The first seventeen pieces of poetry on the left side of this page are the oldest poems I have written. A few were written in sixth grade. The poetry on the rest of the page reflects my current style. Poems are not in any specific order. Poems with an asterisk beside the name are not to be missed.
My work has been published in Gyre
and In
Our Own Words.
Friends who love you for who you are.
Realizing that you are special.
Each moment learning.
Enjoying your life the way it is.
Doing what you need to do.
Obtaining goals.
Making others free.
My thoughts of him live on, an extension of my mind,
feeling his very essence intermingling with mine.
Knowing his existence is a moment of my thought,
with all the love I have for him, you'd think I'd want his heart.
I wish that all the memories would fade away from me,
I wish that all those days and nights I could no longer see.
I wish the company and the laughter would simply go away,
that I'd wake up in the morning thinking it was just another day.
These things will never happen, every evening I will see
the friendship and the love he has always given me.
Now I'm laying down to sleep,
God is gone, no one to speak,
If I should wake and see the sun,
I pray tomorrow it will all be done,
They never said life was fair,
They never taught me how to really care,
But I've got them, even if they don't know it.
I never promised to play their game.
An apple on the tree is green.
But you were told to pick only the red apples.
Will you pick the green one?
I hum as mama sings a tune,
rocking me to sleep,
my eyes close.
I scream at her,
she drops a dish,
our lives have shattered,
I told her the truth, I broke her heart.
We hold one another,
as the smell of dirt clouds our minds,
as tears for him heal the years.
I sing to mama as she goes to sleep,
I rock back and forth trying to cope.
I close mamma's eyes.
I start to hum as mama sings.
the air pulses
leaving
rolling off the tongue
through
a portal
to a soul
where it shall burn
forever to be felt
Let me dry a tear for you.
Let me hold your hand.
Let me hold you close,
it will make you no less a man.
For all these years we've kept so much inside, hidden our hearts,
and told ourselves lies.
For all the years we've been afraid,
having no life, feeling ashamed.
Those times have passed.
We must move on.
Express ourselves!
Become who we are!
I know your pain,
your splintered sorrows,
the anger and sadness in your heart.
Let me help you heal.
Let me give you love and tenderness.
Let me show you what love is.
Dedicated to one.
Each on his own, but together.
Vivacious truth.
Ongoing forgiving.
Taking chances, unafraid.
Inseparable, with differences.
Ongoing change, with faith.
Not having to worry,
he will always be there.
I looked at a desk one day.
It seemed empty and fatigued.
I thought how it might look better
if adorned with a sweet scented, delicate rose.
I looked at a picture.
How the person looked so happy,
but his eyes were cold and distant.
I looked in an envelope.
There was nothing in it.
Not a letter to tell of time or date.
No warm comforting words.
No essence of another.
I saw a door through which no one unexpectedly crept.
There was not a knock on the door, or ring of the bell,
to cause a flutter of the heart.
I was in a club.
There was an empty table.
No unforgettable music played.
No tender dance occurred.
No eyes met.
I took a stroll down a path in the park
and looked at the lake.
It appeared cool and shallow,
and I heard the waning coo of a dove.
I sat under a tree, it said nothing.
With all of its' wisdom it could not tell me anything of young lovers
and the way of their world.
On my way home I saw a rose.
It was beautiful.
One lover had given it to the the other.
I turned and thought to myself,
it's only just a rose.
To love you is to feel life.
To make love with you is to live.
To give love to you is to be free.
To be loved by you is happiness.
The eagle
high above
l
o
o
k
s
d
o
w
n
to find
F
a
r
B
e
l
o
w
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a fish
the fish
surrounded by water
swims
seeing the coolness of the spring.
Do you notice sometimes that I stare too long,
that I follow to catch your scent?
I sometimes hold your hand and won't let go.
Or how I rush to your side just to be near.
I hold you close, often, to feel your warmth.
Do I press my lips to yours too long?
Do you mind when we talk for hours
or when I sit and listen to you speak?
I collect your cards and letters and put them in a box.
You are always with me.
Think I am sentimental.
For I am .
I love you.
There he stands sword in hand ready to strike at anything.
He knows he must kill her.
But how, for her look can kill?
Turning a corner he hears her, his sword out of its sheath.
The Gorgon is within reach.
He swings his sword with a mighty blow.
The Gorgon screams and shrieks as life slowly leaves her.
Call to he night and it shall set you free.
I called to the night to see its' deep shadows,
it's long cast darkness, and the great hope
from the lights above.
I called to the night to hear the sweet music
of its' silence, to feel the refreshing coolness
of its' anonymity.
I called to the night to feel its' heat, to taste its' lips,
to not feel so alone.
I called to the night, as it does not care who I am,
it only needs and feels.
I called to the night for it is the only one that can set me free.
It is my one true friend.
I look into her eyes, they are so deep and clear.
I feel her arms , so lean and gentle.
Her breath flows into my ears.
I hear her voice.
Sweetly and kindly she whispers promises to me.
She will keep them.
She speaks of forever, a life together and is not afraid.
I take her hand and I feel a breath leave my lips,
I speak her name, Death.
A single tree in the meadow.
How sad you look, all alone.
Your limbs are bare and brittle,
embraced in the arms of winter.
There is no more music
and the light has dimmed.
The stars at night are not the same.
Those who worshipped you in
spring, summer, and fall
have left you in the hands of Father Time.
I weep for you ...
until spring.
Spring will call your friends.
You will flourish by the rays of the sun.
You will turn over new leaves.
You will flower and grow
until you are very strong.
Not being the single tree in the meadow.
I have always believed in not saying good-bye.
Good-bye is a definite term, absolute and complete.
It implies that what has come before has come to a final end.
It has no reprieves, no exceptions, no hidden clauses.
To acquaintances in my life I was able to say,
"when I see you next."
To my friends I was able to say,
"next time."
To my family I was able to say,
"whenever you need me."
And to the love of my life, as we parted from this world,
I expected to say,
"until we meet again."
It is actually funny that I should now find my analysis to
be incomplete.
For last night, as we slept, I saw the two of us lying in bed,
quite old and grey.
We were talking, and smiled and laughed from time to time
And my heart wanted to say,
"until we meet again", but it could not.
From the beginning, from the first time we looked into
each others eyes, I knew it would not be so.
People see what they want to see.
As if souls were one way mirrors.
But souls are sheets of glass,
transparent sheets of glass.
How easy it is to shatter them.
A kiss to ease the pain.
Feelings shared between two.
Forgetting nothing for every moment is precious.
Insight into what you know is right.
Reasons to go on.
My hand in yours.
A smile.
Truth beyond what you might expect.
Instituting a force of everlasting power.
Opening heart, mind, and soul.
Never to be alone.
In all this time, and in all these years,
You have never realized the obvious.
You have raised your voice
And screamed and shouted,
Until I thought you would surely die.
And yet, I have never heard a word you said,
Or felt any meaning to our conversations.
In all theses years,
You never stopped to think that I might be deaf,
And could not hear a word you said.
Reflecting yesterday, they passed through my mind.
The essences of others which had briefly intermingled with mine.
And images began to flash before my eyes.
I saw their laughter once again.
I listened to them talk.
Sometimes I would give them advice.
I watched them change and grow.
I savored their glories and held their hands
when they thought they were lost.
I saw their rage. I saw their tears.I saw their love.
It made me think of how each of their lives had touched mine.
How I had become a better person.
I looked into the future
How uncertain and gray. And I saw an empty space,
which had been full of so many great people.
A tear formed in my eye it slowly moved on a journey to my heart.
How I missed them like so many before.
And then I realized they would always be with me.
Their sense of humor, their strength,
their creativity, their sensitivity, all that they were.
As long as I take care to remember
each and every one, I would never lose them,
nor would I lose myself.
A fearful day a father wakes,
opening his eyes to an awful fate,
his son is dead, no longer alive,
his love for him is shamed and he cries.
A fearful day a mother wakes,
opening her eyes to an awful fate,
her son is dead, no longer alive,
her love for him is shamed and she cries.
A day long needed a son wakes,
healing his heart, although it breaks,
he is free, no longer bound,
his love for them shall never end.
Today I was thinking of how they will talk,
how they will be cruel, how they will mock.
I thought of their unkindness, their willingness to hate
and realized it was much too late.
All of those people have gone too far.
They are forever enraged, forever caged
by the blackness of their hearts.
I met someone a while ago, someone I did
not know. He
asked me about my past, how my life had been. I told him I
would be happy to tell him, but I didn't think he would want
to hear my stories. After hearing about much of my life he
asked me why I had been so reluctant to talk of my life. I
told him that most people who ask that same question truly
do not want to hear the answer.
He thought for a moment and said,
"I believe all the others who have asked you the same
question have made a mistake. From the stories you have told
of your life I have learned a great deal about you. I have
learned your commitment to truth and knowledge. I have heard
your sense of humor, your concern for others, and your
ability to change. Most of all I have seen your courage and
strength, for it is not easy to reveal yourself, your
vulnerabilities, to admit you are human. But I am glad the
others did not want to hear your stories, if they had I
might not have met you."
I have always admired his answer.
In
his few short sentences
I had learned a great deal about him and we have had many
conversations since. I am also glad all the others were not
interested in my life. For after that day I knew I had found
the love of my life.
Alone, unable to reach out.
Wanting to be loved.
Searching for hope.
Feeling there is little reason to be.
No longer able to see the wonder of life.
The wind is a wolf.
It runs through the forest
with the slightest sound.
You do not know it is there.
It is never seen.
In the darkness
it goes to the edge of the water
to drink.
It causes ripples in the water.
It runs to the top of a hill ---
dying.
It stops.
With a breath full of soul
it howls.
Calling out,
it is lonely.
I am sorry I can not take away the scars we have carved upon your
skin.
I cannot clean the blood which gave you life.
I cannot revive you, make you breathe again.
I cannot replace the features of your face, so full and voluptuous.
I cannot bring back your friends. I can only mourn at their passing.
I am sorry you must endure this pain.
But when my people are gone, victims of their own arrogance, you
will still be here.
Your skin will slowly heal. Your face will shine with the radiant
beauty it
has always had.
Your sight will return to your rainbow eyes.
The blood will pour though your veins, so strong and pure, with the
vitality
of youth.
Once again you will be able to fill your lungs with the deep blue sky.
And with the change of seasons: spring, summer, fall and winter,
you will make new friends.
One day you will be as beautiful as you once were without me.
A man walks up to a door on his way to work.
As he approaches the door he notices another gentleman
who obviously needs to get through from the other side.
As he looks at the other man he realizes it is someone he knows.
Not wanting to speak to this person , he chooses another door.
As he leaves the reflective portal grows cold, empty and still.
If I decide to stay with you tonight,
know that I am doing so because I want to.
When we talk, know that I am sharing things with you
that I would only share with parts of myself .
If I kiss you, you can believe that it means that I feel
close
to you, and that I want to celebrate that closeness.
If my hands become passionate, delicately touching the
curves
of your body, rest assured that I am finding parts of myself in
you, and I am enraptured by the parts that are not like myself.
And if we should find ourselves together, late in the
night,
and we crawl into your bed, know that I want you to take me.
You sit there with your hand away from the switch.
You said you loved me.
You said you'd be there.
A tear falls from your eye, but I can't see it.
I know you would hold my hand, but I can't feel your grip
anymore.
Keep your promise. Let me live.
Give me one last kiss and let me go.
A silent strength stands slowly by, working wonders by my side.
To touch, to caress, to slowly kiss, what wonderful bliss.
To simply know that you are there, to feel within you truly care.
I reach for your heart for the very first time, knowing you will always
be
mine.
I stood up today and looked around
only to fall to an empty ground.
Realizing then, after all is said and done,
there is no one.
Life is an endless maze, full of excitement and
amusement.
Life is as fast as the wind and as slow as the
wondering snail.
Life is as puzzling as an ancient riddle and as
simple as a breath.
Life is as kind as a kitten and as ferocious as
a raging river.
Life is as delicate as a rose and as harsh as a
blade of a sword.
Life is a maze of contradictory paths which one
chooses to follow.
This is Pooh Bear.
He is my best friend.
We've met lots of people.
One day we had tea with the Queen of England
and had dinner with The President.
Pooh knows lots of old people like Joan of Arc
and Christopher Columbus and had an Indian friend.
We have solved mysteries for Scotland Yard
and the FBI
We have been to Africa and have sailed the oceans.
We climbed the mountains in China and have fought off many bad guys.
Pooh was a nurse in great wars and helped many people.
He taught Albert Einstein and the astronauts.
He even helped invent the TV!
You don't believe me?
That's O.K.. You're only an imaginary friend anyway.
He thought I was an angel,
with white tipped wings and a voice of gold
untouched by the world, marked only by my innocence
nestled in some cloud high above,
But I’ve never been through those pearly gates,
or sat on the right side of god,
nor have I heard the melodic tunes from cherubs,
or seen the white light that pierces the soul,
I fell a long time ago,
long before you
before I knew what truth was
and what a promise really meant,
I fell deep,
and made my company from whores, thieves, and liars,
I slept on heated grates
and ate from the rubbish that no one else would go near,
I wore high tops with holes,
black with filth, that I stole
and a long trench coat to hide the rest,
And one night when I lay on the ground
battered with bricks and stones and glass,
my blood returning to its creator, I saw an angel,
He looked like me
and when he touched my face I felt no more pain
and my blood no longer flowed,
Then he lifted my face and whispered in my ear,
“You are an angel, you are my angel”
And with that said he gave me a kiss
so tender and sweet,
I knew from that moment that he was not an angel,
I knew from that moment that there are no angels
only people who have good hearts
and want to see an end to suffering.
I look across the room,
Knowing that you are there,
Seeing no one else, no one else really cares.
I can feel you five steps back, around the corner, and through that
door,
I know you read this book, that you used this desk, you were in this
class
last year.
As many times as our paths have crossed,
As many times as your eyes fell on mine,
I can’t even tell you, you are just like me.
Talk to me, talk to me,
My friend the Mocking Bird,
Tell me all,
Tell me all,
Tell me what you have heard,
If I listen real close, turn my bad ear,
I’m sure I’ll hear what I want to hear.
Mocking Bird, Mocking Bird,
Tell me what you see,
High above the square,
High above me,
You say that you see nothing,
That everything is fine?
And why wouldn’t it be,
You would never lie.
Tell me, tell me,
What should I say?
I need to tell them something,
Or they will never go away,
Mocking Bird, Mocking Bird,
I simply don’t see.
Who are these other people,
And how do they affect me?
Dying a slow death,
alive, but unable to live,
feeling, yet unable to touch,
loving with no one to love,
making love without a lover to share,
wanting to move forward, but not alone,
suffering a slow life,
dying a slow death.
Dance, dance,
to the groove of life,
Feel the beat,
see the lights,
Relish the colors,
like sacred jewels,
use those muscles,
get into the mood,
Faster and faster,
spin around the floor,
there isn't any resisting,
you know you want more,
Like a forbidden drug,
reach for that high,
go the distance,
you can fly,
And as the song winds down,
do it again,
know you are forgiven,
it’s o.k. to sin.
The fake sunbeams stream in, highlighted, like multicolor strands
of an ever-changing rainbow. I stand by my window, looking down on the
magnificent
city, laid out before me, built with marble trimmed with gold.
And I see him, my fair prince, scaling the walls of my imprisoning
tower,
how handsome he looks, how eager he does seem.
I hear a knock at the door and who could it be?
As I open the door, she takes my hand, my heart falls.
It is my neighbor, Laer Efil. The spell is broken. The dream is gone.
As she moves about my one room apartment, she babbles about her date last night, unable to focus on anything but herself, her life, her world.
I go to the window and look at the city, it is dark and dirty, as all cities are, and the only things that are gold are people’s hearts.
I am overwhelmed by the flashing lights of the neon signs,
doing their overstepped, over paced Floridian dance.
I see him on the fire escape. He is still there.
What is he doing there? He disappears. He is gone without a
trace.
Into the confines of Laer’s apartment, he ventures.
Laer is still talking, as I pick up the receiver to call for help.
I made the choice, I made the mistake,
I gave you my heart, but you didn’t ask for it.
You handed it back, broken in half,
but you didn’t break it, I did.
Now I have to sit here in silence,
pretending I am just a friend,
that what happened last Saturday,
was just one of my fantasies.
Yet every time that I am close to you,
the pain burns to the thick of my soul,
and where air would fill my lungs to comfort you,
the stench of anguish now creeps in.
The worst part is now that I have crossed the line,
I can’t even tell you, so you might comfort me.
Isn’t it ironic that when the seed of love is untended,
it becomes nothing but a shredded memory,
buried so deep that one would surely die trying to remove it.
Temples with their spires so high,
sending messages into the sky,
collective prayers, individual requests,
everyone fearing they aren’t doing there best.
What if God didn’t care anymore,
put us out and shut the door?
What if God decided we could do it on our own,
not needing his hand outs, not needing his home?
Is it God who really cured us, healed our woes,
who made us miracles, who consoled our dying?
Or have we for all these years, lifted ourselves,
dispelled our fears, made our hearts whole,
and dried all the tears?
A wish is like a seed, using the wind to effortlessly carry
itself.
It may be carried thousands of miles away.
It might land in a cruel, deserted, desolate place.
But, seeds have shells to protect them from the elements,
no matter how raw or inhospitable the environment is.
And one day when that seed is carried away from such a place,
it can be nourished, until the wish comes true.
Where, oh where, did my shining star go,
that shined so brightly through the rain and snow,
When, oh when, did its lights dim,
was it something I said, was it something I did.
I look at the sky so dark at night,
and wonder which way to go, please give me sight.
What am I to do, his eyes no longer fall on me,
what am I to think, I guess it was not meant to be.
The world keeps turning, round and round,
never stopping, its’ hypnotic spin, keeping your attention,
distracting you from what is within.
The image it projects, is like a hollow disco ball,
only an illusion, a reorganization of light,
a reflection, but whose?
Look behind that curtain, take a look at the DJ,
is he the one spinning the record, making the sounds,
or is the music being piped in from some unknown space?
Watch as his hands move to spin the vinyl,
his actions seem rehearsed, but his magic is failing.
Look for the source, look for the truth, look closer I tell you,
you have nothing left to fear, and you have the power again.
You reach for the plug, to release its’ grip,
you pull it toward you and nothing has changed.
The DJ still moves, the disco ball still spins
the people in the club are still possessed,
with a panicked, pulsating, fury.
But then you notice, with the clarity of day,
that you aren’t dancing anymore, and
you look in the mirror and you can see yourself.
For the very first time you are your self, not a reflection,
not perfect, not flawed, just a person with feelings
and passion and a free will.
If I told you I didn’t love you,
would it really make a difference?
For so long I have not been with you,
for so many days my heart has not been for you.
If I agreed to say these words,
would it really change a thing?
When my passion lies in a different place,
and my convictions have been swayed,
do you even notice the difference?
If I tell you the truth would you really listen?
Could you accept the truth for what it is?
I think that at this point I could not win.
You would love me anyway.
I lifted the lighter,
the flame flickered, waved in the wind,
the fabric didn’t want to meet the fire.
I understood how it felt.
My eyes captured by the stars
more than four dozen,
each someone’s dream, hope, or memory
now disappearing as the fire caught,
The stripes still struggling against me
some white, some red
each linked to my past and to my future,
the same ones I lifted when I was a little boy,
I’m not little any more
and times are getting bad.
They try to tell me that I can’t
do what I’m doing.
They say I don’t love my country,
that I desecrate the one symbol of who we are,
that I am too young to understand what it means,
that I may as well spit on the dead’s graves.
Those people can’t see the hurt welling in my heart,
my bones aching with despair, my eyes full of sorrow
they don’t see all the slain sons dead from vanity,
the little girl starving from gluttony,
the lies told to hide sins and save face.
I used to raise my hand over my heart, proud,
because as long as those colors moved with the wind
liberty and justice would be for all,
I didn’t know at the time it didn’t apply to
my next door neighbor because of her skin
the man up the street because of what he thought
or to a developing nation because they had nothing left to give.
I didn’t know that it would exclude
someone because of who they love
hurt someone because of what they felt,
or implicate someone, as they did not agree.
Dropping the flag,
my heart sank remembering what that flag had meant.
It was not supposed to touch the ground,
but it was not my flag anymore,
it was not the flag I had sworn allegiance to.
It was just a piece of fabric made to look like it.
There you are as pale as new fallen snow
soft, like wisps of clouds
your eyes closed
your body still, cold, limp, lifeless,
my tears falling for you like spring rains.
Just a moment ago you were here.
Locked in a state of abulia
I would have asked, but you couldn’t tell me.
I’ll never forget the look of your blue eyes
your tiny subtle smile-
as I held you in my arms
no greater joy the world could bring.
This place full of strangers
antiseptic steel, shiny surfaces,weighted decisions,
I wanted to be here.
I wanted you to know you were not alone.
When you cried out
my heart stopped.
I do not know what you said,
only that you were confused and frightened,
only frustration could I gleam.
Was it yours or mine?
You couldn’t make the choice
I had to, I did.
it doesn’t end there though,
right now I wish it could.
It doesn’t end, nothing ends,
I know my memory won’t.
A Wish Is a Dream Your Heart Makes
A wish is a dream your heart makes
at least that’s what I’m told,
don’t place all your hope in it
it will vary likely fold,
In this land of miracles
full of wonders to behold,
make sure you can pay admission
make sure you can pay the tolls,
For a mind full of ideas
or a heart young and bold,
will surely get you nowhere
unless your pocket is full of gold,
Where freedom once rang true
from sea to shining sea,
lay miles of endless chains
people bound in mindless slavery,
But this time around,
your master isn’t who you think,
it is your TV, your car,
your clothing, even the kitchen sink,
Without them you would be nothing
unable to survive,
at least that’s the trash they’ll sell you
or force you to imbibe,
I am here to tell you
that all of this is true,
but there is something they can’t buy
it resides deep inside of you,
A dream is a wish a heart makes
that much I know,
they’ll never see it coming
they’ve constructed their own gallow.
Blues and yellows
white and black
blocks of color painted on your skin,
a live kaleidoscope,
Floating, dancing
not a care in the world
Mama said you were called Angelfish,
I believed her,
you seemed to come from above
and the other fish seemed to look at you in awe
like you had been sent from heaven,
In the morning I came to see you
and there you were
surrounded by your own carnage
not a single regret, as you picked all the bones clean.
When I was a child
they told me many lies
they said I had to eat at McDonald’s
and to always ask for Coke and fries,
When I drew it had to be Crayola
my bike had to be a Swinn
with a Slinky at my side
I was assured I would fit in,
When my teenage years had gone
and I was firmly on my own
the messages continued
piped through my TV, into my home,
To be sexy I’d need Calvins,
to be wanted I’d need his cologne
who’d have thought I needed
pork, beef and milk
to have an American home,
We needed Backstreet Boys and Barbie
a BMW or a SAAB
to make sure we’d be happy,
successful, the envy of all,
Now that we are aging
They are right there with their pills
Prozac and Viagra
to cure every ill,
Each time I purchased something,
I thought it was just for me,
I was feeding our consumer culture
becoming one of their commodities,
a corporate casualty.
A dream slowly encircled me
like a lover in the dark
come to rest his head on the breast of his beloved,
to play heartstrings like a harp
and a soul for a fool,
I turned to embrace it as if it were a friend;
but that friend betrayed me
like Brutus to Caesar
I was wounded, but not mortally,
There was good reason,
that I knew,
and I did not blame him for doing so,
though I did call out to him
knowing he could not answer
as we had both sworn,
Being so close
without time between us,
I knew that he had not meant it to be so
it was a cruel twist of fate
that he had come back to visit me,
to let me feel that moment again,
Dancing in the shade from the trees
spinning round and round
faster and faster
leaping further than I thought I could go
The music working through me,
lifting me
using every muscle
every breath
being the dance not the dancer,
until there was nothing else.
Vile darkness,
Curled in a ball
Mind shut
Body bruised,
Cursed,
Dirty, unclean.
Red water dripping
From a faucet.
Suffering, held back
Nothing before
Nothing after
No feeling
That’s how we go on
Why?
I don’t want this anymore.
I need someone,
Anyone,
To make me forget.
Enveloped by a blanket of gloom;
being pulled down slowly
into the quicksand of your own existence,
Helplessly clawing for something to hold on to
not able to see out of the gully of your soul
arrested by your own protests
silenced by your own fear,
Can anyone hear you?
Why would anyone care?
You are only a liablity,
something broken that can’t be easily fixed,
beyond your youth
desperately trying to be useful.
I am a child of the night
looking at the beginning of my immortality
just freshly waking from my cold sleep
my eyes prying open, having been shut so long.
So, this is just the beginning of my second life.
I take the first breath like a newborn child
cry out with my newfound lungs
see the world with my new sight
and feel a hunger I have not felt since my first birth.
I could not have known then that I would grow so tired,
wounded to the marrow of my bone
only to be given the opportunity to do it all again,
to want to do it all again.
Yes, I can feel the blood course through me,
I prick my finger just to see that it is all true.
Watching the blood bead, I lift it to my mouth,
taking it back, not spilling a drop.
Why would I look back?
Who was I before?
A foul specter draining others souls to replace mine
never finding enough, never finding what I needed.
You fear me now, I can see it in your eyes.
You would soon put me in my place
put on the cover and nail it shut with zeal
thinking that you were doing what is right.
So I will leave you behind
I will find others like me,
others who walked through that open door,
into that place that no one dares to speak of,
where no one comes back
and the person you were before is no more.
I can live forever
nestled in the the embrace of eternal life
faced by the prospect of endless tommorrows,
Talking without reserve, holding nothing back,
Why be afraid?
Fear is death, but I know the secret.
To think of the things I will learn
the hopes that can be realized
the experiences to be shared,
following dreams lost in the days of my youth
reaching for the seemingly distant stars,
knowing they would one day be in my hands
if that is what I want.
All I know becoming something new.
The dawn of a new age in the morning,
its’ zenith at noon,
and death in the evening,
an endless cycle.
Each lifetime would seem a moment
every era a great event,
time standing still and yet moving on,
For what is immortality?
Is it not capturing the moment,
not being afraid of the future,
learning from the past?
Lost in a world of cool blue seas surrounded by a cloud of light
reflecting, yet absorbing what can be seen
flickers of sunrise and twilight, of day and night
suns and moons, stars and sky,
There is a portion that seems to hold sadness,
dreams just out of reach, things that could not be had
infused with a potpourri of hopes and visions
grounded by what is around them,
Searching to find truth,
tracing the surfaces of life with wild abandon
gentle touches, smooth movements
like a dance between Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire,
Recognizing what has not been obvious before,
a twinkle of youth, memories of time past
waiting for the right moment to focus
all this, in a blink of an eye.
Drip-drip-drip,
the red life leaves
as slowly as the pain
as slowly as the grief,
A slow death, dying alone,
jab-jab-jab
a flash back,
surrounded by kids,
I can’t go home.
Drip-drip-drip,
the red life leaves
as slowly as the pain
as slowly as the grief,
They say it doesn’t hurt
like the names did for years,
like open stab wounds,
pick yourself up kid,
words won’t kill you
but they did.
Drip-drip-drip,
the red life leaves
as slowly as the pain
as slowly as the grief,
I wonder did Jesus feel like this?
All alone, all gone,
slipping into an abyss.
Drip-drip-drip,
the red life leaves
he holds me close,
kissing me until I don’t breathe.
It was such an oppressively hot day.
I put a glass bottle over you,
finally made you mine
as you passed over the concrete desert.
I looked at you through the glass,
not a thought as to what I had done.
I had watched you for so long,
amazed by all that you were,
followed you through a wilderness of adventure.
You were swift and agile, delicate and beautiful.
I raised the magnifier,
took a good look at you.
Then you turned your head to me
wondering what I was,
why I was.
I moved the focused light over you.
You stood still in the rainbow beams,
I am not sure if you were dazzled
or if you thought you saw god.
Then it was over,
and you were gone.
I can tell you what I am now.
I am a bumbling monster.
A monster that knows how to kill
and doesn’t know anything about
freedom, benevolence, or suffering.
Half my heart with yours
together filled
beating
needing
time stands still,
Half your heart with mine
a dangerous dance
turning
twisting
caught in a trance,
Our hearts together
now are whole
feeling
hoping
now a soul,
From that point
all is known
friends and
lovers
till the sun grows cold.
Oh, little one, you will never know how much you have changed my
life;
you have taken a selfish fool and turned him into a man.
You have shown me what true love is,
what it means to really care about someone else.
I marvel at your wonder, as you stumble from one thing to the
next,
not being restrained by your limitations
not knowing, but knowing so much
being who you are, without the baggage that will come in later years.
Your freedom and your nakedness go hand in hand.
The light in your eyes and the happiness in your smile
unencumbered by the perceived weight of the world
boundless trust as I hold you close,
singing to you the song mamma sang to me.
I am weak for I know you are not,
I know all will be right, though the world would seem to be against us
but then they don’t have you, and they don’t have me anymore.
Could you know how much you have changed a life?
Taking someone so alone and making him feel that the world is in his
hands.
Making someone so blind with selfishness, wonder about why he is that
way.
Exposing his hypocrisy, so that he could see it.
Could you know what he feels?
His heart beats, but now not just for one.
When the phone rings he wonders if it is you.
When he talks with you he feels that he knows what you are thinking.
If he disagrees he knows he is heard.
Could you know what you do to him?
White heat rises through him when you kiss the nape of his neck or
touch
his hip.
When you go down on him teasing him with your tongue you uncoil his
passions.
Pinned up frustrations take form, no longer binding him.
Lying beside you he is caught in a moment of bliss.
Could you know what the future holds?
When he thinks of the things he has done with you they have already
become
treasured memories.
When he looks at what you and he want to do he is excited by the
prospects.
His fears from his past slowly wash away each day you and he are
together.
The distant future seems clearer now than it ever has.
He knows what you do and that makes all the difference in his
life.
Looking back through my mind’s eye I wonder if it could have been
different
if it always would have ended this way?
What makes people change so much?
To take a love that was deep and have it become something so lifeless.
Each of us knew, but didn’t want to say anything
or maybe we just avoided each other as we did each day in the
end.
It happened so slowly,
like a cancer, the way our love died.
Now I know you no better than the first night we met.
I feel as if the last time you knew me was when you asked me something
and actually stopped to listen for the answer.
Now we fill our carefully designed roles,
keeping up appearances.
It doesn’t seem like it was anyone’s fault
but I can’t help but wonder if you looking around was a cause or a
symptom.
Did I change myself so much for my own good,
that there wasn’t much left for you?
Is that bad?
Could I have done anything else?
I don’t think so.
Now, I know it couldn’t have been different
If I was to save myself,
to love myself,
we couldn’t love each other.
I think of our conversation last night and wonder if we have hit a
bump?
Was it just a turn in the road, an unseen curve, or a fork in the
journey ahead?
I look for a sign from you,
a sign from myself
and turn my focus back to the road.
It seems that a storm is brewing
I can’t be sure
I feel a lot of pressure from the air,
from my heart, from myself.
It starts to rain but there are no clouds
and yet it is hard to see
if the horizon would overshadow what is right before my eyes,
I can’t know,
wispy figures come into view
and then disappear like memories that have not yet happened.
I am resolute to stay focused on the points ahead
but what points are those?
I think I have been here before,
with someone else.
Why is everything so unfamiliar?
It is my mind twisting everything into a shape that it would
recognize,
a form that my heart does not feel.
Things are not what I have made them out to be.
There is just you and me and the decisions we have to make.
There is no road, no storm and certainly nothing to worry about.
He taunted me,
over and over, faggot!
Throwing words at me like daggers,
he aimed for the heart, faggot!
The hate, the hurt, the pain spilling out;
vomiting what he could not keep,
Faggot! Faggot! Faggot!
The pride and anger welled up in me
from the confines of their obscurity;
boiling, rising, higher and higher.
I tried to get him to stop,
tears in my eyes, I asked him to stop.
He giggled, faggot!
Like my fifth grade bully, faggot!
I struck, not holding back.
But he was spry
slipping through my hands
running down the stairs,
he stopped me with a door.
But now I was beyond reason
like an animal that had been surprised
I felt so calm inside;
every sound was so crisp,
everything in sight so vivid.
The pursuit had begun
and my prey was behind a door.
After the first hit he still laughed.
After the second there was silence.
And upon the third, was a plea.
I didn’t understand the words anymore
but I could smell its’ fear.
For the kill,
I cracked the frame of the door
forcing it open,
and he was crying.
The smell of fear was so pungent I could almost taste it
and I looked down at my little brother, crouched,
looking into my eyes with horror.
Love unknown, I cry now
as the dust settles and the fog clears,
to not know such a thing
and to have it so close for so many years,
Why didn’t you tell me?
Why didn’t I say something to you?
Two regrets now realized.
My will so far from my heart
too far away to hear it scream, until tonight.
Now I see so much red
that I can see it with my eyes closed.
The jaws of life are supposed to save you,
but tonight two hearts died,
though only one body will go in the ground.
You were brave though and I hate you for it.
Words spilled like sweet honey from your lips,
dripping into my ear and I can’t shut them out.
Now I can only weep
and hope that you hear me.
I wanted to tell you,
now I’ve run out of time.
Be back by eleven his father said
as he dropped the keys into his son’s hands,
a turn of the corner and all broke loose,
like a demon released,
no more rules,
As they arrived
to a strange out of the way place,
the reverie intensified,
the music hypnotized.
And out came the booze,
the drugs and the tongues,
not to worry,
they were all young,
And as the clock ticked on
the night grew old,
and before they knew it
they had to get home,
Hands hit each other
and kisses pressed on,
in just a moment
the others were gone,
So the boy made his way onto the road
traveling too fast,
to bad it couldn’t last,
feeling free,
like a rogue,
As he came around the bend
he saw the car,
which had held his friends
under the summer stars,
His heart grew weak
and he issued a scream,
their bodies on the pavement
the car wrapped on a tree,
And as he looked into their cold, lifeless eyes,
he thought of something,
what a surprise,
He said to himself,
that could have been me,
staid, as his tears rushed down his face,
he fell to his knees.
Copyright 1996 by R. Keith Leach. All Rights Reserved.