These things I've done.

A Table by the River

The brilliant Moon holds no joy for me.
It's soft glow, cast of silver or gold,
Ought to be a treasure to behold...
No longer.

The beams of light imprison my soul.
Powering the Ocean's tides,
The Moon stirs my memories.
Tainted not of its own design -
It's in my mind the taint resides.

Trauma?  Tragedy?
I cannot say it is so,
This is what lays me low:

Under a Moon wondrously bright,
Our fates shone.
A stream of liquid light,
Washing away our faults.

Leaving bare... all her beauty
                     all my beauty
              all our beauty
       all a memory.
Beautiful. Alone.

From my time on the lamb...

The Stranger

Absurd. Endlessly Absurd.
Alice had it easy.
A trip down the rabbit hole,
A known unknown.
Where was she?
How did she get there?

Rubbish. The easy end of Absurdity.
Marvels and Monsters without -
Confusing? Yes. Frightening? Sure.
Not maddening as monsters within...


Seeking

Don't make mountains out of molehills,
or so the saying goes.
Sound Advice, Folk Wisdom,
Fatally Flawed.

A molehill is a mountain
... if you are small enough.
... if you feel small enough.


Rocket's Modern Life

Chasing the answer,
the McMagic happy meal.

Find the angle, make the grade,
Dancing on life's razor blade.
Turbo charge your time,
Erase the scars left behind.

Crystallizing perfection's palace,
One step ahead, getting there again.

Footsteps of Faith

The world is quiet, shy rays of light hint at the day to come
Eyes drifting in and out of focus, flickers of memories rouse my mind.

I gaze at the girl lying peacefully by my side,
Sleeping, she somehow sports an impish expression.
A Fae creature, come to steal my heart…
If only – tis but a dream of days gone by.

A memory surfaces, rising above a mire of half finished thoughts:
The night we met. I should have known then.
Glowing under a full moon, I fall beneath her spell –
The question ought never been in doubt.
Lost in her joy of living, I slip outside myself;
Tortured soul reaching out tentatively.
Reaching toward the spirit, the soul glimpsed in her eyes.

And yet… And yet, I never made it.
Shackled by years of pain, the truth hid deep within.
Gone. Chased away, her soul roams free.
Sinking to the dark depths, the light fades.
My heart embraces its frozen fate.
Pressure mounts, crushing what little hope remains.

The strain broke me. And yet…
And yet, the shackles broke too.
Sunk beneath the past, soul finally freed.

Free to be me, Free to answer the riddle
Answer with what I knew all along:
Love. An answer found too late…

Gone. Happily she chases her dreams.
Lying alone, I can but smile and hope -
Hope someday her soul glimpses mine.

A Cognitive Bore (aka A Long Answer)

Witless Wit, Drawling Dope
He'll never go quiet, despite our hope.
Dithering here, Blundering there
He continues to talk; does anyone care?

How little we must be to warrant a pause,
How foolish are we beneath his towering cause
How grateful are we for his keen insights,
Questions? No, but he'll answer...

His words bury thought beneath their weight
We can but commiserate
Stupidly we sit before a one man debate.
Facts he has in legion
He's made our decision,
Why care? He's still there.
Defenestrate his Truth.
I've. Learned. Nothing.

"A History of Time: Part 2"

The end of Time is a funny thing,
not at all what one expects.

Marx trusted the masses with his manifesto morality play
They fought and bled, only to find Time still waiting.
Apocalypse is the order for many a Christian soul
but what use has Time for damnation?
(need to rework the last two lines)

The Vikings gave it a mighty go,
Raiding and raping, Armageddon was their Vogue.
but Loki had one final trick - failing to ever show.
Doomsday is nigh Nostradamus claimed to know
Time ended him, but did not follow suit
Fear not, perhaps the Mayans will satisfy.

No the end of Time is a simple thing,
requiring no mystical beings, no prophesy.
It is closing the eyes...
ceasing to think all of that.

"Doppelganger"

His implacable face stares back at me,
with eyes that deign not to see.
His body is cloaked with indifference,
armor clad in apathy.

I would give a penny for His thoughts,
if He would chance thought.
I would walk a mile in His shoes,
if He would but walk a mile.

I wish I could save this man and set Him free.
I wish I had not realized - he is Me.

Chapter One: The Creation Story

Winston Churchill once said "If you are going through Hell, keep going" to which I must add "keep writing". My life has, at times, been a very trying ordeal and as I seek to better myself, I have turned to poetry as a means of expression.

Essentially, this blog is an outlet for my outlets; an area for me to post my poetry and other snippets of writing. I hope my pieces amuse, entertain, and interest as appropriate and I welcome any feedback.