Drops of Lead

When it sounds too good to be true, you must know it surely is

Because fairytales don’t happen and the underdog rarely wins

Our misconception of perfection, derived from movies and books and plays

Even so has become distorted in this changing cultural age

When something feels so perfect, be sure it’s gonna change

Because nothing that feels worth it ever seems to stay

It must be my own destiny to play sidekick to the hero

In order to assist success even if it’s not my own

For once I wish these stories I’m always writing in my head

Would become some sort of reality, not merely drops of lead

Stuck

It's been forever.

I haven't written anything in ages.

Perhaps the poetry side of me is dying...

I'll keep trying but if nothing else shows up, keep in mind all these poems are old, like ages old.

We'll see what happens.

There is always hope!

Once Magnificent

Poetry is a mask

made of the papier-mâché

of your emotions

A small piece,

a small flavor,

genuinely you,

but oddly only one,

or a few,

sides of you,

or maybe a hundred

People try to glance into

the author’s mind

but get more than they bargained for:

they get a piece

of the heart

But only the most dedicated

and avid readers

will even come close to that:

the gem,

the true meaning,

which perhaps not even the author knows

For the emotions are written in

between the lines,

under the lines,

piled ten layers thick,

this mask describing the substance

And as the reader reaches through each shell,

he will ultimately end up

with nothing,

the mask was not concealing

anything at all!

In confusion

the reader searches for this face

that should,

must,

be in the mask

The face of the author,

the mind,

the heart,

the gem,

the meaning,

the purpose

of the entire work.

The reader gives up angrily,

begrudging his lost time,

as he kicks the pile

of peeled-away

garbage

across the room

How long

will it take him

to realize

the true treasure

was in the layers

so meticulously torn away

and now lying in ruin

of a work

once magnificent?

New Year's

Welcoming 2015
Another year is ending just as swiftly as it began
Where did the time go between beginning and end?
And the world keeps on spinning with no regard to time
While I still try to file away this year away in my mind.
And with a pang of regret I find my hours slipping away with every new morning, with every new day
The second had ticks slowly like the beat of my heart
“You were, you are, you will always be far. Far from the perception of reality past, of honesty present, and of trials to be.
May your mind be more open,
Your conviction more true
Your sense of duty rewarding,
Your character genuinely you.”
And there goes another minute I will never get back.
Did I help? Did I hurt? Did I cry? Did I laugh?
Have I lived this year to the very fullest it could be?
Have I learned from my mistakes to be a stronger me?
Did I grapple for the pen to the chronicle of my life?
Or did I trust in God for his perfect time?
Time, this irreversible, unstoppable whirlwind of events
Maybe someday I’ll understand the strange happenings I attribute to chance.
And if nothing else, it has been a fine year,
Full of heartache and hunger and pain and fear
Full of challenges faced and victories won,
Full of joy over sorrow, peace over joy
A year full of change, new places, new people
A time that taught me patience and how to set a new goal
Time changes you, but you can’t change time
And as the years feel ever shorter, more memories fill my mind.
Past, I will never forget
Future, full throttle ahead,
Present, living a life that I won’t regret
Happy New Year!

Apocalypse Painting

I shall take up my paintbrush

and tint the sky red.

Red like emotions of fear and

dread.

Red like a heart ripping in pain.

Red like a ruby, small and plain.

Why then is the sky red?

Why does it glow?

The answer is simple, for white,

red must flow.

Emotions run deep before forgiveness

is granted.

Before morning can dawn, first comes

the sadness.

Deep in a pit, a gem can be found.

It takes a deep breath to produce sound.

So paint the sky red, let it bleed down the page.

For after destruction, dawns a new age.

The Sky and I

The sky is grey and morose but void of

clouds. Casting a shadow on everything,

they lose the game, they forget their lines.

And the air seems thick, pressing, strangling,

and no clouds to relieve it. And the sky

trembles in pain as the world turns upside down,

As if everyone should freeze until the

sky recovers. And it will recover, it always recovers.

Question it and be ignored, ignore it and

be despised. There’s never a right way to

deal with the sky. Let it turn yellow-

grey, let the wind blow away.

The sky and I, we have an ongoing alliance.

With fury the wind races over a bare horizon.

Dust flies upwards, spins, freezes momentarily,

then plummets back to earth.

And the sky must step back and re-assess the

situation: the whirling, terrifying satisfaction that

grows greater by the mile. Was the purpose

ever justified? But the wind can sometimes stop the rain.

The sky and I, we have an ongoing alliance.

As everything slows itself to a careful pat-pat

on the roof, the moon gains control of the sky.

A careful shimmer on the river, the sky and

the astrals sigh, wiping the last bit of heat

from the sidewalk. And ghostly figures emerge

laughing, crying, crawling into a hole replaying

the footsteps tread not long ago. Some windows

are open, staring, fixed on the ethereal procession.

Others flutter and click closed immediately

unconscious of yesterday’s perils. And the sky smiles on

the peaceful earth, peaceful for some and for

others worse, already forgetting the day.

The sky and I, we have an ongoing alliance.

The sky laughs in rosy hues as a new day dawns

over an infinite expanse. Colorful wings fill the air

and the sky has never looked better.

Hope flies high and dreams are within reach

as perfect white clouds become rainbows.

Pride and courage well up like a fountain

dispersing droplets of water in the air.

The morning is fresh, cleared by a day of

disaster and the sky has never looked better.

With a deep breath and a purposeful step,

the sky sets out on today’s journey

and again and again for all eternity.

The sky and I, we have an ongoing alliance.

teardrops

Excerpt from one of my novels

let me draw teardrops all along the page

since crying's for sissies and I cry from rage

and I can't bring myself to shed one single tear

since the ache in my heart is one none must hear

so I'll suffer alone until the emotion passes by

because it's through silence that I most easily cry