Category: Blog

Muse

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

You’re the glistening blade in the dark of the night
Slicing this flesh without the need for sight
You sharpen your knife
With the rough parts of my life
Deftly cutting away
The despair and dismay
Bleeding the thoughts that break and betray

Phantom fingers pull pieces free
The bricks from the mortar surrounding my very existence
With this flimsy film dividing air from blood
A passion trapping breath
Leaving it clear to see the inevitable death
Of thought and love and life and hope
Dismal despair at the end of my rope

These elements keep me locked away
Hidden from everything but the mind’s eye
The nightly torment of seeking my sight
Through thoughts that fill my mind with fears
And my days with blight
Hands tied tight
A torment to not hold and feel
What is not meant to be so real in life

Within hope I can dream
Breaking dawns of a new day
Where on the horizon I’m not blind, but granted sight
Where my mind can see beyond the light
Beyond the reality of this life
To the one that can make this real
To expose all that I can think and feel
To show the world what my mind’s eye can see
To open my prison and set me free
To be the muse that I need you to be

But alas, you will always be invisible to me

The Ship In Your Bottle

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

Built delicately
Within a vessel
Forged from the heat
And the force
Of the Earth’s living core
Piece by piece
I have been intricately placed
Within these glass walls
To sit upon your mantle
Untouched by your hands
Only to study
Your eyes behind my glass
The far away look
I see
Always with the light
Bent by this glass
But at my flawed perfection
Still you wonder
Yet keeping your distance
Afraid to destroy my little world
Afraid to let me sail in yours
My hull will never
Feel the kiss of your oceans
My sails will never unfurl
To catch your breath
And give me life
Alone I sit
In quiet observation
Waiting for the day
You break the glass
To set me free
Or leave me
Dashed upon your hearth

From Gathering Gloom Under An Empty Moon

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

Only you can move
This worn and weary hull
Fill my sails
With words of hope
And carry me to the distant shore
Leaving these waters far behind
To drown in them no more

Tides that wash upon the sand
Crack and split the hardened land
Forced upon to prove its worth
Such as the time that wears my hand
Breaking body and spirit’s mirth
Crumbling which was strong and grand
Even mountains reduce to Earth
But the mountains always rise again

So give me rise
And give me hope
Take away my morning fears
Shone in the light of my younger years
And smooth my jagged edges bare
With breath, whispers and seductive sighs
With the grace of your touch
And the heat of your eyes
With all you give that means this much
And not by the flow of my tears

Your words become my feeling
Your touch becomes my sight
I hear your quiet breathing
End the wandering quiet night
I reach to find that in my mind
Memories and moments, never far behind
Like fingertips gracefully tracing signs
Seeing a feeling that will never grow blind
From footsteps on the floor
Coming to me silently
Dark and shapeless shadows
Begging me to give them more
Consuming me with visions
And stealing my eye

Feeling my way down this whitened road
The hard winds chill and sting with snow
Flesh and bones should never be so cold
When for you alone I would sell my soul
Just to keep this hope
The hope that in my heart I hold
Of warmth on cold nights
Passion beyond all my sight
Pouring love into my life
A wine too rich to drink it down
When the hull does crack
With salty brine in which I drown
And the heart does break
Sails lay limp on this windless lake
Your whispers won’t give guide for this trip
Nor save me from the icy grip
No life or love for life and love’s sake
Slippery rail now leaving from the living
Pulled under by the weight of lost and lonely days
The murky water of my past misgivings
This mind and soul, my final grave

Self Reflections

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

Thoughts mused, somewhere around November 24, 2008....

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There was a point in my life where I wasn’t very happy, and I knew it.

At that time of my life, if there was such a thing as “emo” I probably would have been classified as such. Although I didn’t dress the part, I was depressed.

Literally.

More than just teen-angst – life seemed pointless and empty. I didn’t fit in and it was obvious. I had few friends and it was difficult for me to find enjoyment in anything.

But that was me on the inside. On the outside I was simply aloof, melancholy and just tried to take things a day at a time. Unfortunately most people mistook that for not caring and the slightest sign of motivation from me usually resulted in completely surprising others, sometimes to the point of dramatic over-reaction, which made me feel even worse.

Those who were close to me, that I discussed these things with… well, some wanted me to be happy. Others just wanted me to “be” happy… in other words, act happy whether I was or not.

People said (and still say) I’m too hard on myself. Too negative towards myself.

I’ve always thought I see myself in the light of true reality.

What many failed to understand was the difference between being happy and appearing to be happy. A lot of people appear to be happy and are tortured to misery within themselves. Others appear unhappy and yet are just who they want to be, and are happy with where they are in life.

Where am I now?

A bit in between. I’m happy with certain parts of my life, but completely dissatisfied with others. There are parts of my life – very important parts of my life that practically every day leave me confused, vexed and seeking answers.

Life offers me no guarantees – except one. I’ve come to realize that I am the only person I can count on. The only one I can truly rely on. The only one I can control or change.

Yes, I need to focus on me. Right now, that is all I can do.

All the problems other people have with me... I can’t really do anything about that.

One thing I have realized is, no matter how much I try to understand people or empathize with who they are, where they’ve been and the pain and trials they’ve lived through – few, very few, have ever taken the time to understand me the same way.

I appreciate those that have.

To those that haven’t and still want me to appear “happy,” well, I’m not going to lie to myself. If that’s a problem, too bad. Right now, I’m not very happy. I’m missing parts of my life. I’m trying to make up for time spent on other people and spend time on me now. I’ve taken a new direction, and chances are it isn’t a path those other people want to walk with me, I guess I’ll have to leave them behind.

Week Three

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

Today marks the beginning of my third week at the new job. It has been quite an adjustment, but a quick transition. The drive is a solid 50-60 minutes of road time in each direction, which I thought would be bad, but it really hasn't been. I struggle with it a bit just being so far from home each day - there is simply no way to quickly get back if the kids need something, or I have to pick one of them up from school. But there is also no traffic to speak of here, and honestly, a commute to Amherst or Williamsville could take just as long with traffic some days.

At least I can prepare for a consistent distance and amount of time.

The job has grown on me quickly. The staff is nice, the people genuinely need my help - not just people in cut-throat positions trying to get ahead. People here work hard at trying to make life and death experiences manageable, positive, and create successful outcomes. It helps knowing I'm helping helpers.

It is a bit of a relief to be busy, not micromanaged while expected to be a manager. To have a say in decisions and actually have it taken seriously. It's good to be back in a familiar feeling environment, facing real challenges. I like the hands-on, client first approach I need to take.

This has been good. Hopefully, it will continue to be.

Good-Bye Window

Posted on by Paul In The Buff

From March 24, 2009

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Waving to me
From your good-bye window
I catch the scent
Of this last hurrah
A Fourth-of-July
Grand finale
Complete with the
Bombs bursting in air
Powder and energy
Heat and purpose
Destroyed in a flash
Clouded by the sulfur scent
Washing the air dirty
And you wave to me
Mouthing the words
I cannot hear
Words I don’t want to hear
From silent lips speaking
This final message
Ringing in my ears
Is this all?
All this is?
It is gone