How dreams live

Dreams live upon the backs of the weary
Awash into the waters and winds of tomorrow
The forces of fortitude bartering with their acquittal
for a breath of freshness in a world often brittle

Day dreams fall from the freedom of wandering minds
Into everyday routines traveling over vast spaces confined
The sublime loiters over the grips of our hairline
Like clouds of dreamy aura taking us into consideration at times

Dreams are like hard earned truths and checks
Never paid out fully due to the depths of our eternal debts
We aid and abet these wild ambitions like accomplices
Knowing well we would be lost without the help of our inner compasses

Through night and day, a dream is never dismayed
Shining bright through our sights and inner windows of display
A reality tomorrow manifests as only a dream today
The magic of our existence presents when we convince our dreams to stay

Who we are

Some are men of squalor but insight
Others are beings of means and respite
There are those who rejoice in the pain of others
There are those who pledge peace in plain sight or under covers

The voices of the broken are strung together for a whole
The choices we make in our stories often go untold
We are heroes in our struggles from day to day
We are masters of our destiny having paved our way

We live and love like today will never be forgotten
We give and take and surrender our affections so often
Sacrifice and silence are the name of our game
The look in our lively eyes no longer shining the same

There is little to stop what may come to us unplanned
Blaming ourselves for the choices of the damned
The extraction of our spirit was signed upon our births
We are the voices of a generation confined upon earth

The Night

Loneliness strikes in the cold of the night
Upon the unwashed dishes and flames from the burning stove so bright

The dim lights in the room never fully turned off
Like a glimmer of hope staying alive for the dwindling heart

Books and literature often suffice the lonely
Solitude for days in a house so homely

There are silver linings somewhere to the gray cloud cover
Rain drops for hours to dampen the spirits of warm lovers

I stare at the ceiling at times listening to the clock tick
The words in my head picking at my heart like chop sticks

The nights no longer remember the stories of the solitary
We struggle to survive a darkness so customary

In and out of consciousness, the awakened blend with the sleeping
The rise of my chest ensuring that I am still breathing

When I rise in the morning, the night is a dream of the past
I roll over and out of bed to face the skies overcast

Our twisted tongues

The words painted upon my tongue
are brash and imprecise
sometimes defying logic
often caught between realms of wrong and right

Flawed and uncertain
fluid as feelings sparked by whim and weather
Character and morals are the depth of our quarrels
for better or for worse, we are all still stuck together

Conjoined and distant
insistent upon formalities of separation
divisive as the division of classes
repelled by the haunting of our trepidation

The walls speak words so concrete
working better for holding up our distrust for others
our lives are mirrors of reflection
our clothes the distinguishing of our endless covers

If I could vacate the premises of pretensions
I would soon find we all bleed the same color
The cards laid out for all on crooked tables
hand upon hand like the entanglements of lovers

The difficulties in the distance are within reach
Yours are likely similar to mine
Grace and gratitude are coping mechanisms for good reasons
Remember to return poetry in kind

Billiards

I bounce off the walls
from corner to corner
hoping to find nature
a little nicer and warmer

I bump my head so hard
against the dawning of the day
I slide from barrier to partition
let there come whatever may

I thump against the bricks
the wallpaper and cement
I find solace in my upheaval
I roll around the room with intent

I find my home in darkness
as a rabbit finds his hole
I jolt against the whites of the ceiling
letting the heights define my role


I ran for a bus that never came

I leapt and jumped over puddles and dirt
Through the sand and gravel
Up the road and around the corners
My hopes and dreams in my steps
Catching my breath when I could

I dodged people in my chase
Thumping the ground with my feet
huffing and heaving
Leaving a trail of tears in my wake
I ran faster
whizzing through the streets
My heartbeat in my throat
My coat flailing in the wind

I sprinted up the hill
taking on each bend with haste
dropping my belongings on the way
I couldn’t stop to pick up
what was never really mine anyway
Everything I shed
now belonged to the earth

I darted to the stop
I could hear the bus coming
but there was little I could do to slow down
Nothing I could do but turn my head around

I arrived with a huff
Catching my breath as I stooped over
Bent at the waist
My breakfast rumbling in my stomach
My head spinning in circles
But I had come for my chance
To finally get on the bus

I was minutes from freedom
Seconds from boarding
All those wishes and wants
Those moments of taunt and terror
Where was the bus
to right my errors?

I stood in the cold
the rain beating down
upon my sunken frame
I had spent my life running
now waiting for a bus
that never came

Ode to the morning

Rising to the morning rain
pattering and streaking
against the glass windows
Behold today on display
The way of the world
forever wedged into the dawning of the day

I awake to silence
My breath my lone companion
The dreams of the night
split into the seams of lingering darkness
Two worlds of a life
merged into moments finite

Black coffee and cereal
do little to awake me
The words I scribble on paper
do little to shake me open
I hold peeled the skin of my eyelids
upon the crutches of all that is broken

The world awaits
Let her wait a little longer
Calls to muster the courage
beckon my bones to remain firm and stronger
Gone is the quiet dawn
to the grips of the greying day
My legs wander and pace
into the little light from capsules of the sleepy and somber

A human of chance

The strings of circumstance
carry me through day and night
lifting me from problem to struggle
from bubble to bubbles of endless trouble

Oversight from the hands of existence
is endless in its vision and view
catching me from all angles and positions
yet I am the master of my own decisions

Suffering the mounting of mistakes
the pounds of distaste take over control
dictating my weight in struggle unmeasured
the few carefree moments are all I have left to treasure

No one to blame but the minutes of time
crushing down from the skies and clouds
I still take pleasure in doing what I am allowed
I still hold hopes of making myself all the more proud

Upon the beautiful

Beauty upon the range of bodies
knows not of limits or an end
To the vast number of places I have been
beauty has accompanied me as a silent friend

In places hot and cold
within the young and old
beauty rears its face
through gentle flashes on a million souls

Whether summer or winter
beauty endures through the balance of the seasons
Shining like gold glistening and stories to be told
beauty appears without the rationale of good reason

They say it lies in the eye of the beholder
an illusion or a truth we one day discover
saved for the eyes of one’s true lover
contrary to what is said beauty lasts forever

The plights in our nature

There are puddles of woe
still as lakes
I dodge as I skip
with leaps and lunges

The mountains of worry
looming large overhead
I scale with steps
taken in bounds

The forests of fear
dense with uncertainty
I trek without terror
into wilderness

The difficulties in our nature
within our bodies
inside our minds
often unavoidable
insurmountable
without end

I am often a few paces away
from the oceans of optimism
The peaks of assurance
The open plains of conquest
gathering strength in the silence
of lengthy plight