Category: sorrow

Broken Veins

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What road did I drive down again?
Path of dusty broken veins
Weed choked by falling road dust
Dry season on two wheels
And a gooseneck straddling dotted lines
About a ribbon I’ve tied across my finger
To remember a mannequin I fell in love with.

Holy I went left!
I took my squirrels medium rare
And left my lover there
Amongst rocks as ocean’s edge
To watch whatever growing storm
Should scarcely hide away her tears.

In my pack I tried to hold
Every essential piece of gold
I locked it up, taped it down,
Bound it to my back with straps
That crossed my chest and held my gear
As wind swept across my beard
Reminding me though I may fly
I’m still so gnarled and twined
As river’s edge a weeping willow
Set about my fate.

Into the Rain

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This smoke and mirrors
Is my pain
As I walk in your memory
I fall alone
On unspent words
My hair,
Lifelessly pressed
Against the glass.
I’ve learned about my veins
That run across
My open palms;
For too long have I
Looked into thee
For an answer
I cannot find.
And so my last drip of blood
Drawn from me
For you
Shall stain the soul
From whence I came
And follow me
Into the rain.

Why Didn’t I See Your Eyes

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Why didn’t I see your eyes?

Still I tried
For this vision I haven’t found
And your browns, greens,
Forever changing
As landscape’s seasons change
And my footsteps
Through my soul’s golden copse
Recapturing.

Why didn’t I see your eyes?

Even though my feet are as tired
As cobblestoned history,
Gray hair grows upon my patience’s mind
Though burdened with none but thoughts
It is mine golden copse
Retiring into my hallow
That comforts even in
My burning question’s fever.

Why didn’t I see your eyes?

Moon And By Sun

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I am drained of life
Though calming gray Moon
Shines full into my vision.

My mornings wake
With such vast opportunity
Yet I slouch my way
Into an odyssey;
Blurring noises
From Nature’s highway
Busy outside my open window.

This tea alerts me
It brings my senses
Towards the front of my tongue
So that I can find my voice
Rescued from the deep depths
Of a tortuous night.

And here, upon my tongue
A caress felt within my memory
Time spent in my youth
Unabided,
For Spring spirit in Summer Sun
Reaches no Plymouth too soon,
And this warm milk and honey
Resting on my lips
Shall be enveloped by
Moon and by Sun.

Key of E Minor

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Enter the Maestro
Long silence and little chatter
Shiny little black shoes
From where I sit
Clacking animatedly
Excited anticipation
Thus begins.

Rusting cello strings
Played in the lower key of E Minor
Pounding but softly on the frets
As a window amidst rain
Can only feel
Agony of the heart
Echoing off engineered walls
Settling to silence
Little flutter.

Hover one moment
About the lower E Minor chord,
Wait for no other beast
At the breast of emancipation
For it shall be only
Figures you’ve called out;
Mighty turmoil
Dripped from thy chin
Upon ancient grains of wood
So cherished between fingers
Resonated into hearts
Of forgotten sadness.

Silence.
No more can movement
Break the spell of horror.
Deathly pale voids;
Look back, unrecognizing
Distracted
Caught in a forever key of E Minor
That remains as sustain
Lost to the world.

Walking

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Though skies sit darkly
Reminiscing flatter plains,
I woke to a snowflake
Covering my name
Footsteps hardly criss-crossing
This empty expanse of our lane
So that magic could work
It’s betwickled strings
Into the heart of my sky.

Fever

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When you look at me
Like I’m growing thin
Edges of my sloping chin
I walk amidst my fever ghosts
Lost, dark as night.
I feel the crown
Upon my heart
Fuse into my spine
That never woke
A fevered breath
That sounded hoarse as dust.
For when the game
Of morning light
Awakens this lost night
I will address
My dying breath
So delicate an embrace.

Trinkets and Lace

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My view is distorted by lace and flowers
That have begun to wilt and burn
But the lace remains timelessly
Arched upon the bow
That keeps the clouds, so heavily
From my memory
And takes me back to a house I knew
Down Coppers Lane, remains.
I still smell the ancient windowsills
So beautifully exposed cedar wood
Grains like driftwood at the shore.
This pleasure reminds me
How much needed it is
To carry trinkets for the river.

Resting (day 3207)

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This is the feeling of broken again
The one that rest inside
And cannot find words to share
Because the words that come
Are accusations
Frustrations
Words that will take us nowhere
A fight I no longer have the breath
To take an inhale for.
So I will close my eyes
And rest my deepest rest
So that I can find within
The soul that needs to rise
From the broken pieces
Resting.

Whisper (day 3206)

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Whisper-by-Ned-Tobin

This hurts and I’m not sure
And I don’t want to guess anymore.
So I clap both my hands
To suggest who I am.

Not for a way,
Not for a guess,
Not for a little bit,
Not for the end.

And I whisper
Into the death of my vision
So I may not know
The next steps to be taken
With wind in my face
And a slump, lacking all grace.