Tag Archives: Life

Rote

Thirty-eight today,
And the days are kind.
But I feel them- blind
Words accumulating-
Which need saying?

You write from a different state,
And my love still smolders,
But no longer can these shoulders
Carry the heavy weight:
Admission to your spinning fête.

A carnival empire
Bleeding heirs
Begging to be spared
From a survival-bent liar:
Unwitting victim and victimizer.

You stand as your own narrator
Proclaiming all you’ve accomplished
I’m a forced-accomplice
And sometimes-spectator,
But what do you say to your Creator?

Do you say to the Lord
”Look at all I’ve done in Your name?”
We both know that refrain
Strikes the wrong chord,
And costs more than you can afford.

So why do you fill these days
Practicing it in rote?
A demanding gloat
Or an empty craze:
An entry-fee of praise.

I’m worried sick about you.
You’re old, and you’re ill,
And you’re unchanged still.
With all time put us both through,
You will not be subdued-

Thirty-eight years askew,
But I do care, and I will,
Because I love you still.

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Resurrection Serenade

She sent me her soul,
Her song, and I sing it
In the dark I linger
Ancient sparks flowing

Lost years crooning
The vibrato rythyms we all
Tapped out on our prison walls
Our stretched voices in tune

Sing.
Sing these lost years,
Like velvet green leaves
Ripped from spring trees
The storms appear,
And we dissipate, but

We do not disappear.
We suffer loss, yes, and torn limbs,
But we live again, and
Our song is here.


Implausible Deniability

All my life I’ve heard
Who I ought to be,
What I must deserve,
And how I should believe

And believe, I do
From the core of who I am
Whatever facets I eschew
Change not the slightest gram

Of the rock that won’t erode,
And the hand that can’t release-
I know that I know that I know;
I believe what I believe.

Then why don’t I conform?
This I cannot say.
The world, to me, feels worn-
And an infantile display

Of youthful promenading
Feathers flaunting wide
Perpetual self-serenading:
A ballad of blinded pride.

I don’t have the energy,
Nor the desire,
To bow to pop-liturgy
Or lift myself higher-

All my oddities abound,
I see they keep me alone.
I wander the hard ground
Ever out of home-

Even these I speak of plainly
I do not dream as accusation
The lone state that pains me
Is of my own creation

Unwilling, or else unable,
To put aside where I am bent-
I don’t fit into the label-
Does that mean I can’t be sent?

Yet in my diminished condition-
Here am I.
Beyond trend or tradition,
I ever testify.

It all boils down to these:
I am, I exist as I, and I believe.
Whatever else they may say of me
Cannot negate these three.


Let It Be

He loves you.
Quietly I came these many miles,
In the dark and nameless,
Wringing out my smiles
In shameless complacency
To hear someone say to me,
“He loves you.”

He’s been saying it for years.
Too good to be true some days,
But that can’t undo His decision
Who am I to appraise
His vision of devotion
Or the ocean of His patience
I’ve been swimming in for years,

Treading through
For the glimpse, the whisper,
“He loves you.”


Swimming Downstream

Walking again in the familiar skin
Of my own isolation.
I commence lobbing Hail Marys over the fence
Against my own common sense.
I can’t be sure what crosses over, or
What falls to the floor.
I’ve tried to resist, but I subsist
On this persistence.

Maybe I was never meant to oppose this
Maybe this silence composes
Some clarity of purpose.


Remembrances

When the fog was lightly lifting,
And the sun came stretching through,
Like some ancient seed of hope
Breaking ground and blooming new,
The fresh life in my arms
Brought back forgotten days with you

I yearned to answer light with light,
To lift the mist atop your years
Returning kindness, even joy,
As the confident victor over fear
And in the silence of my words,
I reached to pull you near.

Three days past:
Remembrances of why we sever ties.
Three days past,
You sent the threats and lies
The creeping fog
Which has capsized us.

How can any sunrise break
Into the fog that takes you?


Abandonment

It isn’t fair of frame.
There must have been a day
You wiped drool from my face
And I’m not there to do the same.

It isn’t sound.
You must have stooped to ground
When I toddled down
Below the crowds.

It stands askew.
Before I ate solid foods,
I subsisted off you
And who leads you through?

It’s enough cost:
The years we’ve lost
After the bottles were tossed
And before your vigor exhausted.

It totters in the wind.
Inequalities sting like sin-
Yours or mine, I can’t defend-
But I see all that’s bent

And bowed low.