To Not Fade Away...

I guess I have changed. I am not the same. I was dark and grim and moody and strange but now I have changed... I am still all those things but in a different way, as if all of those things had some kind of hope to them... a light patina of hope before. I don't know but today I am different, and today I feel different. I am more invisible then ever before... even to her.
I guess I have changed. I am not the same. I was dark and grim and moody and strange but now I have changed... I am still all those things but in a different way, as if all of those things had some kind of hope to them... a light patina of hope before. I don't know but today I am different, and today I feel different. I am more invisible then ever before... even to her.

Age is a strange thing. Most people say it means nothing but until you are there it is hard to speak about in an informed way. My bones ache and my skin has taken on this transparency, or translucence that is so strange. It is hard not to feel that one is not fading away. Somehow in ways you can see the future if only in the fact that you have seen so many thing happen over and over… patterns repeat and the inevitable happens, people change and fade away… fade from view and we all become memories… forgettable, and I lay my head down on my pillow again and wonder why it must be. I don’t have to die for my life to pass before my eyes, I have to live. I listen to the sounds of longing, and they are soft breezes in my ears. Emptiness again and the soft echo of a voice so familiar saying they always leave. You are alone and people change and they grow and they… go.

I was getting so used to alone almost accepting it and believing I did not need anyone and then… and no matter what I realize the grasses have grown and the garden is lush and I have been given so much., but I feel so lost.

This Dead Stair

Pools of cold time
now the fragile
moments are done
the special times
are gone... as am I
these few breathes
that are left
I wonder,
will I come home
the home I know
there is.

Dark Roads That Go...

I don’t know roads.
Only ditches that are left
I don’t know paths
only the weeds where
stolen innocence ferment
I don’t know highways
only cold shoulders
where a lonely heart dies
We could say there were
much brighter days now
if it would in some way

make you feel better, if hope will spring, but the grass greens,
only from tears that never hide, in pretty dances, of your last sight,
these eyes remain open, not to fear or fright, only to see that which,
will never be the same, in the perfect moment, of this silent movie frame

Taste of Souls

We had been down these roads before, my friends and I. Drinking sprees dragging our passed out brethren to the Oldsmobile after they puke all memory of the night along the side of the road. Not a bad choice when you missed all the fun because you could not control your urge to bury it all. I had many nights like that and many chances and dreams swept away in a tide of vomit and rolling eyes, those times never to come before me again. Pools of stench I just as soon had been too slathered to remember.But this night was different, one of alones and cold, blowing trees and sounds. Sounds one doesn’t look forward to at least not when one is alone. As if the source of the sound knows what you have done and it follows you just beyond the last few footsteps in the snow. Horror movies in the cold I remember hiding under beds, footie pajamas shiver. Still miles to go before you can wash off the stains that you know will never go away. The kind you think people can smell when you enter the room… not foul but frightening to the souls. Inherent primordial fear they smell from a past that comes down from caves of anger, firelight rages, fur and clubs blood and bone. They smell there end even if they are not in your sights, they smell what only you know the truth about. The guilt could push you over the edge but you know better. You can only be guilty if you gave a damn. But right now you just need to make it out… out of the cold away from the trees. Still miles to go and you can taste someone elses soul as you long for warm liquids that burn away memories of flowing color, color that no man wants to see… the color of fear.

I asked you a question once
Or twice
But you never answered
I greeted your bright morning
so many shines
But you never woke
And then those clouds
I remember, start to roll
The way they always do
The way I always hoped they would
Softly crawling across that panorama
I thought I saw a sign one day
An omen
Then I remembered
I did not believe in omens
Or signs
Or anything beyond the surface
Of these green and blue layers
That lasting moments
Or, tender seconds were just
A fleeting breath
They were not mine
Anymore then this dream
That I hoped I could hold

This Place That I Lay

It was the last falling. The moments slowed to a crawl much slower than the grass could grow.I felt warmth finally but only in my eyes and my groin. A dampness with no stain.Inside my shell going colder fast.I would say this prayer she taught mebut I forgot to whom.The quaint fairy tales I remember, part of me deep, so deep they lay partially submerged in green mist. The rain was such a soft sound as it puddles on my side.It washes my tears into fertile ground seeds they wait. Will I disappear? Will I be remembered for anything? Does it matter, I think not for these tiny organisms reach up into me with tiny sting of longing...for something I wasted so long ago.

So about that good life...

Life in these United States is so wonderful with all of these incredible things and conveniences and stuff, stuff and more stuff. It is everywhere, and the comfort for those who live above the poverty line is like a dream if you actually can view it from a perspective that the rest of the world, or shall I say Third World, could see it. Now for those lucky enough to be in the middle class, they are so much farther above anything known in third world countries, beyond what most villagers or your average Afghani child could ever imagine. I was holding Neo the other day and the blanket was so soft and he was in my arms so perfectly nestled and I thought about my existence. I thought about babies in Afghanistan or Sierra Leon or Somalia. I wonder how warm they are in the arms of those who love them? I think about these conveniences because it seems almost like a dream that my family and I have been so blessed. But these things… it seems like overkill. Maybe they think that flooding me with all these consumable and by the sheer volume of it all that the odds are I will buy SOMETHING and make this blitz worth it to them profit-wise. I am sure that by the incredible penetration into the lives of so many consumers they are reaping a flood of profit. By now, maybe there is a different motive here. Five hundred channels of infomercials on things I NEED!?! Most of these things are so absurd anyway or have so little meaning in my life. I become groggy just flipping the channels, and perhaps this is the intent, that I become more and more dull and unaffected by anything of any meaning (this will become clear later), nevertheless what concerns me most about all of it is not so much MY LIFE and what I have gotten used to as a consumer, and what it would be like if it was reduced to a reasonable level or for that matter a very low level. You know that big fear we all have of losing things like the E! Channel or Plastic Surgery stories but, at what true cost do we live this way?The TV does not show me, after every Coke commercial or every Lexus ad, a child with a vulture lying in waiting for it to fall down unconscious. In the face of the AIDS pandemic and severe poverty, over 100 million of the poorest and most vulnerable primary school-aged children currently not in school cannot afford to wait any longer. Little known fact: the industrial nations have made a commitment to eliminate world illiteracy by 2017 (primary school only). The UK has donated already 1.4 billion dollars and committed 15 billion over the next 10 years. The USA has committed only 465,000; the USA share of the commitment is 3.7 billion. [link] If all these commitments were made then the goal would be reached, but it seems there are much more pressing needs for the US. Third world countries and their resources are essential for the people in the west to continue to enjoy their “standard” of living. The diamonds that have been extracted from the continent of Africa could feed all the nations on that continent for eternity. The diamonds that are advertised by DeBeers when they say “A diamond is forever”, well, that slogan takes on a whole new meaning. What an expression of love, I shall give the woman I love a diamond extracted from the misery of an entire continent. Mexico's rich, ruling elite fantasize about being like American rich people. They do everything they can to mimic our way of life, while their poor rot and starve and struggle to feed one child. America supports this ruling class, giving them all the incentives to continue with no pressure to raise their citizenry to tolerable living conditions. The American public is made to feel that we should despise the people trying to sneak into this country to have a better life when our own government has supported the corruption of the government in Mexico. Of course they want to come here, what other hope do they have? Behind every wonderful convenience we have here in America is the suffering of someone, the sacrifice of another. It is hard to imagine not having all these wonderful things and not building our futures around such a lifestyle, but when we realize how all this is an illusion and behind it is the suffering of others and we just let corporate proxies do our dirty work, it becomes much like a juicy steak; we enjoy eating it but don't realize the brutality in the creation of it. We would much rather someone else do our butchering.