THE RED LINE

THE RED LINE

Sunday, November 19, 2017

My Face Does Not Easily Find Its Smile -- #POETVERITAS




My face does not easily find its smile,
 in the days since you've been gone;
 and I do not paint as I did before,
 I just angrily throw colors at canvas,
grateful that modern abstract art is so forgiving...
Without you here, I'm left to play the role
of a living Human Being with a beating heart,
with dreams, desires and the thrill of a future yet unmade,
but it's all for naught, as I wait and I watch for your return to me, your return
to this sparsely furnished loft high above the city,
floating in that space between the smoke and the clouds,
where I try so hard to fill my hours and to find some ghost of meaning,
as I ache in wait for you to come home to me.




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Sunday, September 24, 2017

Rough Season -- #POETVERITAS



ROUGH SEASON


It has come a rough season for the righteous
with stepping on toes and burning of bridges
with the outpouring of truth as brutal as blades
and hearts beating harder on the verge of explosion
and short, shallow, ragged breaths
and rapid footfalls echoing down darkened alleyways, 
and hungry jackals, frothing and yellow-eyed, tearing at the     remains of gentlemen
who failed to respect the coming of the rough season.


--------------------------------------/\```\--------------------------------------  




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Sunday, June 25, 2017

Nighttime -- #POETVERITAS





NIGHTTIME

Slowing down the passage of time,
stillness, but for the slightest breeze,
 peacefulness enrobes all,
and quiet brings clarity -
It is nighttime once again.





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Wednesday, February 15, 2017

MY GRAVEST SIN -- #POETVERITAS




MY GRAVEST SIN -

WAS TO LOVE YOU FROM THE OUTSIDE IN...


~>( 0 ) 


 

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Sunday, February 12, 2017

LETTING GO -- #POETVERITAS





LETTING GO

After years of clinging to a perpetually slippery sense of sanity,
to a semblance of normalcy in a world built contrary to my fiery internal reality,
my hands had grown gnarled and sinewy...
strong, but aching increasingly with every minute slowly clicked by the dark clock tower of time infinite;

i decided to let go my grasp on the tightly-wound rope,
and in letting go, found exhilaration in the breathtaking plunge to certain freedom
at the relatively small cost of certain death.


/
/
/
/
/
_



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Friday, September 23, 2016

Dangerous If Left Alone -- #POETVERITAS

DANGEROUS IF LEFT ALONE
 

Razor held over my wrist
Sent out over a dozen "I Love You" notes
Waiting for someone to answer with the same
Dangerous if left alone
By myself with no one home
Dangerous if left alone
By myself with no one home


///

 

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Saturday, August 20, 2016

The Innocence Of Simplicity -- #POETVERITAS



 THE INNOCENCE OF SIMPLICITY


I have always been envious of those rare individuals who can take a giant thought and reduce it to a simple statement.

       I am quite the opposite.  My use of the written word is frightfully inefficient.

I take the smallest thought or feeling of the moment and I expand it into an epic or an essay.

       I am afraid of the look of an empty page, and

I am afraid of the judgment that fills the void of any silence.


-0-



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Tuesday, June 7, 2016

THE ROAD TO OBLIVION -- #POETVERITAS




THE ROAD TO OBLIVION


Innovation born of desperation leads to darkness and incarceration;

what seem like lightning sparks of brilliance are sconces lit along

the walls down the stairway to hell. Can you not feel it getting 

colder and increasingly moist and clammy? Somewhere deep within you

you realize that desperation is just a drug that causes your mind

to think of the magical, the impossible, and cling to it as if

if were reality. Innovation born of desperation heads you on the

road to oblivion. The somber truth is that while you think that

you are saving your life, you are really losing it rapidly by 

inches.




-^-
V





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Monday, June 6, 2016

WATCHING TIME -- #POETVERITAS





WATCHING TIME

Nothing to do - so I watch time slowly pass on the clock on the kitchen wall. 

I remember days and years when time was streaking by and there just didn't seem to be enough of it.  Whole days passed in what seemed like hours. The pace was breathtaking.

And now, with nothing to do but wait for something, anything, to change, I watch the hands of the clock, which move remarkably slowly when there are no distractions from the empty pursuit of waiting.

I am no longer in control of any of my consequences. There is no planning; no doing. I am merely living passively, a slave to time. Watching time. Waiting for some occurrence to move my mind away from the glacial pace of idle time.

For now, I watch time and just stare at it as an observer and not as a participant.

I am a victim of the clock, and its painful slowness.

And time moves at a glacial pace when there is nothing to fill it but watching it pass.

~o0o~ 



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Wednesday, June 1, 2016

THE BIG LIE -- #POETVERITAS

 
THE BIG LIE

My very existence is in small part fact and large part fiction -
I've created my own character and defensively polished it over the course of too many years -
And I live The Big Lie to the extent that I have lost all vision of the truth, wonder and clarity of childhood.

Being ensnared in The Big Lie leeches the remaining shards and threads of reality from my consciousness; 
I've become the Lie - and all that was real evaporates and retreats into an elusive shadow memory in the smallest corner of nowhere.

Most frighteningly, The Big Lie has a demonic consciousness all its own...
and this demonic consciousness, this curse of apostasy and faithlessness, turns my every word and every gesture into an act in someone else's play,
all the time filling me with weighty feelings of guilt and shame.

The Big Lie speaks for me, and I have no reserve of free will to regain and restore who I might have been, had truth prevailed and held me securely in its sacred course. If only I had had the courage to let my soul (long since abandoned) shine through the need to conform to the opinions of others.

~oo0oo~





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Saturday, May 7, 2016

What She Doesn't Know -- #POETVERITAS





WHAT SHE DOESN'T KNOW

Silence falls between us as our worlds separate after the seductive pleasure
of a long kiss;

We hold hands and walk slowly, slightly dazed by the hypnotic moment of pure passion.

I can't know what she is thinking as she smiles and looks over at me,
but my reverie is fading against a growing cold blue backdrop of what is to come;

What she doesn't know will come to hurt her deeply as surely as I know
that my days are limited to hours, and those hours are filled with the ghostly agonies of
words left unsaid and personal affairs left in disarray.

And as much as I've tried to prepare for my end to come,
I had wanted to fill my remaining days with love and lust and joy -
so much longing in my life, with so much pain and regret;

What she doesn't know will certainly shock her, as I could never have shared my plans
with her, for had I done so, this moment before dying could never have been.

Although my pleasure is ridden with guilt at this impossible knowledge,
my apology to this creature of intense beauty will never come,

For it will have been too late to confess this final sin before leaving,
... and is it so wrong to want to die with the warmth of a kiss on my lips?

It is all that I will take with me. And she cannot know. Not now.

~oo0oo~






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Saturday, April 16, 2016

LOITERING -- #POETVERITAS





LOITERING

My routine has become more routine
as i fade into the backdrop of all else;

Slowly, fewer steps, almost motionless
camouflaged by furniture;

Just waiting for something to change;

I loiter through days and nights.

o0o


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Saturday, April 2, 2016

SOLITARY SONG -- #POETVERITAS



SOLITARY SONG

I cannot sleep. I am deliberately focusing upon the simple events of this summer's day.
The smell of the orange blossoms on the light, warm breeze...
The faint buzz of the dragonflies in the late afternoon sun.

Trying to remember every thing, both great and small, that touched and stirred my senses.

I cannot sleep. I am madly obsessed with my loneliness.
While I try to distract myself with the beauty of the day,
the Solitary Song cuts through the center of everything...
The Solitary Song that only I can hear, for there is no one to serenade;
no one with whom to share.

I look up at the ceiling, my arms folded behind my neck,
fingers cradled loosely,
while the Solitary Song plays over and over again inside of me -
a song unbidden and spontaneously composed by my heart,
beating its haunting melody to the cadence of my slowing pulse.

Neither theme, nor manifesto, nor dance... it is but an oddly beautiful dirge
to be shared with no one - a lonely bird's plaintive melody resonating in the hollows of my aching chest.

Where once I sang many songs, I now can hear but one,
and it is that which defies all attempts at singing. I have lost my voice, as I have lost my love.

And the Solitary Song, loud and lonely, is crying inside of me,
calling me to leave this world. Telling me that nothing remains for which I should stay.

~oo0oo~



 

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Thursday, March 31, 2016

THE FIRST KISS -- #POETVERITAS




THE FIRST KISS

The beginning of spring, with the nighttime chill of winter's long goodbye in the evening wind
a star-filled sky, yet I can only see the smile on your beautiful face, upturned, expecting a kiss;

And I held you tightly, your coat pressed against my jacket, and I kissed you,
and I kissed you again, and while I knew it was time to leave, I wanted nothing but to kiss you and
to feel the rush of your femininity and hidden longing to complete my love-hungry circuitry;

The soft, sweet taste of your lips upon mine only made me want more connection;

Transported through the miracle of the experience, I was a teenager again,
loving everything about you, and lingering on your every sacred word,
loving you intently and intensely as a man loves a woman,
warming with loving desire,
and the whip of the cold wind only making this more desperately so.

-o0o-

 

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Saturday, March 26, 2016

BEAUTY IN UNEXPECTED PLACES -- #POETVERITAS





BEAUTY IN UNEXPECTED PLACES

Trying to force a poem to become written
is an assault to all of my standards and sensibilities...
Inspiration must strike me and ignite me with an insatiable need to reduce something to writing -
something that can initiate a far-reaching resonance.
 
While thinking this, I wandered (perhaps it was fate) into a coffee shop
and placed my order with a seemingly ordinary, very polite young lady.
As she readied my order, she turned her back to me and began quietly singing with the voice of an angel. Singing to herself, without self-conscious thought -- without any pretense.

As if she had suddenly become aware of her subconscious singing,
she turned to me and said, "Sorry about the voice, but at least the singing is free."

And I said to her, in my awe-struck state at this unexpected miracle,
and out of an instantaneous renewal of my faith in a benevolent Creator,

"No, miss. Your singing is not free. It is beautiful and priceless."

She blushed a true crimson and demurely thanked me.

And I thanked God over and over as I walked out of that coffee shop,
that unadorned house of worship and gratitude and miracles,
and looked upward into the early evening sky
and noticed the clear, clean brightness of the stars anew.

///////////////





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DECISIONS -- #POETVERITAS





DECISIONS

when i was younger
i made many decisions;
now i have found that
my decisions have made me -
and they shadow me,
exerting a force on me
which pushes my life
in a direction
not necessarily of 
my sacred free will.

many dreams ago
i thought that i ruled my life
but now i have seen
through the lens of perspective
that my fate was set
the very first day of days
that i decided.

-0-


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Sunday, March 20, 2016

SMALL LIVES -- #POETVERITAS


as children, living in a world of seemingly limitless possibilities,
of limitless opportunities, each of us dreamed of living a large life,
filled with grand achievements and noteworthy magnificence,
of recognition and great fame;

we dreamed that we were stars in movies that centered around us
as the main characters - that the Earth revolved around us;

with the passage of time, growing faster as we aged, limits found their way into our lives and our great notions of fortune and fame to come were subtly beaten down with the demands of pragmatism, and the pursuit of bliss that transcended the ever-encroaching ordinary became sadly secondary to the rigors of dwelling in the mundane;

of course there were a few stunning exceptions among the masses of our number -- those glorious few who realized great dreams and built large lives, filled with the things that allowed them to retain childhood's near-impossible magic and magnificence;

the rest of us, myself included, lived with cautiously-guarded dreams of greatness and fulfillment, never to be achieved in reality, but a haven and a harbor to resort to for shelter from what had become the harshness of lives that meant so little to anyone but ourselves. small lives.

and for every large life filled with its noteworthiness and impact there exists an inconsequential but staggering number of small lives which make too little difference except to those who have lived in them;

this vast cosmos of small lives will always be present as will the small number of exceptionally large lives;

i, too, dreamed large dreams -

i did not want this small life that i have let overcome and overwhelm me for reasons that perhaps i would understand in retrospect, if retrospect were my choice;

but it is not my choice to continue forward if only to find the many reasons that i have sabotaged what may have been a large life to live one of a myriad universe of small lives in its place;

i do not believe in karma or fate;

i believe in free will and failure, and the responsibility of each of us, myself included, to either reluctantly surrender to a pattern of losing or to fight the incredible odds which lead to living a large life.

I detest being a grain of sand on the beach instead of the mighty ocean. The thought of being another in a myriad of small lives is unbearable to those of us who cannot forget that they once had dreams of living in grand fashion.

-o0o-  

 

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Friday, March 18, 2016

WORDS UNSPOKEN -- #POETVERITAS





WORDS UNSPOKEN

we thrive on confirmation, reaffirmation, assurances and affection;
when words giving form to these deeply human needs
remain unspoken for any reason
the ensuing silence leaves limitless space for negative thought
and in the emptiness of these words unexpressed
there grows a spontaneous seed of wondering
which increases to self-doubt as as it is nourished in a watering of unresolved silence 
until the longing for words of comfort or of resolution becomes so overwhelming that it forces
us to either cry or die;
And the hundreds of time that i've said that i've loved you
only to be met with a perfunctory thank you or an untranslated nod of the head
tells me only that you've heard me but cannot reciprocate;
perhaps i am not worthy of your love -
perhaps you do love me but are afraid of the vulnerability that those words may open in you -
perhaps i am merely an afterthought -- unimportant in the business of your life -
yet these things seem somewhat smaller now as i reframe them against a backdrop or too much silence for far too long;
of too much not knowing;
and uncertain of what i mean to anyone and where i belong,
i feel some peace settling over me at last
as i settle warmly into a decision to stop waiting for an end to the dreaded silence
and for words that may never come
and to take myself out of this wondering and suffering.


-o0o-
 
 





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Sunday, March 13, 2016

SECRETS AND LIES -- #POETVERITAS



SECRETS AND LIES
 
days now streak by in a mad rush
while nights have become darker and longer
with time passing so slowly
that thinking,
and thinking about what i am thinking,
consume my consciousness
as they've commandeered what was once my own mind;
 
and my aching skull is an overcrowded vault
filled with kept secrets and
the ghostly shadows of lies.
 
this is what comes of deceit and denial
and of a life spun so wildly out of control
that it can no longer be reined in or harnessed or focused or at rest;
 
and thousands of echoing voices live where once
a single, simple truth had resided.
 
I try to scream out for help
in formulating some plan of escape from myself
but those who once listened
can no longer hear my plaintive entreaties
for they are lost in rapid-growing mazes and jungles
of their own
secrets and lies
and searching desperately for some way out.
 
-o0o-
 
 
 


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Saturday, March 5, 2016

Last Dance At Sunset -- #POETVERITAS

LAST DANCE AT SUNSET



the setting sun of late august,
a fireball in the evening sky
is slowly, majestically retreating
into a horizon of trees beyond count;
and i ask you only for one long slow dance
to the music of crickets, distant waves, and the traffic
on the highway far from our small clearing of flattened grass
here in these beautiful cedar woods;
please speak not, love of my life, my dream, my muse, my memory
as i embrace you and our hearts touch
and as we slowly, gracefully whirl in the evening
and i savor, to remember forever, the fragrance of jasmine
and sandalwood in your long, beautiful hair, and the scent 
of gentle honeysuckle at the nape of your neck;
and a tear slowly rolls down your cheek, as you realize
that moments like this very one can only be followed by loss;
our bodies move together so easily, so lovingly, as if one,
and yet, i know that this is the last dance at sunset
and that i shall not ever see another the like of it;
i have failed at all things but loving you -
i have fallen too far to stand as a man should stand -
you once called me a fallen angel, but i was just a devil given a chance to do good...
i have wrapped my life in a labyrinth of unsolvable complexities
and sins and transgressions - living a glorious lie...
but you are silent, my love, with a tear in your eye and a slight smile on your face, painted by the night, like an angel's,
and i clutch you closer as your soft, sweet lips meet mine
for one last smooth, warm time;
and we continue, wordlessly dancing in a sacred embrace
that i have taken as my last request, a request answered by a god
in whom i'd never before believed, who showed no judgment of me
in honoring my request for this one special assignation;
i think not of my death to come as i am obsessed with the
utter purity of your love as we sway to rhythms which we alone can
hear;
you whisper in my ear, so gently, like the touch of a butterfly
"please don't leave me," but i cannot lie one more time and i reply
"this is the last time i will ever leave you, my darling, my treasure";
and i know in that moment that it is the best one of my life,
and that i will take the memory of it to my very death -
in the morning, before the sun has quite come up i will be by myself, with this sweet memory in my mind as i lay in my hotel bed, chemicals rushing through my body and eliminating the pain
of facing another day in this world which i cannot seem to conquer;
but the fleeting visions that will breeze and whip through my miasma-riddled mind as my body tries to fight its termination will be of you and of me locked in a lovers' embrace, dancing together
at the last dance of sunset, and the last picture in my fading consciousness will be of you in the shadow of the setting august moon.
And when i am no more, i pray that you will forgive my cowardly retreat - but i have been here too long and have seen and done too much and i know that it is my time to leave this tormented life.

in my last breath, i am certain that i will quietly call out your name, my greatest love of all persons and things loved.

-o0o-
 

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