Gone

Standard

I was born in iniquity, and raised on lies

I consumed deception by the gallons and immersed myself

How shattered must I be

that I can no longer tell reality from lies

or conjured fantasies from happened mundanity

 So shattered that even the hidden pain I veil

in words and poems and downcast glances

is but a shadow of the mirror of the true pain 

of the true falsehood that allows me to conjure up memories

that never were and paint them brighter and realer 

Words that allow me to slip on a mask and become 

more than average but in the process lose that average

but yet even as I stumble search and seek

hoping to grasp some morsel of wisdom through introspection

even then when I am alone and my heart is laid bare

even then when I am entwined and my heart is stripped

Even then,

the truth dribbles out in increments 

flooded out by the gallons of deceit that spews

endlessly and relentlessly from my mouth

from my carriage from my very existance

Each small drop of truth a unique snowflake soon consumed 

by the sandstorm of life and I am left blind

scrabbling for truth and trading for pennies

searching for the secret place I stashed them

but even as I watch the place I placed them is gone

leaving behind naught but dust and doubt 

Each step a lie is drawn on the sand in footprints

with waves of reality following erasing the marks left 

but yet somehow I am always a step a head 

Searching for a place, a person, a thing

something so much more than me that I can release myself

and be torn apart and rebuilt from the core out

each memory construction reduction reduced 

and re construed to match what truly lies within me. 

Beauty (Revisited)

Standard

There is an infinite beauty in living

Breathing and listening

To the rhythm of the earth

 

Artists merely tap into this haunting melody

And make vacuous shadows of the real

Beat that echoes

 

And heats the blood of men and women

And sounds through the dreams of kings

The symphony

 

Of a sunset, the staccato beat of the heart

As the body warms from a kiss

The music that roars

 

Soundlessly through the universe

The scale the world revolves in

With moans

 

Of the seasons, typhoons and dust bowls

Of the worlds pain and joy

The rumbles

 

Of a stampeding group of elephants

Charging the nearby store for bargain prices

And the percussion

 

Of the incessant tapping in class as the teachers

Drone on endlessly, the rhythm monotonous and

Overbearingly slow

 

Like the heartbeat of a great whale as it groans

Its sad song to the world, the sound vibrating through

The ocean wide, sonorous

 

The cry of a parent that outlived their child

Wild and aching, a piercing pain, sharper than the

Shriek of

 

Of pain as a tooth is uprooted and tossed

 

In it all.

There is beauty.

 

A Lonely Boy

Standard

“Great party last night!” boomed Jace from the front of the room as he nonchalantly threw his letterman jacket over his shoulder. “This is gonna be the greatest senior year ever!”

                The words continued to flow from the mouths of my classmates, rising and ebbing like a sea of sound. “Plans for dinner…” “Duuude…” “..And then she…”

                Bits of conversations would drift into my ears as they walked by. Waves lapping on the shore of an island but always receding. That’s how the words, the conversations were. I would always hear, listen from the distance, catch little scraps but never did I have full intercourse. No teasing foreplay of snide comments or sports trivia. No interesting exploration of positions and ideas. No satisfactory conclusion of a debate well fought. Just scraps.

                “It’s ok, you don’t need them anyway.” I muttered to myself as I ground the pencil lead into the deep groove on the corner of my desk. “You’re perfectly fine without them. Who cares what they think?”

                I glanced up quickly, hoping maybe someone had heard my dark muttering and noticed. Nothing. The class droned on as if nothing had happened. In the beginning at least I got some weird looks. But now nothing. The taste of blood exploded into my mouth before the pain did. Damn it! I had bitten my cheeks from gnashing my teeth. I couldn’t stand him!      

                There he stood like some power drunk wizard king enjoying his concubines. Three! He was having not one but three conversations simultaneously! With three different people. And here I am, the only pleasure I get is this inner dialogue. This pathetic beating around the bush and following the same old thought patterns day in and day out.

                “Fine, if that’s how it’s gonna be then fine. I am sick of it all. You better listen cause I am about to tell you how you are all gonna die.” I mutter whispered my defiance to the ocean. The only response was a girlish laugh from one of Jace’s concubines at one of his witty jokes. 

Autumn is Chocolate and Freedom

Standard

The leaves crunch under my feet,

orange brown flames that lick at my toes

and melt into my mouth.

The chocolate easing into my reality

drowning out forgiven history

Each step, each bite building a monument

that soars on the chill autumn breeze

a castle in the clouds but real.

I swallow this feeling whole and pause

the hole now filled while wholly unaware

by kind gestures that transcend miles

and discover depths before unknown.

The leaves are dancing before my eyes

earthy fairies released to bless the air

with glints of their red, brown, orange and yellow wings,

transcendent in their sacrifice

like the gales of laughter

and bubbles of joy that from me rise

each iridescent color a perfect marvel

I stand alone in the dusky wood,

framed by a timeless sunset

older than time and beyond forever

but younger than a newborn memory.

I watch the butterfly leaves dance death

rejoice life and make parting sacred

I take another bite and swallow the moment

and then I dance because pain is precious

made perfectly poignant by pity personified.

The moment, a canvas

and pain the brush, the brush

in the hand of an artist

who kills the sun and bleeds it

smearing the sky with its sacrifice

the fiery orange, pale pink gold and royal purple

of faded glory illuminate the sky

to offset the darkness within

and without as I dance alone

each step a history, a memory

eating the moment and tasting in my mouth

chocolate and freedom.

 

Dedicated to my friend Granny Lica

The Answer is Only Half the Journey

Standard

You demand clarity,

each heart beat pumps desire

for knowledge to your brain

 

Your eyes strain

searching endlessly, relentlessly

for the answer to your question

 

You dread the answer

but you cannot unloose the hounds

of information from ripping through

 

You celebrate

as the answer appears before you

but you find its only half the problem

 

Now you know

what you wanted to know

Now that you “understand”

what will you do?

They Say Time Will Heal

Standard

They say time will heal, 

but what do they know?

The illusion of peace

time paints over the pieces

lasts till pressure is applied

and the cracks start to show

 

They say time will heal

But can they really feel?

this nagging needing

of my heart, tired of bleeding

though the wound is healed

the pain is only sealed

 

They say time will heal,

can I trust them?

Time ticks and tocks 

and my mind’s eye is blank

then memory madness flashes

and sudden sadness lashes

out and sinks me again

They say time will heal,

I am waiting.

I am dead.

Standard

I am dead. I understand this with clarity that can only be gained once the useless blood and muscle distractions have been shed. I exist as an entity, and expression of someone once living. But I am dead.  I don’t know when I died. Time is a mere abstraction in this space, this grey space of endless possibility. But within me there is an image. Flashes of color in a room and a sense of resignation and a warm body writhing where my lap would have been.  I remember her watching me. Or at least the sense of her watching me. Within this space my death is of no consequence. But yet something within me yearns for the knowledge of my demise. How did I lose my baggage? That lanky body that I loved and hated for 22 years of my sensory life. If I focused I can almost reach out and

“Wake up!” her voice oozed into my subconscious mind with the languid ease of water soaking into desert dry earth. I snapped awake, my eyes glaring around the room suspiciously, the sudden motion causing Trevor to jump of my lap and bark at me reproachfully.                                                                    “You had that dream again didn’t you?” she demanded, blocking the light from the dim light bulb as she leaned in and examined my face. Dazed both from the dream and from the heavenly scent of her perfume I could only blink up at her and work my mouth trying to make words. Snapping upright to her unimpressive height of 5’2 she folded her arms at her chest and flicked her hair back, the rippling length glowing auburn gold in the soft light. “You need to go and talk to someone about that, it can’t be healthy.”

I sighed, preparing to launch into the same reply I had made the last 23 times she had made that same statement but then he walked in. Bradley. Beautiful Bradley, perfect Ken doll Bradley. Boyfriend Bradley. I smiled at him, the only betrayal of my true feelings the tightness in my chest and the small yelp that Trevor made from the lap he had just climbed back unto.  “Hey, man” he said with his perfectly manly voice. “What do you need help with?” Desperately I tried to make eye contact with her, my eyes screaming at her to not say anything. But unfortunately humans haven’t yet started understanding body language and she turned to him, even the concern for me fading as her eyes lit up at the sight of Brad. She leaned in and sunk into his lips and they stood there, perfect and beautiful and I sat in my chair surrounded by fakes plants and some holiday decorations and holding a small mutt. The painting on the wall stared at me, accusing me as if it could read my thoughts and see my naked desire which in light of there kiss seemed like sacrilege. The moment lasted what seemed like an eternity. I shifted uncomfortably and the multi colored blanket my grandmother’s mother had hand-woven fell to the carpeted floor with a barely audible whisper of a thump. But even as quiet as it was the moment was broken.                                                           

“He dreams he is dead” she said, her voice still breathy with desire. “I don’t really understand it but I can tell cause he always jerks awake with this panicked look on his face. “  Bradley turn and looks at me and at that moment I know I am going to kill him. He looks at me with those same eyes. I hated those eyes as a child, that pity laced with disdain and self righteousness. Before he could open up his mouth and seal his sentence I quickly rose from the seat, upsetting Trevor for the second time.

“I am fine!” I demanded, my eyes flashing and my jaw clenched. The look of shock in her eyes showed that I had put more force that I had intended into my objection. Softening my voice I said “I don’t mean it like that, it’s just a weird thing I have. It’s not really a serious problem. It’s not like I’m killing people or something.” I choke out a laugh and look at them daring them to continue the discussion. An awkward silence ensues then Bradley joins me in the laughter and slaps my back and for a moment I love him for his kindness. The moment passes and again we are just people in a room and the feeling of death passes and I am alive.

“Let me go change and then I will be ready to go” I said my voice light and smooth, and I walked away from them each footstep echoing the beat of my heart.