I Love Beautiful Dark Things – Not all things dark are evil

“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” Mary Oliver
afanador
I love beautiful dark things,
that bring shadow to your life,
making things come alive,
with depth and mystery.
These beautiful dark things
are what’s between bright and nothing,
a hope of a world beyond extremes.
 
I love beautiful dark things,
without which you’re two dimensional.
Lost on the page of life.
I bring direction with my beautiful dark things,
They show you where the light is,
the subtlety of life,
bringing texture from flat canvas.
 
I love beautiful dark things,
Not all that’s dark is contrary to light.
I’m wherever light is found,
I’m the coolness in the heat,
I’m the protection on the run.
Beautiful dark things are
mysteries of things to come,
A shroud to cover your soul.
 
I love beautiful dark things…
 Also published in Broowaha
09022011

Just A Look

“Women are like tricks by sleight of hand, Which, to admire, we should not understand. WILLIAM CONGREVE, Love for Love

The plainest man who pays attention to women, will sometimes succeed as well as the handsomest man who does not.” – CHARLES CALEB COLTON, Lacon

 

mvninn
The attentions of a woman make me feel alive and vibrant with power. Like a crashing wave, her look and positive glance wash over my life leave me with a feeling of satisfaction. What curse am I under? The power in her movement captivates me and stops my whole world to see her for a moment on the miraculous hinge of change, all it takes is her reaction. If she likes me, pays me some attention, then peace and excitement in abundance. If she turns away, her rejection ignites a fire, inciting a riot of feelings in my body. Though heaven call and hell reach, nothing matters but her at that moment. There’s no end to the amazing things that I’ll put my body and mind through to see her smile. Not just a special her, but the one that has stopped my heart from proceeding with its mundane tasks. Dropped to my knees, not by an amazing model, rare and fleeting, but by that woman who holds herself with such confidence and sexuality that I find a smell of desire wafting across the room to bring me to my knees. I’ve stumbled down the steep paths of self-esteem, yet to know she’s there, watching with interest, gives me the most incredible lift. This hawk takes to an empowering thermal desire and rises to heights unreachable when you, sweet woman, give me your smile.

01242013

Hindsight

“Drinking is an emotional thing. It joggles you out of the standardism of everyday life, out of everything being the same. It yanks you out of your body and your mind and throws you against the wall. I have the feeling that drinking is a form of suicide where you’re allowed to return to life and begin all over the next day. It’s like killing yourself, and then you’re reborn. I guess I’ve lived about ten or fifteen thousand lives now.”
Charles Bukowski
skins
The morning after, it’s plain to see,
the drunken mistakes, you did to me
Your eyes are teary, with stains of sorrow
I’m hardened to that, it’ll happen tomorrow
As the sun sets fear, sings lullabies
Soon you’ll be home, bringing hell and goodbyes
Again the saddest story is now told
I’m becoming a drunk too, as I grow old
You stained my mind, with intoxicated words
Breaking my soul, with your scourge
this morning tells a story, of my final plea
I lay this bottle down, because you have become me.

Wagon Train

“The whiskey was a good start. I got the idea from Dylan Thomas. He’s this poet who drank twenty-one straight whiskeys at the White Horse Tavern in New York and then died on the spot from alcohol poisoning. I’ve always wanted to hear the bartender’s side of the story. What was it like watching this guy drink himself out of here? How did it feel handing him number twenty-one and watching his face crumple up before the fall of the stool? And did he already have number twenty-two poured, waiting for this big fat tip, and then have to drink it himself after whoever came took the body away?”  ― Michael Thomas Ford, Suicide Notes

 

Wagon Trail

 

Weeks on end drowning in these spirits brewed
Bumping and stumbling, and a few more days are screwed

I’ve given up the outlawed and on board is the legal kind
And society says it’s ok to throw it away and imbibe

The wagon calls again and the wheels turn so slow
That’s real damn good ’cause I jump on as it goes

The drink she calls every morning before the sun tames the night
and she’ll sing and dance all day till sleep wins the fight

God for one day where something won’t wrestle for my soul
It isn’t just the past that I finally need to really let go

The chains of my thirst bring them and I hide my ears
to silence the sadness that grows from minutes to endless years

Can You Fix It?

“As much as I live I shall not imitate them or hate myself for being different to them”Orhan Pamuk, Snow 

 “The world is not ready for some people when they show up, but that shouldn’t stop anyone.” – Ashly Lorenzana
fix me
^
The conversation started normally, casual chit chat, but then they noticed my appearance. I look fine but when I turn you can see my deformity, and this prompted them to ask why don’t I fix it? I gave my standard response that all of us with defects give but in my mind an angry conversation ensued. Why do you think I need to “fix” me? Is it because you think I’m embarrassed because you’re embarrassed for me? I’m not embarrassed, I accept it as who I am. Is it because it makes you uncomfortable? Society sucks, and people gather in their little comfortable niches where they pet each other and console themselves about how they are better than those on the outside of their circle. We’re all different and it becomes a strength that binds us rather than separates us when we accept ourselves and thereby are able to accept others. As much as this rant is focused on physical differences I’ll point out that there are mental and emotional differences between as well. It may not be easy for someone else to go through the day with a smile, or to look in a mirror and feel good, or for that matter to even get out of bed in the morning. They may not be able to enjoy a shot of liquor with their friends, or be able to put down whatever drug your experimenting with. Relationships may not come easy to them and love is nearly an impossible feat. Accept yourselves, grow the best you can, and don’t outcast people because they are different. Try to understand, then you’ll ask me how you can be like me rather than why I don’t fix it.
*
First published in Opinions Of Eye

Leap Of Faith –

“The foolish ask many questions the wise cannot answer” – Oscar Wilde
“Of the making of books there is no end, and much study leads to exhaustion.” 

 

Questions are a sign of intelligence and creativity but they can lead to an endless, tortuous circle of reasoning. Why did that tragedy happen to me? Is God male or female? Will I know people after I die? These inquiries can exhaust my mental and emotional energy, leaving me with no strength to push through the day at hand. Questioning my beliefs, my existence, my experience, is necessary, but I must lay down these pursuits and find a place of peaceful existence should my questions go unanswered. What follows is a leap of faith that eventually brings sense of well-being to my life. There I have to understand that I don’t understand, admit my finite power of mind, lay down my notepad, my calculator, my psychoanalysis, and find the peace that will guide me though the dark valley of the unknown.
 
Also published on Broowaha
First published in Opinionsofeye.com
12122011 

The One –

“You are not the world, but you are everything that makes the world good.”
Kiera Cass, The One

I feel them all, touching, grabbing, holding
So why you? Your tongue, your caress
I feel them all, pulling, forcing, trying
So why you? Your eyes, your touch
I feel them all, flicking, tricking, maneuvering
So why you? Your breath, your sigh
I feel you all, holding, pushing, exciting
So why you?, your tingle, your rush?
I’ve seen broken, I’ve seen distressed
So why you? Your peace, your calm
I’ve seen heartache, I’ve seen pain
So why you? Your peaceful easy feeling?
I’ve seen desperation, I’ve seen panic
So why you? Your gentle, your easy
I’ve seen disgust, I’ve seen chaotic
So why you? Your taste, your violation?
*
First published in Opinions Of Eye.com

The Assassination of Love –

“Never permit a dichotomy to rule your life, a dichotomy in which you hate what you do so you can have pleasure in your spare time.”Pablo Picasso 


superstar666

It’s not possible for addiction and love to live together very long before they attack one another. Addiction to self, to substances, to work, to anything, will soon drain from love it’s very life and leave the shell of an empty relationship as evidence of the crime. Love rarely is able to defend itself from such an attack. Tragically the perpetrator isn’t found till long after the crime has been committed.  Many are the deaths love has suffered at the hands of the fiend of addiction. Do your lover a favor, quit now while you still have love breathing between you.

Related Post: Still
First published in Opinions Of Eye.com

05222014 

Pleasure Of Pain – An addict’s suffering

“Addictions that plague our friends, family, and neighbors bring pain, both for the user and those who try in vain to love them in spite of the torturous twists and turns of their habit. To the addict: There are no easy answers, don’t stop trying, get back up and keep on fighting.” – Healey’s First Law Of Holes: When in one, stop digging. ― Denis Healey

elements4health

Alone again in a cheap hotel room
The small TV flickering
The nasty images tempting
Putting my fate in the Pleasure of Pain

Been everywhere, feeling nothing
Trying to recover, going nowhere
On the sticky carpet falling
Putting my fate in the Pleasure of Pain

Fears from everywhere I hear
Muffled screams from the room next door
The dirty mirror reflecting
Putting my fate in the Pleasure of Pain

It’s all gone, money is low
One more call, one more go
The old a/c is struggling
Putting my fate in the Pleasure of Pain

Collapse, need to get out
Twist and turn from the pain
The phone light is blinking
Putting my fate in the Pleasure of Pain

Sounds exploding out of silence
Flinching in paranoid terror
So lonely, no one’s coming
Putting my fate in the Pleasure of Pain

This is fun? (no!) This is exciting? (tears fall)
This is what I live for? (deep sigh)
My future’s a pay by week hotel room (God…help me)
Putting my fate in the Pleasure of Pain

12152010

Restless

“I am so tired – so tired of being of being whirled on through all these phases of my life, in which nothing abides by me, no creature, no place; it is like the circle in which the victims of earthly passion eddy continually.” ― Elizabeth Gaskell, North and South 
forensicate
Exhausted, breathless from every chase
Every path comes back on itself
I’m no farther down the road
Then when I first began
Lessons learned but hard to follow
I repeat them again on this crazy journey
I suppose the simplicity of what I am
Is clearest in the darkness of wandering
If I’ve found one thing that’s sure and true
Peace is precious and hard to find
Harder to get and even harder to keep
If the wars on the outside put me in
The wars on the inside put me out
There is no rest and perhaps
That’s the next step
This rest that evades me
Will continue to hide
Until I find the peace
That cries in the night