Monthly Archives: November 2019

to the world

ice is forming –
on the windows –
now.
 
i hear the whistle of the wind –
its song,
so sad!
 
everywhere –
in cold secluded –
silence.
every-thing –
captured
within grey!
 
no longer do the birds
in joyful chorus-
sing happily their songs.
their words lie frozen –
 
broken as the surface of the sky.
 
i touch the glass –
to wipe the discontent away –
to see if i may find you there –
peering in –
desperation eyes –
searching –
longing!
 
but i find only lonely shades of winter –
placid as the frozen sea –
of your indifference!
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today i stood…

sometimes i visit the shore,
where my will crashes into my was.
 
i suppose the possibility exists that you just don’t understand that concept,
or perhaps haven’t found desire to travel to that particular destination.
with the same amount of abandon you choose to deflect;
i crave.
the anticipation more impacting than any supposed drug of choice.
 
i watch your eyes as i speak to my conviction.
pay close attention to the subtlety of your distance.
i wonder how it feels to understand boundaries.
i desperately try to wrap my head around the acceptability of is;
my insatiable;
never satisfied –
always picking at the scab of could have been –
often,
drowning in the sea of if…
 
today i stood –
knee deep in the waves –
gazing into the setting sun.
i imagined the sound –
unavoidable hiss,
as it kissed the relentless sea.
in that moment –
i understood peace.
 
today i,
stood.
and as the waves pounded against my defense,
i felt the burden of can’t slip away.
i will admit,
in that instant,
a shiver of fear found refuge;
attached itself to the sinking buoy of doubt.
remarkable –
however –
the deep;
accepting the refuse of regret –
returning the surface, still.
 
today, i stood.
and instead of looking away –
ashamed of my suppose –
i gazed with wonder past the sea of refrain,
reached out,
unafraid –
embraced the very essence of can.
 
today i visited the shore,
and found,
me…
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presumption of disallowed

have faith –
we say –
actually insist.
 
throw suppositions of know into arenas of disallowed.
 
our words –
intended bandage for wounds suffered without reproach,
from hands presented as gesture of Christian accommodation.
and while we stand safe –
conveniently clear of any ricochet of insinuation –
the animosity we preach to disallow collects in puddles –
swallows our hope –
quick as ripples of faith on a placid sea of indifference.
 
what then?
when winds of chaos blow and there is no refuge from the storm?
while liturgies can be heard above the roar of the waves –
still we shiver in the cold –
clinging to the rope of inability –
drifting without option of release in our ocean of discontent.
while there –
just beyond the breakers –
calm wave-less sea.
 
peace we can only imagine –
as we’re dashed without mercy on the shore of doubt –
broken like shells –
empty of all but echoes of prayers –
unanswered –
inconspicuously –
unheard…
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to sit in audience to – know.

obstinate,
don’t you think,
for you to stand outside the door to this dark room,
toss randomly –
like wooden matches flicked –
your insinuations?
ludicrous,
to presume yourself companion to my indifference.
you do not bare the scars of my assumed indiscretion.
and nowhere in the book of you
is there evidence to support incidence of (misconstrued) self-deprecation.
if not for lack of care,
i would invest more time into a study of your contradiction.
but knowing at the end of the day,
the conviction you suggest is nothing more than a mask your insensitivity holds residence behind.
careless of you –
to suppose.
when invitation was given without obligation to sit in audience to know.
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addiction

oh to be that breath of air
you take; essential as – must,
to have…
 
to enter into – the all of you –
to become as close,
as one –
to two…
 
if just for one moment –
to live in your thoughts –
feel the memories –
encounter your – you!
 
i would give a thousand
could of been’s –
for just one – is,
a lifetime of – life –
for a moment of – living…
 
oh how must it feel –
to be the addiction,
for once,
no longer the addict!
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stories that begin with us

and there –
written hastily on flashcards of presume –
our good intentions.
 
so eager to share,
we flash them without hesitation.
regardless the level of acceptance,
we feel redeemed –
vindicated.
 
how can it be –
we ask –
reception of indifference?
was it less than the necessary more?
edges too exposed?
what purpose –
pursuit of accommodation –
when left standing just outside the door of acceptance?
 
surely there is nothing more sad than stories that begin with us,
yet end with –
me…
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awakening

some days,
stand out as beacons along the timeline of our lives.
perhaps occasion worthy of remembrance.
maybe a moment of blessing in a season of chaos.
sometimes,
however,
the monument is not viewed from perspective of celebration.
 
it seems those days we struggle just to survive.
take refuge in the darkness – path of least resistance.
finding it easier to allow than to defy,
we close our eyes –
wear the shame of defeat…
 
and yet –
if we were to stand against the waves –
place with deliberation our foundation upon the shore –
what would it matter – the tide?
as quickly as it approaches,
it departs.
and even though the surge rushes to the shore –
it simply cannot overcome the boundaries of allowed.
 
so too fear.
entity of can’t and will not.
demagogue of dissonance.
king of should have been – without a throne –
bashed by the waves upon rocks of will become.
scattered as broken light upon a placid sea –
memory fading with each dying ember –
consumed within the silence of forget.
 
and on the horizon –
setting sun –
waking with fingers of twilight –
from dreams of peaceful sleep –
the prelude to our new tomorrow –
wrapped –
ever so secure –
opportunity –
from the resting bed of night…
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selfish

agenda’s.
segments of life planned with purpose – intent.
audacious.
implied autonomy over purpose.
 
sometimes events follow sequence.
sometimes –
the train they occupy ends up derailed.
and while we stop to gather up the broken pieces of should,
we realize with discontent that ignorance of our assume.
 
more valuable –
deposits of relevance made to banks of could,
rather than wasted on accoutrements of selfishly worn suppose…
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the familiarity of alone

“we sit in empty rooms –
 
consumed with the next thought,
 
surreptitiously interjected into our uneventful lives.
 
searching for value and justification,
 
we scan through the abyss of suppose,
 
anticipating relevance –
 
some semblance of self-value.
 
and when we find nothing notable,
 
we resort back to our misery –
 
wrap ourselves up in the familiarity of alone.”
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un-done

feelings placed on hold –
access –
denied.
what do you do when
doors are closed –
no goodbyes?
 
longing eats a hole
in sanities – reality –
words cannot be – unsaid,
feelings – un-felt…
 
regret –
an evil unparalleled –
compounded by cruel rejection…
 
the tender heart lies broken,
compassion lost –
abandon feels like midnight dark,
 
dying all alone…