Photographs
You were once so very jovial
but then you faded away
until we barely saw you anymore.
But when you returned in force,
your visits carried with them a grace
of one who’d overcome their griefs.
Page 10 of 11
The Forging
It rings, it rings:
the falling hammer
which thunders down
on her raw heart.
The stony stares
and whispered words
of ne’er do wells
and so-called saints;
it rings, it rings…
The bitter tears
and futile fights
of nights when no
was not enough;
it rings, it rings…
It rings, it rings:
the forging hammer
which transforms pain
and flesh alike.
The stinging strikes
and bruising blows
from fists and words,
from friends and foes;
it rings, it rings…
Slowly but sure
there’s gradual gain
toward long-sought strength,
at last achieved;
it rings, it rings…
It rings, it rings:
the battered hammer,
long-worn from years
of raining down
on burnished steel.
Wayward
The needle of my compass points not north
but towards my very heart;
an accusing finger which remembers
all deviations and derivations
which my wanton youth thought wiser
than the loaded iron.
Between the lines
Sometimes there’s not much to say
and yet the silence speaks volumes.
All the words you’ve left unspoken,
letters unsent, flowers undelivered…
The mute phone says all I need to know
about how much I mean to you
and how much you really miss me.
Conflicted
“My daddy says that sex is a sin,”
she spoke in a huff.
“And only those who’ve wed
under God Almighty
should engage in it.”
And he replied,
“Well my dear,
it sounds like your father
hasn’t sinned in a very long time
and all that frustration
has soured his tongue.”
Fickle Well
Words come tumbling from my throat
like endless, rolling waves
until I add ink to my voice
and the river dries up.
The Heart of a God
Grief is an ugly thing
as is rage
and hate
and obsession.
But with clear, steady eyes
we can see the shape
of our own hearts
and fear no darkness.
Trembling truth
I’m tired of the excuses –
the little white lies
that bury the truth:
that no matter what you say,
you just don’t have the courage
to fight for the things
you claim to believe.
You God-damned, fucking coward.
Starcrossed 1: the World is a Great Place to Lose You
I wandered through the market
again today…
My restless eyes perused,
not the worldly wares,
but the faces and the frames
of the people passing by
in search of someone
from a half-remembered dream.
“All of the tomorrows and yesterdays meld,
and rekindling of souls from
a tomorrow’s glance.
I caught your words
on the wind,
Your scent
on the breeze,
now all I need is the realization
of a strangers face.”
You’re in this city somewhere;
I can feel it…
I checked the park this morning
but I’ll investigate again.
Some strange restlessness
has afflicted me of late –
pushing, pushing, ever pushing,
ravenous for reprieve.
“Something draws me to the unfamiliar parts of the city,
where the lights are hidden in the trees,
the surrounding faces whisper,
the leaves fall from the trees of the park.
I’ve never known you,
I’ve never felt you,
Yet I know you’re here, somehow.
The familiar face in an unfamiliar dream,
you are the truths that sustain me.
If only I knew where you were.”
– this work in a collaboration with the lovely Violet-words, who wrote the quoted sections above.
Unbridled
I’ve been beaten,
kicked around,
insulted,
embarrassed –
My pride still burns.
A (wise) man of two faces 