Wednesday, August 03, 2011

Thoughts and Remembrances

More poetry migration from the old website. I thought I'd spare us all the pain of seeing each of this posted separately. This is the earliest poetry I have. Much of it is childish (though I'm impressed some of these insights).

Did I say sophomoric? I was being kind...

These poems date from Spring 1994-Spring 1995

Thoughts and Remembrances

Dead Man’s Float

A pool, deep and dark 
sprung from long shed tears; 

shed for loss of hope 
not pain nor any fear.
And I sit at the bottom 
of same said pool. 

Drowning in my own misery, 
a sad lonely fool.

How many times, now and again, 

have I tried ascending to the light? 

But, chained in the murk and the dark

never to escape the horrible night.

At my folly cry miserably. 

“Is escape impossible,” 

I ask myself again and again, 

“from this wicked pool?”


Today I’m standing on the edge of 

a rift opened just yesterday 

by falling tears and fears 

hurled by some thoughtless demon.

A huge fault which issued 

the substance that has now stained 

my world with its somber hue.

An outpouring from the inner insanity.

So I write: an effort to keep it from consuming, a barrier to keep me from falling in. 

The words help to fill the void, the peace from me which has been ripped.

A proclamation of defiance,

I cry because I feel wronged. 

I wonder whose world my tears 

and fears are tearing apart.

So I wait, knowing that only

time can and will heap experience 

and learning into this crack

that by tears was made and by tears must be filled.

Countdown To Insanity 

The incessant ticking drones on. 

A clock though audible is yet unseen.

Keeping the time, counting down 

hours and days, but to what end?

Some need, as of yet undefined,

lies just out of reach, and I fear 

my time to accomplish is almost up 

not knowing what to look for and still trying hard to find it.

Like beating your head against a pillow,

no progress, just loss of energy. 

Give me a brick wall to hit, 

then something will crack.

Maybe a wish from a star, and by the time it comes true I’ve changed my mind. 

Futile. Like hanging the wash out in the rain.

The clock is now visible and it reads half past insane.

Dream Tower
His worn boots scuff against the street. 

The holes in his soles leave nothing

but his socks between the pavement and his feet. 

And the dude just keeps on walking.

In the desert somewhere he notices the black velvet framing the stars.
There is cold electricity in the air, 
something will happen soon.

Trying not to pay attention to the voices in his head,

he stands still, arms upraised 

He hears a silent shrieking 
like the voices of the dead.
And he begins to rise.

Now suspended over the sand, 

the voice becomes coherent. 

There is a realization of purpose 

like the rebirth of a thought that once seemed bland.
His calling is known.

The poet wakes, refreshed, 

knowing he was meant to do this.

A thought as big as eternity is captured,

and he writes it down.
(A Dark Tower tribute)

The Man In The Moon
The moon peers down, 

warily eyeing this strange 

and unnatural world. 

He does wonder what will happen tonight, and he will see it all.

How many nights did I 

lie awake and stare at the moon? 

Thinking about you and us 

not another thing entered my mind. 

And the man in the moon watched it all.

I gave all that was in me to give, 

but you sliced my heart with a two-edged blade:

You said it was over and that there was really nothing there to begin with. 

But the man in the moon saw it all.

I took it all in stride, kept it all inside.

Now I sit alone by choice, rather lack of choice. 

I have my choice of many, but am still confused by you.

It is certain that I will rise and become better; wanted.

And you and the man in the moon will watch it all.

A Loss From Words 

His smile is fixed and dreamy- 

he doesn’t know what to say; 

his language is mostly written.

So he just stares at the face so beautiful, 

he is lost in her eyes.

His glance, hardly casual, 

is caught, and just for a moment, 

one fleeting second, there is no need for words. 

Then it passes, almost unnoticed.

She says it’s just as well.

Just one word would have done the trick. 

But at a loss for words,

those precious commodities, 

he can only smile- 

the smile of a would be romantic.

In A Mirror 

The person in the mirror

stares back in matched silence. 

Reflecting the emptiness 

of an unfulfilled dream.

Only a picture on a stagnant pool- 

the surface image merely a front.

Hiding the turbulence beneath; 

the turbulence inside of me.

Drawing Sunglasses 

You looked at me, I looked away and 

silently prayed, ”Don’t see me this way!” 

Tears hang precariously in the corner of my eye.

I’m on the verge of a fall.

Pictures spring to life, fury animates them. 

A movie devoid of sound plays in my head. 

The meanings invoked just infuriate. 

I can’t deal with this, you, me.

The picture finds it way out, 

leaves an imprint on a piece of paper. 

I see your tears, but I can’t let you see mine. 

I hide my eyes.


I used to put up with it, 

just let it slide. 

Problem after problem, 

I guess I’ve built a pretty thick hide-

To stand unfeeling, unflinching,

while these fiery darts fly. 

But to stand it anymore, 

I’d just be letting my sanity die.

I must speak my mind, 

and make it clear. 

Put in my two-cents worth 

for everyone to hear.

Stand up for me,

and what I think is right.

Never let anything go,

at least not without a fight.

I was letting my soul die

like a slowly fading light. 

But not anymore. 

It’s time to take control.

There’s a bomb called crazy in me ticking, 

and it’s ready to explode.

Love Is…
It is the color around us, 

It shows itself in nature.

It is what attracts us. 

Love is beauty.

It tells us to be original.

It allows us to be ourselves,

because that is what we love. 

Love is freedom.

It has a beat. 

It plays an inaudible melody. 

We are constantly singing it. 

Love is music.

It makes us want to be wanted- 

inside that encircling warmth.

Love is hate: 

hating to be alone.

Didn’t Learn
Standing alone and crying, in an open corner of a burned out universe. 

The butt of many a cruel joke

played at whim by my own diabolical heart- 

I withdraw.

Sitting alone and wondering,

now too empty to feel the pain. 

Where did I so terribly err,

and pull myself into this black hole? 

I forget.

Lying alone and forgotten,

the heart I so desperately used

falls apart from constant abuse.

Glad to be out of my misery,
too torn up to care- 

I try again.

Knock Me Senseless
Her beauty is beyond speaking

I can not tell her.

It stops me dead in my tracks,

but the words to tell her I do lack.

To see what I can not have, 
it is torture. 

Oh, that I were blind.

She speaks and all else is quiet; 

waiting anxiously.

I hang on her every word. 

If they were just for me…

but that will never be. 

So I am in torment. 

Oh, to be deaf.

Those hands, so soft and gentle, 

If I could just touch them… 

To hold those blessed hands. 

But they will never be gentle with me.
So I must try to live without it. 

Oh, to be senseless, 

and enjoy not knowing.

Safe from that lovely evil.

Realized Potential 

I know that distant look. 

I’ve seen it many times in a mirror.

The dream, just realized,

is playing itself out like a book.

The possibilities unfolding 

never before noticed.

Startled awake like a cymbal crash-

the sound will in your ears always ring.

Persistent, until completed and put away

to remind of past victory and agony. 

A constant personal applause. 

Carpe Diem! Seize the Day!

Fairy Ring 

We found it early one morning

before the dusk turned to light

a wondrous discovery. 

A perfect ring of forced stillness.

Did you watch

as the silken mist

drew slowly back into the shadows,

revealing the night’s secrets?

The scattered remains 

of last night’s festivity

strewn about in tiny fragments

of leaves, flowers, and vines.

Hidden deep in the forest. 

A tiny opening to the sky.

The magic circle of enchantment

where the fairies will dance again tonight.

Last Night 

Last night I dreamed I’d died and gone to heaven. 

But it was only a dream and I awoke at seven. 

It bothered me and made me think. 

And the answer pushed me close to insanity’s brink. 

I didn’t know if I’d see you there.

It’s not decided by your life, if you drink or smoke. 

But by rather trusting in a single person. 

Believing that by his awesome power, 

He can save you from Hell’s fire and brimstone shower.
And the reason it bothered me so much,

is because I didn’t know if I’d lose touch 

with you when you died, 
or if I’d see you on the other side.

The Love Cycle 

Love is the creator of all. 

All life comes from love. 

Without love, there would be no life. 

Without life, there would be no you. 

Without you, I would have no love. 

Too Late? 

Why must I choose the chosen? 

Not once, but once again.

I can see where it’s going, I’ve been there before.

It’s unstoppable, and soon I’ll be sore.

Not physically, but mentally, and spiritually.

In truth I’m not wounded by them,
but rather by me, sad but true.

I suppose it’s good that into my deeds I’m so insightful.

But it’s hard to stop, it’s so delightful.

I see the mistake I’m making, 

but it’s true, all the good ones are taken.

Opposites Detract 

Cold, so cold and yet I’m on fire.

I feel so low, but I couldn’t possibly go any higher. 

Perfect order in a world where confusion reigns, 

Chaos builds, the mind strains.

I could stand it, it wouldn’t be so bad, 
If it weren’t my happiness that made me sad.

Love is like an open cut,

If it is touched it will hurt. 

Eventually, the cut will heal and form a scar, 

But that scar is in a very important place. 

Every time you move, the scar is tight. 

And if you move too much, the cut will break open again.


Today we met, 

time stood still.

I hope I will always feel this way.

I won’t forget.

Today I sat 

watching the phone. 

Waiting; if I’d only known you wouldn’t call…

I won’t forget.

The days flew past, 

not much lasts, 

especially if you pretend

nothing ever happened.

Today, one year later,

I’m still thinking of you; 

the only person who ever made me feel this way. 

No, I didn’t forget.

I’m watching the rain 

fall like it did one year ago.

I still haven’t forgotten. 

And, try as I might, I can’t forget.

Exit Center Stage 

Hello, I’d like to welcome you

to a scene; eerie,

cold, and blue.

Try to think of it as the passing of an old friend, 

who try as he might, can not his own problems mend.

The body, battered and frail, 

lies on his deathbed dying.

In the distance, someone crying.

In an instant, a dream shattered by a word. 

Intangible versus the all too real. 

Although it is enough from me to steal.

Now the killer over the body is leaning, 

whispering words loudly, 

but they have all lost their meaning.
Her open mouth a gaping black hole. 

Eyes lock, he sits up and screams- 

“It’s too late, see the eternity of a soul!”


I am flying, I am flying. 

Is this what it feels like to be dying? 

Feels so gentle, yet so harsh. 

Seeing light in the dark.

Understanding, yet not knowing. 

My ignorance is now showing. 

Overshadowed always by fear. 

Now I feel I must shed this tear.

Treasures unimaginable, riches beyond measure. 

Days filled with endless boundless pleasure. 

For me it’s too late, try if you can to run. 

We’ve only scratched the surface, we’ve just begun.
Reaching, reaching, almost there.

Now I’ve missed it by a hair. 

Should I continue this futile chase, 

or return to life’s usual mellow pace?

Without the risk life’s not worth living. 

Never truly happy unless always giving 

a piece of yourself to each and every one.

But what happens when you’re all gone?

What Is A Like? 

What would it mean if I were to say I like you? 

There are no other feelings besides love and hate. 

Only greater and lesser degrees of one or the other.

The Beginning…To The End 


seeing through to a new world. 


Flooding in, overwhelming. 

Shapes fleet across the mind. 

Searing into memory. 

The first sight.


finding, holding on. 

Weak finds strong, 

safe and secure. 

A small child clings to his mother.

Small, short,

infrequent staggering. 

Then falling, once again standing straight. 

The first steps.


yet, the most important person, 


somehow intrigued. 

Teachers, classmates. 

The first day of school.

Free at last, 

walking on air. 


Choices to make: 

jobs, college. 

Graduation Day.


bills, payments, 


Children, love,



Breaking the last ties. 

Leaving behind: 

loved ones possessions.

Once again seeing a new world. 

Bigger, better,



Along the line of beasts, 

there’s one of mine I like the least. 

He is a selfish, mindless, slobbering pig. 

The noise he makes is mighty big. 

If one day you should catch a glimpse of him, pay no attention.

Let him cry soundlessly, 
“Feed me pity!”

Falling Apart
Tears increasing, never ceasing. 

The loss of hope is the loss of life.

Feelings building, trying to break loose, 

tightening around my neck like a noose.

Trying to strangle, set free. 

But no, something, someone calls me.

No longer do I want to leave. 

My heart, but deeper my love calls me.

Love so much it breaks my heart. 

Now I’m falling apart.

Song Of Deceit 

Could it be I ever believed 

love so true,

and was badly deceived? 

Singing as song of true bliss.
In my mind knowing it’s false, wrong,

something is amiss. 

Although I try, could it be 

It’s my fault, I did not see?

But I tried my best, 

and yet I failed.

Now like a lonely wolf, wail
my grievances at the moon.

I must let it out now,

I’ll be dying soon.

If not the whole, 

at least the part that wanted you for me as a goal.

Change Of Perspective
We find ourselves backed against a wall. 

Once the initial shock is gone, 

we see it’s no predicament at all.

Now we can see the wall more clearly.

Tripping over a stone. 

Falling to the ground. 

We found we broke no bone, 

and from the fall a refreshing new view is found.

So the next time you yourself in a tight spot find, 

for which there seems no rhyme or reason; 

what you found may not be what you were looking for,

but you found it in due season.

Autumn On Memory Lane
Gone is the summer heat.

Crisp leaves crunch beneath soft feet. 

Looking for lost memories.

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