A Lonesome Traveler

A Lonesome Traveler i seem to be
My happiness has deserted me
For a year we traveled, You and i
And the sun smiled brightly in Our sky
Until a crossroads We did reach
A fork in the path one for each
i travelled on straight and true
With the thought i’d always have you
But like a vagabond with no home
i suddenly found myself all alone
It brought my heart a tortuous pain
As shock and betrayal scorched my veins
For though Our paths diverged in this wood
You said We’d cross them when We could
And that as We wandered beneath Our sun
We would someday meld them into One
Alas they have crossed but not entwined
That was Your choice and not mine
So a Lonesome Traveler I shall be
Until I find happiness that will not leave
And then on a different road you’ll see
The mistake you made when you left Me
For this Lonesome Traveler who stayed true
Found He never needed you

Memories Made

Memories made, moments shared, a path of stepping stones into our past.
Circumstances rearranged what we had and seasons changed,
but the feeling enkindled from that first night wanted to last.
And I walk the path along my mind, the trail through time unwinds like these lines inscribed
upon this page,
words etched on my notebook heart, my lyrics for the loss of our former days.
While inside my soul there’s a flame, and the fires rage,
I hope a spark from the interior will light a twilight blaze.
Under an autumn sunset I wait for fate to allow me to escape from a landscape of indecision,
but description is eclipsed by the dark moon’s hidden vision,
and the shadows that cover what remains call out the voices of derision.
I cast lots in the hopes of being in semblance with you: salt and light,
but as the shooting star passed I looked back and turned to a pillar of salt standing still as
Lot’s wife;
your absence a recess of bitter empty strife, twisted like a knife
into my pierced heart, still beating in my chest, the life dripped cataclysmically into the
chasm of what’s
left.
But I think back once more to times together beneath amber skies,
when the dusk on the cusp reflected off your eyes
and dispersed the sands in the hourglass that threatened our time;
time irrelevant, I never will forget,
and until you’re back in my arms,
I’ll walk the road that you made on my heart
in the dark.

Forever

Forever

So it seems that I’ve longed for the warmth of your fire, for the blinding of your light that by its essence can melt away the hardness of my heart and knock me off my steed of false isolation, removing the scales upon my pupils to give me clarity and
consolation

Forever

So it seems I was lulled into false senses of security to expose myself in vulnerability to the oceans of deep mystery upon which my ship was battered by waves and the strings of my heart were frayed by the spray of tossing seas, as the ropes which moor the sail to the mast become tangled in terrifying gusts and the stability that guided me was assaulted and tattered, lost to Poseidon’s striking fury

Forever

So it seems I would lie awake, tossing and turning, too tired to sleep, too tepid to dream, imagining a future that was yet unforeseen, with your heart and mind and body and soul pristine and pure, your existence my medicine, your presence my cure, the pearls of your gaze fixed upon mine secure

Forever

So it seems I searched with my eyes and wandered through my mind on a journey without a map, no surety of navigation without starlight or sextant, destination upon dark waters unknown but with the notion of home a guiding light on a midnight escapade in a vessel unfettered; until the glow of your shores called out and beckoned on a horizon encapsulated by the dawn blush of a new day and I set a course for you

And it seemed that the closer my ship to the sanctity of your harbor, the harder the labor, the heavier the ardor of my heart beat with the waves, and the light of your security was all that I craved and at last on arrival after forever, so it seemed, my weary wandering battered barque was settled, my anchored heart was set free
And now we’re together
And all we have is

Forever

Fire

She made a fire in the fireplace.
He made a bonfire in the backyard
With sticks, twigs, and sawdust to fill the space
And logs that still can burn, already charred.
I knew not which of these two was warmer
So I sat down evenly in between.
I spent my time mostly at the former,
Some at the latter, though it was less keen.
While both the fires were busy burning
I stood still staring stunned up at the sky
As billowing clouds anxiously churning
Appeared and felt more like smoke in my eye.
Those fires burn distant, and even yet
The familiar and constant make me fret.

For Starters...

There’s a First and a Last for everything.
The first word of a sentence,
The last breath of a note.
The first kiss on the lips,
The last dance of the night.
Everything, and Everyone
Will always meet their Beginning and End.
Approaching an End is nothing to be afraid of,
For it was predestined once begun.
Once you understand that to begin also means to end,
You’ll enjoy the journey between each point.
And in that alone, the Beginning and End become seamless.

Burning Sustenance

A fleeting moment of heat in the barn
I treaded about the fields
And discovered the light so bleak
Like this Sunday’s church service
I did not stir, but winked
And the clouds were fine as they were
It was the stars that caused me to burn

Not All Doctors Are the Same

He picks without feeling of shame.
They go to him right from the train.
He says who lives or burns in flames.
Who could think it was just a game?
An intense sound of falling rain.
He picks without feeling of shame.

Old and weak are whom he will claim.
There isn’t enough time to explain.
He says who lives or burns in flames.

No need to obtain their first name
As there is nothing they can gain.
He picks without feeling of shame.

They scream for help, but it’s just pain.
It is now useless to complain.
He says who lives or burns in flames.

As in the end, he is to blame
For shooting them right in the brain.
He picks without feeling of shame.
He says who lives or burns in flames

The Creativity of Gods

You scrawl your own gods on lined paper
Endless, flawed infinity resting on the page
They haven’t made new gods in a long time
Although they forgot to tell you how those old gods were made, didn’t they?
Shrouded them in myth, immortalized them in legend after legend.
Tried to hide that they were just
Bloody explanations spilled out on parchment scrolls
And they are scared that you can, that you dare, here
Beneath the half-finished math problems and forgotten history lessons
There is no blood there, but that doesn’t make them any less
Holy
Blasphemous
Powerful
Desired
Was this not what Icarus was struck down for?
For reaching too high, for daring, for dreaming?
The gods (one God, they tell you) can drown you too,
Clip your wings tipped with leaden stories until you are crushed in the depths of the sea
But darling
First they must reach you
And tear you from your own ink stained hands
You have made your own gods to save you
—And they think they are not up to the competition.

A Prayer Scratched Into the Side of the Church on the Corner

Congregation of one, see them there
Kneeling in the front pew
Or maybe at your feet, bent not
Humbly, but broken. Bathed in the
Kaleidoscope of what Man
Thinks is your Grace.
The shattered shapes of hollow eyes and open hands.

This place has so many bright
Colors. They should be lively. They should be
As vibrant as the lilies, heavy and sweet and thick,
The roses bending, the carnations reaching down,
Their lovely kisses pressing to your neck
Unfeeling. Numb.
Suffocating.

Their face twists, says
I am suffocating here
Without you. Their hands say
Send me an angel
Please.
The one covering its face
With golden, glittering wings.
The one with sharp hands and broken glass
For eyes, bleeding, refracting impossible
Divine light.
The one with a dozen faces all
Weeping, snarling, choking
the Side of the Church on the Corner
Sand filled chests, spilling from their mouths.
Lips touched with
Eternal, ephemeral, empty
Songs.

So, singular witness of the unspeakable,
Enter barefoot this lifeless room.
Kneel in the back. Listen.
Do not sing—
Let the dying candles speak.