a persistent feeling

life is more cruel than the cruelest of us
the damage it deals lasts thousands of lifetimes
each one of us hands it down to our children
and they hand it down to theirs, but with added
intensity, added damage, redefined damage.
the actions or inactions
life tortures some more than others
our mental bears are bigger than mountains
one swipe and we're flattened for years
our eyes filled with tears, covered with liquor or beers
some of us are tortured with only a crumb
only a sample of what could be, what should be
a taste of the purest love, the most beautiful of beauty
a glimpse into the eyes of god
then it's taken away, jerked out of our hands,
slapped out of our hands so hard that our hands sting forever
the persistence of loss
over and over again precious things taken away
the anxiety and desperation sweeps us away
to float and drift into the cobwebs of the corners of life
while all else, most others, flow flawlessly through the stream
stuck in the cobwebs we're forced to watch, more torture
then comes the loss of family and friends
more loss, more desperation, more alienation
the sense of being alone so great
the loneliness of being invisible
the loneliness of Chernobyl
the loneliness an orphan feels
the loneliness of the homeless man rejected by all
a sadness most might not know
those mental bears, those infinite stairs
those powerful and deep cutting stares
im there in the middle of them
in the middle of them and still i dream
why? even those dreams are, sometimes, like a torture
like a bullet hitting my target heart
my target heart, my target heart
withstanding the barrage of life's
bullets and darts and spears
and yes, sometimes even bombs that flatten it for a while
my target heart
of course in the end, no one wins
life takes us all, eventually
and most of the time we're never ready for it

9-7-15 an elongated journal entry

the times are changing fast
faster still the older we get
i look at my life thus far and i see the realities
that all of us have to face yet none of us want to face
coming into my view, those harsh realities
my father has a weak heart and doctors say he could die at any moment
he will have an angiogram and then doctors will figure out
what will come next
the realities of stepping into the shoes of our parents
although for me, i have no kids, no significant other
these realities i face alone, not even a best friend to hear my cries
the wandering in a darkened cave at night alone
the creaks and strange sounds and the fear of inevitability
the fear of the unknown
and currently im not a beautiful ballet at the opera house
im a hobo jumping onto a train
im a distraught boy that's lost his way
im a drunken dancer that falls with each step
ive begun to accept the reality of things
the whole, not everyone gets the happy ending
some of us get the other end of the picture
the homeless man in the gutters searching for the bottle
the alcoholic, the drug addicts, the ones we see everyday
at work, working for a living and yet killing themselves working
it's been the hardest pill for me to swallow
stayed stuck in my throat for a good long while
maybe one day i'll feel the relief i dream about
maybe relief will never come, no reprieve
maybe one day i'll stop torturing myself with the dreams
maybe one day the end of the world will come
i wished i could paint a better picture
a flawless copy of Rembrandt
or Dali or M.C. Escher or even Beksinski
i wished my works were of beautiful golden
fields of timelessness
of the natural beauty in the world
of the most serene scenes of magical passion
but this is not my reality
reality, huh, maybe it's just a made up word to
make us all feel better about inevitability
well, i feel melancholy with a touch of numbness
i find myself struggling to sleep most nights
wrestling with the mental bears that prowl my mind
i try though, i really try
the boy cat lays with a look of total contentment
the girl cat watches out the front bay window
her observant focus is a beauty in itself
the wasps are really active today, coming and going
their jittery flight movements
i imagine them as beams of light, colorful light
reds and blues and greens all chiming together
as i watch them, i wonder how life would be as a wasp
the flying, defending, gathering, and dying.....
oh wait, same as us humans, yeah
well, the days are slowly getting shorter
night fall coming earlier and earlier, and then the time change
comes to rudely rearrange our sleep, twice every year
the sunsets of exploding colorful skies
i cant help but to maintain some positiveness in spite of all things
a small ember inside somewhere still smolders with a slight warmth
who knows what will come
i try the best i can, i try i try

8-25-15 a random thoughts in my head journal entry

12:29am
lonely, quiet night
the creative juices in my mind have been clogged lately
"you are your own worst critic" or so they say
i say it's about what sounds good to me and what dont
who knows?....
trying times, oh so trying
chewing my cuticles till they bleed
and sometimes even still after that
well, the cats are sleeping and the wasps are unseen since it's
the middle of the night and dark outside
i feel sad and alone, doing my best
the loudest quiet person in a room
or rather no one to listen to me, to hear me
i miss a good hug, a real hug, those i care about you hugs
those i love you completely and totally hugs
the ones that linger are the hugs of loneliness
well, august is coming near it's end
the grip of summer is slightly easing up
the embrace of fall will be most welcomed
the overcast skies and cool temps...beauty
fall and spring are nice times of year
the gentle breezes that touch you like a massage
tickling your neck and hair
a beach far away in lands of golden beauty
the never ending vacation of elation
the dreamlands of eternal brilliance shining throughout
the totality of realities seen by few
a comfortable life in fields of natural delight
instead, floating away forever on rivers of tears and dreams
no shores for my bones to bleach away on
just a short memory that fades away
like the sunset in winters seasons
the abandoned kitten in the parking lot
the dog dropped off in the park
the tired old man sitting on the old park bench
watching time pass even though he's got little time left
it's always easier with love
everything is easier, everything
the tears flow like flood waters from rivers and creeks
clouding and blurring my vision so that these words
blend and meld into grey scale color spots
the trusty wash cloth helps with that
absorbing those emotion filled drops of sadness
wiping the snot from my nose
only the embrace of music to soothe me
"there, there."

an unedited random thoughts journal entry
i may sound crazy or i may not.

the grumpy old people

well, they're out there aren't they?
from generation to generation
a timeless breed
"Get off my lawn!"
"Goddamned youngsters don't know what they've got!"
we hear them often, in the coffee shops,
sitting in front of houses on old chairs
in the lonely corner shop diners
in the early morning waking hours of Denny's
and Waffle Houses, and International House of Pancakes
you see them grumbling to themselves, complaining to no one.
they usually sit alone, disconnected from the rest
the newspapers are their shield
their coffees sit with the same steam that comes from their
grumpy words, moods, ways of being
the empty creamer and sweetener packets are their testament
talking aloud to no one and everyone
sometimes we brush them off as just a crazy old person
other times we just say they're just a grumpy old person
but how do they become grumpy old people?
well, you see, not everyone gets the happy ending
not everyone gets the spouse and kids and house of joy
not everyone has the splendors that we're all taught
from a young age
the beautiful house over looking the lake with the
white picket fences and 2 car garage
the pinnacles of modern day dreams
there are always those that get left behind
those that get the short end of the sticks
those in the mental institutions
those that end their lives with ropes or gunshot blasts or
pills of poison or falling from buildings built for life
those that waste away with the slow poisons
those that are forced to forever deal with emptiness and loneliness
those that spend their entire lives running from everything and nothing
they're out there we see them often
and sometimes some of us become them.....
maybe a friend or a neighbor
and sometimes even you and me
those grumpy old people

the end of the world

The evils of the world, the evils of the world 

unfurled in front eyes that are young and innocent 

piling up into a poison planted deep

this world....a place where no one fits in,  

where everyone tries all their lives to fit in and blend, 

but the rules don't ever bend. And just then......we all die

the end of the world will come while

mothers and fathers play with their children

while homeless men and women struggle to find

a days meal or a days poison of choice

while cats and dogs play in backyards or in comfortable homes

while families sleep in comfortable beds

while the sun and moon shine in the sky

while the cool breeze blows through a summer's day

while the teenagers sneak out of their bedroom 

windows to run off in the night with friends

while the couple enjoys the timeless beauty

of spending time together, the timeless love

while the sick and dying lie in hospital beds

awaiting the reprieve of death to take them

while the mindless ones in mental institutions 

meander in the daily routines of medications and mindlessness

while we are at work, making money to survive...to survive

while we all stand and wonder why it all had to be this way

and just then....we all die

the skies will darken into a blackened day

and a smoldering night, where the fires that burn

burn more bright than the stars and moon and sun

the wave of death will pass through anything and everything

explosions of flame and screams,

of crushing forces and crushing sadness

explosions of the saddest of realities

of a rush of reality that none were ready for

that last minute thing to get done

a mother rushing to her kids

a man rushing to find his aged mother 

a husband rushing to find and protect his wife

the need to get to the loved one so dear

that final embrace before the wave of inevitability hits

that last minute thing a person needs to say 

to a loved one, the crushing force of reality 

the homeless man or woman with no one to find

with the sad reality of being alone at the end of the world
their choice will be the rush to find their poison of choice..or to find god
the last minute things before the inevitable end

foisted upon those that want to live

upon those that had everything to give

upon the man that just wanted love

upon the child in the orphanage that just wanted

parents that cared, that loved them

upon the woman wishing she could have that last perfect kiss

upon the man that loved so deeply and wanted so much to be 

near and with the woman of his heart, but he stands alone

upon the innocent ones, upon the loneliest nights

upon the hollow halls of every one's mind

explosions that wont echo at all

the cries heard wont last but a fraction of time

before all are left behind.....left behind

cries so loud and so gutting, the terror of dying alone

the cries of a mother for her children that died 

the cries of a father that couldn't keep his family safe

the cries of the homeless man forgotten by all and tossed aside

the cries of the earth itself.....

the cries of the stars being forced to watch a torturous end

the sadness of knowing death has come....and there will be

no past, no future, no time exists, no nothing remains

no pictures or memories, no tomb stones, no nothing

no trees, no houses on city streets, no animals, no, no earth

people will gather together in desperate panic

attempts to flee the end of the world

there will be small pockets of humanity at it's finest

but there will also be a loss of humanity so great 

the entire world will feel it 

trees will weep, animals will be saddened

the mother, the father, the brother, and sister 

all of which will cry alone in the flames

the man, the woman, the ailing grandmother or grandfather

no holds are barred for the end of the world

there will be those that climb the mountains, just 

to get a good view of the end of things coming towards them

mankind will inevitably lose it's mind

they'll celebrate and dance and get drunk

looters will loot, madness will consume all

and the young child plays alone immune to the 

imminent reality of death and flames and explosions

buildings and cities will lie emptied of all life

earthquakes will shake all the corners, cracks and crevices

toppling buildings, homes, and bridges like dominoes

lives will be crushed, lives will be burned up

lives will evaporate like the steam from boiling water

the forests will rage with a flame never seen

a flame higher than the highest mountains 

volcanoes will erupt in explosions of the hottest of flames

the lava will flow like rivers consuming everything

animals will flee with no where to hide

nowhere to escape the agony of sheer defeat

no escape, no escape, the harshest of realities, the harshest

man will run to the highest peaks, to the planes that fly in the sky

to the rockets and shuttles that fly in space

he will run and flee to the deepest of waters

but the waves of death and flame will lay claim to anything and everything

the explosions and flames will evaporate the oceans and rivers and lakes 

the steam will sear the flesh from his bones

and his bones will burn to a dust that becomes nothing 

in the empty void of what once was

of what could have been, of what most all

wanted to have happen

space will have no mention of it all, no voice 

to tell the tale of what was, there will be nothing

and the universe will expand and contract

again and again stopping for nothing until

the ultimate end 

the end of the universe

the end of all realities

the totality of nothing

this is based off of several dreams 

that i've had off and on for a couple of months now

very vivid and surreal dreams almost 

like a vision, but not quite

it is still not finished, but i figured i'd share what is there so far

6-15-15 with the heart of me

the whole of me is not good enough
but the heart of me is worth more than a thousand lifetimes of riches
and yet here i sit alone with an all too familiar feeling
of being not good enough
the boy looking in through the window
my colors are bright and shine most of the time
every so often a cloud of heavy rains comes
to dampen them and cover them with rains
puddles of pains, a collection of feelings and emotions
my efforts are good enough
the motions, emotions, and expressions true
my suffering, my hardships, my pains,
all worth it when the end result is you
my mind is good enough
while it flaws, fails, and flubs up a bit
all in all, the intentions are true
a plethora of thought mixed with emotion....love
my love is good enough,
good enough to last century after century after century
echoing through the halls of space and time
shining through the forests of the heart and love
smoldering warmly through the iciest and coldest of spaces
my voice calls, it cries out throughout the whole of it all
my words, my eyes, my hands stretched out
like the hands of a child to it's mother, like the hands of
the needy reaching out, like the hands of a paraplegic
motions in need of a loving touch
like a man reaching out to the love of his life
after she comes into his view
the smile that lasts forever
that desperate embrace after a long absence
the exploding passion erupting
more powerful than nuclear explosions
my heart reaches out to you, your touch is all it needs
your heart is home, home to this heart of mine
home to these eyes of mine, home to my words,
home to the whole of me that isn't good enough
and home to the heart of me that is worth
more than a thousand lifetimes of riches.

lonely lonely night tonight
words and memories and feelings echoing my mind
taunting and almost torturing me
i feel saddened and disheartened, but still ok
the girl cat sits next to me staring up at me
with eyes of focused concentration of intent
she knows her focus will inevitably bring my attention
and with it my hands to pet her
the boy cat is in the back room somewhere
dreaming away in his sleep
the wasps haven't been as active as last year
in the dark they sit inactive
Sigur Ros keeping me company
i sit dreaming, hoping, dreaming away
eternally

5-6-15

i've been refraining from my writing lately
the well has been dry, well sort of
i've written a few things, but none that i'd want to
share here just yet, perhaps in the future i will
well, the weather here has been more crazy
than the normal amount of crazy weather
that we have here. with the temperatures going
crazily up and down and up and down again
but at least there's been alot of open windows days
i feel ok today maintaining status quo, i guess
the cats are off in their spaces and places
sleeping and dreaming, im sure
the wasps are busy coming and going from
the roof next door often flying to my window
the days are growing longer and warmer
soon the burn of summer will be here to
send it's oven-like heat down to us all
as for me, well, i dream on, i hold on
eternally