation.

“God speed!” you cry. “God speed the end. God bless the final night.”

The days wear on… obstinate… mocking. What can you do. The choices are few – to stay, to quit. Just those two. No matter how many nights your lungs feel as if they might collapse, how tight your chest constricts, or the speed of your racing heart change belongs to all others and all else belongs to you.

The telephone’s ringing. It’ll be a savior calling to say… calling you… how they’ve missed you so. The world was a lonely place without your heart, how life can’t move on without your hand to hold – without your shoulder to lean.

“Hello?”

The silence is more than you deserve. It seems once upon a time, even when no one was there, the sound of the dial tone could keep you in miserable company. Now the silence on the other end serves as a reminder – there’s an emptiness in your life you’ll never fill.

You’re all grown up, a lifetime spent and lost.

Steady your hand, rest your mind. Hang up the phone, there’s death on the line. Goodnight my fellow Shade. Goodbye to the forgotten – to what you were meant to be.

The days wear on… obstinate… mocking. What can you do. The choices are few – to stay, to quit. The reality is intense, sometimes it seems the gods can hear your cries. Load the car and drive, stop where the gas stops. Live where the car dies. The days are creeping through the years and your life is a bitter-sweet regret.

Under Cover Of Smile

Grossly involved in past and time,
living with reason, on broken dime.

Searching and needing, wanting.
Mistakes that stay, still haunting.

Survival, felicity, the need.
I try for you, just you. Lead.

I have discrepancies. Faults.
If you stay – that life halts.

Let me plead… I won’t.
If you go… please, don’t.

Turned about and scared.
Confused… here, I’m bared.

What can I say – what can I do?
I’ve got to stop, think this through.

The wound… will still be fresh,
in ten years’ time under aging flesh.

If you go… if you go will you return?
Or will this union slowly adjourn?

To hell with rhythm, to hell with flow.
I need you, I do – please, don’t go.

I need you. Don’t go. I’ll change and shift.
Don’t board. Don’t fly. Don’t drift.