Write your poetry. ..

Write your poetry
on my soul
with the ink
of your touch
tell me with a kiss
the words
you dare not speak
show me with your flesh
how much.

hidden truth

Buried within this soul's depths
Lies treasure's vision deep
amidst bereavement's void

The imagery etched on this creative mind
vivid scenes depicting reality's contradiction
A relentless pursuit of this imagination's conquest

As perceived victory expose its sinister plot
reality's blossom regress to wilted neglect
And the triumph of circumstance reveals its menacing agenda

As Opposer's desire unfold contending peaceful perfection
And the victim willingly succumb an eager hostage to future's ruin
Evil languish in deprivation's wake.

Priceless treasure held captive
As dream's dispossession is shattered
And exposed isolation reveals the hidden truth

Fallen ...

Send away for a priceless gift

One not subtle, one not on the list

Send away for a perfect world

One not simply, so absurd

In these times of trying in vain

Keep these feelings, no one knows

What ever happened to this man's heart

Swallowed by pain, as he slowly falls apart

And I'm staring down at this uncertainty,

I'm swimming through the ashes of another life

There's no real reason to accept the way things have changed

Staring down at this uncertainty

Send a message to the newborn child

Keep your eyes open for a while

In a box high up on the shelf, left for you, no one else

There's a piece of a puzzle known as life

Wrapped in guilt, sealed up tight

What ever happened to this man's heart

Swallowed by pain, as he slowly falls apart

Continue to point your finger
Whisper your deception ever so softly

Never fail to condemn me

As you may never know what I believe

And as the tears fall

I continue to believe ...

Sad ...

I awake each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounds and as impossible as it actually is, happy. And during the course of each day my heart descends from my chest into my stomach. By early afternoon I am overcome by the feeling that nothing is right, or nothing is right for me, and by the desire to be alone. By evening I am fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of my grief, alone in my aimless guilt, alone even in my loneliness. I am not sad, I repeat to myself over and over, I am not sad. As if I may one day convince myself. Or fool myself. Or convince others -- the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because my life has unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it has become an empty white room. I will fall asleep with my heart at the foot of my bed, like some domesticated animal that is no part of myself at all. And each morning I will wake with it again in the cupboard of my rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the midafternoon I am again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, ... someone else ... somewhere else. I am not sad.

My Love For You Is Real

Sometimes at night,
When I look to the sky,
I start thinking of you,
And then ask myself "why?"

"Why do I love you?"
I think and smile,
Because I know,
The list could run on for a mile.

The whisper of your voice,
The warmth of your touch,
So many little things,
Make me love you so much.

The way you support me,
Even my silly notions,
The way that you care,
And show such devotion.

The way that your kiss,
Fills me with desire,
And how you hold me,
With the warmth of a fire.

The way your eyes shine,
When you look at me,
Lost with you forever,
Is where i want to be.

The way that I feel,
When you are by my side,
A sense of completion,
And overflowing pride.

The dreams that I dream,
That all involve you,
The possibilities that I see,
The things that we can do.

How you finish the puzzle,
That lies inside my heart,
How deep in my soul,
You are a very important part.

I could go on for days,
Telling of what I feel,
But all you really must know is...
My love for you is real.

Shattered Hope

I look fine to you who see me
seems as though all is well

but what you see is not the truth
and I've a short story to tell 

care not, do I, what you may think
always doing my own thing

but one person's thought does matter
her approval makes me sing 

I try to be a good man
to do that which is right
I try to live as Christ the Lord
to be a shining light

 
I know I fail in many ways
though succeed I do as well
at times I am that bright light
but at others it's hard to tell 

it seemed things were alright
that you and I were fine
we talked at every day's end
but I was walking a thin line

 
one day I dared to ask
to see just what you thought
and great was the pain
when truth was what I sought 

though things had seemed so good
so close to you I felt
you see me as a bad person
and to my knees I knelt 

how could this be
that you see me in such a way
I know that I am imperfect
but a bad person, you say 

shattered were all my hopes
all the dreams of what could be
a future of love between us
forever sealed to fantasy 

and so I pretend I'm well
though in truth I'm really not
I pretend I'm fine for your sake
and I hide the pain I bought

I dreamed about you

I dreamed about you last night,
for this morning my pillow
still had an impression
of the outline of your face.

We were on the beach,
for between the sheets on my bed,
I discovered sand by my feet.

We were holding hands,
for my palm was still warm
and my fingers were formed
in the shape of your hand.

In my dream we must have been kissing,
for my lips were moist,
with your accumulated taste in my mouth.

We fell asleep together,
for my back was cold,
and my forequarters still warm with spooning.

In my dream I still wanted to whisper something,
to enclose you with my one final thought,
for on my tongue I discovered three words:
I and Love and You.