Back To Back

“You may not remember the time you let me go first.
Or the time you dropped back to tell me it wasn’t that far to go.
Or the time you waited at the crossroads for me to catch up.
You may not remember any of those, but I do and this is what I have to say to you:

Today, no matter what it takes,
we ride home together.”
Brian Andreas, Traveling Light: Stories & Drawings for a Quiet Mind

 

weheartit
Back to back that’s how we started,
fighting the whole world, we never parted.
Then came new life, shafts in the quiver.
We fired them off, our crops never withered.
Along came the wolf, death he swore.
He limped and lied to get through the door.
He consumed you with his intellectual abandon,
my back now unguarded, my heart saddened.
I tried for months to retake the hallowed ground,
but you were too far gone, never to be found.
Lost and spinning, exposing my nakedness,
I struggled grimacing, my life hard pressed
Then I saw her, evil disguised as purity.
Face of an angel, a heart that wasn’t free.
I came to her with my intentions pure,
she cast one glance, it was over for sure
All the passion I wished you to use,
now you found it, she was your muse
I drove on, looking at you secretly,
asking me to stay, your nakedness I see
To late, like fire spreading on water,
she flowed freely, around all your barter
Driving on into my own peril,
she would slay me with just one arrow
Entranced by her wiles, I followed her to hell,
but my back not guarded, I swiftly fell.
Barely I survived, held under the water of pain,
my lungs bursting to breath love again
Fire scorched and burned through all my nerves,
it never went out, smoldering in the curves
Struggling to gain ground, to get back to back again,
Back to back one day, I long for my friend.

Also published in Broowaha
08072010
 

Alone –

 Imaginary lovers
Never turn you down
When all the others turn you away
They’re around
It’s my private pleasure
Midnight fantasy
Someone to share my
Wildest dreams with me” 

 

DreamWind

I’d do anything to keep from being alone, pay any price, be used to the “nth” degree and never say a word. Being used is better than being alone but it stings knowing the object of my affection will hurt me, maim my spirit, and destroy my forward progress. Still, I follow hard after her, giving all to maintain that relationship and avoid the terrors of being alone. What compromises have I willing conceded to? What violations of my self-esteem and personal space have I allowed for unrequited affection? What tortures has my heart been through, my body feeling the wretch of emotions that sets my nerves on fire? Being addicted, not to a substance, but to a world of egocentric affection that I’ve created by taking the object of my affection and embellishing her to a fantastic degree. I should know better, I do know better. The voices of friends and family, concerned that I am “being used”, try to slap me awake. Ignoring their advice, pushing away the voice of truth, I continue to live a world that only I see. Go away you bearers of truth, you wreckers of dreams, this is my world, I will not see it in your light! I take my script and apply it haphazardly, patching up the holes in the dike containing my empty dreams. Eagerly lapping up my lack of self-control and willful delusion, the protagonist in my play continues to feed my world of facades with empty compliments, cool affections, and eyes empty of love.  One day I’ll wake up and grab hold of myself, one day I’ll acknowledge this self-imposed hell, one day…but for now, I look at her and imagine how she loves me.

Also published in Broowaha

012112

No Blame –

“When I get lonely these days, I think: So BE lonely, Liz. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person’s body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.”
Elizabeth Gilbert,
Eat, Pray, Love
“All great and precious things are lonely.” ― John Steinbeck, East of Eden
society–killed–the–teenager
When I complain about being alone I have a person, an event, or self deprecating fault in mind as to the cause of this loneliness. I want to blame something. It’s because so and so left me, or my parents didn’t raise me right, or I’m so (insert self deprecating comment) that no one wants me. I’ve learned a lesson in the last few weeks as I ruminated over this and realized that there are times when it’s meant for me to be alone. There’s no one to blame, fate and divinity have ordained it. There is nothing I can do to stop it, it must be endured. I’ll be betrayed, forsaken, abandoned, used, lied about, or just plain left alone by all my friends and family. It’ll happen to me and you regardless of where we are or our social standing. Fighting against it by coercing companionship or drowning the feeling with substances or mindless activity only prolongs the agony, for unless I accept this solitary moment and let it work the work that needs to be done, I’m forestalling my personal growth, spiritually and inwardly, i.e. there are times when I need to be alone.
The flip side is -it hurts and it’s tough to persevere. I need swallow this bitter pill and go on to a more palatable existence but I’m not sure if I’m ready to accept my own advice as I struggle through the agony of each moment, plagued by tears and a deep ache in my stomach. It’s harder to live the truth than to know it.
First Published in Opinions Of Eye

P.O. –

“He who has never tasted jail Lives well within the legal pale, While he who’s served a heavy sentence Renews the racket, not repentance.”
Ogden Nash, I’m a Stranger Here Myself
other-ways-to-live
Rough your way intruded on me
Now your way’s what I want to be
So take your give and know that I
Will always care for your girl Shy
Only bars prevented this
All your girls beggin’ shit
Thinking that I’d make all this up
but you knew, we’d all shut up
Dresses and letters to all your friends
Everything you wanted that’s how it ends.
And now my hell is left without you.
Turning my PO world to blue…
Also published in Broowaha
 
First published in Opinionsofeye.com

Rings and Tears –

 “Sometimes you think you’ve found love, when it’s really just one of those objects that are shiny in a certain light–a trophy, say, or a ring, or a diamond, even. Glass shards, maybe. You’ve got to be careful, you do. The shine can blind you.” 
 
relghamry
I gave you gold and diamond rings
I know that their just pretty things
But behind the glitter and the gleam
they meant more to me than to you it seemed
Being willing to hold you forever
I showed you a tender glimmer
Lights shining on rings your holding
They were only rings you told me
(tears)
nothing less, nothing more
(tears) First published in Opinionsofeye.com

06052013

Cruel – My body wears her marks –

 “People speak sometimes about the “bestial” cruelty of man, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel.” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky
“True beauty is something that attacks, overpowers, robs, and finally destroys.”
Yukio Mishima
 
ladyjordison
Cruel her whips of love,
Holding hands in chains
Giving a slap and shove
Cruel her feet lead away
Left with a subtle kiss
Leather and studded sway
Cruel her hands choke and rub
Enduring eager strokes
With angry slick gloves
Cruel her wet licks on thighs
Stains of lips and teeth
Bring to head deep sighs
Cruel the game she plays
In the morning lights glow
Tortured memories remain
First published in Opinionsofeye.com
05192013

Fulcrum –

“There is darkness inside all of us, though mine is more dangerous than most. Still, we all have it—that part of our soul that is irreparably damaged by the very trials and tribulations of life. We are what we are because of it, or perhaps in spite of it. Some use it as a shield to hide behind, others as an excuse to do unconscionable things. But, truly, the darkness is simply a piece of the whole, neither good nor evil unless you make it so.” ― Jenna Maclaine, Bound By Sin
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petitecem
Building my life on this fulcrum, everything I have hangs the precarious balance of needing you and needing to get away from you. Tainted is the air I breath and colored is the pain I have with the odorous stain of you. Pride bends low in wet mornings on foundation decks with those whose pain I’ve far surpassed. They’re hardened, unable to feel the pain anymore, as for me, I just got here, not so long ago, when the crucible of your hot irons scalded me into blind submission to you. I called my mother and asked her when the pain would stop, it’s been years since I’ve seen you. Yet, it’s like an hour ago I nursed the burns and savored the pleasure of you. Songs on the radio bring tears to my eyes, every sweet moment of tenderness I glimpse between lovers brings a knot to my throat, a wrenching in my gut, and a fresh trail of moist sorrow from my eyes that runs down my neck and seeps under my shirt. In the routine of living, where mourning was a stranger, are found new altars of sadness. Shaking from holding back the tears, the doctor says he can’t get the MRI to take a good picture. I’m partying with good friends, but I’m hollow, so I go outside for some fresh air and to shed more drops of missing you. They say, “Quit your whining. Jesus, everyone goes through shit!”, but you know, sometimes the shit just gets to be too much, too often, and too long. I’d not be the first strong one to break under the pressure of love gone wrong. I won’t break and to live isn’t hard, but to love you and love another is the tortuous path ahead of me and a balance I must achieve.
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Also published in Broowaha
First published in Opinionsofeye.com