Under a sky
So odd to me
Climbing on high
A feeling so free
Inspiration from a dream
Inspires but only for a day
Inspires to what is seen
Inspiration will fade away
High above the lights below
A city cuts the darkest night
A million fires burning slow
A million hearts holding tight
A million loving hearts will show
A million hearts with love they might
And although I'm high, my heart is low
Start your search for where I sit
Lost in music, thought and alcohol.
Where I'll be digging through the darkened folds of my mind
Searching for the words to express the feelings in my heart.
Tearing open my skin to let out what is within
And expanding my reach to embrace everything that life can bring.
Glowing street lights
On empty streets
The distant flashing lights
And cars pass by
Never stopping
No one will take notice
And the lonely night
Will be the same
Like rewinding the tape
This part is played over
And over again
But still before me
The grace of a photograph
And what is behind it now
Just as was behind it then
The time
The memories
A muse by this time would have found
The words that set the feelings
The feelings to put into words
Stagnant and stalled
The blank sheet of white
Mocks my hands to inaction
As I watch the syrupy drips
In the empty glass
Cast snail path trails on my desk
City streets
City lights
Night breaks
The comfort of day
And the Mayflies play
Bounce and turn
Inside the music sounds
Breasts heave
Hips sway
The rhythm of life
This rhythm of night
52-Blue: The Loneliest Whale
“Calling out at 52 Hz, a frequency unrecognized by other whales, this mysterious creature is believed to have lived its life in solitude. It calls forever unanswered by its own kind. In our ever-present fascination with these majestic beasts, the tale of “52” has prompted an intense reaction amongst our own species, pointing to a greater awareness of human loneliness than ever before.”
Masquerading as love
The textures below
The textures above
Blood and tears flow
Leaving traces in the fabric
Filling spaces in between
Feelings made to stick
Painted colors made of dreams
Originally written March 1, 2009
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Time slips away
We warmly greet
Each coming day
While dark clouds
Fill the sky
A summer’s last breath
I chase after
Those warm days past
Grasping at what is left
A kite string
Quickly blowing
Out of reach
With an autumn wind
Uncontrolled
Out of my control
I cannot control
This passing
The changing of these seasons
When the golden leaves fall
Covering the lively ground
Turning everything brown
The death embrace
Comes too quickly
Leading in a winter freeze
The procession of life
This life in my hand
The only one
A gift to live
And autumn comes too soon
“Temptation is born from every breath,”
He said, taking a drag from his cigarette,
Then he threw it on the stony ground
And turned his back on the misty town.
Overhead, the skies remained gray
Blending the hours of every day
From moments past to moments born
The dingy gray town was all he had worn
“Take your time in what you choose,
With each step you gain, but you also lose.”
He walked along the road heading north
Feeling that his life had run its course
Weeping words from rain soaked lips
Meaning, and thoughts in pieces and clips.
And as he plodded toward that gray sky
He didn’t wave or say good-bye
Tattered clothes and a pistol at his side
His words kept flowing like the endless tide
“This is the way we love when all the world has hate
And this is how we fight when we’re slaves to the state
When money has meaning and hearts can be spent
This is how we live when our souls are for rent.”
In the cold, gray mist his words rang true
Dirty, cracked fingers, bloody and blue
A shot was heard, or maybe a few
They found his body down the road from Kingsview