Do I think
you can silence a poem
In a word
the answer is NO
Do I think
you can bridle a passion
You’d be better served
melting a stone
Do I think
you can marry tomorrow
Still married
to yesterday’s pain
Do I think
you can joyously wander
Locked in step
— with the devil again
(The New Room: February, 2025)
What good comes there from love at all
if no one feels the flame
If no one knows that there abides
such joy inside a heart
What music sings in someone’s ear
if no one knows to listen
If no one finds the how or where
such serenade resides
And what if no one sees the sun
for fear of recognition
should talents of our unique world
be cloistered by the night
What good can come from anything
if not shared with mankind
existence without knowledge
is a wasteland shamed to tread
In the chaos I was born, blue, cold, alone. the sickness of the air blistering my lungs with the stench of life. The infections rotting my flesh eating away the only thing I can call mine. Days of unfortunate chance, callousing and ripping away at my once bright soul. Through faith I lost everything and with despair I found fate. alone I began, alone I shall be, with hollow eyes watching behind smiles of lies. Once a little light began to fix and repair my broken chest only to blind me leaving me in eternal darkness again. Without sight I see the truth, again facing the wastelands I prepare for the inevitable to be alone and to escape again facing tomorrow praying it will be better than yesterday.
I wanted this
How'd the problems arise?
She sits there with sadness
In those forlorn eyes
But it's not really sadness that I see
What she's actually doing is pitying me
They move to the wall
I sit there in inexplicable shame
Waiting for those damn eyes to look at me again
Those loves gone eyes, wastelands
Floor, door and then the ceiling
Then back to me again, that sick stomach feeling
I gotta go.
We two amidst the wastelands walked
Where heroes fell and mad ghosts leapt.
There slaughtered angels we beheld
With trembling eyelids moist yet brave,
Alone, so drear the gathering Dark!
And you, small vessel, cracked with grief-
By storm,no less assailed...
From haunted trails through orchards thorns,
Their bitter fruit by tears well suckled,
We'd tarried toiled and tasted much
At Sorrow's depthless winepress,
'Til chanced our thusly armored souls
'Pon fated mystic moon-tossed fields
To each the other greet...
I'd long not heard the fountains speak
From obscure and violet banks
Nor known the breath of Dawnibg's blush
Caress my worn, care-chisled cheek, but then-
But then! Your voice, a breeze
Like Day's first sigh a'borning,
That celestial, sweet sad-burdened song
Became my revelie...
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