12-13-2016

hmmm, let me see now
insomnia and heart ache, isn't that how it usually goes?
and what about the melancholy and sad feelings
the feeling now is like the loyal dog that is kicked in it's
ass on a daily basis, or the loyal dog that is purposely left
behind at a parking lot or landfill, wandering, meandering
the cobwebs still build in the old headspace brainways.
a withering flower, a dried lake bed, a forest burnt to the ground
the heart is a boxer's punching bag, a target of their guns,
their bows and arrows, a vein to pull blood from, to pull my soul from
and oh boy do they ever, precision skilled shots, pinpoint accuracy.
syphoning out of me my essence, my life. damn it
what the hell is going on? who the fuck am i anymore?
what is left of me now? now that the vultures have picked my bones
in the corner a small man sings, his song hovers in the air
the subway is busy now, the crowds are restless
they stand in lines, in forms and groups of disarray
the thoughts of the people, if heard, would be deafening
a roar as loud as the engines of airliner jets
and then there's me, a trickling of thoughts,
blood oozing from a wound, the emotions seeping
out through the tears from my eyes
watching the crowds go by, go in and out of the subway trains
coming and going, there's only one train car im waiting for
and oh is my wait like an eternity, long and painful
slower than slow, i can only hope im still alive when that train arrives
well hell....i feel strange, that's all, just strange
the girl cats lays on a plastic bag, of which she's been playing with
for the past 30 minutes and as for the boy cat, he's probably sleeping
in a backroom somewhere, dreaming away
well, the new neighbors can sometimes be the noisy types
with the loud music, and banging and clanging
life is strange as hell, confusing, annoying, it's like static cling
i dont understand it, i cant relate to it, i think i think too much
i sometimes wonder what it would be like in this world if
we were given a choice of being born or not
i wonder how different this world would be,
how different history would be, if there would even be anything.
i sometimes find myself, while driving, trying to imagine what
the other drivers have been through, what their lives might be like
even while walking or just sitting, ill imagine these things
kind of dumb i suppose, or is it? i dont know. why do i think so much?
well, yes, the pain is still here, the tears still often flow from my eyes
even in my middle age. why'd you leave me behind like this?
im still dreaming, still holding on, still jumping through hoops
bending over backwards and then some
one day......one day......the sun will shine brightly on my
darkened shores once more and the birds will sing
i push on into eternity

a drunken rambling

We're not taught about the reality of life. The crashing and burning, the pillaging and plundering. a rage of a dying thought clinging and lingering, holding on for dear life. It's all just a rat race no one wins. In the end we all die,  we all die. A head on collision, a stick of dynamite in a quarry, a child being born, but I'm not like them, I am a drunken ballet circus side show that no one goes to, vodka flavored and in and out. Barely there and yet in full color. Emptied, disembodied, lobotomized, in full swing and on my face on the ground. A tired middle aged man with no place to call home, no woman of my own, no one to call me their own. 

this was written on 10-11-2015

i was drunk and emotional

i kept it as a draft and 

only just now deciding to post it 

10-09-16

1:08am
and so i sit here in the reality of today....this time, this way
i think about things, the way it all is, my life, life in general
it seems life is a preparation for inevitability
a preparation for things that none of us are ever ready for
all of life's realities....
well, my father is 70 years old now....70 years old
jesus, when i say those words it feels so strange, so scarey
i remember the days from being a kid and my father and mother
being around my age and my grandparents were in their 70's
now the roles have changed, with my mother and father being
in the "golden years" and i, childless, wifeless, and no family
of my own, am forced into this reality because ive been in line
for a long time now....succession
i see my father, now frail and old, and the fear creeps in
like a morning fog, creeping onto the roads and streets
fear especially because of his illnesses and age combined
this fear i face alone, no shoulder to lean on or cry on
facing this battle alone is quite unnerving, quite lonely
oh i long for my best friend, my world, my love to come
and of course the longer i think on this, the tears well up
those rivers of sadness, those streams of an aching heart
those plethoras of emotions and feelings
well, the summer is gone now, with the fall season
coming into play with the cooler temps and sun setting
earlier and earlier...daylight slipping away
i love this time of year, if only the temps stayed in the
70s and skies were overcast
i feel ok, i guess, the sadness remains though
the lonely heart, and sad realities of growing old and older
im still waiting to see what happens tomorrow
sometimes i figure ill wake up and ill be at the front of the line
instead of in the middle of it...waiting for that fall into the grave
into the memory that will eventually fade away...into a non existence
by then the lonely heart wont matter anymore,
the drive of life will have been gone for a while
the waiting to see what happens tomorrow will also have been gone
ill be the frail old man...riddled with age and illness and a broken heart
anyway, the cats are up to their usual ways of the easy life
the girl cats plays inside of a paper shopping bag with a toy
and the boy cat sleeps in the back room somewhere
the house next door has new neighbors living in it
only the memory of the old lady who once lived there remains
the wasps still come and go as they please
and im still waiting to see what happens tomorrow
im hoping for the eternal bliss of dreams come true
im still jumping through hoops, just like you
into an oceanless blue, into the dreams of infinite beauty and elation
i dream on

most of them but one

they all want to destroy me, with their eyes 

and their hair, and their dresses.
the ones with the unique ways and pretty steps.
with their jewelry, and lace and perfume.
they stab into me like a Thanksgiving day turkey 

fresh out of the oven.
they cut me in slices and halves for all to see.
me, served up, the main entrée, savory bites, 

mouths watering with anticipation.
appetites for my mind, my soul, my essence.
their knives are their eyes, cutting fast and deep.
their forks are their hugs, their flirtation, their ways. 

they all want to destroy me, with words

they want to mold me into the perfect entree

into the person that i am obviously not

into a person that does not even exist upon this earth

until then, they all want to destroy me

all of them but one

started a few days ago, finished today

4-7-16 with: i dont normally rhyme

i cant seem to find a state of mind
that doesn't confine my minds potential
perhaps it's consequential due to my lack of love
a lack of love.....
or maybe it's just a lack of feeling wanted or needed
i always find a state of mind
that keeps me confined within a dream about tomorrow
what about right now, today?
i cant stop wishing my life away
i cant stop....
i always find a state of mind
that keeps the tears flowing
rivers of pain that keep the mental weeds growing
even though at 40 i should be showing my age
instead, i'm plagued by the potential of what isn't
of what isn't......
i always find a state of mind
that keeps me frozen in time
of the days when the haze went out of my head
those warm golden beauty days
days without the crazed daze of wrestling mental bears
of feeling loved, feeling wanted, feeling needed, feeling whole
feeling the completion of when two solitary souls
join together as one for what should be eternity
but you see, for me, things didn't turn in that direction
it went halfway and to the middle then a sudden separation
a desperation takes over
i went from feeling young, to feeling older
older than my age, older than my brain
a lack of love?
maybe.....we all feel better when that part is fulfilled
we all see better then
we all feel stronger and bolder and more beautiful than ever
we can conquer the world and back again
but without it, well like a plant without water we wither
wither away into yesterday, into yesterday, yesterday

lonely days lately, but isn't that the usual?
writers block seems to have temporarily lifted, or has it?
i feel melancholy, or maybe it's more like nullified
a feeling of null or void or maybe all of the above
it would be nice to say that things finally went the way
i always dream them to, the way i've always wished them to
it would be elation, the creativity would spill from me again
the way water in spring comes from mountain top snow
melting in the spring warmth
well, i stay dried most of the time now
i sometimes wonder if there's anyone else like me
who cries the way i do, who feels the way i do
who wears their heart on their shoulder while living
inside of it the way i do
i often think of how others ache and in what ways
they might be aching.......i wonder
i wonder if there's anyone that dreams the way i do
that looks at the moon and wonders who else is looking at it too
i wonder if there's anyone who dreams of someone magical
that takes them and embraces them for who exactly they are
i wonder if there's anyone else out there who understands
is there anyone else at all
well, i've always felt i stand alone most of my life
i long for the days when that feeling leaves me forever
i need that so bad these days, i need it so bad that
i can damn near feel it, but of course, it's always out of reach
anyway, the girl cat sleeps on the back of the second couch
and the boy cat remains unseen, probably in the back sleeping
i've seen the wasps in the neighbors roof lately, back to their usual
coming and going and scurrying about
although, i have not seen the neighbor in a year or more
not even her car is there anymore
she was an elderly lady that lived alone with a small dog
well anyway, i dream still
i dream on, i push on, i hope for better days
better days....i dream


b_m from cabina on Vimeo.

my first valentines day experience

i must have been around 14 or 15 impressionable, young
we used to go to church every sunday and wednesday
so a girl i met weeks prior asked if i would go to the church's
valentines day event/dance with her and of course i said yes
i was was elated and exchanged phone numbers
she was the same age as me and just as impressionable 
we talked on the phone a few times and then eventually figuring out the details
i went all out with a suit and tie and nice dress shoes and even a corsage for her
my mom took me there early and we waited in the car
she was dropped off in a beat up pick up truck getting out and then i got out
of my mom's station wagon, the tank.
we greeted each other and walked into just the foyer of the building
i attempted to give her the corsage and she stopped me and said she had to talk to me first
so we stood there and she talked about her mom and various other things
but then she got to the point and said she asked me to go to the dance so
she would be able to go, but that she wanted to go separate ways after walking in
i stood there beside myself for a while wondering what had just happened
speechless i went over and over what had happened and made
a pointless plea for her to change her mind, i even insisted that she at least take the corsage,
but she only said sorry pushing the corsage back to me and backed away into the building
i stood alone in the foyer wondering...pondering, fighting back
any tears that were trying to come to my eyes
i peered in through the door and saw her talking to another guy
so i walked outside and sat on the steps watching others go in the dance/event
a friend asked me if i was ok and asked me where rena(the date) was which
made me sink further into sadness. i responded with im not sure
he could only retort with oh, that sucks, and then he walked in with girl in hand
after a few minutes i went back inside and peered in again
she was with her 2 sisters and were chatting and looking around
so i went back outside and sat back on the steps
at the time i didn't know that my mom hadn't left and waited to make
sure i was going in and not getting taken advantage of and or getting into trouble
i heard her honk the horn and upon looking up and seeing the red tank
the tears poured from my eyes and i stood up to walk the walk of shame
tail between my legs, hobbling with wound, still holding the boxed corsage in hand
she got out to meet me and hugged me a bit but i, so ashamed and feeling pathetic,
i only wanted to get in the car and leave immediately.
she consoled me for a while, hugging me and wiping my tears way until i calmed down
and somehow convinced me to try to go in anyway, she said she could be my valentine
but i nicely said it's ok i will try to go back in
i attempted to walk in and as i did it was as though everything had stopped and
everyone was looking at me, i didn't understand until i saw rena hand in hand with
another guy, i looked away but when i looked back she was kissing the guy
i felt as though i had entered the building completely naked with no clothes on at all.
i then left running and told my mom to please take me home
the whole car ride home, the events played over and over again in my mind
upon arriving home the walk of shame into the house
the saddened feeling of my father asking why i was home so soon
the shame of taking off the shoes and nice suit
i laid on the bed tears streaming and eventually fell asleep
my first valentines day experience

valentines day

Well, I lay here ill, the phone remains silent, as does most things in my life. Only the notifications of a few farm simulator games vibrating my phone here and there.  A familiar loneliness sweeps my mind as illness sweeps my body. A tag team like no other. No mate or spouse or wife to care. Just the hollow halls of my mind and the echos of what once was. I call out silently. I know no one hears, even my cats have avoided me lately, probably due to this formidable cough that persists. The exploding chest. There's a friendly ringing in my ears that blends nicely with the song playing on repeat. The tv is on and the game show channel is on but muted. The flicker reflections on the ceiling also blend nicely with the song. I can hear one of the cats crunching as it eats. Too tired to stick my head up to see which one it is. Randomly I close my eyes for a while and watch the light trying to shine through my eye lids. All that variety of red. Red.....red.....the color of valentines day, the color of love, of burning passion. All those beautiful people out there fulfilling the desires, the passions,  the infinite love of each other. I can only imagine how it must be to feel that, but of course I try my best to not think about it as it only brings tears and pain. Ohhh how much longer must I go without the beautiful, warm, and loving embraces of another? The beautiful caressing of one another's faces, the hugs as though we couldn't squeeze and hold long enough. Those moment where space and time no longer exist and the world waits for time to begin again. Where is she? Where did she go? My reality is obviously much different than all those beautiful people with love so abundant. Than all those beautiful couples wisping off to romantic get aways,  to hotel room nights, to a weekend vacation of love, of lust, of emotion and passion burning. And i.....i lay here ill.....I lay here ill......
I lay here feeling unloved, unwanted, forgotten like the worn pair of running shoes in the back of the closet. valentines day........valentines day......chewed bubble gum stuck under a table. 

2-10-16 1:21am

well now, im 40 and the days are still short
still waiting to see what happens tomorrow
recently found a good friend from years and years ago
when i was the fresh age of 16 or 17
was nice catching up
i feel ok most days with a hint of melancholy
sometimes with the building of walls
and yes im still jumping through hoops same as you
into an oceanless blue
sort of like ebenezer scrooge, anything and everything.
i used to think that i couldn't become "jaded" so to speak
but with each tear that falls from my eyes
which each broken heart, with each lonely feeling
i can feel the fingers of it tapping my shoulders
i can see it's arms coming from behind me to embrace
me with it's hugs of icy cold
i can sense it trying to guide me to a world of sheer and total defeat
but alas i hang on, as best i can, the whole doing my best thing
well, the girl cat is sitting next to me on the couch
as for the boy cat, he's more than likely in the back room dreaming
this winter, thus far, has been fairly mild, not much of the frozen
temperatures and shivering nights alone in the darkness
i only hope this don't mean a very warm spring and boiling summer
ive recently given up hard liquor(vodka) and haven't had any
in almost a month now, not that i had a problem with it
i only drank when i would hang out with friends, socially.
there's a bottle of vodka in my freezer that's half full and has
been there for months and months, since around june of 2015
i figured for 40 years old i'd try getting back into shape
and getting back to the body i once had, or close to it anyway
now that it's post birthday weekend i've decided to give up
all forms of alcohol as an experiment of sorts to see how things are
well, the grey hair is coming in more and more
i like the hint of age on me, it's kind of nice
a sort of comfort ironically
and with my hair longer than it;s ever been in my entire life
it makes it all interesting
well, these waves of the ocean, relentless, brutal, and very lonely
i ride them as best as i can, it's always easy when you have
someone to ride them with, maybe one day.......
for now ill just wait to see what happens tomorrow.
i dream on

he

40 years have passed since he first took his first breath.
he was not the typical young boy.
he walks in areas where there are no paths.
he has done this all his life.
he stays in the same town he grew up in.
he wonders about what it is like to move and live elsewhere.
he has had various hobbies during his lifetime, all of which he has, pretty much, given up on.
he drives a car that is 12 years old with 118,875 miles on it, the mule.
he wishes he had wings to fly high in the sky,  but reality is often harsh.
he goes out with friends here and there,  but always goes home to an empty bed.
he sometimes feels completely alone in a room full of people.
he keeps busy most of the time while waiting to see what happens tomorrow.
he often wishes there was significant other that gives to him what he gives to her.
someone willing to leap as he leaps, fly as he flies, feel as he feels, but he has to keep his feet on the ground.
he sometimes feels like a piece of bubble gum, chewed up and either spit out or stuck under a table somewhere.
he wears his heart on his shoulders,  while living inside of it.
have you seen where he went? 

originally wrote this around August of last year, added a bit to it, and only just now deciding to post it. 

1-10-16 with: giving it up

an artist without inspiration isn't like a person without food
although sometimes they are, those are the ones that give up living
an artist without inspiration lives on, they just give up art
rather it's writing or painting or taking pictures or whatever
an inspiring sun beam, an inspiring scene of love
can go from inspiring to heartbreaking
inspiration can change quickly and suddenly
or slowly but surely until the clouds of dark overwhelm
a sunset, a couple in love, a cat or dog playing in the yard
the inspiration from it all is syphoned away
outside forces, a broken heart or loss of love,
the lack of love, the loneliness of a cold night, separation anxiety,
when even your dreams are beginning to become clouded with dark
an artist without inspiration is no artist at all
as for me, im no artist, for my only art is my love

well, i haven't written anything in a while
inspiration is dwindling away from me
of course im no writer, im no artist, my only art is my love
i just write out of sadness or out of elation
i just write to speak to no one and everyone
i write to have an ear to hear me
even if it's no ear at all
the days are dragging on, the first bite of winter yesterday
continuing on today with a low temp of 29 Fahrenheit tonight
i feel ok, just the usual waves of the ocean
3 and a half weeks away from reaching 40 years old
a pinnacle indeed, but i've never celebrated my birthdays much
perhaps friends will toss up a drink for me
a card in the mail would be nice, but of course nary a card will come
i actually do miss the days of getting letters or cards in the mail
my mother will probably throw a family get together for it
which is nice, a meal of my choosing
well, i used to take writing more seriously
but then i started noticing that i sounded more and more like those
influenced my writing and i began to think that i was
turning into a carbon copy of those that wrote before me
so i guess it works well that ive never really been much of a reader
i'd rather listen to a book, unless of course it's something educational
then i dont mind the reading
take me away, to the deserts of india where the cobra gypsies live
take me away to fields of green meadows
take me away to where my home really exists
my true home...eternally