Words
Thoughts evolved into words.
My Poetry
A Corpse Full Of Contraries
A corpse full of contraries.
You are everything
the world has made you.
A marionette of mayhem,
far from your original form.
Once, a strong solid masterpiece of your true nature,
until they found you.
They cut you down,
and carved you into shape.
A shape they could hold up proudly and say,
“See what we have made.”
They attached strings
to move you in the direction they wanted you to go.
They have trained you,
to play the role,
to go on with the show.
You can’t break free,
even if you wanted to.
Which you don’t.
Those strings are tied so tightly,
that painted on smile has penetrated too deeply,
and your well- tailored costume fits like a second skin
giving you no room to move.
No room to breathe.
You have grown accustom to them.
They are all a part of you now.
They are a part of your image,
your reputation,
it must remain unshattered.
Those strings are what keeps your head up and your feet on the ground.
They are your motivation,
your direction,
your reason for being.
You will dance for them,
perform for them,
until you are ragged and worn.
That is how the story was written.
It was written long before your character entered the scene.
But, you must remember,
when they take your twisted and deformed hollow body,
all tangled up in strings,
and leave you in a dark place,
you had branches once
which raised in freedom higher than any head
and roots
which kept you connected firmly to your source.
You had beautiful leaves
which changed with the seasons
and you had a thick skin of bark
to protect you.
You must remember,
you were made long before they made you.
You never needed a reason to live,
until they insisted that you needed one.
You simply lived.
And,
if you don’t remember,
I will be here to remind you.
There Are Rules
There are rules
Put in place so that even the most unreasonable of men
could be reasoned with.
A labyrinth of logic,
A maze to amaze,
the architecture carefully constructed
to keep men from trampling the sod
and messing up the game.
These rules were built
not of easily shattered glass,
these rules
were carefully constructed
from the strongest materials known to man.
Pain.
Pleasure.
Control.
Nothing could break them,
these rules were as strong as any law in the universe
Or,
so It would seem,
until
they were broken.
The Beginning Of Forever
“Death is the end,” said no rose ever.
For the rose knows,
beyond their death is another life.
A life concealed.
A protective barrier holding firmly to the seeds of what could be,
wrapped tightly around the dream of what should be
allowing for hearts to hope and minds to wander.
For the moment the darkness of suffering and death is uncovered,
to reveal the light against the withered petals
and the stiffened corpse stem,
it is proclaimed boldly by the rose,
“This is only the beginning of forever.”
We Are Not Alone
There is no vow
no spoken word
proclaiming what we are
to one another
nor to anyone else.
There is no ring,
no band of gold
symbolizing our being.
Our perfect union.
Our never ending.
No announcement,
nor contract made,
nor license procured.
No certificate
to proudly display.
What do we have?
Perseverance.
We have faith in a promise
to protect and defend
who we truly are.
Against all odds,
we trust our love
to endure with a kind of
patience like no other
and a kind of knowing
we are not alone.
There Is Nothing
There is nothing in this mind
like thought provoked.
Knowing there is treasure
behind every cautious word spoken.
Speech is shaped
when silence wakes
There is nothing in this body
like the sense of touch.
Being driven insane
by the spark of energy passing
from nerve to flesh, circuits entwined
There is nothing in this spirit
like feeling freedom.
The great escape from cage.
Pick and lock and key left behind to rust.
Where choices made
are not of ‘must’.
There is nothing in this world
like being with you.
Viewing my reflection,
creating an optical illusion,
to reveal seen and unseen
Ghosts
“There are no ghosts,”
He said.
But there are.
There are ghosts
which live inside us all
who haunt us with everything said and done
and the endless list of things still left to say and do.
“There are ghosts,”
I said.
They are kept
in graveyards
of our subconsciousness
to help us
understand the importance
of life, the words left to say and the things left to do.
Distance
Like a tethered kite upon unfurled string,
It looks like freedom
but we know better.
The grasp of a being's heart, mind, spirit
with one fist clenched tight,
One palm open.
It is an illusion of the senses.
A trick of darkest night
in full moonlight
Few can master such a possession,
ruled by the sands of time
ever shifting
Darkness
The darkness of distance
keeping no record
when I reach for you
in the empty space,
filling my mind
with the loveliness of you
inside the loneliness of me.
You will never know
how many times
I have listened to my own heart,
touched my own skin,
tasted my own tears,
smelling my own scent of sweet success
as I smile back at you
in darkness
imagining
a space filled
Master Or Servant
In life there are always two choices,
the choice to dominate or to submit,
to be in control or to be controlled,
to be a leader or to be a follower.
Your choices are not the questions.
They are your answers.
The questions are variable and infinite.
They are the mouth of the caves
in which the beasts inside us dwell.
The beasts are merely the consequences of our choices.
Do they call you Master or servant?
A Corpse Full Of Contraries
A corpse full of contraries.
You are everything
the world has made you.
A marionette of mayhem,
far from your original form.
Once, a strong solid masterpiece of your true nature,
until they found you.
They cut you down,
and carved you into shape.
A shape they could hold up proudly and say,
“See what we have made.”
They attached strings
to move you in the direction they wanted you to go.
They have trained you,
to play the role,
to go on with the show.
You can’t break free,
even if you wanted to.
Which you don’t.
Those strings are tied so tightly,
that painted on smile has penetrated too deeply,
and your well- tailored costume fits like a second skin
giving you no room to move.
No room to breathe.
You have grown accustom to them.
They are all a part of you now.
They are a part of your image,
your reputation,
it must remain unshattered.
Those strings are what keeps your head up and your feet on the ground.
They are your motivation,
your direction,
your reason for being.
You will dance for them,
perform for them,
until you are ragged and worn.
That is how the story was written.
It was written long before your character entered the scene.
But, you must remember,
when they take your twisted and deformed hollow body,
all tangled up in strings,
and leave you in a dark place,
you had branches once
which raised in freedom higher than any head
and roots
which kept you connected firmly to your source.
You had beautiful leaves
which changed with the seasons
and you had a thick skin of bark
to protect you.
You must remember,
you were made long before they made you.
You never needed a reason to live,
until they insisted that you needed one.
You simply lived.
And,
if you don’t remember,
I will be here to remind you.
There Are Rules
There are rules
Put in place so that even the most unreasonable of men
could be reasoned with.
A labyrinth of logic,
A maze to amaze,
the architecture carefully constructed
to keep men from trampling the sod
and messing up the game.
These rules were built
not of easily shattered glass,
these rules
were carefully constructed
from the strongest materials known to man.
Pain.
Pleasure.
Control.
Nothing could break them,
these rules were as strong as any law in the universe
Or,
so It would seem,
until
they were broken.
The Beginning Of Forever
“Death is the end,” said no rose ever.
For the rose knows,
beyond their death is another life.
A life concealed.
A protective barrier holding firmly to the seeds of what could be,
wrapped tightly around the dream of what should be
allowing for hearts to hope and minds to wander.
For the moment the darkness of suffering and death is uncovered,
to reveal the light against the withered petals
and the stiffened corpse stem,
it is proclaimed boldly by the rose,
“This is only the beginning of forever.”
We Are Not Alone
There is no vow
no spoken word
proclaiming what we are
to one another
nor to anyone else.
There is no ring,
no band of gold
symbolizing our being.
Our perfect union.
Our never ending.
No announcement,
nor contract made,
nor license procured.
No certificate
to proudly display.
What do we have?
Perseverance.
We have faith in a promise
to protect and defend
who we truly are.
Against all odds,
we trust our love
to endure with a kind of
patience like no other
and a kind of knowing
we are not alone.
There Is Nothing
There is nothing in this mind
like thought provoked.
Knowing there is treasure
behind every cautious word spoken.
Speech is shaped
when silence wakes
There is nothing in this body
like the sense of touch.
Being driven insane
by the spark of energy passing
from nerve to flesh, circuits entwined
There is nothing in this spirit
like feeling freedom.
The great escape from cage.
Pick and lock and key left behind to rust.
Where choices made
are not of ‘must’.
There is nothing in this world
like being with you.
Viewing my reflection,
creating an optical illusion,
to reveal seen and unseen
Ghosts
“There are no ghosts,”
He said.
But there are.
There are ghosts
which live inside us all
who haunt us with everything said and done
and the endless list of things still left to say and do.
“There are ghosts,”
I said.
They are kept
in graveyards
of our subconsciousness
to help us
understand the importance
of life, the words left to say and the things left to do.
Distance
Like a tethered kite upon unfurled string,
It looks like freedom
but we know better.
The grasp of a being's heart, mind, spirit
with one fist clenched tight,
One palm open.
It is an illusion of the senses.
A trick of darkest night
in full moonlight
Few can master such a possession,
ruled by the sands of time
ever shifting
Darkness
The darkness of distance
keeping no record
when I reach for you
in the empty space,
filling my mind
with the loveliness of you
inside the loneliness of me.
You will never know
how many times
I have listened to my own heart,
touched my own skin,
tasted my own tears,
smelling my own scent of sweet success
as I smile back at you
in darkness
imagining
a space filled
Master Or Servant
In life there are always two choices,
the choice to dominate or to submit,
to be in control or to be controlled,
to be a leader or to be a follower.
Your choices are not the questions.
They are your answers.
The questions are variable and infinite.
They are the mouth of the caves
in which the beasts inside us dwell.
The beasts are merely the consequences of our choices.
Do they call you Master or servant?
My Short Stories
Coming Soon
Coming Soon
My Novel - The Allegorical Adventures Of Violet
Available Soon
Available Soon
