Down Then Out

Hopelessness by itself
is bad enough
but when followed by
a temporary reprieve
that is ripped away
without any warning,
it seems a weight
beyond bearing.

Worthlessness is somber
also perhaps
unrealistic.
But it's the darkest,
blackest and deepest pit;
bottomless hole,
so despairing.

Depression feels endless
or so it seems.
It envelopes, chokes;
it asphyxiates
soul without sensation;
only sadness,
all unsparing.

Salvation can be found
in strange places:
working on a cause
gives off oxygen,
breathing is easier
when you're busy,
when there's caring.

The Neighbor

The woman on the street
pushing a shopping cart
with tattered belongings...
She's my neighbor.

The soldier just home
from a war that made
him mentally ill...
He's my neighbor.

The boy who sits
without saying a word
then has a melt down.
He is my neighbor...

The wealthy man who
is unable to share
whose heart is like ice...
He is my neighbor.

The Muslim across the hall
who prays five times a day
and speaks in Arabic...
He is my neighbor.

The teenaged girl who
gets pregnant and decides
to get an abortion...
She is my neighbor...

Jesus said, "Love your
neighbor as yourself."
He was asked, "Who
is my neighbor?"

Jesus told a story called
The Good Samaritan:
Our neighbor is anyone
and our neighbor is everyone.

The Walls Have Fallen

The Lord has spoken
and decreed our spiritual
glory is no more, we are a
broken people.


But we have all sinned 
and fallen far short of our God's
glory so our sins are punished
We are brought low.


We mourn our great loss
We know we deserve what we get
The Lord He is Just and Righteous
We wait for Him.


He will redeem,
not remain angry forever.
We will wait for His great Mercy
He will save us.


If we repent
God is Merciful and Loving
Will not hold our sins against us
forever more.


So we repent.
So we will mourn.
So we will wail
So we will wait.

What About Wonder?

What happens to your heart
when all the wonder dies?
When Christmas doesn't glisten
and it doesn't sing
What happens to your heart
when Someone makes you cry?
When lover doesn't listen;
there's no wedding?


What happens to your heart
when idols let you down?
when they become just human,
puppet on string?
What happens to your heart
when mirage disappears
when the fun house is horror,
and illusion stings?


They say you've grown up,
that's just the way things are;
But that is really not true;
they're lying.
The Magic only leaves 
when pain covers your eyes
and when you're too hurt to see,
then dreams take wing.


Please open up your heart
let fantasy come in
the wonder can be restored;
what fairies bring.
Don't let the doubters win,
those who cannot believe;
select to see the wonder,
choose to sing.

If Wishes Were Horses

If wishes were horses
and horses could fly
I'd love you always
and you'd love me too.


If elephants were pink
and if they could float
you would marry me
and always be true.


If zebras wore circles
instead of their stripes
you'd know I was here
and that I love you.


But wishes aren't horses
elephants are grey
zebras are banded
and I'm feeling blue.

Suicide Is Freedom

Suicide is freedom.
It can't be any worse
than the agony I'm in.
To feel pain, then nothing,
Is release from the curse.
Those who love me: understand.
My life has been nothing
but horrifyingly adverse.
I am nothing but a drag
on everyone around,
on the whole universe.
It is better if I go.

Gift or Burden?

I thank you God
for all good gifts:
for life, for health for food.
But I have just
a few complaints;
was hoping that you would
listen to me
vent for a few
I'm in that kind of mood.


I really hate
just being me;
would like it if you could
make me into
one like others
It really would be good.
I'm too unique
and too damaged
and feel misunderstood.


My brain is not
like most people's,
doesn't work like it should.
I have no idea
from what I should eschew.
What should I say
or what to do
so that I seem less crude?
I want to fit
with social norms,
want to be less like wood.


I have no place
here as it is
I feel like I intrude.
Why did you make
someone like me;
a mistake, I conclude.
Tired of trying
to be like them
I think I came unglued.


I just want out
Please let me go.
I don't want to delude
myself anymore.
Or bother those
who think I am rude.
If you won't do that,
can you help me
accept myself as good?

Mirrors of the Soul

Like the reflection
of the sun off a mirror
are his eyes when he smiles.


Dancing twinkles fly
as blue birds, darting, chasing
quick as his inner spirit.


Unshakeable steel
when serious or angry,
solid as his fortitude.


As morning blue skies,
whispy as clouds in light breeze
soul soft as his compassion.


Complicated always,
never easy to read;
his eyes - his sensuous soul.

Poems and Reality

When I posted a recent poem on another website, I realized that judging by the comments, that people thought it depicted an actual event. Often times, my poems DO reflect, quite directly, a recent experience. Sometimes, however, they reflect more of a state of mind than state of events. The nature of poetry is that it can travel anywhere, be anything, take almost any shape. Poetry is as fluid as the mind that creates it. In that regard,  poetry may be the most accurate reflection of the poet's "mind print."  Just as everyone has a unique finger prints, I believe everyone has a signature mind print, a  thought process unique to him or her. Some folks think rather concretely and their poems reflect that. Others are more abstract. The challenge for me, has always been to try to create OUTSIDE the box my mind is in. My ultimate goal with my best poetry is to break through the boundaries that tend to limit me. I encourage readers, then, not to be too caught up with what event or person a given poem refers to because, sometimes, an event or person may just be a spring board into something unique. It may reflect a secret wish or not at all. I will admit, it always DOES reflect something going on in my mind but that doesn't mean too much because my mind has been known to wander in very unlikely pathways, something like a trip through The Looking Glass. It is my contention that the best poetry almost always involves that looking glass to some extent, a chance to bend the mind to acknowledge and perceive a different reality, a way to shouting to the reader: "Don't be so fucking literal!"  

Stages

Hoping
Holding
Longing
Loving
Yearning
Yielding
Kissing
Caressing
Kissing
Yielding
Yearning
Loving
Longing
Holding
Happy

What is Reality?

What is Reality
and how do we know;
that we can hold it
or that we let go?
Can something be defined
by its' contrary?
And can we be sure?
Ought we be wary?
Do we know by effect
that something is real;
how it interacts
not what we can feel?
Does asking the question
make me seem crazy?
Sometimes it is hard -
Truth can seem hazy.
Illusion seems truer;
media relates
whats false as Gospel;
outrightly misstates.
Don't trust what's on TV
just because it's there;
even what you read
can be truth impaired.
Reality needs checked
using all our means;
Don't take for granted
news is what it seems.
To complicate matters,
too many reporters
aren't press but opine:
business supporters.
Truth is tricky it seems
and requires attention
from all citizens;
prevents invention.

Silver Fox

He is a silver fox
appraising ice blue eyes.
Silently slinking, stalking,
standing and waiting.


The prey is unaware
of his stealthy presence
as she calmly continues 
writing, creating.


Smoothly he approaches,
silent as the moonlight's
shadows within which he moves.
He starts debating:


When should he start his play?
Not wanting to scare her
the sly old fox steps in front
before stating:


"Would you care for some wine?
The Beaujolais is fine."
His prey smiles and then stands up, 
he is baiting.


She waits for his approach
as he slips in beside,
she turns to face him fully,
options weighing.


She reaches up to kiss
him and run her fingers 
through his hair and stroke his ears;
love awaiting.

Hints of Things To Come

All reason is ripped aside

as primitive passion

erupts into her stream

of consciousness, evacuating

all sensible thought;

desire overcomes inhibition.

Town Fair

Candy apples and parades,
two of my favorite things.
Hot, muggy days,
fluffy white clouds,
hoping it all never fades.


Firetrucks, horns and police cars
politicians and bands too;
kids and applause,
candy and smiles;
waving of the stripes and stars.


Carnivals and ferris wheels,
corn on the stick, hot dogs too,
all make me feel
kid's simple joy 
and falling head over heels. 


Love on a warm, summer day
is the best way to spend it;
all day in play,
strolling along
down the carnival midway.


The day's imprint will hang on,
memories will settle in;
events are done.
Sunshine fading,
We definitely had fun.

Propinquity

I have heard that
absence makes
the heart grow fonder


but I know that
isn't true;
the heart will wander.


Closeness is what
really works;
near likeness is best.


The more akin
people are,
their affairs are blest.


So if you want
someone true
try to look nearby;


maybe next door
or at work
he'll catch your eye.


Ignore cliches,
what you've heard
absence is absurd.

Final Freedom

Freedom:
You don't care
what I say or do
as long as it
doesn't impact you.


My life 
means nothing
if I stay clear
of you at all;
don't increase your fear.


Freedom,
Worthlessness
means that I can
do what I must
to make my last stand.


Best part:
No one cares
except for one;
she's better off
after I am gone.


Dark? Yes.
But it's true,
the way I feel.

Now, it may pass, 
right now it is real.

The End of The Tunnel

At the end of the tunnel
there should be a light
or so I've been told.


It could be a train you know
or it could be hope;
how will it unfold?


So I walk towards the light
outcome uncertain;
my fate uncontrolled.


The path becomes constricted
too tight to turn back;
what's to be unfolds.


The light now becomes larger
and brighter I see;
to the path I hold.


Too late I see what it is
I hear it now too.
The train I behold.


"Oh well, "I say to myself.
"It's over now, Me."
Why is it so cold?


Now I see another light
and tunnel ahead
calling to my soul.


So, it's been foretold.

Color My World

Fear colors the world
a deep shade of blue;
creating feelings
to match the hue.


Anger tints it all
a bright scarlet red
as it turns inward
wanting me dead.


Hopelessness is grey,
cloud's claws crawl, enter,
squeezing happiness
out nerve center.


Gratitude changes
the shade and the tint
Attitude is pink,
sparkle and glint.


When I'm feeling blue
I try to recall
appreciation
once and for all.

Crazy: How It Feels

Like limestone bricks
pyramid upon soul
ever downward pressing
heaviness distressing.


siphoning breath; 
oven melting madness,
sad, sanity stealing
persecuting feelings.


space-like vacuum
sucking life from the room,
remaining viscous brain
sliding down whirpool's drain.

The One

Who is the One?
Is it you?
Is it a friend?


Who is the One?
Is it he,
one who offends?


Who is the One?
Is it she
who does contend?


Who is the One?
it is all;
who walls ascend.


Who is the One?
It is God
Who transcends.

Fear Not

Fear freezes

feelings fast.

Anger acts

against all.

Hopelessness'

heavy hold.

Loneliness

lingers, lives.

Depression

decides: die.

Caring calls,

creates choice.

Loneliness

languishes.

Hope holds, halts

heavy heart.

Relief rests,

releases.

Fear fast fades

feelings free.

 

Walls and Bridges

Brick upon brick
joined with mortar
building them high
making them strong.
Built around things
they form a wall
Built over holes
they become a bridge.
Stone around soul
wood over hope
One is not seen,
one set aflame. 
Knock down the wall
killing psyche.
Burn down the bridge
while still on it.


You can still jump.

Running...

Tired but wanting to run
away, far away
from myself, everyone.


Tired of the deeper pain
sitting in my soul,
creating a bloody stain


Tired of being a weight,
burden on you all;
wanting a different fate.


Wanting to be like you
not like who I am;
needing to be normal too.


Wanting is not getting
I realize that;
it really is upsetting.


Wanting, yearning, crying
to be what I can't;
leads me to think of dying.


Dying: a way to run...

Only Time Will Tell

Fifty-six times
I've said good-bye
to the person I was
when I was born.


Fifty-six times
I've said hello
to possibilities
for tomorrow.


How many more
greetings, farewells
I get is unknown,
time's secrets sworn.


How many more
mini births, deaths
pass before my eyes,
time that's borrowed.


Only time will tell...

Spring Eyes

Grey souless vision
seeping into awareness;
cold rain into ground

The Mask

Who I'm not,
who I am
I'll pretend,
protect you
to the end.
No one knows
what you did
to hurt me
and I'll hide
it you'll see.
I love you,
you hate me -
why, who knows?
In the end
you'll be free.
Sacrifice?
Yes, for sure.
Because I love
U. S. A.
I endure.
Someone wants
to use me
to hurt you
make you cave
to their plea.
Not from me
will they get
any help
for their cause
or their threat.
Please, go on
do your task.
I will do
what you need,
wear a mask.
"Are you nuts?"
they inquire.
I will say,
"Yes", " I am",
put out fire.

Shattered Soul

My heart is broken,
love is impossible. 
my soul has shattered,
all music has died.

Truth is no longer,
belief irrelevant.
what's real is in flux:
I feel dead inside.

The moral is this:
Don't trust anybody,
they all deceive you;
will all make you cry.

Rely on yourself.
Then if you are let down
you will always know
that at least you tried.

Believe in yourself
and maybe One Other.
Hold to your values
they'll help you decide.

Let others be friends
but never let them in
so far they can hurt:
take them all in stride.

Choices

It's amazing to me
the way you see things.
You see the forest
but not the tree.


Forests don't just occur
but for single trees.
If one pine gets sick
so do more fir.


Yet you value the whole
at the cost of one.
You save your career
but lose one Soul.


You'd let one person go
To keep it quiet.
Politics is all:
amity's foe.


Know the choices you've made
defines who you are,
The way you treat one
shows values weighed.


Whether I live or not,
you couldn't care less.
That tells me you aren't
the one I thought.


I'm as sorry for you
as I am for me.
I hope you can see
my point of view.


If not, it's a big waste
for all of us here
saw you as caring; 
that's now erased.


Please open up your heart
stop being afraid,
thinking you'll be hurt,
try a clean start.


Tomorrow's a new day
we can all start fresh
The past is the past
put it away.

Slamming Doors

Hearing the sound of slamming doors,
Immediate interception
and being followed.
Recipe for paranoia
or for a growing awareness
of people afraid.
It really is disheartening
or maybe more like depressing:
Why do I exist?
If people want me gone that much
maybe I should disappear
so they can relax.
Get on with your lives, I'm not worth
the anxiety I cause in you.
I'd never harm you.
It hurts that you need to avoid
me so much you go and hide.
But I understand.
So I will say, "Goodbye" to you
and to the world which hates me so.
I am so sorry...

Autumn Eyes

Hazel eyes harvest
longing gazes like a crop
ready for a feast.

Where Do You Turn

Where do you go
when there's no place to turn,
when you need help
when you have been spurned?


What do you do
when you're over the edge,
when you reach out,
find only the ledge?


Who do you know
who might see what you need
when you're falling
with increasing speed?


When do you show
people that you need aid?
Can you request
help while you're afraid?


Why is it hard
to just come out and ask
for what you need,
stop wearing a mask?


How do you stop
fearing being ignored
let down your guard,
have your faith restored?


I do not know
the answers to give you
except to say:
Just try it:  do.