...

may I sing you a woe,
artfully crafted,
lyrical,
set to the perfect beat,
of a life that never should-can-will be ?

a song for mine,
a part of me,
that can never be,
but in imagination,
my man-mind-child ?

with words, that
are deeper than the slits,
on my wrists ?,
with words, that
sting deeper than the welts,
on my back ?

will you listen ?
you, that is a part of me ?
will you listen ?
you, that will never be ?
my man-mind-child ?

believe that I love ?
that which can never be ?
that which will never be ?
that which cannot be imagined ?
that which is forever feared-felt-missed ?

my man-mind-child ?

...

there's no saying,
how enchanted i was when,
i first heard you,
over the buzz, the cackle, and
the static.

the webs that,
your throaty laughter,
spun around my soul, with
those half said words,
those unfinished thoughts.

laughter,
that i wished i could mimic,
thoughts,
i wish i could think,
words,
i wish i could articulate.

now,
all you are,
is but a distant dream,
a less than perfect memory,
a nightmare,
wrapped in years.

i wish that was all you were,
a memory,
a wish,
a nightmare,
but you are more.

you are that part of me,
which yearns for approval,
hope, love,
that part of me that betrays,
my vulnerability,
the need for love.

never more,
no more.

...

do you believe ?,
the smile on my lips,
the forrowed brows,
the tear rolling down my cheek,
and the lingering happiness,
as you hold me ?

do you remember ?,
my true love,
the righteous angst,
high hopes,
and vivid dreams,
as i am held ?

you must,

for the dead don't lie.

...

i could write a poem,
an ode, a sonnet,
words artfully crafted,
capturing all that was,
that is, and
can be.

but all you need,
is look in my eyes, and
find the loathing,
the hatred, and
the pain,
disguised,

as love.

...

there is this lie,
we pass around,
light as a feather,
heavy as unshed tears,
coarse as last evening,
smooth as a cat's eye,

this lie,
never uttered,
sweet as the first taste of blood,
bitter as tomorrow,
hot as a mid-summer night,
cold as truth,

i love you ...

...

why am i what i am ?
why am i who i am ?

will i find myself ?
the answers ?

will there be light ?
an end to this tunnel ?

will there be hope ?
tomorrow ?

will i be ?
will i wonder ?

forever ?
always ?

does it matter ?

do i ?

...

will you remember ?,
to forget the days you remember ?
will you forget ?,
to remember the days you forget ?

I only have a few that,
I remember,
the ones I remember,
and forget that I do.

...

let me share,
in this, here,
this back slapping,
this,'what could have been'.

It is,
'tis been,
this will always be,
water under the bridge.

could've been worse,
water over the bridge?,
it will,
'twill someday.

someday 'twill.

...

...bow here,
bow here at this silence,
this darkness,
there is something to be learned,
something to be discovered.

this silence holds...
this darkness preserves, perseveres,
this darkness that,
holds me ...
against will.

I surrender,
to this,
the silent darkness ...
this dark silence ...
willingly unwilling.

...

darkness shrouds silence,

(in which I exist)

now exposed,

without words,

without vision,

I fumble,

to ecstasy ...

...

between these lines,
there exists,
a silence,
not one without words, but
one without meaning,
without reason, and
between those,
this silence,
I exist ...

...

what flapping wings brought about this deluge ?
of fear and pain and myriad emotions,
of anguish and anger,
and these tear stained eyes ...
that look at me so forlorn so lost,
seeking comfort, seeking love ...
unware of the impotence that I am,
unable to give,
unable to care,
love lies far beyond these simple few,
unknown, unseen, unbeknownst ...
like more expressive, although spurned ...
like is no love, like can be no love,
I only venture ...
this, me, my impotence ...

10/22/04

...

silence as oppressive as the night black,
glowing as one tarnished,
black thoughts and blacker words cower in reality,

actions, however have surpassed superlatives,
how ever ?, one wonders ...

supine, pliant words of activity,
vent to inactivity,
in a darkened shroud of non-chalance,

meaningless verbs and abused adjectives,
seek patronage in unbeknown actions,

silence becomes me.

as the darkened night clouds the clandestine,
the lover and the loved,
I plead umbrage in non-words,

silence is a gesture,
the gesture of the forgotten, unwanted, unloved,

eloquence of the dead..

10/22/04

...

scorn lies not..
in the greed imbued forlorn look..
mallice takes a new place , a new meaning..
these are but emotions..
banal and deprecating..

i hear a knock..
at the door..
could it be the much awaited happiness ?
maybe..
maybe not..

hope as greed remains..
an infestation..

the knock persists..
and against will, wishful thinking persists..

'tis indeed happiness at my door..
alas she has the wrong address..

10/15/04

...

peace defies verbal design,
death offers oblivion...

from sorry sights and looks askance,
the perfect question and the non-answer.

life goes on,
memories fade,

denial rules while the mind seeks harmony,
priorities juxtaposed in time.

the end awaits,
perhaps around the corner.

12/25/04

...

it's not just a sweet desire,
but an earnest longing ...

the end is nigh,
happiness willing ...

but the mind fails to decipher,
this, that and the other ...

happiness sails by,
a fleeting memory,

a kindling,
a possibility,

a possibile reality,
now a distant dream ...

just one,
one, none the less ...

...

swaying to the lyrics of my tears,
(the lie that awaits reason,)
'bout what was to be,
but not anymore,
I surrender.

'tis not a dream.

'twas.

...

I fill,
lines upon lines,
with words,
pearl-like,
ashen,
expressive narrative ...
like pleas,
plaintive,
from eyes,
doe-like,
beseeching begging ...
but wont,
find meaning,
in this,
reality,
dream,
memory,
li(f)e.

...

The Road from Ignominy

Where to from this ?,
here,
now ?

Is this the end of the road,
or merely a crossroad ?

Where do I go ?
How do I know ?

Where the wind blows,
or hopes beckon ?

To lost love,
or something anew ?

Where are the answers ?
Did Pandora know ?

8/5/07

...

With and Without...

With all that is better left unsaid,
and that which is not,
here is a tribute without words.

for a few to perceive,
fewer to appreciate,
none to relate.

it is not always the reality,
but a choice,
often how I act,
seldom the feeling.

i am indeed the master,
the master of my destiny,
none other,
no other ...

ever !

4/19/07