His foot taps against the piano.
I hear it, on this old record. I don’t miss a thing.
It’s a cold day today, snow is pushing its way through
My state, and its put me in a grey state.
A grey blue state, I feel blue and I do not know
What to do.
The words wind through my head, and I listen to him play
That old record runs on
The ivory keys, each touched gently.
He thinks so quick.
He thought so much.
So much harmony, so much nobody got.
But I think I get it,
Thelonious had the old blues,
The ones I got too,
He put them on the keys,
Each finger striking a tone and
Bringing new melody and harmony
Part of me envies him. Even in death.
Part of me pities him.
I hear that sad old song of winter skies so grey,
Marching out on the keys.
Its sad to think so much and speak so little,
Too love so few so much,
And then to lose.
It’s sad to have a beauty you never can share.
Empty chairs mark roads of despair,
Love ones lost were once found there
Eyes once saw that fell into disrepair.
Lost them all, one by one, lost summer skies and sun,
And the grey came, and the blues too, and the beauty no one could view.
Well I’m a monk, just like him,
Alone where the room is dim.
I have four feet of brass and no where to shine
And all the time in a world that’s mine.
I’ll be a monk.
I’ll settle down
Into the dirt and dust,
I’ll bleed and rust
And curse the old sun who never comes,
And wish I wasn’t so blue,
But know that I need it too.
Category Archives: Poems
His foot taps against the piano.
We slowly crawl
Onto the field.
Every foggy breath.
Our eyes are shadowed
By the night
We stand and wait,
For the coming fight.
Our focus is singular,
It is everlasting and ever present,
It does not waver to the crowd,
Friends and foes,
Princes, beggars, saints, and villains
Are all the same before us now.
Our focus is eternal,
Immortal like the artificial green
Beneath our matching black soles.
We wait for the call,
For the word,
We are restless,
We are anxious,
Yet not a muscle moves among all of us.
We are patient.
Our eyes are glued to those who await
The coming fight.
Sound is muffled,
Cold irrelevant fact
For our time
Is coming now.
She is there, before our eyes,
Across the field she glides.
She floats to her throne,
Upon it she stands,
Her hands at her sides.
We wait for them to rise.
We anticipate the word.
We dread it,
Yet it is all we want.
Our damnation and salvation in one.
Our hearts pound,
Our lungs expanded, lips wetted,
We remain statuesque.
We await the word.
And then we are One,
We are together,
The lines are drawn and weapons raised,
The audience cheers and our fears are razed.
We earn our glory, and make our name
We show the world how we play our game
On our battlefield
As One we fight,
We march as One this Friday night.
She is across from me, seated in the terminal of an airport, waiting for nothing.
Her eyes are fixed on me. A screen far over their heads illuminates her mouth, her eyes.
They are cold and insterile, swimming with decaying life and forgotten love.
“You did this. You did this to me.” I hear her voice over all other noise. The airport is silent, it it still. Only those eyes move, only those eyes speak.
“You did this to me. It is your fault. It is your fault.” her voice speaks in the same solid tone, an even tone that gives so little, and hints at so much.
I try to speak but I cannot, my mouth is glued shut by guilt and blame, by hurt and words that have fermented in my guts for too long. I do not speak.
“Your fault. You did this to me.” The twisting scars appear on screen. I feel them on my own arms, I feel them grasping my insides. I try to look away, but I cannot.
Red glistening scars, that are forever long and wide on a pale canvas of flesh. The pain is almost unbearable. Physically, it burns and stings and screams, eating at my flesh, at my own body as I feel what she has endured.
And I feel it biting at my heart, and it hurts in a way that is far worse than on the outside.
I feel my insides quaking and my eyes stinging as cold tears splatter my face. Her words shake me, they take me by the throat, they pummel me endlessly. The scars wind on forever, peeling off of the display and into reality, tentacles of bloody red raw flesh reaching for me, green hints of infection vandalizing the perfect red around the edges. Her arms are gripping me now, her eyes are strangling me, her lips are peeled wide revealing the razor sharp tongue that has cut me for so long.
“You did this to me! You did this to me! This is your fault! Your fault!”
The scars hold me in submission, the words blot out the light, her stare cuts through the prison of my mind. My fortifications fall like flimsy paper walls as her hell consumes me, setting me alight, putting fire to my spirit and broken wholeness.
I cannot move, I cannot breathe, I am emolated for her vengeance, I am a victim of her wrath, I am at the unbearable mercy of her unforgiving eyes and the shining blade of her words.
I cannot bear the pain, and yet I do. For the longest time I do. And then suddenly, I am released.
The terminal disappears, the chairs sink away into the floor, the floor becomes the earth, and the earth is swallowed into nothingness.
The sky above me and below me becomes no more, the atmosphere dissolves, the stars blink away, the sun hides his face and the moon fades away as her mate turns from her.
I am left alone in a dark place that speaks of no comfort, of no torture, no pain or joy. It is a place that only knows of nothingness, and I sink into that world of nothing.
Very far away, I hear her whisper. As my body melts away into the void, as I join the expansive entity of emptiness, I can still hear her voice. It calls me back to the living world, it calls me back to torture and death.
But death is no more. Life is no more. Pain, fear, regret, love, hate, and longing are no more.
I bond with emptinesss, and I disappear.
I cannot write
And I can’t do no right
I can’t do much, at all, tonight
I run in circles
And stand in the rain
Out of the faucet drips a story
Of people and of pain
And the Morse code splashes all wash down the drain
I can’t do a cartwheel
And I cannot tell a lie
All these feelings that I feel
Provide no method to deny.
I cannot block out flashes
I can’t wave off the smoke
The ashes and fumes
Pummel my mind, and I choke.
The tears drip from my eyes
They tell a story, they improvise
A brand new method, a brand new way,
To brand my flesh with scars from broken days.
So I run in circles, and I sit in the rain,
And I pray to God that one day, things will change
Cuz I can’t do nothin’
No I can’t do nothin’
Nothin but wait, and run in circles, hyperventilate,
I can’t do nothin’
But to wait
I’ve kept count of all the days
We’ve been apart.
My broken heart
Forces more shed tears,
As months and years,
It gets hard
Isn’t all its cut out to be.
Finding something to replace misery
Is not really all that easy.
I think of you most every day.
Unhappy thoughts are cast my way.
Miserable is just how I stay…
Counting minutes and hours away…
Wish I could call you on the phone.
Wish I was not here all alone.
Wish I could repent, of time poorly spent
But all my time is bent.
Doesn’t matter… Anyways…
I’ll keep counting away the days…
Wishing.. for you.. to come back home… Again.
My heart dances,
My body flies
My wings spread wide,
Over obstacle and misfortune
The horizon is in view.
Over the walls of insecurity
Past the white-tipped cliffs of misery
Away from a land of suffering
Into your arms, into your heart,
Into a forgiving brand new start.
I am gliding,
I am falling
You are everything I dreamt of
In my shadowed state.
You tore prison bars away,
Shredded shackles, turned fear,
Burst into my fate
And you opened my eyes,
Opened my wings,
And took me in flight
To heaven above.
Now we are falling
My opponent and I
Stand face to face
Under an empty sky
Her hands at her side,
Across the field
She seems to glide
My hands are shaking
My knees knock… knock.
Our eyes lock.
A blink and she’s here.
So fast I can not breath, I do not run
The end that forever I have dread is near.
She blinks and exhales,
I feel her warmth,
My defiance fails.
I cannot speak,
I cannot cry,
I am too weak,
I can’t deny
Of my heart.
I can’t restart
I can not let go
But that she already knows.
I release my fate
Release my fists
I stare into Hell’s gate
I gaze into her face.
And we embrace.
Forgiveness is the impossible.
It is the only way.
There is nothing to say.
Tears stream down
My miserable cheeks
I am empty and weak
Each day and week,
The months that speak
Countless volumes of immeasurable decay
That has amounted every day
Without her here,
Guilt and pain wash over me
She does not speak
She has her prey
And she touches its cheek.
The chains that have bound me
Are tighter yet
What I deserve I am bound to get.
That beautiful face
Conceals words of immeasurable grace.
I hear her say
My shackles clink
Upon the floor.
We speak no more.