Poet13's Blog

It is good to bring about an end to some things
unclench cease clinging let go
the release is good practice.

All things must pass we were told
simplicity the only way to convey what is self-evident
sermons un-elevated by any other name.

The prophets having come down from their mounts
to play us a tune instead
something we could all dance to.

Rhythm cleared our minds sweat cleansed our bodies
now we could listen to the stories without fidgeting
waiting patiently for the promised end.

The past does not hold me
the sorrow of an aching heart
I have it daily with my morning coffee
the caffeine rush steels me
and I make it through another day.

The past is like my shadow
coming and going yet always with me
always was what it will be.
I gaze straight ahead
directly into a setting sun.

Blazing platinum horizon
bathing me and my memories
in the warm glow of insignificance.
It’s a brilliant new summer
my skin is warm and weathered

like drying apples in autumn
another essential ingredient
in someone else’s recipe
just another side dish
in an eternal banquet.

If you make something meaningless
reduce it to an abstraction
it cannot hurt you anymore.

I owe it to my humanity
to honor these things
before I let them go.

I owe it to anyone who ever knew me
to anyone I ever harmed
anyone I ever helped.

Before I move on
occupy myself with the ever present
before I realize all must be forgiven
though all will be forgotten

I will remember how you came to me
professing your love
and I an angel could not accept it
but only love you as the world.

Could you be fulfilled
could you be satisfied
could you be healed?

A saint who has done harm
is still a saint.
This life is crushing us

making saints of us all.
I long for a place
where we will rejoice in one another

yearn for a time
when I understand us both.
I believe then I will be better
and you will be blessed.

The cat is speaking to me
in a kind of mewing singsong English
…it sounds like a plea.
Though I do not understand every word
I am inclined to grant consideration.
It may be no more complicated
than an empty bowl
something we cry over across species.

Historically this is what happens
when we stop being hunters and gatherers.
Agriculture changes everything.
Soon enough we have mortgages and microwaves.
For some a shining city on a hill
for others an air-conditioned nightmare.
The cat is better off without language
…voice is for asking teeth are for taking.

My house is an art project it is an assemblage
wherein I traded intimacy for passion
recognized the self to transform it.

Alone in my longest hour I am pragmatic
I am therefore content
I cannot choose one room over another
I am where I am.

If I give offense it is for self-protection
quills scratch parchment and flesh alike
one a testament the other a scar.

It’s true I never let you in
in all the time I chased you
this awareness tempered my indignity
when you left me behind.

Once again guilt undermines comfort
I admit I don’t know what I was creating
but the form must have suited my purpose.

Carnage in my dreams
base and beastly behavior

tooth and nail deployed.
A quiet man by day

lacking the malevolence of Mr. Hyde.
The pure violence of animal defense

the beauty of terror without thought
I mean no harm but I mean to live.

I stand before the mirror look into my eyes
Bella Lugosi whispering in my ear
how long can I stare before I flinch
turn away from myself
fail to tell myself the truth?

I cast no reflection yet I am here
I can feel what I cannot see
feel my face weathering
feel my heart shrinking
my cold hands numb.

Feet frozen eyes clouded
back aching hips creaking
feel my head filling with gray gunk
my lungs shriveling
my teeth decaying.

I lurch
stagger
stumble away from the mirror
trip into daylight burning sun on my chest
feel myself yet alive with each faltering step.

I don’t miss winter
nor the loss of control
sitting still in the moment
kissing resentment goodbye.

Most people are afraid of this space
their solitude a vast room with distant walls
we feel terror before receding horizons
without limits we go mad.

The more you prepare for doomsday
the more you yearn for it…
your palpable disappointment when
poison bombs failed to fall.

My personal Armageddon
was the obliteration of memory…
end of the world as I knew it
left me shattered clutching a blank slate.

Soon enough you wrote yourself a new epic
determined this time to get the story right…
crammed with copious rules and regulations
quantum dot display replacing stone tablets.

Your theory was well intended
yet another new age prophecy
but the devil was in the footnotes…
doomsday just keeps on coming.

Mired in my musings
demon dementia stalking me
specter of an unknowable future
blurry patterns of past imperfect
mangler of memory.

At present I am holding my ground
but feel myself giving way day by day.
Fighting for the right to be here now
clear and unafraid.

Let the demon come
only let me demonstrate a modicum of grace
in the face of fanged formidable foes.
And if I fall flat on mine
here’s hoping we can laugh together.

After we made love
you disappeared
through a revolving door
set within a glass wall.

I could not enter
I could see you
continuing on your way
you never looked back.

I tried to call
but the phone fell to pieces
in my hands
you went ahead.

I am still on the other side
of the revolving door
all these years later
remembering you.

i am the other
the monsters that plague me are the evil i conjure
arising from my own heart and soul
my spirit animates flood and famine alike

it is all my fault yet i am blameless under the sun
its light sears away my toxic flesh
i am the skeletal remains of my false former self
dwelling in the arid wasteland of my mind

fault does lie in the heavens
stars are the stuff we are made of
tarnished diamonds scattered in mud
brilliant ideas false notions evil schemes
aspirations of complex carbon molecules

constellations in a cobalt sky blueprint our fate
we have instruments to decipher its meaning
we have means to build machines
we have the will to work them
our devices will take us to where we are going

My childhood was spent in thrall
of a narcissistic mother.

When people say I’m acting crazy
I tell them I’m not acting,

I’m intense but harmless.
They say get over yourself.

I say I’m incurable.

He marked his territory kept his distance
a brother in arms can’t be at peace.

This solitude though self-imposed is vital
for a bubble boy soul sheathed in plastic.

No resistance to infection no immunity to pain
no one to free lone wolf’s leg from a steel jawed trap.

Gnawing off pieces of his soul he hobbles on
lame yet still unbowed.

But winters are colder alone by the fire
and new snow is pressing against the door.

One deep breath
and I come to my senses
realize they betray me.

I breathe in to feed them
return the air to the great out there
feel my sanity float away.

Separating mind and body
you from my arms
tangled up in words.

Struck dumb by my inability
to make you understand
an effort predestined to fail.

Given cosmic circumstance
letting go that need
means giving up control.

Traumatic psychic injury may ensue
mind reels ego falls into dead faint
all that wasted breath.

If I do not present myself
I will not have to defend myself.
If you want to fight me
I am not going to be there.
I opt out of the struggle
you’re having with yourself.

I am not your problem
nor am I your solution.
You take issue you take umbrage
take it on faith
I cannot care
and care for myself.

In the struggle for survival I come first
as long as I can stay
out of your way.
My agility is my friend
sapien brains
win mind games.

The longer view
may not include you or me.
Beyond a far horizon
it’s every man for himself.
Let the cosmos shred your skin
spirit has no ego and no point to prove.

the world we are immersed in seeks to repel us
we are not wanted here disease speaks the truth
the unvarnished virus does not equivocate
the natural order of things cannot be disobeyed
argue with one another if you will – the wolf bites back
the lost cannot comprehend even as they are devoured

a tidal wave drowns the sky but the tide goes out again
the sun comes up to reveal strewn wreckage along a shore
and the weary smiles of caregivers
handmaids of tragedy brothers under the skin
shiny with fever and sweat we build fires to light the night
we keep them burning until the next storm comes

the waters bring us what we must have

My wary heart weeps
enthusiasm wanes we go on
I love you in theory
practice makes me weary.

I show you regard and consideration
exercise etiquette and good manners
trying to do what good loving cannot
but we spent it with laughter.

I was always doing things like that
funny bits amusing poses
satire suited perfectly for each occasion
if I cannot hug let me try to entertain.

You needed purity
I gave you a performance
a well-written play in three acts
I could not give you one honest moment.

Hit and run off into the sun
clutching our mobile devices
we held the rights of spring
a little early that year
to avoid co-incidence with planetary distraction.

The latest apocalypse just around the corner
an elliptical orbit incapable of achieving right angles
thus science could not save us
nor despite our self-flagellation and frantic sign language
neither could religion.

So we went a little mad threw a party
a worldwide celebration of a world soon ended
it all kept spinning right up until the end
at which point we felt compelled to start it up again
endless cycles spiraling through our DNA from the get-go.

Father time told mother earth hers was up
the clock ran down the planet blew up.

All the children stardust memories
spinning round and round a dying sun.

Forever yearning frantically searching for our home
an empty place in space haunted by cosmic ghosts.

This third ring of rubble circling round a fading star
our long-lost world blown clear out from under us.

I believe
eventually
I will simply wear out.

On a day like any other
doing what I have always done
I will simply come to an abrupt halt.

No time for reflection no time for regret
a quick and easy end to a busy life
there are worse ways to go.

And far nobler lives to be lived
perhaps in my haste
I missed that point.

You were trying to explain
you needed me to know.
Looking at the natural order of things
we said ha ha.
There! You see, just as I said, I told you so.

It’s. Not. News.
Unbothered by your end-of-world scenarios
I could only shrug my shoulders.
I get by on native instinct
the theory and practice of heaven eludes me.

But when I dance I know the truth 
let my body do the talking
my mind only mucking things up
elegance for eloquence.
But we can tell lies in sign language.

So let’s use our eyes only
trust orbital juncture where body reveals mind
shoulders down jaw muscles unclenched…
. . . S I L E N C E . . .
Now we’re talking.

Only a monster
can save us
from monsters.

Look what we have become
we are frightened of ourselves
with good reason
reason being our best hope faith our false prophet
leading us astray every which way.

Be reasonable first and reason will out
put faith in that
in good faith we can only be reasonable men
reasonable men allow room for faith…
hoping faith can be reasoned with
doubters have their reason the faithful their fervor.

For every library they build churches
for every book they build a fire
when the fires die the monsters return
hungry for sacrifice
reason fled into shadow
its return is no resurrection yet brings hope.

You vanished from my life
I find you in my dreams
it’s the closest we come.

You stand apart from strangers
yet you are part of the crowd.
It amazes me how I can know you
across time and space
dreams being essentially other dimensional.

Same old same all but you persist for me
you punch through
this gossamer thin unyielding barrier
between morning and timelessness
and I keep you here.

Clock ticks and the red robin’s nest remains.
Anything can lead to everything
my memories are precious but unnecessary
my fantasies far more entertaining than reality.
The more I amuse myself the more content I become.
I draw deeper breaths to sync up my heart and lungs.

The moment my breath climaxes I connect with you.
Linked between physical and ephemeral
intertwining body and brain flesh and mind
opening to the natural world
sinking into the greater unconscious remove.
Clock chimes and the feathered nest cradles broken eggs.

You never lacked for certainty
though your beliefs changed over time
as bedrock turned to sand
one temple after another
collapsing into dust and rubble
ruins of inconvenient memory.

Fuzzy old photos we looked at
they were versions of ourselves
still somewhat recognizable
facial muscles arranging smiles heads lifted
posture unprepared for our own future
though we sensed its coming.

And so now we devise new belief systems
accommodate present-tense circumstance
act accordingly go about our business resolute
still open to     yet hoping to    avoid revelations
too soon for another life-changing event
enlightenment can be such an inconvenience.

What if I don’t think
turn off the tap lay down my head
shut my eyes let benign darkness take me
emptiness embrace me.

I pursue familiar fantasies again and again
wearing grooves into my brain
memories binding tighter and tighter
squeezing out the present moment.

If I am alone now at least I know how I got here
there is that to sit with:
reasons I spin to explain where I’ve been
exhausted now pursuing the past.

When did I take up brooding?
There is no menace in it no unbound Frankenstein monster
no October werewolf broken free at last
only a cold place in which to huddle.

I could generate heat at will
make my mind a furnace to burn off this chilly limbo
create a thermal door or blast a charred hole in the wall
at least a window perhaps to admire the pretty view.

But then of course I’d need to decide
whether or not to take a stroll
though my preference would be
not to have to think about it.

I envy the dead a little
they need give no explanations.
This incessant necessity to vindicate myself

to wipe away your puzzled frown
erase the mildly alarmed face of my inquisitor
avid curiosity beneath your placid gaze

such dreadful calm demeanor.
You would have me rip open my chest to reveal my heart
tear off the top of my head to “share” my thoughts.

I would have given them to you freely
but I was unable to express myself i was lame
incoherent inarticulate all too self-aware.

My heart on the other hand I would not give
nor allow you like an Aztec priest to rip it from my chest
bloody and still beating.

If I am melodramatic it is because I have seen you in action
I know how far you will go pursuing your truth.
Facing my judges I am struck mute

before the mob I can only collapse
allow myself to be trampled though I’m no martyr
just another dumb ass who couldn’t explain himself.

I see the world as an existential threat
but it’s okay

If you cannot relate to this you do not know me
the years of friendship

Only paper and words I understand you may not understand
but I cannot understand why

In this way I know you in a way you do not know me
yet no better

This is why I always wear a rueful smile tell a joke
to pull laughter from your gut if only for a moment

It seems then we are true to one another we do understand
and though such good times roll on by

They form a long silver chain
stretching beyond limits of our mutual horizons

Things I fill my head with to keep myself sane:
I do not wish to join the vanilla people
though their soft arms open wide to receive me
another sheep in the herd suitable for shearing.

I hide from them
my frantic ceremonies to keep them at bay
only attract their attention.
They see schizophrenia psychosis episodes

anti-social disturbance and ill repute.
I told them I keep telling them:
I talk to myself because I’m the only one here
an empty room listens at least.

Proof of madness?
All I ask is benign neglect
leave me be I mean you no harm
please don’t burn me at the stake.

Just turn your big broad backs to me
and I will vanish within your white shadows.
Only from time to time you may hear
echoes of my maniacal laughter.

That’s how it always seems to go from start to finish
the same message swaddled in different words
a sermon a lecture a teaching sharing giving
preaching from pulpit kneeling at altar
ranting on a street corner.

The end is always near never here no one knows for sure
especially those substituting faith for knowledge
every statement the mother of countless questions
have faith in science test your theories
only continue to dream.

I made you a habit
a commodity
you were disposable

a temporary fix.
I brought everything I could
to each occasion

heat and charm in abundance
a bouquet of artificial flowers
pretty to look at but unnatural

lifeless through and through
a product of chemistry we created.
When we were spent I shed my lab coat

headed for the nearest sealed exit
thinking you were a good person
who had some bad habits.

Euclidean equations Newtonian constructs
metaphysical geometric transmutations

then there’s hearts and flowers
barn doors and gardens hugs and kisses

I hate that stuff
metaphorically if not metaphysically

nice enough as far as they go
some say there is nothing beyond a garden

who am I to argue
I live in a city

I like the idea of meditation
more than I like meditating.
I am not demanding
but I am easily disappointed.

I am not hard to please
but I have very refined standards.
Well-meaning and empathetic
I am nevertheless off-putting.

Not my fault by default
I was born a porcupine.
You wanted a hug anyway
cried when you came away bleeding.

Entangled in invisible threads of my matrix
jittery puppet dangling from electric wire
doing a digital dance flopping and flailing.
Lines are cut I collapse in a heap of tears

and I am grateful.
I remember everything fondly finally
and miss none of it.
Toss in a few regrets mix well

bitter brew is best drinking to seek clarity.
Drunk on truth you find self-acceptance.
Man in the mirror neither friend nor foe
looking a little bit sad but thankful too.