heart hemisphere

The thumps of the rain on my brim
are the outwardness of my erratic heart beat,
the sky cries for me.

The never-ending assault
from the drops of life God didn't want,
soak my shirt.

You think i don't feel the loss in my chest?
A farewell to one of my friends...
the best.

An inch-long river that feeds the mouth where their sentiment will rest
washed in the blood of all my insecurities,
my selfishness.

To what the unknown holds outstretched in hand
the promises of new and old war games,
my soul aches.

Winding the grinded streets blind...
the smell of fear is sweetened with the choking sound of music...
blocked like a plane waiting to take flight...
muffled are the screams of anguished...depreciated emotion bleeding out to no end.....

a beautiful rendition of what used to be----

...my heart-hemisphere

lost thoughts of tiredness

So, in a few fleeting moments, surrounding a select group of situational circumstances, it has fallen upon me: You know when you’re young and think, “I can’t wait till I’m a grown up”. It seems that from that far away, the distant “life”, as it were, seemed almost boundless. Every lasting in a way that rivals the greatest depths of our imaginations….our young…naïve imaginations. Everyone tells you that you can be whatever you want. So being young and green, you play out a few scenarios on which to mold your actions for the next couple decades. What people fail to tell you is that you indeed can not be whatever you want…that the possibilities aren’t endless….and that you’ll probably have to settle with something sooner…or later and that the “Land of Opportunity” is where dreams go to die….now this isn’t a rant. More like thinking aloud. What if the possibilities were endless and we could change our chosen professions on a whim…as if that is what determined who you were as a person…and not just a laborer. Wouldn’t it be really neat to decide that you wanted to be a marine biologist one day and a race car driver the next? What they don’t tell you when you’re young, is that in order to be anything you want to be you must go through a rigorous gauntlet of schooling and incur a vast myriad of expenses in order for a chance to meet with a powerful enough interviewer that could grant you a position….maybe in your chosen path of professionalism, maybe a detoured version of what you thought your life would be. Is it just one of those arbitrary institutions that have been bestowed upon one before we could even talk? The path that was set before us because others believe it is right? Like sitting on a bench singing pre-made, hand-me-down songs in hopes that it will some how make you a better person….or how about worshiping a man made currency system which has no intrinsic value in which to base your spiritual, mental, and physical well being. Though money serves its purposes in life, when you die, how will it benefit you? Or if you really had ALL the money in the world, would you really be wealthy? Nay. No one else would have any so it would mean nothing. (Sorry I’m not sorry Gwen) What parents should say to their children is not, “You can be anything you want to be when you grow up”. It should be, “How are you going to choose to procure more of this inanimate form of value that you’ll use to barter for the things you “need” to “live”…as if living in a city, surrounded by machines buildings and materialistic idolatry were really living. Take a look at I life in it’s purest forms and you’ll find no botox, hair dye, tummy tucks, trucks, video games, or fast food restaurants around…you’ll find the body, the mind, and the spirit all coexisting in a symbiotic relationship or sorts. That, which distracts the mind, distracts the soul. I’m not trying to be preachy or even coherent in my thoughts….I only mean to convey a way of thinking which has come to me in my recent years upon leaving the nest that was my home….it seems that knowledge and life has a funny way of taking your course…your plan of action…for everything that you imagined would be you one day In new and uncharted tangents from the circumference of your trained, train of though. I’m not asking for you to join me in my endeavors of nothing and everything all at the same time….just to see a point of view for what it is…just the innocent observations of just another fly on the wall. And so it has fallen upon me: life’s a garden…dig it, eat it, smoke it. Do what you want with it; it’s yours for the harvesting, just don’t waste it in futility.

“Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail” ---Ralph Waldo Emerson

day of abbas

a day of pattern, all seams
strained in the waters of confusion.
forced smiles and ties to a celebration
of an easy gift. a donation of
breath but no guides for lives
from the first fall. appearances
as well as traction on glass. sitting
beside the phone, contemplating a call. two
won but all lost numbers are a
commodity unknown. days that fit
in hand, with one loss of a man.
the last day of grievance to a
thought, an idea, a plan.

perfect fit

what is a perfect fit?

two soul-cases tangled together tightly?

personalities wrapped around each other slightly?

finishing the rest of words already started?

heart ache with somberness departed?

minds race with a glance....a view?

does a perfect fit mean you?

Offerings

Sacrifices to the One
The relinquishing of the Dearest
My words to you are Fearless

Crash to lie atop the Alter
The sun is sinking why even Bother
Night is the ruler of Souls

Bold are those that Burn
Ashes in ashes make a Haze
One solemn cloud on a sunny Day

Start to finish it's made the Proud
Bright coals scatter the Ground
What was once..... is now Gone

almost

your tongue stings as it passes over the cut,
the familiar pain of your words i love so much.
lashing hard; starting to break skin,
a perfect representation of the turmoil i'm in.
bringing up the things i thought once done,
now objects are flying and we've just begun.
we go round and round the bedroom:
blood, sweat, and tears,
this isn't a home,
hasn't been in years.
it's all about you, it always has been.
you wanted a song,
i couldn't give it to you then.
so here it is now; a dedication to the end.
a finale to the finish, the last nail in the pine,
my eyes closed so long, i almost was blind.

i'm writing to you in hour i yearn the most. no way to hear, see, or shout out to you. it's been a while since i've heard the odyssey that is your voice. i call out at you; you can't hear me. i reach out to touch you; you can't feel me. an emptiness in my stomach creeps up. i try to fight it away...lives thrown in the air, shuffled about; no idea where they'll land. this lump in my throat won't go away. to detach myself from what i've only known is to lose a bit of who i am. i feel that the piece gone is only one of many i've dropped along the way. in this i find comfort: knowing i've done this before. a piece of me is left everywhere i go. it doesn't hurt much anymore. the pain has lost the sting; the feeling remains the same...the emptiness comes around again and i miss you...