From The Start

All this time I thought my perspective was unique
and I loved my subjective technique.
I think this was actually a defective way to critique
what I recollected as false truths at which I unearthed a peek.

I was wrong. There was no integrity in my uniqueness.

This perspective has done little more than make me king of semantics.
It's highly infective to whittle things down to level that's manic
The directive I want is an acquittal to anything synthetic.

I step back to realize that I look at life through a broken lens
and it makes the pain abscise and the emptiness get intense.
It sends me back to reprise the strife that my adoption has condensed
because I want my birth mother to authorize and pay the debt her absence has expensed.

I was wrong. My loss is accentuated by her weakness.

That broken lens needed more depth than those nurses could have foregone
My infancy needed a course where what occurs is a better phenomenal
because what I got forced on was a hurt that can run for a solid marathon
then I hit the cold doorstep of Catholic Social Services that I was left on.

Misplaced

I will let you down, do not forget.
There is no success in a relationship.
I set out with intent to love and protect
then I fail, suck it dry and then turn apathetic.
You see...
the benefit you receive from the sacrifice you make
will play resident to succeed but then realize you cannot dictate
my delicate increase to satisfy and fixate
is my venomous retreat as my appetite is misplaced.

I'm just a pessimist to believe I can maximize the mistake
but fuck it, I need medicine to repeat and satisfy this empty embrace.

Expire

Such a sin it was for my soul from the start
given an eloquent tongue coupled with an immature heart.
My agenda assigns my own progress to depart
as my ego imbues failure to successfully restart.

My love for this complication is not absent

but it lacks romanticism and reeks of something truly tragic.
What good is a holding a mirror if my eyes are blind to heed the light?
What would be clear is in disguise to my mind if it was indeed bright?

The innovation I tout from my soapbox is admired
because while I do inspire, this will ultimately backfire.
The complication is that the solution I need will require
for me to lay what we had and put it down to retire.
The attempt to finally aspire to move on
will require me to let your hold on me expire.

These consequences, oh so sweetly and sinfully I hold them dire.

No More

It was your distant tip toe that I swore
I heard approaching softly to my door.
Closer you crept to where you stood before
and I wondered just what you had in store.

Well, I abhor that you even dare to explore
from the audacious height from which you soar.
You ignored the hole within me you tore
after you swore “us” something you stood for.
I’m sorry but my will is weakened and my back is sore.

Therefore I reject everything within your repertoire
even as I once adored what you showed at your core.
I have served as a prisoner of love, not war
and dismiss the notion of the desire you call for.
So stand there and remember what you swore to care for
as I look you in the eye and quietly close the door.

Again

I finally came around, my heart not under arrest

Wanting to break down the damage that was compressed.

I have unwound the claim you held in contest

And then I put you down, laying it all to rest.

My enemy was conquered and then I rued the day.

Feeling came back but something was off, much to my dismay.

Some things never die, surely I should have expected.

That it faithfully played along as a skeptic

Blamelessly, as it would have others accept it

Shamefully you only sought to inject it 

and it was blatantly easy for me to detect it.

Alas, it was my complacency that resurrected it.

Chicanery

I have measured against myself and come up short
As my ambitions and deliverance are all out of sort.
There is only talk among words and no one can better contort
than I who consistently resort...
to use manipulation for sport
to send waves of lust to only abort
to set up the weak to falsely exhort
and decay the structure I claim to support.

I take these words and sit to assort
assembling them in a fashion that will begin to report
That better days will dawn, just beyond the next port
but the storm rages on with an endless escort
and it has come down to this last resort.

That words have no claim to sustenance of action
They cannot stand more than any subtraction.
They are the mere canvass, not the bright benefaction
And they taste of a staler satisfaction.
There is still time to stave of distraction
and redeem for a moment, even if only a fraction
to move towards the promise with swifter traction
And claim what is mine; actual self satisfaction.

Faith

I have grovelled and crawled
and been driven up every wall
as I have faced your ego and undaunting gaul.
I will no longer play a role in your immenent downfall.

I have stood by with faith
while the pieces fell to place.
But the shape they create
is not foreign to frustrate.

I turn my bow to you and suddenly realize
that your depth yields waves that capsize
the hope manifested within your disguise
And there is no light in your deep blue eyes.

Restored

As this New Year came in to turn
I set out, within, something to learn.
A need for expression has always governed
coupled with emotional concern
it melds together to violently churn.
Somewhere deep, those sentiments burn.
I have ignored this ache and adjourned
but it only brought me anxious concern.
My pen sat quiet but inspiration has spurned
Back into a blank page fray, I have returned.

Chances

Throughout life we must weigh risk against reward
making choices based on how much hurt we can afford.
It is the potential reward we must gravitate toward
and know the loss could leave us at rock bottom's floor.
Within this balance is where the human spirit is restored
and passion is tempered where it was absent before.
No matter the weight of the loss or how much we abhor
You must stand up again and continue the fight once more.
Shattered hearts can be mended, broken wings can still soar
but you must find the strength to knock again at the door.

Fatherhood

The first task of a father is to protect,

you identify adversity, then filter and reject. 

Something unidentified shows as a vague silouhette 

without assesment, I move forward to intercept. 

Time has gone by and I must soften my approach

and step back to encourage development and promote

but beginning to expose him I truly hate the most. 

I must lower my shield, letting the real world in

and ignore my need to protect him on a whim. 

I cannot wait to meet the man he will one day know

but I still see him as mine and am not ready let go. 

Fight

So many times we push to be better people 

then our ambitions settle for less than equal. 

To dreams, reality can become lethal

and has a way to turn wishes to feeble. 

Wants are only words yet change requires action. 

and following this path will require much passion. 

Why? Because effort will be tested 

and regardless of strength, we are all affected. 

We must commit to the person we long to be

not just what falls within efotistical harmony. 

Unsatisfied

Faith is not as profound as advertised
It is a simple relationship by design.
While we look outwards for the divine
and seek our righteousness inside.
We make the mistake to decide
to organize together, unsatisfied.
How can a group speculate to clarify
what becomes of an individual's afterlife?
To me, there are no means to justify
why the lost cling together to pacify
by joining together to ratify
what is to become of their private paradise.
I look within for morality to ironically "testify"
that I simply find this entire concept asinine.

Maps

Sometimes I reflect back on a memory
and rely upon both mental notes as well as sensory.
I cleverly draw a map and find a trajectory
that leads me directly back to that moment's energy.
This transports me to the exact point in time,
regardless of what has transpired, the best parts still shine.
It's possible recurrence has a dying timeline
and it dwindles shorter every moment I pine.
Still I trace it back within the delicate scheme
restitching what is torn and repairing every seem.
I made no second effort while caught in this daydream,
You will have to excuse me while I attempt to redeem.

Shooting Stars

Sometimes children venture out into starry skies
with mason jars and hopes of fire flies.
Their laughs echo and their hearts race
and we long to send ourselves back to that place.
Where we were all carefree in our own little space
and saw love without judgement, acting to embrace.
You taught me to love fearlessly in that regard,
free from encumberance, and no matter how scarred.
I wish I could pick out my mistakes and then discard
just as I wish to lay with you under this sky full of stars.

Ravenous

It was not the smell of her body it was the sense of her presence.
A hunger in me awoke oddly and I simply had no defense.
What rushed to me clearly was a need to take her fiercely.
Merely my prey and purely mine by the end of the day.
My words began to ensnare and her wits could not bare
as I kissed her open mouth and grasped the back of her hair
She laid before me all she ever had, now vulnerable and bare.
My attempts were too amplified
I sucked out her life and bled her heart dry.
A feeding frenzy, she was devoured whole
and I underestimated the exquisite taste of her soul.
Their shine never seems to eclipse my black hole
so next time I must exhibit better self-control.
Then I would not destroy that which I love and pay another toll
adding yet another set of bones to my bottomless sinkhole.

Pendulum

A pendulum is a such a precise device.
Perfectly balanced with every slice.
It swings away making a path, and then back just right;
two directional changes make one turn fully concise.
My heart has a way that mimics this device
Symmetrically beautiful but my God I pay a price.

Let me explain that cost...

In one moment, everything seems to glide
all moving in a unified direction.
Then affection slides to infection
momentum slows and my heart alters its projection.

The worst part is nearing the height of the swing.
In the clearing, when motionless it brings
a hault before steering in a new path.
In that pause I look back
at the turns I took off the beaten track.
And fearing the outcome I swing away from the attack.

Much like the pendulum, within this change is a sudden problem.
I thought my heart moved apart and would be able to solve them.
I wanted to a counterpart in a summer blossom but alas my heart still craves Autumn.
I thought I achieved new surroundings and wanted to take part
but the familiarity makes it all fall apart
as I realize my heart returned to where I began...and was dissatisfied with from the start.

Silouhette

The pieces appear simple but shine intricate,
Sturdy and ridgid yet they assign delicate.
These scattered pieces were once an asset
but their reassembly I now forget.
It was not long ago a malignant onset
crumbled this structure under immediate threat.
My applecart was violently upset
which has forever altered my mindset
to a mashochistic Russian roulette.
There is no peace can I get
which does not impose regret.
I long for a reset
by adding more chips into the bet
but I only accrue more burdonsome debt.
Alas, no absolution from you I have met
and your absence awakens me in a cold sweat.

Endeavor

There was a time when I welcomed the storm.
I longed for it to lash my senses, awakening.
The whip lashed on, my flesh grew weary
I long no more and my heart stagnates, yet beating.

I spent a time, attempting to embrace the norm.

I longed for it to wash over me, giving me understanding.
The effort was wasted and my mind not ready
and I looked no more, my soul left fleeting.

I surrendered myself, trying to understand my own form.

I finally captured it, steady fulfilling.
The work was a trial but my soul accepted
and I reassure myself, doubt receding.

I let go of resentment, wanting something warm.

I was ready to welcome it, finally believing.
My confidence is tested but my will is strong
My journey now begins, best if I am leaving.

Instance

The memory of that day comes washing back
as waves receding like the ocean reeled in the slack.
A beautiful moment was imprinted in time.
Naturally the horizon and the skyline
meld together as your heart did within mine.
An examination of our fault line
would show purity of a level divine
and no soul would step forth to decline
that I was effortlessly yours and you would always be mine.

I see you on that beach, all smiles and in curls.
and for a second it seemed your soul had never left this world.

Unknot

The same body that gave life to me
possesses the heart that still denies me.

I ask her, what is it like?

To know you are being sought
and to know you are in my thoughts,
yet you hide your heart from taking that shot.
I have always held the thought
that if I pushed through and fought
eventually your presence would untie this knot.
Alas, I am beginning to become distraught
that my confidence is all for naught
and my heart will always hold this blind spot.

Reach to me, I will find a way to understand.
My heart lie open, I will lovingly take your hand.

Broken

Broken house, broken home
squares nothing to being alone.
Looking over the pieces we shattered
they still resemble a shape of what mattered.
It is not that you've found happiness elsewhere
for it was I that saw your needs and pretended unaware.
It matters not my effort towards you was unfair
nor the impact of the unspoken affair.
This is all in the past and somewhat irrelevant.
The intent that it meant will now reinvent to see
as it manifests itself with a new identity.
But why?
Because love cannot be lost, it merely transforms
to find a way to survive beyond our storms.

Eulogize

And it was then she came to realize
that he was unable to empathize.
That part of him broken otherwise.
He sent her heart to soar in bright blue skies
but so much emptiness in his deep brown eyes.
When she called forth his disguise
He would charismatically improvise
and speak to being able to reprise
the role she cast him for; her equal to harmonize.
But something had already set his heart to fossilize.
To her this was of no suprise.
Despite the hope she had, she could not sympathize.
Her cocoon cracked, spawning a firery butterfly.
And tomorrow, her unforgiving sun will rise.

Riposte

We had our time and now it has passed

What was sewn was reaped and the harvest did not last.

We must finally let go of what all we amassed. 

Yet you have not, instead your gauntlet was cast.
These words serve as the response to your broadcast.
'Disingenuineness' is what you see when you look to the past?
I see a genuine attempt to yield what was asked.
I was unable to and my heart began to contrast.
I was not able to match you and the wound turned fast.
Looking back, if I could I forecast
I would relinquish your heart ache and then surpassed.
But I cannot, which yields remorse that we did not last. 

Not Today

Often I take pride in my sensitive heart and wilder mind.
For I have an outlet to express whatever emotion I find.
But there are days I want to fail to remind
To just move forward, not stuck on rewind.
Thoughts come to me melodically in a rhyme
But they leave violently, questioning the health of this pastime.

Within my view of the world, my identity lies at the heart of it.
Instead of embracing it today, I want no fucking part of it.

Awry

The way I felt with her I have yet to eclipse
'Twas a height so high, even the stars would miss
To comprehend that distance actually exists.
Yet now I realize she was a code I could not decrypt
And her actions today are so easy to predict.
She was her best projection but that directly conflicts
With what she actually is and I am all but convinced
That once you boil down a strip
And sift through her politics
That between her heart and head, something is amiss
I will never need to again transfix
Or torture myself to convince
That I would want any part of that infinite abyss.

Haste?

I refuse to deafen and wait until my demise
to use heaven as an excuse to reprise.

Never stave off pleasure, happiness and reward.
Claim what you get in the end yet take it well before.
For I recognize her being is what I adore
And after I take her deeply, I am left to want more.
Scrambling, I swing violently to grasp a metaphor
that brings me the thought to help explore
And describe the site of the emotional outpour
Of what my heart looks like spilled out on the floor.

The best things do not come to those who wait, death does.
I will indulge in her, here and now.

Out-of-Heart Experience

Have you ever stood in the presence of something greater than yourself?
Has love ever dug under your skin, projecting an image of someone else?
Perhaps you played a card that would be trumped, no matter what was dealt.
Then you know what it's like to feel feelings that can never again be felt.

It is humbling to witness that experience.
You begin but start stumbling with the rest
As your stomach starts grumbling with detest
Now mumbling stupid, much less than you would have guessed.

That is what you've done to me. No, I never stood a chance.

My chance with you I thought awfully, greeting feelings with dismiss
That judgement was costly, retreating to a doubtful abyss.
Subtle you were at first so calmly, fleeting with bliss
Then I touched your face so softly, preceding our first kiss.

My heart still races today as I reflect on how we were
The symmetry went unspoken, and I'm sure you'd concur
The memory of summers we had together eclipsed in a beautiful blur
But you took the interest on my heart and decided to defer
Then the strength of what we felt began to transfer
Looking back I still try to understand what actually did occur.

Fool me once shame on you but for the second time I have to own
Twice bitten by the same snake and I still cannot condone
The trespass you committed and the true side of you that was shone.
"If only we were in the right place" is the epitaph of our gravestone.
We could have both avoided all of this hurt, if only we would have known.
That you never actually loved me, your heart needing to roam.
In the face of that emotional adversity, you decided to go it alone.

I will dust myself off in the wake of what you inadvertently slew
And begin to excavate the damage my hurt has accrued
I will pick up the pieces, find myself and then debut
A greater me as if achieving some kind of breakthrough
But I haven't. I am stuck in the past, still pining for you.
Moving on is still just a wish that I hope someday comes true.

Desert Dream

Awakened of a reason
I cannot identify.
Adrenaline is released
But not your hold of my thoughts.

Dizzied of heart, still clouded with dream
Twisting to even try.
Scorn, yet reaching again
I wince to the stretch of taut skin.

I reach to you, physically inept.
Here, somehow we may connect.
Surrender to sleep tonight
and regard to the light on the 'morrow; nothing yet lost.

You stir warmly, as a cool jeweled moon in a desert sky.
reflects the salt, dry on lush lips.
Disappearing again as your inviting dark curls slide, caressing your cheek.
Smiling, as your dream has enraptured you; as I envy to.

I will walk with you tonight, in the solitude of your dreams.
O peace, O rest; may you find it tonight.
Yet to awaken and feel the warmth of your touch would be the dream to me.

Poetry is dead

My friends, today poetry is dead, but why?

You see I believe it's the fear we dread
and the fact that we're lead
to face our hearts but we fled
to higher hills and we spread
the idea you keep to within and embed
and that it's not okay to share what's truly in your head.
Sadly, we have all been misled.

You are human and there is passion within you
You may presume
it takes some else to approve
or to nod their head for you to include
what good your heart can produce?
I implore you, to pick up this pursuit.

I'd like to explain to you how to derive these remarks
sometimes you have to venture within, embracing the dark
or other times you use the good within you to provide the spark
But no matter what, commit to expressing your heart within quotation marks.

This process will fill your heart up and make it heavy
the emotions will run high and it will break the levy
And as it rushes out of you, embrace the empty.
For me this process has always been plenty
but I'll tell you often times the sight's not pretty.

Poetry is not about being cute or getting a head start

And it's not about being able to present analytically in a flow chart
It's about making something you can call your work of art

For me, an inspiration strikes me, that pulls at my heart
and then it winds me tightly, until it splinters me apart
and the random words begin to bounce around a la carte.
This feeling overwhelms me and I begin to depart.

But to where? It's a place that is dark, and I'm not sure what to call it.
But I know it's easy to find for a functioning alcoholic.
It's a place where music is hypnotic
and you sense a level of hurt that is catastrophic
and where the ghosts that haunt you will turn demonic
and what ends up on my paper is just a touch psychotic.

When I get home at night, I pour a good scotch
My heart can feel for the most so I just sit back and watch
as it masochistically grabs a post so I can add another notch
and I won't shy away to almost duck or to dodge
From putting my hurt on a paper because it helps me dislodge
the falsification that my wants in this life have projected a mere mirage.

As I stand here before you, I realize perhaps I have disclosed too much
No, you see that is what this is about
Be free to express and not care that others doubt
that what you are is beautiful within and throughout
and that you're true to yourself no matter what the route
and sometimes you embrace your flaws but you let that shit out
Let your heart's ink spill and see what she writes about.

Adventure

Adventure

Friendship. Disappointment. Threat. Intimacy. Frustration. Happiness.

In one way or another we relate to everyone we meet, therefore we are in some form of relationship with each individual. This is the conventional wisdom that she destroys. To call this a relationship could describe it but it would not explain it. This would be to scratch the surface upon an immeasurable depth. To relate is to account for and attempt to connect.

Attempt?

We never just find an error and just try to make it better, no.

We move towards pleasure, away from lesser with an natural ebb and flow.

There is no “attempt”, whatsoever in our endeavor.

We sail seas of choppy waters of emotional adversity.

We stand atop a mountain, chasing down the sun as it descends.

We submerge into the waters of more difficult times.

We trek across miles of open fields of new experiences.

And we sit in the silence of the valley of the joyous moments before us.

I do not simply relate to her on experiences, I am on an adventure with her.

Centered

When my walls began to crack, it worried many in my circle. 

The cracks spidered upwards and some ran as the threat increased. As my walls came down, a few stayed to embrace and support. 

In the settling commotion, there were footprints leading away that I smiled towards. I appreciated what they contributed while they were here; part of me today is from them. As the dust cleared, many more stood with me than I anticipated. 

The rest of me has yet to be great because their presence is my potential. My strength is their support. My dreams are their hopes. And I them. My heart is centered with a reconciled circle. 

Paradox

Pain takes us back and serves to remind

That our hopes and failures will always intertwine.

With that pains comes beauty and within it, we define. 

For when we suffer loss we pine

Yet in victory we enshrine. 

For some reason we do not allow our hearts and actions to align. 

Perhaps that corroborates our imperfect design. 

The Pond

It was such a strikingly beautiful day.

Fingers lightly interlocked we strolled to a destination.

We laughed, we enjoyed and we were present.

There was an air of something sweet, almost a perfection per se. 

The surprise to her would be something great and I simply could not wait to see the look on her face.

This stroll would be healing and a final hurdle we would cross together. 

As we came upon the quiet pond, the look of sheer curiosity dawned on her face. Such a beautiful face if is to look upon.

She looked around her, as if the surprise would unveil itself. The longer I waited, the greater her anticipation heightened, thus the greater the revelation would be for her. Sheer excitement now prominent upon her face. 

My knuckles struck her face once fiercely, equivalent for the blow she first gave to my heart so long ago. If only I could capture the look of her thoughts shifting on her face as recompense for the hurt that I have already sustained. 

I struck her a second time for accepting my forgiveness as a weakness and preying upon it maliciously. Blood spattered outward in a delicate spray, just as a summer wind picks up newly seeded life to spread beauty about. The blood landed on an autumn canvass of dead leaves and dried beauty that crackled to perfection not long ago. 

With that, I delicately dragged my love to the pond. Struggling and gasping yet I lovingly lowered her to the surface of the water. How else could I have handled her but with absolute care? The contradiction of violence and adoration was reflective of the same tormenting way she had handled my heart all of these years. In that moment I gazed upon and savored the look of disbelief upon her face. I would need it later to relinquish the concern I was sure to have later; the one where I didn't inflict enough pain to make us even.

Her eyes widened as she reactively shook her head and I lowered her face below the surface. Her tears, now one with her fear all now deepening within the pond. 

The surface delicately wisped the blood from her cheeks in waves of watery sheets as her face continued to pale. Her body, now returning the earth and bringing her energy home. 

There were fighting screams, muffled by water. She was there, in front of me yet the screams resounded in a way that was distant. It rang true; even the most genuine of emotion from her would surely have to come from a place distant from her own heart. 

As the last convulsion shot through her limbs, she returned to innocence. There was no brow to misrepresent the emptiness behind it; her expression and thoughts now reconciled, finally. 

I restored her to the beauty she was always capable of. I returned her to a state where she can still be appreciated and adored. 

I left her body where I left the love I had for her; in a somber, chilling place from which there was no return. 

It was such a strikingly beautiful day. 

Hollow

She always met his presence
with a sense of worship.
And when the sentence was passed
she thought she knew for certain.

She never felt her feet touch the ground
the way his smile uplifted her.
They danced together in the dark
as her heart was quickened, the doubt shifted her.

When their open mouths met
the black tar hit the spoon.
Boiling, the flame flickers wildly
like the look in his eyes, her heart taken to swoon.

The pain he put her through
was the needle piercing the skin.
'Twas the wince of pain before the oncoming rush
Her blood would soon swim, one with his sin.

Defenseless to committing to him
the sudden push was slow and deadly steady.
The discomfort she felt now blown the wind
Her eyes rolled back in him, skin cold and sweaty.

His effect on her, she dutifully embraced
what was once all of someone else, from him was only a taste.
Enrapturing he was, the world around seemed suddenly erased
Her fear was displayed
His charisma persuaded
Her love was proclaimed
Yet his efforts could not maintain.

The need he created, he suddenly abandoned.
Gone was the presence, the promise and the intent.
Diminished to a life of chasing that same high
and the correction of this error she would attempt an amend.

Still warm to his touch, her heart cooled to slow.
What could of been she swore no one could know.
Her tranquil efforts cannot hold ground to grow
and she was left, soaked in sorrow.
Where did she lose control?
She moved to crawl to her hole
as the bitter bones crack with the loss of bone marrow.
What she once was is now left to a shadow
as she was left waiting, hanging on to that first high.

Yet still, I imbibe.

I've looked to you
like a wine bottle on a shelf
saving you for a special occasion
that I am not yet ready for.

That bottle was put away
not very long ago.
Just as you lay alone at night
still warm to my touch.

In this moment, I drink you in
and spread your bouquet across my pallet.
I savor every succulent moment,
sweetly reminiscing our vintage.

As you course through my veins
your effect addles my judgement.
Your presence undulates to my heart
and you intoxicate my senses.

You raise my expectations to a level
that I have not yet known before.
And you enrapture my heart
in a manner that I have yet to feel again.

Spinning within dreams
I lay my weary head
within the silhouetted embrace of you
yet I am in an empty bed.

I awaken. My senses corrupted
and my hopes left hanging.
I am unfulfilled like no other
and seek a place to belong.

It was moderation we missed
and over-consumption guided our hand
If given the chance
our attempts will seduce one another
in a manner which onlookers
will not comprehend.
Lay your vein vulnerable again
and I will quicken your heart once more.

within, peering.

So many pieces make up this complicated puzzle of mine
some nature, some from nurture; all make me complete.
Can diverse pieces fit together without the divine?
As it all comes together will it expire and become obsolete?

From the nature side, I know little to none
and hope to someday take that and expound upon.

I carry with me her same dark blue blue eyes,
And can only think of her thoughts that February day.
My son now carries those same eyes, perhaps finally to gaze upon her in surprise,
Then bringing us all together on that warm 'someday'

The brain he gave me requires me to ponder too much
I inherit an inquisitive nature that makes me unique.
Is that the reason that faith makes me hold such a grudge
and creates a disturbance that makes me incomplete?

From the nurture side is where I can take root
and am thankful for all that I have with endearing salute.

I carry her resolve and ability to withstand diversity
but I am unable to duplicate it at a genuine level.
Unlike her, I clam up in the face of adversity
And cannot resist the urge to burn every inhabiting devil.

I carry with me the purity of his soul,
within me he defines what is right and what is fair.
I am the part that wishes to someday be like him, whole
Such audacity I have to be the man he is, or even to dare.

All of this comes together within me yet lies, unsettled.
And the pieces of me break apart, again now unassembled.

My soul is disgruntled for it has not met its match.
I lead with too much and take the irrelevant as glorified.
I take my endeavor to be whole and send to it to dispatch.
So my heart bleeds, my back bends and my soul remains unsatisfied.

purpose, missing

Further down this road and around the bend,

there is a place that my heart has not yet been. 

It is a quiet peaceful place where one can be at ease.

An air of satisfaction and appreciation of subtlety.

I know so much about it yet why can I not find the way in?

I can feel the general direction but the compass merely spins. 

Substantial mud is caked on my boots and age has set upon my skin. 

Still no route opens and no absolution of my sins.

My son taught me to love in a greater capacity.

Yet with nothing to direct that towards seems a shameful tragedy. 

Is this perhaps my role- the abnormality?

Was I sentenced to appreciate yet never obtain beauty?

Surely finding love cannot be audacity.

For so many, it comes with simplicity. 

Yet in my heart is an unsettled velocity. 

I have found no sufficient outlet

and my frustrations become the gauntlet.

The lights dim as I bite the bullet.

My passions rise yet I need a sublet.

Survey the heavens to beckon a committee. 

There was a crack in my mold, can you not see?

Bring retribution and a correction for all to see.

Can not an angelic release come to me?

Untitled

Beside the sea, Carry sat alone upon an old park bench. Although her eyes were weary from old age, her focus to the horizon remained sharp. The bench that hosted her was thoroughly worn and showed flashes of at least three different colored coats of paint. Her right hand was fastened firmly upon the coiled brass arm. At times, her hopes would cast false silhouette of a boat returning to port. Her eyes would then widen right before she squinted, forcing herself to blink. When her eyes would refocus, the silhouette of the boat would disappear. When would he return?

Carry had met Nicholas Irerun what seemed lifetimes ago. It took almost a decade for him of knowing her distantly before he got the courage to approach and formally court her. She knew herself to smile every time she remembered the look of the nervous man as he sputtered out his first words to her. Still to this day, on that park bench, that memory kept her warm as she pulled her shawl in tighter against the wind.

Nicholas's passion was always the ocean. As a child he had sturdy sea legs before most boys had their first chance to see the ocean for themselves. His summers were endless weeks of hard labor aboard the boats his father would commission. Nicholas never minded it, as he knew he was helping sprovide for their family. This childhood hardened the mans skin but his heart remained a sensitive one. He was always quick to trust yet apprehensive to commit. He was loved by most yet feared by a boisterous minority. Many would say he would never marry and that the sea would be the only woman adequate to serve as a spouse to him.

To her, Nicholas was the impossible catch. The idea of them being together was so unlikely that it was not even worth the cost of a pleasant day dream. All the girls would gather at the shops on the water when his father's boat would come to port. On summer afternoons, they would oft catch Nicholas unloading cargo and speak to each other in only giggles and awkward stares. What would a man of his stature ever see in a woman like Carry? Carry held him in such high regard that she did not see the point in cowering with the other girls at his feet. Because of that, he was never even on her radar and perhaps that enticed him. The chemistry is one we may not ever understand but when these two came together it was one that has not been reproduced.

Meeting Carry didn't change much of who he was but it redefined his priorities. As time went by, the love he developed for her was unlike anything he had felt before and he welcomed it. She embraced and returned that love and, to date, they shared over five decades of good and bad times. The peaks of the good times would always overshadow the valleys of the bad times.

Three weeks ago, Nicholas set off with old friends on a fishing trip. The years were good to them financially so these excursions were exclusively for leisure. Carry expressed her concerns to him openly and always feared that he was getting to old for these trips. She would worry that his confidence on the ocean would cause him to underestimate situations that he would face. As always, he would calmly reassure her, telling her that there were not enough leagues of ocean to keep him from returning to her. Somehow, he always set her fears aside. This time however, as sure as the rising tide in the morning, her fears arose. It had been three days since his boat was due back to port and Nicholas was never late.

A storm brewed off of the coast in their general direction after they shipped off. All signs indicated good news would be hard to come by and that any closure-yielding bad news would never come. Still, she sat. Her friends and family would attempt to distract her with activities and other times blatantly beg for her to come home but she would not entertain either.

All she had and all of the happiness she would hope to find, lie with the return of that man. In the moment, now all she had was the scent of the ocean air to remind her of him. For now that was enough. This man provided such a bright spot in her life, it would seemingly all be in vain if she left that bench and abandoned his potential return. The smallest chance of him returning outweighed any upside of what would come if he did not so she instilled patience. She would remain on that bench and wait for him and the moment the idea of leaving would enter her head, it was immediately cast out. No, it never stood a chance.

duplicity, unrecognized

The time was fall yet it yielded an unusually warm sun.
While the leaves fell around her, he stood by her side.
As the sun set and two became one,
Little more was wanted as they vowed to one another to abide.

His axis was altered as he tipped his sun to her horizon.
Shade came to him but her glow brought him warmth.
Still, she planted a dark seed but he was none the wiser,
the moon bent to her will as she began to transform.

Spoken frustration, secret whispers; her morals gave way to the heat of the moment
Intoxicated by a new advance, she enticed him with improper reason.
As her heart raced forward, her vow lay broken behind her. 
From eternity, one cannot claim a refund.

In a sea of sheets
friction created heat.
Inhibitions began retreat
and yielded a lie, discrete.
Integrity began to deplete
in a wave of lustful deceit.
She took emphatic receipt
as she came complete.
...if only her will was concrete.

As adrenaline faded, reality would set in.
Harbor the lie or set it free?
The chance was not given to the second.
The lie was embraced; dutifully.

She would only exonerate herself
for she had no guilt from within.
Her head danced in complete apathy
as her drive home would begin.
If she woke him, he would not question where she'd been.
Carefully she slipped quietly into bed still dripping wet with sin.

heart, retrained.

Stretched so far yet still far from reach
I comprehend to instruct but cannot feel enough to teach.
You imprint gospel'd words yet you cannot preach?
My dear, you have left me with little to do.

I merely wished that I could only touch your heart
and begin to map your soul and set stars to chart.
I step back; you have left me nowhere to start.
I feel your presence but I cannot find you.

I watched as you walked upon grace
but you guaranteed those footsteps I could not retrace.
With malintent your heart was misplaced
Now thoughts of you require review.

You leave your motives at my feet, only to guess
and your volatility requires that you immediately address
how you make the work not worth my effort, I must confess.
The return on your bad karma is well overdue.

I find your ability profound in the ways you complicate
and the madness perpetuated is one I now seldom contemplate.
Your time has expired and emotion will never substantiate.
Your hold on me slips as your appeal is subdued.

peace, found.

2/26/2014

For so long she suffered at the hands of another.
The bruises were tough to cover, and her will loses to suffer.

She sought to depart from the hole in her heart and wanted no more of being torn apart; she knew immediately just where to start.

She sought a decisive peace.

...a calming wind to bring quiet to the rocking of her boat
...a shift to stop the high tide from rushing down her throat
...in this swirling, scattered tempest she only wanted hope.

She finally took that first brave step.

How quickly the wind rushed through her hair, as if chasing her dreams across an open field.
She closed her eyes and drew the deepest smile, no longer needing to yield.

The frustration gave way as she was finally able to vent.

Now twisting to her will, her sadness was bent.
The hope inside of her was relentless and began to augment.

How easy this was; she only needed to attempt.

Then all of her wildest dreams that she dreamt came to a sudden descent as her body struck hard against the cold cement.

Her last breath was spent.
A sigh of relief as she was finally content.

Test of a Man

7.25.07

Whether it be old wives tales or understood in society
the things that 'truly test' a man come abundant in variety

There are accomplishments that can help one understand
but what is your capacity to influence the good of man?

This question came to me in a resounding accord
and it inundated my psyche as my thoughts were floored.
In almost thirty years I had never come to realize
that potential fourth dimension always concealed to my eyes.
You see, a man can physically fight to claim his own place.
He can successfully negotiate to save his own face.
He can focus enough mentally to decipher without haste
and still not truly even pallet this taste.

The fondness of this concept is not found in a physical mortality
nor is it found in the thrill of success or within a strong mentality.
It is found in a child's unbiased judgment and their gift of acceptance.
One so true that it cannot be purchased even by the purest of penance.

Only the consistent affection, unconditional support and selfless sacrifice
builds the foundation required that can only begin to suffice.
Their thirst is for knowledge and the impression you leave will stay so true
that it forces consistency and will push you to become a better 'you'.

As much as this takes from you, the payback is exponential
when you realize you can influence another human to their potential.
When a child believes in you, you look at yourself in a different light,
possibly one you've never perceived and it then becomes your plight.
The enrichment of raising a child is far greater than I could have been told
as I've witnessed my own love come back to me ten fold.

For Traci

1.17.2005

It's been a long hard road for you, but it's time for you to lay at peace,

Where the screams of life are muted and your complications will cease.

At some point, we had all witnessed your day to day struggle.

Everyday life became difficult but your perseverance was never subtle.

As the role of one left behind

I cannot help but think back and rewind…

Where could I have found more time?

Were there other spare moments that I could find?

There are so many questions it almost becomes too much to grasp.

I begin to look upwards, then at the bible; only to ask…

What have I done to deserve this outcome?!

For my spirit is weary and my despair weighs a ton.

Did you deserve this early exit into the light,

After you put up such a long, cumbersome fight?
Your passing has helped restore my faith and I am filled with a truth.

A comfort envelopes me and my questions are soothed.

You have been chosen and the passing of your soul

Calls for the rest of us to move on and play a required role.

There is a plan in place and your passing was required.

Any anger for God or questions of why must now be retired.

I have come to accept you have gone on to a better place,

even though amongst a crowd I can still see your face.

And I have to come to understand that I must let you go,

No matter what my emotions say and when my heart tells me 'no'.

I wish you peace in your place of rest and know I will always care.

Even if your loss is impossible for my presence to bare.

Anything I must do to see you again, consider it done – this I swear.

And when I feel that warm breeze at my back, I'll know you were there.

Your Loving Brother,

Ryan

Epitaph of Heart

10.19.05

There is a fork in the road and there are but two ways

But the ante is for keeps which contorts it more to a maze.

I am not sure if the best choice is to endure and push through

Or take a deep breath, cut my losses and start anew.

When an emotionless stone meets an unsuspecting rock, there is still a spark.

Even though I should follow my heart, my hope cannot see in the dark.

But even though I would never show it on my face,

Can you not feel the emptiness in a full embrace?

Our thoughts cannot connect and the backlash sends me reeling

With that type of reaction, how can you not sense what I am feeling?

We can swear we will fix it and things will get better soon

But we have already heard that band marching to that over played tune.

During an uphill struggle, it is impossible to gain,

So why do we continue this emotional strain?

Sometimes you have to give in and succumb to the undertow

And accept the momentum of the redirecting flow.

I have become unwillingly numb and cannot sense what you need,

Rendering me helpless to make this togetherness succeed.

I cannot make excuses because we have done this before

And trying to make this work, my heart simply cannot take anymore.

I feel remorse for the wasted time of what could become of other things

But the quicker this is ended, the faster we will see what tomorrow brings.

For this reason I must euthanize our future and put it to sleep

And I must let you go, my love, but this time it must be for keeps.

Sensing the Flaw

6.14.06

If the spine is traumatized enough, the legs will grow weak,

And if one's tongue is cut out, their lips will never speak.

Can this same effect occur within the heart?

Can it go cold and make you to forget where to start?

If you "just know" when you're in love, what gauges if you really are?

What if my definition of love is set with a different bar?

Emotion is drawn in such a subjective fashion, can one comprehend;

Where to draw the line and know when they need to bend?

Every action has an equal reaction, a concept that should affect all.

Than how, I ask, does my heart find the gall?

It will allow me to fall depressed with such a sickening obsess,

But not possess the ability to feel emotion that combats the emptiness?

Can my soul not sense this tipping scale?

At creation, did He overlook this major detail?

Was I created with this inequality for a reason?

I never thought Cupid could commit such treason.

I seek out for the answers, stabbing at the empty air

If this happens again will I really be able to bear?

The frustration that mounts is more powerful than the doubt I yield

It drops me to a new rock bottom and my biggest weakness is revealed

I truly cannot allow myself to let someone in,

And capture my heart and let a new chapter to begin.

This inability is only matched by my want for it to end.

Can a compromise occur and allow this heart to mend?

The Cure?

3.16.07

For so long I've wandered in a deep misery,

and enjoyed its dark embrace and bitter company.

It's almost as if I enjoy fucking things up.

You would think that I've had enough of this bad luck.

Still I sit in this chair, welcoming the emptiness to fill me,

with a thousand yard stare and seemingly nothing left to be.

It's funny the perception I give when in fact it's the opposite;

for there are many demons to burn and the skeletons in that closet.

Beyond the boundary,

there is a presence that alleviates all of this for me.

I welcome it in and I can begin to clearly see.

How much is ahead of me,

What it is I could be.

Knowing now how deeply

And bow to see so deliberately.

A tasted is injected

Into the infected

For all I am subjected

To the ways its reflected.

My troubles begin to cease

As the screams begin to please

And across comes the crease

Into which it is released.

I now have no concern

For how strong her love burns

And I must take a turn

To trust her and learn.

It is now an ease of knowing

How honesty can be flowing

Between us as we're showing

How to make it work and keep going.

And now I know she can

Help me become the man I am

I won't look back for an attack

As past fades to black

We'll reel in the slack

And we'll never have to look back

Conflict of Self-interest

3.17.01

Can the truth be found when the seeker is shrouded in temptation?

And can the passionate be satisfied when it means civil damnation?

Of these two questions, my life walks the line and never to stray

Toward the answers or wrongs – Do they really matter anyway?

If they did not, the truth would have been found

and the fire within me quenched; my soul perfectly sound.

It is this type of disturbance from which I thrive,

Depression to fulfillment, somehow it keeps me alive.

Around, down, back and forth it can leave a sensitive heart to bleed,

But soon it pulls itself together in the hopes that I will someday be complete.

The falsification of this hope is reinforced by my nagging anxiety

And is as strong as natural law and as cold and stiffening as sobriety.

It is why I must escape away to contemplate

Through the doors of perception and above to alleviate

The painstaking disgust of the mere sight of this place

All the wrong doings, mistreatment, and screams leave me in disgrace.

I turn inward, looking for the answer in an absolute position of hell bent

And realize I will merely chase the idea of ever being completely content.

Weathering the Storm

8.23.06

It has been quite a while since I've seen conditions like this

The clouds part angrily and the wind begins to hiss.

The tension on the horizon mounts and begins to swell

It brings with it the intensity of an unforeseen hell.

Change has past and this storm brings in the new

As opposed to running, I await not knowing what to do.

I sense there is a power in this storm but it's not a fearful one.

It's eerily reminiscent of where great things have begun.

As the storm rages nearer, the angry demeanor alters,

It has an intimidating approach, causing the weak to run and falter.

The grays turn bright and the sharp clouds begin to flex

So simplistic now what was once thought complex.

The winds roll upon me but more inviting than coarse.

They sooth and warm me, not here to damage but only support.

I pity the ones that turned and ran for its presence was worth the wait.

That was its plan all the while, to show it might complicate.

The winds divide and open to take me in enrapture

Suddenly the howls cease and the silence is captured.

The eye of this storm is ambient without a doubt

Looking up to the pinnacle, I see there is now only one route.

Suddenly the storm sweeps me from up off the ground,

Yet with awkward caution that contradicts the presence that surrounds.

The witness, of her beauty and power over me, I have born. 

And I want nothing more than to be enveloped by the eye of her storm.

A Transition

6.5.2010

Given residence in my head,

Presence upon soft heart.

Amongst falter and triumph

You waded through all.

Evolution is for naught

If the code is stored.

For the layers must be based

Upon the contour of the floor.

Can the caterpillar live contently

And expire as is?

…or does he take stage as

Butterfly solely for audience?

Alterations bring short excitement

Yet the core yields originality.

Change by external influence

Ultimately drains internally.

As the walls come down

I’ll search through the rubble

In hopes you’re not suffocated

Through the wishes of another.