life

Just some things to think about

Pelgris4 Comments

There isn’t a thing in this world I would not do for the people I love. I know all too well how easy it is to lose them. The world is not forgiving. It takes and takes and you are considered fortunate to be the last person in your age group to be left standing. A dubious honor to be sure.

The older I get the more prized those that I love become, not because I love less people but because I find my love grows. It builds on itself. It spills out and touches more people than I ever imagined I could love. More people who I feel a kinship to. More people who I respect.

For all of that, someone who sees me as vital to their life eludes me. I find something to love in so many but I still feel alone. I think that is what galls me. I can’t be unique. There has to be someone searching as hard for me as I do for them, right?

Maybe that is the hardest lesson. No matter how much we want, how much we need, how much we strive, there is always going to be something we cannot achieve, cannot find, cannot help.

This doesn’t mean that we don’t endeavor. It just means that we need to accept that there is a chance that we will fail. And that’s OK too

I’m tired of being

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I would very much like it if a paramour would ask me out. Would say you’re interesting, want to be with me? I’m so tired of choosing and after a time falling and thinking that this person wants me as I want them and being wrong each time. I’m tired of putting myself out there and seemingly wanted then dropped like they grasped a adder. I’m tired of falling for the ones I can’t be with. Tired that only the ones that are safely taken have the least bit interest in me. Tired, just tired. I don’t want to have to be the strong one, the chooser, the asker all the time. It is exhausting.

I thought I’d found her. Got to know bits and pieces over 3 months, told her I was interested in more, that I was falling in love and wonder of wonders she said she was too, 6 weeks later she was gone. Off living her life like I was nothing. This isn’t “beating a dead horse”. This is me struggling to understand. What did I do? What didn’t I do? Was it the way I did it? I NEED to know the why’s. I NEED to know the intricacies. I cannot learn, cannot grow without that information. And in the absence of a long talk with her, I have only the pieces I have. So my mind goes over and over and over again each piece. Attempting to glean new information. Consider me posting a way of clearing out a bit of the debris from the process. Maybe it’s not interesting, maybe you don’t want to see me in pain. But it is necessary. It is how I work through things and come out stronger. Leaving things unexamined in the past, only feels ok in the immediate. In effect though, it’s like leaving unstable unexploded ordinance all over your psyche.

I know it’s not interesting to read. It’s not entertainment. I write stories for entertainment. Listen to one or read Pel and Sara. My poetry is art. I hope to strike a resonant chord. I hope to affect my reader. My thoughts are just that, thoughts. Maybe there will be value, maybe not. It’s all process.

I have a more than 2 year back catalog of poetry and stories like Why or Cubicle.
Hopefully those will tide you over while I’m getting a handle on developments in my life. 

Freedom is hard won

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About 2 months ago I made a realization that a burden I was carrying from the death Of my Morgan, was not mine to carry.  That realization has set me free. The endless cycle of depression has been broken. I still feel sad sometimes but that’s normal. I did everything I could for Morgan. Her death is not my fault. So I am complete. Whole for the first time in years. Able to be the person I was back then, but more. Having learned introspection, learned compassion and many other things.  I stand ready at the dawn of a new day.

Down in the funk

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I have no thoughts I have not thunk
No feelings I have not felt
And no words I have not written
I’m sitting here in neutral waiting for a push or a pain, or a new, or a kiss
Just something other than the same or the old, I’ve done these things alone
Let me see it with new eyes
Walk with me awhile

Gifts at twilight

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the world as it is not mine to give
so I’ll give you my self and make of it a world in which to live.

There’s choices beyond my control
And life takes us turning
But it’s all just this yearning
This burning
This foolish heart

Joy and time

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Why is the portrayal of the ideal life so bland? Go to college, get a career, find a spouse, get married, live in a house with the character of a showroom, be happy but not too happy, love but do so quietly,  steady, have a child, foster that child’s realistic hopes, child repeats the cycle, in middle age go to Bali and find that life is good and find that life is worth the sacrifices. 

It is so bland.  If this is what you want then fine, do as you want.  I would normally say do as you desire but can someone living this way have desires?  The most exciting thing in their lives is that fantasy or that illicit affair.  I suppose that’s judgemental.

Give me fire and passion.  Love messy and sweet and out loud. Unabashed, unafraid. Find art in life, find beauty in the world.  Live for your friends, enjoy the journey not the destination.  Listen to music, make your own. Sing even if you are terrible at it.  Find the people who resonate, dance and scream. Be present in the moment, feel the world around you. Break free from all confinement, make love, have sex, drink and eat.  Have rules but make them your own, make them be based in the things most important to you.  Will you change the world from unrepentant same to multicolor? A life affected. Be sad, be angry but move forward.  The happy times flow faster, let the bad times go by too.  And always, always seek. Be it love or beauty, your passion or your dreams.  We have no choice but to travel forward into the future, but we can choose how we step.

Stream of consciousness

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Set adrift, spin round, paper boat on the wide sea, drift tide pulling back to launch,full circle, accomplishments lost to anonymity, lamentations for a life lived as others cannot understand, foreign and exotic, what to explain and what to leave behind, stories and thoughts lived in other lives, explain a piece that feels incomplete, justify passion, wonder at your touch, then dropped, more puzzled than sad, quizzical, what I write disconnected at times to how I feel, consciousness streamed through a leaking sieve, I think back and you certainly left an impression, bloody damn memory based in touch, I remember damn near every moment with you, and others whom I did love only get fragments, I’d love a second chance to fuck you, this time in a room less cold, spin top, drink wine, play the games we promised, never ask for a fantasy I haven’t tried, there are so few, ask for what I desire with you, you’ll not be disappointed, oh recent past stands out, past people can understand, past that doesn’t involve a whip, a lash, blood and screams, her desire was singular and my desire to give her all coupled well, I owned her and out of selfishness failed her, and every day since is a curse, I died as she did that day, I just didn’t lay down, I’d seek redemption but I don’t deserve it, faltered once in my ideals, will never falter again, this makes me strange and twisted, sexual sensual, a walking talking mixed signal, sex and lust: kiss and touch but never far enough until love, by which time everyone has since flown, sex as a good time, belittles us, makes mockery of its beauty, can you not love as I love, just a bit of time to fall then you’ll have all of me, love need not be permanent, immutable, love me this night and for three nights, fall as I fall, we need not be the whole of each other’s world’s, but we should be more than just a orgasm

I want (obverse) explained

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I walked into work and saw what looked like a kool-aid packet on my desk. I thought nothing of it and for several hours it just sat there. I took a look and it was fun dip, themed for valentine’s day from her. What does this mean? A conciliatory gesture? Some kind of olive branch. It ached to see even this little gesture from her. But no words, just her name. I hoped she didn’t think “it’s been long enough, try to reconnect?!” she hadn’t, she gave them to everyone and didn’t that hurt worse? That I mean so little, that I’m just like everyone else. I would have preferred nothing to this. And my mind keeps going over it, she gave me cherry and everyone else seemed to get razzle berry, does that mean something? I’m grasping at straws looking for any meaning, any chance. This is what prompted “I want… (obverse)”. I’m not in the same place I was but you blindside me 2 days before Valentines day and I’m going to have a reaction.

The well worn path

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What shall I be in the aventine days
Between tread and light
Drunk on powers leavings
Sip wine of pleasures keeping
Lost to decadence turning

But wake
Wake wanderer, your journey begins in ends
Wake wanderer, the path of blood opens
It sings down the skein of mortal years
Waking become a vessel

Stand
And stand
between
Neither darkness nor light
But shadow drawing strength from the juxtaposition

Wake and bound to service
Wake to a world
Found forgotten, echos all that remain
But
In fury
Wake anew

One bleeds into another

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And I wherein a candle make
In shadow,
shrift down
drift and dive
The split, the fain

Dagger dance
Twist and drink
The dragon road burns
A song drifts in sleeps melody
Waking the dreamers

Rain falls upward
Defiance and fealty
Sink low in bog
In tavern creel

Bound traveler
Bound sorrow
Wings unfurled