This happens

This is the way things happen
Don’t you realize that yet?
You, alone in your head
Thinking how reason has left when

You feel so alone, a split end
Don’t look for any more meaning
When your phone is done ringing
Don't you know this happened?

You know, sometimes it’s raining
And sometimes it’s not raining.

It doesn’t mean you’re done for
You just are what you're seeing
And you got there by being
Where you were before.

The Garden

The gardener does all in a walk
His pace is slow, breathe in and exhale
The scents of spring leaves no room to talk
Roaming from roses to four 'o'clocks
And giving them rain from a pail.

And through the passing, from day to day
The life he lives will always feel drawn
Like rain to sprout, aware of delay
For too much leisure leads to decay
Winter's seeds neither empty nor gone

But in this work, perspectives are found
The slow stride counters the lifespans seen
Hope for the seed, for blooms to abound
And shared grief when they fall to the ground
Now they've no need for the steel canteen

They know time goes quick in the long run
Walking helpless, such lack of control
For you see all this in a season
And I can see no other reason
Amid this stir, they idly stroll.

Things I think about

All I want to give you
It only comes from love
Can I lay you down by the seaside
And show you all my stuff?

I won't think bad of you
Or think you're not enough
I just want to feel you with me
It's all I can dream of

Nights will go good
and nights will go rough
But won't you let me take you away with me
And give you all my love?

One last time

Tender caresses with fingertips
Trying to feel every single inch of you
Softer kisses under moonlights
Wanting you to remember me
Floral scents from your hair
Take me away when I close my eyes
But I don't want to go.

I am going to miss my girl
Coming in like a crisp breeze
But leaving like a freight train
We're both faking something now
Being pulled away so quickly
And taken to happier places
Or at least we hope.

Vermont in the fall

How long?

Everything is so passing
Out like last year
In with regret
You know it will hurt to lose
Transient passengers
We've got no control
Over so much that makes us
So much we need, and love
Someday we'll lose it
Like a child on Christmas night
Happiness, but the sadness is there
Down deep, look for it
It's going to be a lonely wait
You were born alone
And you will die alone
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to lust to death
So can I just enjoy
Because everything is gone, in time.
I don't want to watch the seasons
I just want to complete this.

The city always sleeps

Sleep well tonight quiet city
Let the stars be hidden behind your eyelids
Tonight is not for you, my darling

Swirling hazes halo city lights
Tomorrow they'll be gone by sunrise
Like dreams of wondrous worlds.

Let the trucks ride your roads
Making their way toward morning
These nocturnal messengers.

Their halogen eyes light their path
Because sometimes the stars aren't bright enough
To guide through the indigo blanket.

Sleep tight tonight my darling
And forget that the world is always turning
Tomorrow is waiting for you.

Granite statues

Silvered solid granite statues
Crumbling so slowly with time
Fingers pointing to each other
Yet never knowing why

Raised by talented artists' hands
Graceful moments captured until forgotten
Time takes its toll on stone
And sends it tumbling to the earth

Idols cast of pure emotion
Into rock so void of life
Then recalled with passing glances
Time smoothing jagged edges

Until at last the story's lost
And only shapes remain
Watching time reveal the cracks
As stone returns to ground.

Now we're both alone, time for a vacation.

Lullabies and melodies composed around foreign scales, softly tumbling into unexpected progressions.

Stars shimmering, set into patterns too complicated for comprehension.

I'm sitting in the middle of a jar of fireflies, looking out.

Arches cut into architecture as deeply as possible, enough granite left to support, but as though the builder wanted to show as much of the heavens as possible.

Sleep on the left side, leave the sword hand free.

Firelight and torches flicker, casting ambiguous shadows onto the cobblestone courtyard.

I miss her so much.

More randomness

Various things I have been writing about, excerpts if you will:

I watch as the day shift blames the night shift, the night shift blames the day. I listen as the elderly blame the young for poisoning morals, and the young blame for the elderly for breaking them in the first place. And I see the way the sunrise peels back the starry void. This really isn't about us at all, but I am not sure we grasp that.

People feel bored; people feel insignificant. Everyone but you seems special, and no one feels as weak as often as you. Everyone thinks their world should become a movie,because in the end, there will be a point to existence; A lesson learned, a passion pursued, a war won and a life remembered.

The information age has given us so much we never realized we needed. This instant accessibility, and instant anonymity, allows us to surround ourselves with the environment we wish to live in, and thereby become whatever we want. Myspace, lifejournal, blogspot. Everyone has a story that they feel is so important. Gossip rags we always find ourselves studying guiltily in the checkout, the way our TVs always find E! or VH1 sometime during the night. We want to know who's single again. We want to watch the trainwreck. We want to be a part of the inner circle of gossip and dirty secrets that makes us forget we aren't enjoying or experiencing this life.

This type of thinking seems to be a social virus, one that eats us from the inside out. I am sure you feel the same way about some politicians. Even after you know the, you still feel as though they are an empty character. A shell of a person, only offering up one side of a character which leaves as quickly as they arrive.

Every year, there is a day of changes. This day is always forgotten, until you realize it, and then, every year afterwards, it can't be ignored. It becomes anticipated, prepared for, and planned. It is a day of foreshadowing, and a day in which the gears that turn the cycle of our lives speed up in away we can't help but feel once we realize it's happening. A good writer, well they could tell you when this day was coming, why it was here and make you live it with them. But I can only tell you when mine comes. It is always in the autumn, or for the less prose-ious, the fall. It comes at the day when summer is gone, but you hadn't really noticed yet. it's not exactly colder, just noticeably not summer. It usually hits late afternoon on that day, when you look down the line of trees and see their shadows stretched out a bit longer than before. Long enough that you notice them now. Your stomach tenses from anticipation of a unknown origin, and you breathe in deeply to try to relax, and you smell something different in the air. It's crisper and lighter somehow, and you breath deep enough until the back of your throat begins to sting and your nostrils spasm. It's then that I realize I am feeling. This feeling of the foreshadowed, that something is coming, some change too large to ignored and something that will no doubt change you. And for me, it seems to come in the fall.

Just for you

Just for you

This is just for you babe, I am pretty sure you’ll read it. This time, it feels so much worse than before, because this time it’s for real. I am going to avoid saying too many words of comfort, right now, they just feel so self-serving. I haven’t been able to convince myself yet that I can give you that without trying to make you stay. I am upset that you made a mistake, trusting to focus on the lack of a guarantee rather than the presence of possibility. But if I wasn’t upset, then you’d know it doesn’t hurt me to lose you. You have to let me be hurt and lonely, and I have to do the same for you. Know that I am going to miss you deeply. Pray that we can be casual friends down the road. I love you.

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.