Purity in Emotion

Childhood...the wonder years...purity in emotion, purity in exuberance and purity in intention...

Where is the Song? and some other snippets

What is the melody, where is the song? Searching through the jukebox, searching through this collection of records… Was the song simply another stolen memory? Poetic metaphors about confusion and love abound…simply hidden confessions… Empty roads, trains running across bridges and the lucky old sun. Couples walking and slowly diverging into separate paths… One leading […]

You Know the Song

There was a sunrise and then just as quickly a sunset. You know the song… Time goes way too quickly and youth vanishes overnight.

Shadow by your Side

Shadows on the sidewalk, two people walking holding hands, speaking a foreign tongue quite animatedly. Jealousy and insecurity, hand in hand, destroying the vestiges of a love that was once so intense. Causes and the effects of life sometimes are imaginary. Just like those shadows we try and outrun. Our own shadows we cannot outrun.

Cryptic Words Unread

You write your pain and your freedom, in words that sometime rhyme. You express your inner fears and courageously climb the highest peaks and descend unknowingly or perhaps with full intent, towards the lowest peaks…

The Curse of the Poet

Lost in my over thinking…the curse of the poet who dares to see beyond what others pretend to recognize. To define colors as only their own eyes can define them. To hear the music and read the words better than the composers or the scribblers. The curse of the poet who dares to love way too intensely and yearns for a life others would find unbearable.

Joke was Not Funny (or Dirty Stained Teardrops)

When the joke is not funny and it never truly was... When her eyes seemed true and you remember them as blue, but the tears she cried were brown with lies and dirt which fell down. Stained your white shirt and destroyed all sense of trust…

Balcony overlooking the Past

I question my sense of my past; are my memories true or are those visions simply a movie I watched once long ago? A book read or a song sang? I tend to romanticize what has been and what cannot be again…

Not Only a Dream

In the air, in the house, aromas of misconceptions and emotional persuasions towards... The fireplace is lit and the heat is overwhelming the freezing drops of wind that find its way inside… Her body, ablaze with her love, hair falling over and her eyes closed and her lips smiling.

Ready

The temperature is cold and the sky is dark...the morning comes… Birds gossiping in the trees, squirrels mining their acorns and cats moaning in heat. Brooklyn brownstones, streets of cobblestones and the Manhattan Bridge…

River rushes on

Tears from the ground, voices from memory and a long list of unanswered questions. I held your hand and you held my heart, just for one night, just for one night.

Rainbow like a Scar

I should have been a healer, I feel I have broken way too many things over the years which can never be re-assembled.  Puzzle pieces missing, scar on my chest and a gaping hole where I used to live. 

Poem for You

I see her - from across the floor which is littered with pretenders, dancers and pollution caused by the sounds of false laughter and false bravado. 

Disenguous Jesters

In the distance, like disingenuous church bells they ring loud, strong and untrue. The hands on the cities clock, they turn with a pulsating beat, strangling the life from time and expectations

reacher stands upon a wooden crate, “He who has lead us out of the desert and set us free, remind me of the answers and the questions of what to do with me.”

Forever Melancholia

Forever melancholia, like a never ending opera being played out in his head; broken glass he walks carefully barefoot, searching for that open door which can lead him to the place he loves best. 

World of Ashes and Darkness

But where were you last night?  After the blessings were made, the songs were sung and the happiness digested in your name? Please turn back the clock and make this right again. 

Tuesday

Wednesday, train is plowing across the platform, people scurrying across the stairs, up through the aisles, riding rushing this hour towards a desk, a chair, a phone, a never-ending universe within a screen. Only to turn around and ride home, to an empty chair, with a table and a universe emanating from a 35 inch screen. Thursdays are kind days to the younger folk, nights of dreams and dances filled with songs and drink. Fridays are pulsating and alarm clocks ringing, across town are littered with remnants, proof of the previous evening's revolting movements.

Shadows and Ghosts

Them two eyes squinting your way, thoughts of Satan disguised as a savior. There ain't no true angels in this world, son, so make it true, make it real and be your own angel. Love is a lifesaver for the ones casting it to the waters, love is a safety net thrown by the ones about to leap, love is what the lover is looking for not for what you yearn for.

Updates and Some Thoughts

My update here is to acknowledge that I have a problem and I am tackling it. Mental issues are hard because they can be intangible, untraceable to the blood tests or physical examinations. But I feel the pain as I walk and I remember another day, week, year, decade has past me by and I have yet to ascend as I had wished, hoped and dreamed of doing.