Sights

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I peered through the hole in the fabric

The scene encircled by the nearest seller’s striped

canvass flapping in the breeze

I watched her as she freely browsed

Completely unaware of me in my hiding spot

There’s nothing seemingly important to notice

Just a minute of awareness in a different story

I inhaled the market to retain its look

To remember the surroundings as much as her

The feelings in question leave one hesitant

When the pictures seem flat in the imagination

With their nonexistent examples of how “we” live

But what happens when the sights shift and rearrange;

to become the sole witness to the many forks of reality?

Like a kid watching TV with his face plastered against the screen

The moments pass and then the darkness dissolves…

Is that even possible?

 

I am grateful for 2015. I hope everyone has a safe and happy transition into the New Year. ❤

Fight-or-flight

If you ask me your questions

I’ll tell no wayward lies

You’ll see the truth

From the look in my eyes

I’ll peel back my layers

As if you were a god

I’ll die as the sad lover

In one of your songs

We know who’s right

When there is no wrong

Between fight or flight

Of actions or thoughts

Left with dreams to remember

During the days to forget

With desires surrendered

To a life worth living

 

I am grateful for this past year ❤

 

Not It

We can choose to read between the lines
Switching sides while exclaiming,
“Tag you’re it!”
I will not

We can claim each day
But only in an alternative order
To look forward
I will not

We can play pretend and hide the truth
Introducing oneself as someone else
Other than you
I will not

I am grateful for the everyday, straightforwardness of spending time with my friends ❤

Mirrored Image

Photograph by Daniel Rozin, Weave Mirror – 2007

 

There are two sides of every mirror pane

One view as the representation from suggestion

Another, to peer into the exposed depths within

Both options, merely an illusion of intentions

Embodying the reflection of wayward confusions

 

Vulnerable to eyes that stalk and mimic each movement

I see you there filled up with your proclaimed awareness

Hardened to the view of countless observations

Convincing yourself of truth without the understanding

 

Upon further inTROspection, the image appears unpleasant

Reality and fantasy are anyone’s guesses

Fate balancing on suggestions of fragmented egocentric treasons

If you seek solace in your depictions, maybe you don’t deserve it

 

The idea(l)s of a lifetime die with the accusation of Judas’ kiss

Memories getting lost in the details being portrayed from the cold glass

The view from where I’m standing is obscured and cracked

A momentary observation being the only proof that we exist

 

I am grateful for artifacts ❤

Crazy Thoughts

Is it not enough to weave letters into neatly

packaged shapes and phrases

Created to open up the introductions and to keeping face…

 

From the cipher to the idol:

Standing out at a distance trying to reflect what’s normal;

All of the noise, incoherent static, the nonsense of translating

one piece of substance into something more familiar

-As if the ant could ever stomp on the human to demand a sense of understanding-

Is it any wonder at why the peasant doesn’t lend out a hand to the King to offer union?

No,

the King hides his face within the pillows of his selfish ideals of slumber and musings

So as not to prophesize the most unrealistic endings to these questioning desires…

 

When believing is harder than breathing in and out…

There is no time for questions of clarity or whose turn it is to write a story.

 

I am grateful for “crazy” thoughts ❤

Who am I?

Busy days lead into eventful nights of

Bright moments in the dark that leave the brain

mindless and numb to the rationality of light

You’ve been wearing all black while tempting the colors within

to paint the first mark of the picture

With haphazard jagged brush strokes crisscrossing from

one side of the page to the other

A depiction of dreams and the feelings

one experiences while asleep

I dress you up in my careless thoughts to

wake up in the morning and wonder,

Who am I?

 

I am grateful for sleep ❤

Seeing Above the Clouds

Photo Credit: Painting “Ship in a Heavy Storm” by James E. Buttersworth

 

True blue waters churn into an inky black to mimic the clouds moving in overhead

All colors swallowed below in a web of columns of light as the current attempts to suck me in

The picture unfolds its secrets in shadows but my eyes can’t focus to see

Shrapnel of spray wets my face veiling the tears raining down my cheeks

 

I shove down the bile slowly making its way to the surface

My mouth opens wide exhaling soundless cries of heartache

I steady my feet squarely to prepare for the expected damage

Consumed by the fate of the gods (or whoever wants to claim this time)

 

I’ve been holding my breath forever within the walls of my mind

To avoid seeing the wreckage of each storm that passes by

The salty water replaces the blood crawling through my veins

Pouring myself into the sea and mixing within the immenseness

 

It’s always the same, this familiar tradition of destruction in the arts

We become lost ships scattered throughout the swirling stream of consciousness

Shoved into empty wine bottles discarded as misplaced fragments forgotten

As the sands of time fall exactly into place filling in the layers inside the grave of our hearts

 

I am grateful for art ❤

Minstrel of Grief

 

There’s a phantom in my closet singing hymns to me

A shrouded black creature that wills himself to be:

A human, a lover, a minstrel of grief

Surrounded by nothing but his lost memories

Is it time or life that he comes to seek?

I know I’m alright if I feel the cold breeze

Because feeling is living, whatever that means

Lessons to learn from the nameless beast

 

I am grateful for music ❤

 

Monthly Archives: December

Monthly Archives: December 2012

 Halves of Myself

Posted on December 23, 2012 by MuseWriter

A single tear falls
A silent rain before the dawn
A drop so pure all feeling melts
Creating a soft blanket of fog
Someone’s shadow hovers nearby
A blissful remembrance of truth
It’s as familiar as an infant’s lullaby
All uncertainty is removed

An aching pain of innocence
Is all I have to offer you
With a full heart of love and forgiveness
Staining my soul in its residue
A slice of balance left wanting
Shaking in fullness of the thought itself
Because even knowing is better than nothing
A piece of your love is worth, the halves of myself
A piece of your love is worth, the halves of myself

A wave crashes back
Unnoticed by the body
Too small to cause damage
Only a force of mockery
The sun slowly penetrates
The weak vapors of breath
Passion boiling over to fate
Suffocating me with its kiss

Brick Wall

Posted on December 20, 2012 by MuseWriter

12-7-12

Two palms stretched out to push back the force

Never surrender

The mass has never felt so strong

But we stand

I see faces through the throng that seem familiar

Memories of relations once had

To me, everyone is a stranger

I need them all to understand

Our crowd wanders, we migrate

But the borders continue to hold us in

We stumble, some fall, it’s such a bitter battle

There can be no winners if the world fails

We’ve underestimated the control of the fallen

We’ve forgotten ourselves

Distractions cloud my focus

To live is to suffer and enjoy

To learn is to feel and grow

The backs of my hands seem familiar

I amaze myself back to the reality

A brick wall of force is blocking the way

 

A Pool Made of Glass

Posted on December 17, 2012 by MuseWriter

5-19-12

Sitting on the edge of a pool made of glass

Fingers touching cold panels of time

Overlapping lines point arrows to wisdom

We can all taste the reflection of our lives

The shell is too weak to capture it all

Compensations blur our vision

The lights turn on, to make me laugh

The painting on the wall is my sanction

The door to life is glowing there

Pulsating truth to and from beyond

A unity surrounds as our souls mold together

The story continues to play as we are one

Restlessly still, unable to relate

My mind is bright as I am floating

I can drift anywhere, my eyes hold my fate

Memories from events still left to be discovered

Every movement takes a moment

One second to convince the mind

 

Those Eyes

Posted on December 13, 2012 by MuseWriter

Those Eyes

12-19-2004

Staring at you

Your innocence and blindness shining through

Look around me

I know those haunting pictures that you see

I see those eyes

They tell me the stories of your life

And I guess I really knew all along

That this image I see is of my own

Look at your lips

My lips, the lips that have shared my kisses

See her nose, her cheeks, her chin

They are all a part of her

But those eyes that stare so lonely

Those eyes belong to me

Self Portrait: Those Eyes

Pin Cushion

12-12-12

Pin Cushion

A fine point is sharpened
Kept up, to never lessen the blow
Its target awaits in uncertainty
Soft to the touch, vulnerable
First one strike, and then another
The needles penetrate
Killing me now, they cover
A pin cushion full

The One

Posted on December 12, 2012 by MuseWriter

12-11-12

The One

It’s a shade of white that envelops me

Hugging me, the warmth penetrates my soul

My love for you is unyielding;

So strong and pure.

I am a lover, the best kind of them all

It’s an essence of being that encompasses me

My happiness is guided by you;

The one who has my heart.

A sense of self that is unknowing

A feeling from deep within

A fervid wave of passion;

A powerful love is born.

Representing the future of reality

Picture perfect glances at the life

A dream only capable with him;

I would sacrifice it all.

August 2, 2012

Posted on December 11, 2012 by MuseWriter

Tick, tock, Tick, tock

The humming noise is just the air inside my ventilated head

And this is real

The lines across the page and the ink beneath my words

I’ve come, to deny them what’s rightfully ours

Or so we claim…

Tick, tock, Tick, tock

The numbers go around as the faces pass by

There goes the time

Another dawn has passed, another awakened

We’re merely statues so that we keep standing tall

Or so we claim…

We would like to claim it all

But we know we can’t, we like to forget

Lost memories are easier than the withheld

But can we move forward without remembering where we’ve been?

We would like to forget it all

Tick, tock, Tick, tock

The trees grow taller, encapsulating the reality of now

 

Monthly Archives: December 2013

 

Picnic

Posted on December 2, 2013 by MuseWriter

Spreading out the patchwork blanket

of random shapes and colors that

are sewn together to request the concentration of the craft.

The food is getting cold as the crow

overhead offers a sociable holler;

hoping for a bite and an overheard tale of gossip.

Nosy creature squawking out his narcissistic wisdoms

demanding a crowd but leaving us in wanting

as attention is shifted and the first glance to

notice is wasted after a moment of realization

that the annoying little bird is gone.