Nov 07

2009. is now.

Oct of 2008
One year and a half
of whipping like a rag in the wind.

Grief born words and convolutions
free fall dream strange living
and the guitar was an anchor
and weights became the clicking of my heels
and prayer, so out of fashion now, became a meditation
which stilled my being in the midst of weeping
and that one face became the abyss
into which all pain can flow
and the self within the self
in small and faltering steps
pulled itself together
and found some chance to smile.

and then a miracle happened
or maybe it was fate

She loves me.
still and again.

Nov 07.
in an instant
and a hug
a glass of wine upon the rug
and the path of the future has one certainty
she will be my wife.

Fever Dreams

One year later
since i have written here.

and nothing is any different.

She is still
the constant prayer upon my breath
the bleeding wound that leads to death
the face that floats upon the dark
my memories
of nights in parks

The only one
who moves my soul
now lost forever.

and I awake
September chill
and rain and gray
and fevered dreams
within me play
that unsettling shift in frame
when a virus is to blame
and my very body
is not my friend

lungs hurt
house of dirt

I can not win against
these odds
and no comfort is there.

Bridget

I reach out to her,
but why?
to find the one thing yet which was never there before.
i am grieving
this is a death.
imperfect though it was
it was love.
our souls so fit together
but not our lips.
the joy i could not feel
became the disease
that killed us.
i want to change it all
but I cannot.
she is the sweetest center
what other love could be as good?
every woman i know
leaves me so uninspired.
every woman i find attractive
vibrates with energies
that reject my being.
her touch drains my soul.
my words kill her heart.
this really sucks
she deserves better than what i gave
and what do i deserve?

sad

it pulls me back
again
and burns
just when you thought
the sentence lifted.

she can not help me.
every word from her,
kind or not,
is sadness for me.

everything would be ok
except for time.
i am a million miles off

dawn breaks, baby, for no reason

depression is a right big drag
but almost worse
than all the slag
of molten iron
rage emotion
and all the wild eyed
crazy motions
ranting like a lunatic
and having thoughts that make you sick
and feeling all this gross despair
is when
you start to actually feel better
and the demons in your mind expel
and earth seems once again like paradise
and everyone is so damn nice
and you look back on the way you felt
and feel a damn, damn fool.

depression is invisible - flames of purgatory
that purify the soul.

the inner self
under construction
workmen with ass cracks and all.
its never pretty, till its done.

Compliment Beauty

I do like to
and it seems really right
to express out loud
in terms sincere

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,

and everywhere around I see
such beauty beaming back at me

people seem to find it strange
to say these things to everyone
so i hold it in most times
and write it in these
banal rhymes

but you
your face, your eyes your style
are beautiful as all that's wild
you fill me with a sense of awe
the way that nature has you drawn
the vibrations which you emanate
of such subtle, kind and delicate
goddess like effeminate.

i do not wish to win your love
for love is hard i know
but only that you hear the truth
in case some doubt has entered you
that beauty is truth and beauty is you
and you are most very beautiful.

Cycle

nature knows no sin,
nature knows no blame,

that which comes from infinite forever
returns there.

the bird (and all of us) never asked to die,
neither did it ask to be born.

to die seems hard for us,
but what of the infinite time we did not exist before our birth?
was that bad?

in the setting face to face we can choose to merge with the infinite and leave the cycle of birth.
trapped to the world of experience.
but the world of existence is why.
we are here for experience.
this is where there is pain and loss and fear and death.
but
this is where there is birth and babies and life and love and accomplishment and music and art and dance
the stars at night
the breeze
an infinite space
where we are on a tiny ball
all for us
nature is what it is
because we understand compassion and love
it seems cruel
but except for us
nature does not know this
the deer doesn't blame the wolf
no one blames the worm
round and round it goes

we do not interfere, we are nature too
the baby drinks milk
it is god pouring into god.

there is no difference between perfection and nothing
let there be something