Long Unfocused Poems
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As dust doth settle upon your casket
I do not weep, mine eyes remain dry
as the warmest summer days on land
And though those around me stare
I know in confusion
For they have not seen inside you
or myself, as we do
Thy ears perk at hissing, while eyes unfocused in panic
For a split second on your resting box
From your grave, I keep waiting for your fist
waiting for venomous words to spew forth from your lips
Lips I had abandoned, for no matter the love I gave
through the good, through the bad
Bad turned a tad too much as my bones broke,
muscles ripped bared screams from fattened lips
Today, standing with dry eyes I tell myself again
The past was just pretend
T'was just a story I had read but months ago
A tale, A nightmare of pretense
Like a prayer
the words slip out my lips
on the very tongue's tip,
in repetitious, unfocused thoughts said as a child could
with maturity on the cusp of responsible adulthood.
Like a prayer
the words fall back in drifted thought
on hopes and dreams not easily brought;
in looking forward yet forced to look back
grateful life was fairly consistent on track.
Like a prayer
the question lingers ever still
why are we here, was life's mission fulfilled?
surely there is more
to add to the final score?
Like a prayer
unanswered but meant to be heard,
whispered falls most sincere words;
to touch the heart of God the creator
no need of any inter mediary translator.
Like a prayer
my head bowed, eyes closed solemnly,
hear me Lord, again a prayer, it's just me;
bless all those I love, care for and know
acquaintances, family, friends, unknowns.
Thank you Lord
for life, for peace, for hope and love
just like a prayer sent from above;
keep us safe and well
far from the gates of Hell.
Like a prayer
my voice can finally speak
guide me Lord, in all I seek.
i stand
beneath this somber sky
lost in the depths
of its misty eyes
sharing my tears
in this new year
dawning upon me
uncolored
unfocused
like these thoughts
of finding love
along life's road
i feel abandoned
like the old house
on the hill
ready to crumble
back to the dust
from which it came
its weakened frame
weathered in years
stands unsteady
unsure of its fate
as days move by
in slow lonely waves
of years passing by
like onlookers
staring in disbelief
where beauty once stood
but now lingers
empty inside
lost in the same depths
as i beneath this somber sky
Standing in awe of the swirling darkness
And to feel the rush of wind upon skin
The contrast of black reveals gray's starkness
Watching for onslaught of rain to begin
Clouds dip and dive in an ominous dance
Pushed by the meeting of cold and warm air
The temperature drops from the storm's advance
And bird wings are stiff as the winds ensnare
Leaves blowing through like a swarm of locust
Filling the air as they tumble and spin
Causing the eyes to become unfocused
Covering the head, as fear is locked in
To duck and hide or to run and flee
To know the danger of what your eyes see
2/24/18 contest Describe a thunderstorm without sound
The Price of Friendship
The air around me flows freely,
Yet its breath brings no relief.
I stand beneath the rain,
My heart thumping loudly—
Each strike resounding with worry,
Like a heart about to fail.
But still, I feel no pain.
The rain caresses my skin...
Yet I feel no warmth.
My gaze is absent,
My eyes unfocused,
And yet—I continue to stare.
The thought of friendship stirs within me.
I wonder... what is a friend, truly?
I weigh the price of it,
And my heart quakes.
Where does friendship end—
And where does love begin?
I mumble incoherently,
Like a man in distress.
“Friendship... friendship...”
Am I worthy of it?
Are they worthy of me?
My energy drains,
Weariness sets in,
My vision blurs...
And I wonder—
Is this the price?
A chuckle escapes me,
Yet no smile follows.
Must I carry both their fears and mine?
Can I bear such weight?
Must I follow them to hell and back,
Their worries bound to me like a sack?
All this—just because of the word friend.
Does it mean I must stay until the end?
If this is the price of friendship,
What, then, is the price of love?
Could I even bear it?
Would I not crumble?
Or am I simply afraid to commit?
Was friendship always such a summit?
Still, I have no choice
But to walk this path—
For another.
And if I were to break apart,
Would they piece me back together?
Or walk away?
I do not know.
I cannot tell.
Yet, I pray never to see such a day.
Drenched in rain,
At last—I feel it:
The pain.
My will falters.
I begin to crumble.
Yet no hand reaches for me.
Still, a smile forms—
As I ponder my fate.
Do I drop it all?
Stop my own free fall?
The thought crosses my mind...
But I refuse.
I shove away the off-switch, the fuse,
And dive into other nightmares,
While still embracing mine.
All this... just for another.
`
Muted light
plays on unsuspecting walls
in free form silhouettes
where shadows invade a dream
hidden deeply within
waking moments
Blurred scenes
move in distorted motions
when barriers are brief
and visions unfocused
cause a stirring
of emotions
Fractured flames
flicker in midnight thoughts
lost in the darkness
behind closet doors
of etched glass designed
to disguise
While here you sit
among quivering shapes
appearing in your mind,
clutching your blanket,
fearing your imagination,
drenched in an opaque illusion
11/21/19
Written for: The Opaque poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausin
Tissiack’s Tears
“[F]or I was absorbed in the great Tissiack [Half Dome]-- I have gazed on Tissiack a thousand times -- in days of solemn storms, and when her form shone divine with the jewelry of winter, or was veiled in living clouds; and I have heard her voice of winds, and snowy, tuneful waters when floods were falling; yet never did her soul reveal itself more impressively than now. John Muir
Tissiack’s tears fall from her rain-stained face,
her profile one with the lichened rock.
She, the spirit of the Ahwahneechees,
speaks silently, with the voice of winds,
and presence of time past and present.
For a summer, my tent opened to her
With flaps opened, I peered upon her,
Confident that I understood her words;
But I was just imperiousness youth,
And youth distracts from truth.
Years later, I return to her and sit
in the moonlight at Mirror Lake.
As my eyes tire and grow unfocused,
I see her missing half in the water –
her half that’s not, her mystic moiety.
She whispers of life’s unhalves, and in the
rippled, reflective waters appears,
my unhalf – those thoughts, unthought and
that life, unlived; whereupon, I too shed tears.
I sit, legs crossed, typing away
Doing homework, my hair uncombed
Listening to songs I don’t love but don’t hate
And I stare out the window and wonder,
Is there something more than this?
And my fingers type away
In a never-ending game
It’s raining. I feel nothing
Writing bad poems in the dark, and I wonder,
Is there more to me than this?
Procrastination, adrenaline, headphones,
Cell phones, whiteboards, deodorant,
Romance, hardback books, college, drama,
Movies, concerts, lectures, hormones,
And I wonder,
Is there more to youth than this?
My thoughts are scattered, my eyes unfocused
My brain stretched in five directions
And I don’t know who to be
Because we’re pebbles in a muddy stream
And in a world of distractions, 8 billion voices ask,
Is there more to life than this?
Unclear and unfocused thoughts,
Trapped in negative emotions.
I can't seem to chase away the bad thoughts.
All I can do is sit around.
I'm waiting for someone,
But I can't remember who.
I'm waiting so long...
I'm waiting for someone.
My fingers tremble from anxiety.
I can no longer feel my feet.
My very soul seems like it's frozen.
Chasing away any bad thoughts is not an option.
I'm waiting so long...
But I can't remember who.
I'm waiting for someone,
But do I even know who?
I'm waiting so long...
Courage is something I no longer have,
All I can do is look back.
But it's not like I can go back.
My face is starting to feel numb.
Anxiety is the only thing that I know.
I'm waiting for someone.
I'm waiting so long.
My feet are frozen.
Hands can do nothing but tremble.
My face is now numb.
My soul isn't warm.
I lost all my courage.
I'm waiting for...
I'm waiting...
I'm...
Stuck with an afterimage of myself.
It does nothing,
For I can't go back.
Someone will one day come.
But do I even know who?
I'm waiting for someone,
I'm waiting so long...
And yet no one comes.
But do I even know who?
Does it even matter now?
I've frozen over,
Waiting for someone who can't even come.
After all, I've given up on myself.
I'm waiting...
LONELINESS
The lonely person walks unnoticed
with unfocused eye and unsteady step,
failing to keep pace with the crowd.
An approach of reliance to everything,
like a crutch under the arm of the wounded,
maintains balance amidst turbulence.
You saw and did not recognize or notice,
as if that person was as normal as you,
but beneath the shrouded cloak of emptiness
hides a soul weeping dry tears.
Loneliness feeds on isolation,
depression its friend, little noticed,
but there are signals.
Loneliness has a signature;
a tell-tale sign for all to see,
like an amateur gambler's tell.
It might live with you unknown
or work by your side eight hours a day,
where its influence grinds,
as if it were a metal file.
Loneliness is looking for new hosts.
Has it found you?