Tag Archives: life

Windswept


Windswept I,
Gaze upon an unforgiving sky
Indifferent to me and mine.
It is kind to me,
But not because it cares,
The blue sky apathetic
To the way I stare.
Wind blows,
But does not speak to me
Although I hear its words.
I know,
On the waves of this raucous green sea,
I will remember nothing,
And no one will remember me.

Questioning Illusions


We cannot trust one more, one less,
We cannot trust ourselves unless, We accept this dream for what it seems.
We must embrace, then, what it brings.
Dream or reality? Who can tell, does it matter
When dreams themselves do not bother to flatter?
They do not think, they do not feel!
For heavens sake they aren’t even real!
What are dreams but reality only the dreamer can touch?
And what is an illusion if not then viewed as such?
These are questions. These are things
That define us, it would seem.
Not the answer, but the search,
And all we find there in between.

Dancing Into Dying

Shattered dreams in streams of light
Falling from dying stars in their delight.
One end of the universe fades away forever
And at its center, false hope while drifting into the never.
The nevermore befooled by those
Who into the cosmos would suppose,
Beyond an illusory dreaming and repose,
That one can find self in this shattered light?
Shattered sight and blinding fright
Are chosen not for favor bought
Falsly from an unforgiving reaper
Who take those sooner who wish for fewer for others and name the nameless night.
Abyss unto abyss and beneath this on your cheek a kiss,
For I’ll knowingly befoul the nihilism in my soul
For one hour of giving you my whole
Heart. Then while the universe around us dances into dying,
Hold me close and you I’ll hold closer flying,
Into that endless night.
Then there’s no reason that we fail to be
When eternity shall stand witness before us while we forever see.

Dreamer in a Dream

When the dreamer can only see what his dreams allow,
When the mortal can only be
What through their minds can plow,
The dreamer wakes to realize
That all his dreams may seem
Only what his conscious mind
Would safely want to see.
This illusion of a dream
And the night that takes us there,
The illusion of the daylight
And the waking time spent bare.
We are the makings of what dreams we see before fading into rust.
A dream within a dream? No matter. We’ll all soon turn to dust.

An Overexposure to Flesh

An overexposure to flesh,
A sensation not unlike the rest.
Once caught up in the scheme of things,
The world is seen for what it seems.
And just like that and then it’s over,
We’ll get no help from this four-leafed-clover
To love and be loved before we’re dead
Is the purpose that’s placed on our heads.
This is our only concern and not to live longer.
To love all who we can while our hearts become stronger.
This toxic covering, us, into mortals make,
Turning what little time there is into a more precious take.

Nihilistic Optimism

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Life is pain and then you die.
Why should I bother to even try?
Days pass by quickly,uncaring.
They do not ask how I am fairing.
It makes no difference, this or that.
It won”t take much to see where I’m at,
In the ocean cold.
Slowly sinking, grasping soul.
Treading water just prolongs,
My end, the bottom, where I belong.

But life is joy before you die!
And joy and love! Still we cry.
Something so fickle and sweet as life
Becomes fermented and stale with time.
One should not wish it to be forever
That it should continue, ending never.
We all end up at the bottom it’s true
Before then I’ll be with you,
Spending the happy hours,
Loving, laughing, avoiding sour
Looks and words that would stain
Our souls if from within they came.

Let the day pass by so quickly!
I’ll not be one who, sickly,
Sits and waits and wastes the time,
What little we have, like a slime,
Trapped on the edge of the ocean, not in it,
Not loving life, but afraid of it.
Life is pain and darkness frightening,
The end comes quickly before the ripening.
In this small time, I’ll make the most
Never fearing the inevitable ghost.
No sorrow in death. It is and it must.
Then we live on, after first turning to dust.

A Burial of Youth

The old, too tired to dig the graves
Required by their sons they couldn’t save.
Left behind instead of leaving,
There is a sorrow first conceiving
Anger, and then the bitter taste
Of youths absence, such a waste.
We’re left to linger, this should not be!
This day was meant for younger eyes than me!
In this evening there are no words.
In this moment the past and future confer,
And those who remain will be loved a little more,
We’ll hold them closer than we ever did before.

This was written in dedication to my friend who recently lost her youngest son. I’ve seen too many children buried by their parents in my time and it’s always a tragedy and never easier to deal with.