untitled

scroll down, click play, if it is not auto playing, then read

oh there were explosions,
volcanic eruptions,
heat waves that changed him forever
those times when he could feel his soul
dripping out from the holes punctured in his heart
         ......those quills are the sharpest
he knew he was at the start of the hardest of times
but he ran headlong into trouble
heartlong into love
surfing on the waves of eternal love
of all the times to get chewed up and spit out
this one was the hardest
this one was the worst of them all
the heart was crushed out of him
there were no punctures of the heart
there was just an absence of the heart
the feelings beat out of him
oh he stood tall for a while
but every tree eventually falls
no more wind blowing through his leaves
just cut up into logs
waiting for the fireplace, furnace, or bonfire
it's ironic because he wanted to build a log cabin
         ......that library book is overdue
did i tell you about that time we almost crashed?
oh wait, you may not know that i write about a woman
that does not exist upon this earth
my heart's desires rolled up into a ball
rolled out here for the world to view
the definition of pathetic
i've always written about a woman that was not real
a woman that i have never met before
oh i've longed to meet this woman that does not exist
i've imagined the beautiful times and experiences
that could happen
but i digress
he keeps to himself these days
rarely ever reaching out to any, if at all
he watches the birds fly, the clouds billow
and the insanity of the world
unsure of what the future holds
he just keeps his ears to the music
his eyes to the skies
and his heart, well, he's trying to find where it went
a dance of after thoughts

a series of interruptions and/or distractions
occurred while i was writing this
but here it is anyway

the mainstay

as usual, scroll down, click play, then read

the empty glass sits on the table
worn is the wood, splintered
dust has collected in the glass and on the table
the glass, the table, the house abandoned
outside, the field of knee high grass blows in the wind
and wild flowers dance there too
such a contrast
i look out across the field
my mind a haze as clouds and fog
begin to pour down across the field
wisps of fog and cloud skim across my face and body
oh i remember the way things once were
the gracefulness of pleasantries with loved ones
the elevated body filled with love
the days of carefree and friends
oh i remember the way things go by
the beginnings and ends
the lives we live
like a storm that forms slowly
and then suddenly begins to pour down
pour down, like the fog and clouds upon the field
like the tears from eyes wracked with pain and emotions
enough to fill that glass that sits on the splintered table
worn is the soul, fragmented
from each time a heart is given to another and then returned
with a piece missing
ah yes, i once stood in that field of clouds and fog
and dancing grasses and flowers
i sat at that splintered, worn table with the empty glass
tempted to disturb the tranquility of the dust and splinters
and the empty glass, but i dare not
break the laws of providence
and so i just simply become a part of the abandonment
blend in with the dust and cobwebs and splinters
but occasionally i have to look outside at the field
to watch and wait for the clouds and fog
the mainstay

this came to me after stopping and just sitting 
still in my chair doing nothing for a few 
so here it is