Monthly Archives: August 2012

Unending Night of Cold and Loneliness

I am the tossing and turning, trying to sleep, the blankets kicked and pillows pulled tight, the sweat upon the brow and longing ache of a lonely heart.

Unending.

I am the smiling face, with frowning eyes, their window open upon a brutal scene of empty rooms with scattered pictures, a soul house filled but vacant and abandoned.

Night.

I am the watching TV alone, checking the blinking command of every txt message, comment on facebook waiting to be read, picture uploaded waiting to be seen, the tweet on twitter waiting to be retweeted, the post on google waiting to be liked, search engines reach out with your crawlers and find me.
Cold.
I am the table with one empty chair, seldom used except by the mail, cooking meals too big for one, the face in the mirror, the bare places on the wall, the hollow sound in the open space, the single seat on the front porch, the slow motion gazer upon the fast moving cars.
Loneliness.
I am the laughing mask, the easy going friendly one, active and talking and yet still and silent, the voice of hunger, the face of thirst, the hand outstretched, the empty seat in the crowded room, the conversation soon forgotten, the vanishing puff of breath, the soon to fade memory.
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What is Love?

What is love?
I know not, I know not
I know only the pain it has brought
And the joy
In the moments between the pain
The joy

The smiling face and angel eyes
The happy laughter
And in love making
The sweetest song of bedroom sighs
I have tasted deep this thing called love
And have felt its hellish flame
Whether it be a heaven thing
Or a nightmare wasteland
I know not, I…I simply know not
I have loved
I have
But it has been taken from me
In her parting my company
And now my cracked heart
The bleeding is starting
And some gentle hand I long for
Soothe me
Heal me
With some kinder Love’s healing salve
Won’t you?
Where are you?
Come my dear and love me
Back to life
Take from me
This jagged pain, this loveless knife
Ran deep in between my ribs, piercing my heart
Oh dear heavens ever watchful
And blistering hell, always hungry
Now, the blood, the bleeding out,
My life was only at the start
And from me, she as cold as cold can be, has taken
And from one love to another love, and onward still, I must depart
I am not my pain
I am more
I am love waiting
On some distant shore
Waiting for new love
Waiting for love and more

Flesh of my Flesh and Bone of my Bone

Sunday whispers

Calling to me

All I want

Love

To be

I want that relationship feeling

To stand by someone

To be left reeling

To tingle from head to toe

And look in their eyes

And simply know

That there can be love again

That Love no longer need be

My mortal sin

That I can look upon another

And in their eyes see

Something more than pain

And misery

To know I will not be alone

To know

I am flesh of their flesh

And bone of their bone

I want this union so potently

I want few things else more than this

To love another

To taste the romance of one love laced Kiss

To fall into the fiery passion of romance

And in such wonder

To let loose, to dance

To know the secret joy of life

To share it with another

And in so sharing, perhaps to build that one great legacy

Family

All my own

This I want

Flesh of my flesh

And Bone of my bone.


My Sad Song

She is gone
And this is my sad song
To have loved and lost
Such a sad and high cost
To have loved
And lost
And in the world I felt I belonged
But now she is gone
And all the sacrifices made
The foundation of love for which I laid
Are as Babel, toppeled and left in rubble
I am saddened and dismayed
And by love’s calling tune
I am truly troubled
She is gone
And all I have left
Is this, my sad sad song


Modeling Monday – Write like Steinbeck

Not even a full mile down the road, maybe a smidge more, the Kentucky river rolls through a low laying flood plain. When it’s the summer the fields there are wild and untamed, a happy lively wild place, a garden for the animals to come and eat. But there are other times when the river runs a deep ugly brown, painting the air with a muddy scent, and roaring its mighty voice as the damn is overtaken and the waters rage on. At first the water stays in its domain, the banks holding the brown majesty of the flood to its confines, but soon enough the water spills over and fills the little valley with a hungry need for expansion. When I was a boy, there were two old houses in the valley, never lived in, not for times longer than my short life can remember have those houses seen real habitation. But for those of us that lived near the river, we’d go to the high place the road took you and look down on that valley and measure the rising river’s fury against how far the waters had risen against the house. One time, I saw the waters go so high as the roof.

We were somewhat fortunate where I grew up, the river was far enough away to never reach us, and the hills provided a safety net enough to guarantee the water there would never come so far. Fortunate enough, which is not the same as saying I never saw a flood around the house. I saw several when the little creek that wound out behind and below my family home could take no more rain. Sometimes the bridge up the road would get clogged with debris. The water would back up and finally push over top and come down the road, which was a terrifying sight. Or, the water would simply rise and rise and soon enough poor over the rock fence out back and fill the yard. Flash floods are speedy demons, sometimes giving very little warning, and in no time, a family can be completely shut off from all the civilized world beyond, left looking to one another wondering, will this be the one to take our little home?


What I’d Give

What I’d give
To have that one special woman who in every way
Dazzled me
And stole my breath away
To have that helping hand
Pull me along through the midnight black
Of this wide and lonely land
To feel that love
I know won’t go
To temper every storm
And brave every shore
To hold on tight, and know
I won’t be let go
Not now
Not ever more
To love freer still
And know it’s alright
Because by my side she will stand
With a love fierce and furious
And gentle
And perfectly right
Holding my hand
Where is she
My lady love
The one to whom I wish the most
To find
To give
To love
To live
To offer my highest
And offer my most
Where is she
My lover
My haunting
My ghost
Love me
And let me love you
Show me Love
Pure
And finally true


The Graveyard in my Soul

I take a single white rose

To the graveyard in my soul

Where all her memories are buried

Dead but not forgotten

All this pain and misery she has brought

I push them aside, and look forward

To the graves littered about

I open my mouth to give a shout

But out comes only a whisper

Do you hear me?

Do you care?

The rose falls to the ground

I mean to turn my back, to turn around

But I stand statue still

Letting the truth sink in, letting it be real

The graveyard in my soul

Burns, hurts, bites, grabs, won’t let go

I look across its bone ridden mass

I curse and spit and flip the bird to my past

And then I wake from my nightmare, I turn, I walk away

Today is a new day

But no matter how far I go

There remains a graveyard in my soul


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