Awaken the Statue

All credit for the image to Conscious Reminder

Etched ink drawn out in scars so colorful and deep they collapse the night around them,
I stare at them, on my arms, on my chest, on my fingers, on my neck,
this collection of reminders I wear to remind me of experiences,
they are my gateway to recall, to the moments that shaped me, that broke and remolded me.

Memories pour across the neurons, a kaleidoscopic whirl of time merging from past to present,
let me bathe inside the warmth of the smiles, the haloed intensity of each saturated moment,
let me wander determinedly into the shadows of loss, the grief, the regrets, the mistakes,
let me step boldly now across the insanity, the passions, the desires, the absences, and the half forgotten faces.

Take me to the sculpting block where all the roads merge to one, where stone is chipped with experience,
where the cracks define the figure and are the map into my soul, the escape route for my heart.
Let me see the tools we used, from tormented days to breathless ecstasy, from fear to love, from madness to peace,
all the fractured chunks on the floor, finally appreciated for the masterful strokes the universe wielded.

Walk me toward this newfound person, chiseled from the inside and the out to become a reality,
able to see and be seen fully without the cloak of mystery that all raw material has.
It took decades, it took patience, it took heartbreak, it took courage, it took honesty, it took determination,
it took error after error, it took forgiveness, it took deliberation, it took choices, it took exhaustion.

It took every painstaking moment, every particle of hope, and every bout of confusion to get to this moment.
Etched ink drawn out in scars, paint that will never be removed on flesh that yearned so desperately for meaning,
reminders of where it all began, and the journey to where I sit today. Grateful for the path,
mindful of what it cost me and those that entered the studio of my life, open to the light the bathes this world,
in love with existence and the chance to shine bright enough that others may find their way out of the dark.





Bleak Waves

I want to crawl out of my own skin and jump through a plate glass window, I want to sob until there’s nothing left. Instead I’m sitting here staring vacantly into nothingness again, mindlessly eyeballing the furniture and praying for some form of relief from the reminders. All the hopes smashed, all the dreams broken, all the might have beens. This has to get better right? I know I’ve left a trail of casualties who have endured the same through my own ineptitude and unwavering consistency in making the wrong choices. I keep asking myself the why of it all which is a surefire way to spiral down and out into nothingness. Maybe that’s where I’m headed for again, nothingness. Empty transitioning to the next stage of future. If I could wail it out I would, but there’s a limit to what I can tap at any given moment. “What the fuck Fred, this one got his wires crossed over again and now we’re dealing with the sizzling discharge.” Waves it seems, fucking waves and buried in the absence of my constant companion and closest friend I thought. What do I know about shit, I’m still just running blindly forward while trying to find my way in the dark.

Fabric of Love

If I could spin the words out into something cheerful then a magician I’d be,
instead of a lout on the other side of the board finally staring at a world beyond madness,
Where all the little mockeries and cruel moments would have been nothing but whispers in the air,
because we would have arrived at some place better and far from here.
In the end the poison did its work, and all that venom ran its course.
Rainbows to shadows and unflinching whiplashes all around,
carving each other to nothing when all we wanted to do was be free.
There’s a price we pay for knowledge, and a price we pay for love.
Sincerity at its finest sometimes runs across the mirk and mire layered so deep,
into the shadow places where we fear to walk, don’t dare to tread our feet.
And if I said a thousand times I loved you it wouldn’t change a thing,
our words were tools to sculpt each other into what we wanted,
never looking at the inward mess that turned each of us into fodder.
With veil unbound those shadow teams will play,
their unbridled enthusiasm for pushing buttons with words and silence as their flays.
Maybe we all need a bit, those momentary hells,
and then again we walk in sun, share happiness that swells.
Theirs purity in the essence of this dance,
though its ugly and full of lies.
This time maybe we will both learn the lesson and stand apart on high.
So even if I have a thousand words all laced with fear and hurt and dread,
the truth of it is they do no good when I chase them through my head.
I’m dancing now to the loss and sadness that I don’t know you feel,
it feels a sick and mocking truth to know that I’m the heel.
But in those moments, when I didn’t doubt myself,
I had such joy that I stayed trapped and waited to be engulfed.
Abandon life when you walk the road determined not to stray,
give up the world to sniff off of a tray.
I hold such wanton disgust at the man I’ve been, the weakness you helped me see,
I should have walked out that door so much sooner rather then have us both polluted,
kindness in a temporary misery.
For all the laughs and all the smiles, and the moments that I know were maybe less an act,
I loved you then and I’ll love you in a bitter way all bound up in the dreams that were,
but it’s time to leave this class.
For all the damage that I wrought,
the callous moments when you twisted that knife in deep and I did the same,
regret is there and I’m damaged brand new from all those marks of shame.
Today I’ll take the blessings, even from the lurkers who shift and hide,
the world is new and hearts will heal,
I have to believe that even if I don’t right now.
There are angels in the darkness,
and monsters with beautiful faces,
underneath our unshorn wings,
love and stubbornness have taken me to most unwelcome places.
No longer a child and not quite a man,
I’m forging a path brand new,
I’ll own my side of the equation because that’s apparently what to do.
Less words then actions needed, and I think that’s just the way.
Someone dear told me once that my shine was going to rust away.
So for all the moments, the hopes and the family dreams,
thank you for the efforts you made, and for all the screams.
I wish I made you happier, had broken through the rage,
but I know now you never really were mine to have,
so I’ll be thankful for what you gave.
To the friends I haven’t met,
and those that have seen me sink,
I’ll love your presence in my life,
so much more now that I’m alive at last I think.
Maybe overt optimism,
and I’m sure it’s been a good show,
it’s off to write something that I can be proud of on my own,
with respect and honor for the past and all the ills that came before.
I never know what to say, I get cerebral with all this shit.
I’ll take it with a grain of salt, and recognize I’m learning despite and because of it.
Peace go with you all in the next refrain, we’ll see what comes up next,
I may never have wanted this path, but I’m the one who chose it.
There’s a story to change, and smiles to bring, maybe some that are real at last,
and if I’m the only one sitting there giggling, well, I don’t learn fast.
Best wishes and kisses to you masterful folks,
and the hateful scum amongst.
Love you through the paralysis and the crazy days,
when I couldn’t trust my guts.
I’m going to cut the strings I’ve held for so long learn to laugh and trust myself.
Be well in your own truths.

Gods Wearing Your Skin

All credit to Alex Grey – Artist for his work Bicycle Day.

Burn a fire from where the sparks smolder
let it flourish and ignite the keys you hold.

A world awaits your heated breath,
your liquid sunshine to conquer death.

Embolden your soul in the light you cast,
shine so bright we use it as a guide up the mast.

Fly full figured as the waves crash by,
what doesn’t breaks you is more than to be survived.

This journey started at first inhalation,
it doesn’t end until you join the larger machination.

Draw in that fresh and beautiful air,
fill your spirit until it bursts with love and care.

Have courage in what you are,
a god in people clothing if you dare.

The roads here are infinite and varied,
you walk with them split while finding a life to marry.

You’ll never know your power until you seek it out,
find that fountain of strength to draw it up in a shout.

The world needs your vision and your story,
share it proudly, every second wasted you just tarry.

Dreams fly here,
on the winds of passion,
joy soars here,
in the lakes within your eyes.
Peace roars here,
welcoming you home at last.

We missed you.

Attached to Nothing

All credit for image goes to Rhymesketcher42 @ DeviantArt.

Sweet one with your love so pure,
child stumbling in shadowed fear,
never knowing the right words to speak,
grasping for someone to assure.

You’re seen there in the dark,
space where monsters thrive and hunt.
Nightmares become reality,
you sketch dreams of life with chalk.

No one knows until they know,
though it seems so clear after the fact.
Hard to swallow when nature calls on you to trust,
those larger ones that act yet reap nothing that they sow.

Those distant memories are not such dust,
history and answers with eyes turned in,
never thought I’d see you again,
it was time for the work and at last it was a must.

Let me hold you under glowing stars,
as we watch them dance to the music of infinity,
let me hold you in their friendly glow,
we will sing songs and clean the pain that mars.

You’ve been lost to the ocean of time between,
found at last with a message of hope.
Forgiveness for something you never intended,
it wasn’t your fault, the directors flawed the scene.

Welcome home sweet one with your love so pure,
I’ll wipe your tears and shed my own,
its been forever since you knew where to find a home.
We have a family, and ourselves, this is no lure.


Thank you for keeping alive a spark,
you have it now, a life to live, and a truth to build.
Thank you for finding your way back to me,
lets attach to ourselves,
get ready to do this right and begin from where we start.

Pandemic Inside/Pandemic Outside

Cantankerous, walloping headache from hell,
comes driven on words sweeping born from the fell.
If now is the darkness that blocks out the curs,
then drive, devil, drive to blot our their slurs.
With skull thrashing and blood pumping so loud,
it’s hard to think with the internal noise like a crowd-
mocking, bantering, shuttling words,
as feet shuffle and wisdom flies off with the birds.
Never knowing from whence it was born,
scratching echoes from those blissful days we all yearn.
Pandering blasphemous gasps for sweet air come at last,
now that the sound stops and you care for what has come,
gone, and now passed.

Violence in the Daytime

All credit to UCA News for the image.

Interpersonal dynamics with a radon bomb baby. Burning it straight down to the ground, scream at me like this whole one sided diatribe has become nothing but a song. I hate that our hands touched with venom grasped tight in fists. Cruelty measured in blood ,bruises and spit. Sex without the pleasure and no one ever comes. Where are the guidelines for this shit? I’m no masterpiece and my words sometimes seek wound instead of ears. Verbal lacerations that excite the darkness in both of us until the monster’s out and there’s no going back. Channel that stunner of a mother fucker, find ourselves in prisons far more concrete than the inside of our skulls and with far less forgiving guards. Wasting away, lost to hope and life forever…why? What was gained? I don’t ever dare to ask the other question…what was lost?

Extinguished Rhymes for a Dark Nursery

Smile.

Tremble, baby, tremble,
come gnattering at my door,
the last I heard the story told
I found myself the whore.
Through dancing devils and despair,
where rainclouds covered black,
we’ll smoke these cigarettes this eve
talk only of the facts.
While vapor mists exfoliate,
come wrapping round my lungs,
tell me, oh, my dearest one,
from where do nightmares come?
In that lingering silence,
where faces seek to fade,
electric will the tension sit,
my question on display.
Clever feelings will run loose
till they gather heads of steam,
together waiting for the rush to burst
rip loose like Satan’s scream.
Forever tick the seconds,
into idly running dust,
I know not why the torment,
but darling, dearest, I just must.
Sincerity is cleanliness,
stops putrid stains from spread,
but Botticelli had more words
from his canvases so dead.
Stoke the embers of your heart,
go on, let the pyre burn,
never is a long time from now
and it currently is your turn.

Spinning Stories

Hearts, and the trips beyond.

If I could spin the story right,
I’d make it full of colors-
every one imaginable,
and a few no one had ever seen.

If I could spin the story right,
there would be less insanity,
more quiet moments
where the peace seeped in.

If I could spin the story right,
the damage would be less severe,
memories would still be intact
with a heavy disposition to cheer.

If I could spin the story right,
there would be unfaltering love
with the mettle of each character
unbreakable and durable as steel.

If I could spin the story right,
there would be more smiles,
less wincing at the world,
joy would be realized more often.

If I could spin the story right,
we wouldn’t be here today.
The journey that walked this trail
home to you, was longer than long,
fraught with pain beyond compare,
a longing for something more.

The story was spun just right,
for here we stand.

Learning

To show a visual representation of the learning process and what it feels like.
Thought cloud, dizzy to be acquiring so much no knowledge at times.

Play often with the boundaries inside you head
before they harden into labyrinthine walls.
Doubt the truth of what you know dear one,
for nothing is ever so simple as it may seem.
When the philosopher writes such common tongue
as “I think therefore I am,” dig deeper into
understanding what is meant. Uncoil the beauty
of knowledge shared and questions expanded.
That uncomfortable pressure inside your brain
is nothing more than the price of admission
to a world of creative and well intended information,
each and every bit, a treasure in its own way.