Sonnet: Goodbye is the hardest word to write

My darling girl, we came so far as one
Now at the end, the bed begins to break
And joys we had begin to come undone.
To keep this up, we put so much at stake.

Throughout our time I always kept you close
So that the ache the world can bring would rest.
Apart, exposed to that which cuts the most,
That stab is by the hand that knows you best.

Will this end now, with views full of regret?
My love, I swear we had a cause to kiss.
The mirror keeps me wise lest I forget
Behind us lies so much we must not miss.

So let me go and leave an open door
To dreams where this will hurt us both no more.

Sonnet: Stand for something

Stand! The triumph of the winter cold comes
To blanket the voices, who can still sing?
For these dry times we must hear the war drums
The awe of vict’ry will rise before spring.
Will a champ’ion rise to stand for the right?
Or the weight now too heavy to push through?
Forced now to move under cover of night,
The faces of friends become much more few.
Cold gray skies offered as free from the burn
Sunshine sent off, but we miss those clear days.
It’s for that bright sun we faithfully yearn,
The thief steals bread, the owner always pays.
We spin even faster, things, they crash down,
Our culture asunder, where is God now?

Sweet dreams

To Jesus, to angels, be vices and lullabies
All sung ever sweet 'til dawn touches so lightly

But 'cross our dry eyes comes the unwelcomed morning
To rise from our dreams where we slept, never knowing.

Contemplation vs Action

Like the passing glances of fated lovers who
Wonder as they walk beyond what they wish to have said
Over their shoulders forever faded, unknown
Lives apart yet intertwined, betwixt never known regret.

A whisper into the ear of those beloved to
Tumble gently from guilted lips and wafted by twilight breeze
The stars above shimmer regardless of slumber
Drifting away divulgences, betwixt never known response.

Seasons

I watch the graceful arches of oak
Swaying in the still-uncertain breeze.
It's spring and so the birds and the sun and the bees are still welcome visitors.

Black bark melting into, meeting with green
The new only covers, never replaces.
This tumultuous cycle of season certainly plays with my emotions.

The beauty of spring is temporary fascination
The new before the new becomes the old.
Soon, you'll again watch when the leaves fall in their tight circles back to the below.

Underneath, what feels newly revealed feels empty
Underneath it was always there and you know.
You'll know this as you watch these leaves in fall, don't you forget that when the tears come.

I miss you.

It starts when you're not here
My hands rediscover my pockets as I walk.
Routine places that feel so new
Even my memories, you've changed them too.

The Question.

If I let her go, I know I will never get over her completely, she will always be the one I wish I could have ended up with. But if I don’t let her go, then she will miss out on the one that will do that for her.

Moral Relativism

One thing I see as a major hinderance to our culture today is the rapidly increasing shift in moral relativism. What this means is simple. In general, a culture defines it's morals (i.e. principles of right and wrong) based upon what is normal, otherwise known as social norms. In my own opinion, I think people fail to realize this fact, that what society deems normal is becoming more and more desensitized and conditioned by a variety of sources. Society's views of what constitutes normal beliefs in this decade vary greatly from what constituted normal 40 years ago. I believe this shift is ongoing, it will continue to push exponentially forward until it encompasses nearly everything. In other words, everything will be viewed as a social norm, nothing will become taboo, and therefore morality as a whole will no longer have meaning. We will be a society of hedonists, seeking only to fulfill our most basic needs, de-evolving to once again rejoin the animal kingdom.

Ignorance is bliss

Explanation is the enemy of imagination.

January

Sweet summer excitement exits so simply
And forgotten by January in so many hearts.
Wrapped so tightly in wool and by fireside
Excitement becomes anticipation of warmer days to come.
A chance for reflections when gazes meet flames
So serene and silent when touches fill senses.
Thoughts become smiles of shared memories
In the winter solace, finding peace and frozen air.

Drifting thoughts

Like roses drifting the turning tide
Always on the surface
Always nearby
Climbing up the grass and sand
Returning to the water
And to the sea
Red flowers coasting across the land
Make the ordinary wonderful
Keeping you close to me

People make you who you are

There is an ancient Chinese belief that everyone who is destined to meet is connected by a tiny red thread, so small that we never notice it, yet so strong that it never becomes broken. But when you connect to one of these people, you'll know, and realize how incredibly complex life plays its hand. Take time to look back and follow the string with your mind, admiring the intricacy of circumstances and situations that led you into their arms.





There are some things in life which happen and seem to never make any sense at the time. People you love making decisions for themselves which break your heart and force you to close your eyes and know the person from that point on only through memories. But these people are the ones who when they persevere through, overcome their obstacles, and emerge from their dark places, smiling, well they are the ones that show you what being truly proud to know someone feels like.








You always worry the most about those you don’t understand.










If you ever start to feel like you don’t know who you are anymore, just sit down and split a pitcher of beer with someone who has been beside you for years, you’ll be surprised how quickly those feelings go away.

Monday morning

Love is becoming thought of as a personality flaw, the ability to give yourself up to another is a weakness, the act of allowing anyone to see you lonely is unacceptable.

I’d like to say I never turn my back on anything, but really, there are some scary things out there.

Diary found

I found an old diary entry from the summer that I thought I would share:

I found myself doing something the other day I hadn’t done in so long. It was one of those things you forget that you forgot about. It was replaying conversations in my head. I quit doing it for a while, but I am not sure why, and now I remember that I used to do it all the time, just as I am now. Why does one person cause me to sit and recite silently an already issued dialogue? Am I planning the next day, trying to discover the person’s feelings, or simply doing it because it reminds me of her?

Verses

Reactor Number 4 -a piece of my family heritage and a reminder of a tragic disaster.

Cold air, waiting for the sun to set, the candles near the flame lights the city’s streets ablaze. Can you hear all the birds cry though the sun should be shining from midday high? Lights out. The towns all sit in ruin now, the dead still sleep in thousands. The children show burns at birth, the damage done is still to come. Forget the names of neighbors you know, in days ahead they’ll be left behind. Kiss the lips of those you love, in days to come they’ll leave and never return.


Thought Control- The ones telling us who to be are only trying to entertain. But is that ok?

And now you’ve given away all your choice. You close your eyes and blindly obey, well that’s your choice. Welcome to today. We live through a voice, coming from a satellite array, do you still have your voice? Going up or coming down, it spins around, the changes remain. We’re on a wheel, set to a plane, soon never to rise or think again. All you’ll endure and all you’ve found truth in, I hope it keeps you around.


Sunglasses- Emotions are always a roller coaster when they're real.

You were always what I wanted, you were always too good for me. Though I loved the sun in your eyes, it was so blinding that I couldn’t see. I’m sorry for the tears you cried, the wet pools were formed over me. And I loved the sun in your eyes, even as they fell into a sea. Some may say they look to the sky as the night comes over the day. I love the sun in your eyes and how dark it will be if you go away.


Andrew- Perseverence coupled with an open mind do wonders for discovering truth.

Your mind questions everything you’ve ever been taught or told, and because of that you’ll have my trust. But there’s a point where you have to ask, what do you ignore to keep rebelled? I hope you’re not blinded by this, faith you try so hard to dispel. You always ask how I believe in something I still have yet to see, yet I am confident you’ll understand and I’ll believe in you until you do. How can you always push away the answer that you spend your time searching for? I want to have a reason, I want to have a point of breath beyond a fear of dying. If this alone is all you’d gain, a compassionate heart with hope throughout it, then you need to find a better way to argue that you would be better off without it.


Changes- Trying to fix problems we don't have just means we have two sets of problems tomorrow.

And the world will still spin, and you still won’t notice, down below other things hold your mind. As your eyes rise to the heavens and ashes rain all around, a winter solace from the change in season. The newly renewed beginning, ruins of former empires, they all will sit the same beneath a gray sky. When the charge gets issued, when the stands are made, who will be the ones determined to readjust?

The Fate of the Two Lovers

The man held the woman close to his chest and shut his eyes, forgetting the ceaseless rain of fire coming down upon them and attempted to ignore the crumbling earth at their feet. She pushed her face into his chest and clutched him tightly, feeling her hair being pulled by the ever-increasing wind as she pursed her lips tightly and tried to find a sense of calm in the chaos. The ground shook more and more violently, each tremor taking with it large chunks of bedrock downward, tumbling away into an unknown abyss of orange flame. Without warning, from inside the man, the pervasive, constant terror suddenly subsided and he opened his eyes, to see two brown eyes belonging to the woman meeting his gaze serenely from his chest. The deafening roars of their last moments thundered closer and closer to their remaining pedestal of stone, yet the two heard nothing now and no longer felt alarmed as their lips met. As the final wall of fire and molten rock crashed down upon them, their last view was of each other, mouths silently wording unheard amorous syllables as they too were taken into eternity.

Searching for perfection...

A smile that can always make the rainiest days seem sunny, the saddest stories full of hope, the wonderful moments truly irreplaceable.

Two eyes that appear to go on forever, hinting at the warmth of everything behind them, and reason why so many muses choose to inspire through a girl's eyes.

Lips so soft they make every word that passes through them sound like a lullaby.

A heart that knows when to laugh and when to cry, yet always places itself second.

David

To me, watching the road meant practicing careful driving. Watching the road, I later found out, actually meant finding shit that doesn’t belong to you and you don’t know where it came from. I was first introduced to this hobby when I was old enough to realize I wasn’t young anymore.

This passion for inquisition, usually reserved for felines, was given to me by a man who would spend his lunches driving 5mph in nearby parking lots, upper torso leaned as far out the window as he could manage while still keeping his right foot pressing the gas. His head trapped in a bizarre loop of watching the pavement, then watching his driving, then back to the pavement watching.

This repetition of movement and steady pace of travel was only broken for two reasons. First, something caught his attention that needed further investigating. Or second, he felt the area had been sufficiently combed through and it was now time to find a new treasure hunt.

In the case of the first, it helps to have perspective. From behind the large SUV, you would see a sudden brightening of brake lights and the silhouette of a man emerging from a now opened car door. This was easily noticed because while this was going on, most of the city was asleep.

From in front, well, it was much more difficult to judge. The driver usually left his brights on, and when you have to squint to look directly at them, it’s tough to tell whether they’ve stopped or are continuing forward.

This knack for the nosy, it sometimes made for a good story, it sometimes did not. Often, our protagonist, and later myself, would return back empty handed. Other times, a small amount of coin was produced, which then would buy a soda. It was from a machine overlooking our parking lot, and while technically still an interesting artifact which had been there a while, the soda was opened and drank without further consideration. We knew why that can of Pepsi was there. But with some things we couldn’t use to buy a Pepsi, we didn’t know why they got there. Or who put them there. These were why you watched the road.

We listened as he read us a love letter, written to whomever we could imagine from the heart of their admirers. A faux diamond ring, perhaps owned by a young teen dreaming of her wedding, perhaps by a man who hoped his lover could be easily duped. A small black and white picture of an elderly Hispanic woman, perhaps from a locket, perhaps cut from a larger picture because she no longer belonged in it. These were the lost socks from the dryer. These were lies we could tell. The realistic reasons for their arrivals into our lives were disregarded, and replaced by dreams of situations we’d never experience and places we’d never visit.

Perhaps this is why this hobby came to our driver, our hero, and our role model so naturally. Perhaps it was why while others slept and still others ate, he drove. Looking for his story. Always taking us somewhere, but never fast enough to get anywhere.

Sad but true

One thing I have discovered about myself through the years: If I can't be with the one I want, then I want to be with the one I can.

Don't forget to pack a camera

The waves beat against the shoreline in a rhythmic pattern, sending their slow pulses of water across the stone and sand and grass. Gentle breezes blow in from an undecided direction, meeting with the sunlight in swirling blends across the cheeks of two onlookers. They sit silently watching, listening, feeling as their backs rest against rock, scarves tight around their necks from the sudden onset of the crisp air, the greeting of autumn. Days and nights later, when the surf no longer lay stretched before them, breaking the sunshine into intangible horizontal lines, she would ask him, “What makes you happy?” And he shut his eyes, breathed deeply and smiled.