Every year as the descent into the belly of hipster heaven commences, there is one unholy gathering that people from corners of the globe flock to. The desert palms sway in the wind and the grass on the fields readies itself for the throes of thousands that will trample the soils. As beer and vodka spill from overpriced cups and aviator sunglasses abound the air will fill with sounds and the raucous rhythms of our modern muse. Anticipation growing and the cars start piling onto highways, the race has begun. The desert heat awaits hearts, and souls eager for a moment lost in the lights and speakers booming. Drunken mazes of people constantly moving like ants from hill to hill. Intoxication runs deep and as the nights come to a close people retire to little huts, their refuge from the dark and musical void that fills the night. These nights we strive for music, lights and the spirits speaking to our hearts. As the stars shine out on this empty field, I recognize my place. I am home again.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Morning
Still morning air lingers around like fireflies float,
The light reaches my window pane and the blue sky rejoices again,
The day distracts the night and steals the stage for a spell,
The night acquiesces and wishes the daytime well,
Softly heads lay on feathers in linens,
The beauty radiates into each small corner of the room,
The day is only beginning,
Sweet words carried on the wings of whispers and fly swift to ears awaiting reception,
The poet sits beneath the tree scribbling as the philosopher sits atop mounts in introspection,
Each seeking a new direction and course for this day to play through,
Which way do, we all follow with guiding light, or follow faithfully,
Paths twist and turn, days drag then burn,
Steep cliffs and mountains towering,
Never a person besides do I wish,
Except you, In your eyes I do live,
In your hand does mine rest,
In our hearts with each word from within our breath.
The light reaches my window pane and the blue sky rejoices again,
The day distracts the night and steals the stage for a spell,
The night acquiesces and wishes the daytime well,
Softly heads lay on feathers in linens,
The beauty radiates into each small corner of the room,
The day is only beginning,
Sweet words carried on the wings of whispers and fly swift to ears awaiting reception,
The poet sits beneath the tree scribbling as the philosopher sits atop mounts in introspection,
Each seeking a new direction and course for this day to play through,
Which way do, we all follow with guiding light, or follow faithfully,
Paths twist and turn, days drag then burn,
Steep cliffs and mountains towering,
Never a person besides do I wish,
Except you, In your eyes I do live,
In your hand does mine rest,
In our hearts with each word from within our breath.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
For You
What else can I do? I stand in the way of life's harshest pains for you. I look out into the open sea and I witness the pitfalls and the darkest clouds. I lay myself down in the trenches for you to cross, I will climb the highest mount, to oversee your passage in safety. I am tired, my eyes are heavy but I stay awake, to watch you safely sleep. I walk a million miles to fall at your feet, I lift my head to reach your lips. I see the fire, but walk on through, I travel through the thickets of thorns, bearing your cross, and bearing mine, I walk on coals aflame, I will be your strength, our tie that binds. I sacrifice my life for ours, for us together, for us forever. There was never a me without you, and there will never be a you without me, I dedicate each breath each ounce of strength, to your side and ever abide in the shadows or sunshine of your love. Each of these things I do, I will forever do. I do for you.
Maybe
The song is on repeat, and so are these thoughts. Spinning round like a choice vinyl record, needle catching the grooves and expressing sweet melodies of misery. Each time it starts again, I relive the confusion and pain. No one has the right answers or sweet words to soothe the inner beast, congested thoughts fighting for my attention. Which way do I turn, which way do I look, is there a brighter side. "I, I think I am going to cry, I, I don't want you to see me cry......" These words linger around like adolescent children outside a gas station in rural anywhere, America. I am not sure that this is something I can change. I can think on these things as long as I'd like but what is the outcome, the needles tore through and the damage done, blood rises to the skin, and I bloodlet. There is no relief this way, there is no relief from my mind, anger, confusion, fear, hurt, most of all hurt. Maybe its me, maybe I am not so sure what really happens in these type of situations, maybe I overreact, maybe I am wrong. Maybe I have no idea. I can listen to records all day and they all say the same thing, love is lost and love is gained and no one wants to turn their back on love, but what happens to those who hurt? What happens to those who cannot be strong? Are they doomed to a shaky foundation that slowly crumbles away at simple things like laughter, holding hands, and laying next to each other comfortably? Who can build a house on shifting sands? Too many questions and not enough answers or maybe just not any answers I want to hear.
The Man Who Couldn't Cry
Troubled water, and pain in my eyes. Can't seem to shake these tears from my mind, they won't come to the surface, try as I might. No water has washed away these things I can't understand. How could something so sweet, be so bitter in my own mouth. There is no comfort in this moment, only abrasive thoughts that tear into each memory uninvited, and unwanted. Maybe I need sometime to think, though these thoughts they never help, they are overcast clouds sitting there waiting to pour dismay all over my being. Listening to heartache and sorrow, although none could quite explain how I feel. There is no song that aptly describes where I am. Lost and confused, decisions not only my own, thoughts that have decided to make my mind their home. Smiles turn down at the corners of the mouth and a seriousness I do not welcome settles on my face. Million mile stares that occupy my time, as teary eyes dream of release. Morose inspiration and creative mind goes to work as my heart cries a little more. Tears escape me, by not my spirit, not my mind. Maybe finally I have found the man that couldn't cry.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Kiss
My hand meeting yours midway through embrace, beautiful coveting our lips reaching face to face. I am almost there, there is only there, a solitary place. Your heart, your breath, your movement, laying but no rest. I can see you dream, I can see everything, eyes have it all, your mind it calls, I can hear your voice. Angelic tones reach my head, swoon everlasting, mesmerize, my heart capsize, overboard, in the sea, lost in peace with you. Skin so near, skin so delicate, you are the rose, bloom and blush. Lush and heavenly, divine near, divine far, divinity in my heart. I can't hold, out you pour, cup runneth over, ground you touch, ground you bless, perfect for a moment, nothing more, nothing less. Sweet taste on my lips, wait with baited breath for another kiss.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Hell
My body is tired. I can barely sleep these days. When every thought is a painful return to the morose musings that maintain my misery. I remember walking down that road, beautiful in its simplicity. Walking listening to the wind, and hearing each footstep against the hardened dirt path. That ditch where there were so many other footsteps. I wondered if they were just as desperate and lost as I. When eyes meet mine, there is no sense of sanity anymore, my gaze is wild, my stare is infinite. No more soul behind these windows, no more depth. Only shallow visions, only pain. What was it that was lost, who has forsaken me that I must endure this world in solitude?
It wasn't always this way. I can take myself back through the years, through my head. In these recollections I can smile, almost entirely out of madness, I smile. I look back on the day when I sat in my garden weeding through the unwanted foliage and plant material amongst the vegetables and flowers I had sown. The sun rising as I am digging my hands into the earth. I awoke to the taste of fresh air and a promise of a great day. I would make my morning coffee, slowly dripping were grounds soaked with boiling hot water, dropping browned water into the pot of early morning libation. I imbibed each sip with patience and cigarette smoke, right up next to the window pane, looking out into the day and endlessly into the possibilities. I had companions, my books, my pets, my job, my friend. My funny friend, always there, close by. Even if I drew no pleasure from the simple life that I lived, my friend enjoyed each moment of freedom and each new experience.
When the early mornings came too quick my friend and I welcomed each ray of light from the uncovered window. I sat and read a few pages of my favorite book and would start out on my way towards work 8 miles away, a beautiful and peaceful bicycle ride. The return home was always welcomed. I would walk through my old and quirky wooden door, pour myself a glass of cold water and go outside and sit in my favorite spot in the garden. I would watch as bees buzzed around my flower garden and the birds hovered overhead. Such simplicity it could make me cry, but every single second of enjoyment seems to fade away into the dark and desperate night that quickly ensued. These moments were not protected from the harsh realities of life, the pains, and fears that substances and alcohol would bring.
Ecstatic, it was a new place, a new life, a new direction. Nevermind that I had just been released from all my legal responsibilities. No more supervised probation, no more daily tests, no more meetings to attend with the threat of jail looming. All my legal fears slowly moved away. I entered into this new apartment with the excitement of life fresh and running through my veins. I was determined to do well at work and make my way through school with purpose in my life. How quickly walls come crumbling down and foundations are shook to their core. I slowly withdrew from life, light, work, family, and friends. I moved further into my cave, this place used to be so bright with smiles and laughter echoing in the halls and rooms. Now each room with curtains drawn, paranoia hanging thick in the air, along with the stench of stale cigarette smoke and the broken walls, broken mirrors, and broken hearts. House plants withered away as did my mind. I fought back with my soul but the grips of the night and the absence of light held tightly to my spirit and stifled my being. I was being drowned in my own self-loathing. A new hope turned into an ever-present option of self termination. I survived, but what part of me survived? What escaped, because I was not unscathed. I barely remain alive in any sense of the word.
I can recall one day in particular. It was a run of the mill weekday. Nothing special or damning about it, but my how it was incredibly damned. I awoke to the annoying and painful sound of the alarm clock. A repetitive sound, not so much a buzzing but more like an emergency alert system over the radio. The sound disturbed my slumber so horribly and I jumped from my bed and hustled to get dressed and ready for work before I was counted late. As I sprung from the comfort of the sheets I found the closest clothes I could. The pain from the night before still lingered in my head, fatigue from lack of sleep and over-indulgence in alcohol. I rushed out to my car and sped to work. Countless times I would do this with no problems whatsoever. This day marked a new point in my life, a point in which I would beg for change. I paused lightly at the stop sign just down the road from my residence. As I sped from the sign blue and white lights that mark the beast flashed in my rear view mirror. Fear struck me, suddenly I was wondering if I was still too drunk to be operating a vehicle. I questioned whether or not I had anything illegal in my possession or in the car. I quickly composed myself enough to handle the traffic stop. It was a quick and simple stop. I was warned by young policeman who seemed idealistic and hopeful for his position of authority. I took heed to his warnings and stopped at every stop sign completely thereafter. Still shaken, inebriated and late for work. The day would only get more difficult. I wonder if I should have called in and stayed home, would that have changed the course of my life? I do not know, but i could only hope that events wouldn't have been so painful................................
It wasn't always this way. I can take myself back through the years, through my head. In these recollections I can smile, almost entirely out of madness, I smile. I look back on the day when I sat in my garden weeding through the unwanted foliage and plant material amongst the vegetables and flowers I had sown. The sun rising as I am digging my hands into the earth. I awoke to the taste of fresh air and a promise of a great day. I would make my morning coffee, slowly dripping were grounds soaked with boiling hot water, dropping browned water into the pot of early morning libation. I imbibed each sip with patience and cigarette smoke, right up next to the window pane, looking out into the day and endlessly into the possibilities. I had companions, my books, my pets, my job, my friend. My funny friend, always there, close by. Even if I drew no pleasure from the simple life that I lived, my friend enjoyed each moment of freedom and each new experience.
When the early mornings came too quick my friend and I welcomed each ray of light from the uncovered window. I sat and read a few pages of my favorite book and would start out on my way towards work 8 miles away, a beautiful and peaceful bicycle ride. The return home was always welcomed. I would walk through my old and quirky wooden door, pour myself a glass of cold water and go outside and sit in my favorite spot in the garden. I would watch as bees buzzed around my flower garden and the birds hovered overhead. Such simplicity it could make me cry, but every single second of enjoyment seems to fade away into the dark and desperate night that quickly ensued. These moments were not protected from the harsh realities of life, the pains, and fears that substances and alcohol would bring.
Ecstatic, it was a new place, a new life, a new direction. Nevermind that I had just been released from all my legal responsibilities. No more supervised probation, no more daily tests, no more meetings to attend with the threat of jail looming. All my legal fears slowly moved away. I entered into this new apartment with the excitement of life fresh and running through my veins. I was determined to do well at work and make my way through school with purpose in my life. How quickly walls come crumbling down and foundations are shook to their core. I slowly withdrew from life, light, work, family, and friends. I moved further into my cave, this place used to be so bright with smiles and laughter echoing in the halls and rooms. Now each room with curtains drawn, paranoia hanging thick in the air, along with the stench of stale cigarette smoke and the broken walls, broken mirrors, and broken hearts. House plants withered away as did my mind. I fought back with my soul but the grips of the night and the absence of light held tightly to my spirit and stifled my being. I was being drowned in my own self-loathing. A new hope turned into an ever-present option of self termination. I survived, but what part of me survived? What escaped, because I was not unscathed. I barely remain alive in any sense of the word.
I can recall one day in particular. It was a run of the mill weekday. Nothing special or damning about it, but my how it was incredibly damned. I awoke to the annoying and painful sound of the alarm clock. A repetitive sound, not so much a buzzing but more like an emergency alert system over the radio. The sound disturbed my slumber so horribly and I jumped from my bed and hustled to get dressed and ready for work before I was counted late. As I sprung from the comfort of the sheets I found the closest clothes I could. The pain from the night before still lingered in my head, fatigue from lack of sleep and over-indulgence in alcohol. I rushed out to my car and sped to work. Countless times I would do this with no problems whatsoever. This day marked a new point in my life, a point in which I would beg for change. I paused lightly at the stop sign just down the road from my residence. As I sped from the sign blue and white lights that mark the beast flashed in my rear view mirror. Fear struck me, suddenly I was wondering if I was still too drunk to be operating a vehicle. I questioned whether or not I had anything illegal in my possession or in the car. I quickly composed myself enough to handle the traffic stop. It was a quick and simple stop. I was warned by young policeman who seemed idealistic and hopeful for his position of authority. I took heed to his warnings and stopped at every stop sign completely thereafter. Still shaken, inebriated and late for work. The day would only get more difficult. I wonder if I should have called in and stayed home, would that have changed the course of my life? I do not know, but i could only hope that events wouldn't have been so painful................................
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