Past

“So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light…
Just promise me we’ll be alright
But the ghosts that we knew made us black and all blue
But we’ll live a long life
And the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view
And we’ll live a long life”
‘Ghosts That We Knew’
– Mumford & Sons


Past

I took a chance
and let you into my heart.
I let all of my feelings show.
Uprooted my life,
for me and you,
but little did I know.


I discovered your wounds,

written in your own words,
there, for anyone to see.
Cuts and bruises,
vital accumulation,
scars, that you never showed me.

The breadth of your struggles,
so much I didn’t know,
spread across my screen.
Instead of in my mind.
Instead of in my heart,
where they should have been.

I took your determination,
for never again,
as a personal affront.
Your learned defensive posture
as harsh belligerence,
 you just being you, being blunt.

Your fierce independence
was stubborn vulnerability.
Your frustration, was our fate.
The voice of your experience,
sad and specific,
finally heard, but far too late.

I would have tried harder
to let you speak to me,
to let your words get through.
I could have helped you 
confront your demons,
instead of confronting you.

 It became impossible
to live with you
when you wouldn’t let me in.
Hard for us
to start over,
with nowhere to begin.

Had I only known
 the slippery slope
  of dealing with your past.
Known that I would struggle
to wade through
the depths
and dangers of your doubt.

I still would have wanted you.
I still could have loved you.
I would have understood.
I could have pulled you out.


I chose the challenge,

and gave you my heart.
Let all of my feelings show.
Uprooted my life,
to be with you,
but little did I know.


If only I had known,
I could have earned your trust.
I would have opened up my mind.
Instead, I read of our demise,

   determined before we met,
 by those you left behind.

Takers, martyrs, bullies,
sad and hurtful people,
there on my screen.
Instead of in our talks.
Instead of in my thoughts,
where they should have been.

 Until I read it,
I never once heard you 

refer to your mother as
Mom.
In fact, I barely knew
where all of the hurt
and resentment
were from.

Never could I picture, you,
together with your ex.

Made no sense to me at all.
And, until I read the name,
  typed in bold hostility,
I had never heard of Paul.

Bitterness and bravado.
 Broken pieces of the past,
clenched inside your fist.
   Our time, our spirit,
spent fighting with your ghosts.
One more added to the list.

It’s tough to share
with someone
who barely gives.
Hard to live
with someone
who reluctantly lives.

Had I only known
the bleak history
of your emotional pain.
The depths to which
those before me
had sunk inside your mind.
I still would have wanted you.
I still could have loved you.
I would have understood.
I could have been more kind.

I gave you my heart.
Had I only known…

 

 

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IT

                         It

Me:
“If you question its existence
does it therefore exist?
If you never really had it
can it actually be missed?
If you’re not sure you ever found it
can it still be lost?
If you spent no time on it,
is there really any cost?”
(assume that’s the way I talk)

Him:
“Well, it is what is, I guess.”

 Me:
“It’s what?!? Okay then. See ya.”


A philosophical discussion,

that grinds suddenly to a halt.
It’s just a sign of the times
and it is no one’s fault.
He’s run out of words, I guess.
Has nothing else to add.
“It is what it is.” 
What it is buddy, is sad.”

It’s a harsh reality
once it comes out.
“It is what it is.”
As if there was any doubt.
It has to be final,
wouldn’t you say?
“It is what it is”,
so we’ll leave it that way.

I choose to make light of it
and I do mean to mock.
That expression surfaces

and it finishes the talk.
Rather than try to continue
it’s basically cut and run.
You say “it is what it is”
and the conversation’s done.

I know it’s a response, sort of,
but what does ‘it’ mean?
It leaves so many lines
to read in between.
So much to interpret
that it doesn’t mean shit.
“It is what it is”.
But really, what is it?

It is hard to stomach
when it comes around.
Many people say it now,
so you choke it down.
It leaves a bad taste
but you swallow your pride
“It is what it is” apparently,
so open wide.

I am glad someone told me
or I may never have known.
And now that we all know
its cover is blown.
“It is what it is”
and that’s where we’re at.
“It is what it is”,
now the bag has no cat.

It might be what it is, but,
seriously, what does it mean?
Can it be what it is, or was
if it has never been?
It may be what it is.
It may be just because.
It may never be again,
whatever it maybe was.

If it is what it is
is it all that bad?
Could it perhaps be something 
that you never had?
Can you forget about it
if you never really knew?
Well, “it is what it is”,
so I guess you just do.

So let’s just say “it is what it is”,
though I’m not sure it ever was.
If I can believe “it is what it is”,
then I suppose everyone does.
So, it must be what it is,
and that must be where it’s at.
“It is what it is”.
 I guess that’s that.

“That’s that”?
That’s what?!?
Oh no, here we go again.
Straight into another rut.
I’ve got no time for this, or ‘that’,
and now I need to take a wiz.
So let’s just say that that is that…
If that’s what it is?

NEEDY

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NEEDY

Self promotion
in constant motion
Pleading and begging
For everyone to see
It must be exhausting

This incessant need
Intense and insistent 
“Pay attention to me!”

Repetitive requests
Constant changes of heart
Indecisive and impulsive
“I’m in, no I’m out!”
Question after question
Never completely sure
Waffling and wavering
Riddled with need and doubt


Looking for attention

like a dog with a ball
Alone, when no one’s looking
like a painting on the wall
Like the cold to the ice-cube
Needy to the extreme
Like the sadly desperate dreamer
who has no dream


Always in your face
Constantly trying to sell
Conflicted and convincing
“Buy that, or buy this!”
Post after post after post
A social media junky
Frenzied and forward
Yet another near miss

Feeling entitled
Exerting constant pressure
Confused and confounded
“Don’t you see my name?”
Reminder after reminder
Living vicariously
Posing and positioning
 Playing a needy game


Screaming for attention

like a child with no toy
Paralyzed by inability
like a plotter with no ploy
Like the item to the auctioneer
Needy to the extreme
Like the badly conniving schemer
who has no scheme


Questioning your audience

Unable to deal with it
Again and again
 Most people refuse
Sometimes a talent

Can stand on its own
Patience and time
And paying your dues

 The time may come
When people pay attention
When people take notice
To the talents you’ve got
When your own self worth
Becomes evident to all
People may see you
  But then again, people may not


Starving for attention

like an actor with no stage
Ready, willing, unable
like a writer with no page
Like the canvass to the artist
Needy to the extreme
Like the madly competitive player
who has no team

Way

            Way

Never enough time
when it’s too late
Too much to takeimagesCABUIB4Q
when it’s far too soon

The only answer
is day to day

The direct glare of the sun
gives way
to the faint light of the moon.

Never enough rest
when it’s this raw
Too much to bear
when it cuts this deep

The only answer
is day by day

The constant snare of pain
gives way
to the fleeting escape of sleep.

Too much conviction
to just give up
Just enough energy
to keep going

The only answer
is day after day

The persistent wrench of doubt
gives wayTry3
to the calm assurance of knowing.

So much support
when you need it most
Family and friends
to strengthen you

The only answer
is you’ll find your way

The true treasure of living
every day
is enough to get you through.

Bus

                     Bus                         

I see the bus coming up the street
I am energized as I leave my seat
Feeling that extra bounce in my feet
My heart embracing the added beat.

IMG_20150303_153718[1]

It’s your contagious, expressive energy
An always positive vibe that enlivens me
Your ever-present smile, your joie de vivre
The impressive person you have come to be

Always offering and anxious to help out
Willing to try, even when there is doubt
Confident and capable is what you shout
You already understand what living is about

When your school day is finally done
The best part of mine has just begun
Shining bright in the late-afternoon sun
My first-born daughter, you are second to none.

IMG_20150301_185453[1]

– 

Changes have come, as we knew they would
Less time together than we know we should
In different places from where we stood
Life gets in the way, like we thought it could
It may be different,  but we are good

Another twist in a road that often bends
Between work and circumstance and friends
We are seldom together when the day ends
Yet with just one call, my heart mends
Buoyed by your voice and the assurance it sends

Patience and understanding, as we have discussed
We will always find time, in that we trust
Making the most of it is our infinite plus
The same father-daughter bond connecting us…
I just miss being there, when you get off of the bus.

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Support


IMG_20150201_103912[1]
SUPPORT

I look to my left
and I see
Look to my right
and I see
The people I love
here beside me…

Your support is always there
More than mere words can really say
With whatever comes, whatever may
With every challenge on any day
Your support comes my way
And you are there

Your honesty opens my eyes
You tell me exactly how it is
Through distraction, I am remiss
Through times as complex as this
Support slides in with a reminder or a kiss
And you open my eyes

Your laughter brings me back
Daughters who make life fun
Despite the race, I’ll never run
Despite the clouds I see your sun
Support slides in two for one
And you bring me back

Your love holds me up
Keeps me on level ground
Whenever I’m lost, I am found
Whenever doubt comes around
Support slides in without a sound
And you hold me up

Your support is everything to me
This family is my wall
With all together, will never fall
With all for one and one for all
Your support is for the long haul
And it’s everything to me

It is unwavering
and it lights my way

With whatever comes
and whatever may

What my mere words
can barely say…


But I will always try.

Paper and pen for SURE

INITIATIVE

                 

                 Initiativeone way

I sit alone in my wondering
and it clouds my mind

Nurture may not be your nature,
but there is something I should say.
Affection leads to affected,
when it only goes one way.

You put your gloved hand on
top of my knee
Reminding me of just how rare
that seems to be
Unknowing likely, perhaps
but noticeable to me

Alone behind a curtain of
sheer connotation
The way we should feel, belies
this sensation
Therein lies the rub, of our
unique situation

It distracts me from my ease,
as such
A simple gesture found within
a simple touch
And I don’t believe that it is really
asking
too much

I hold all of the initiative
and it bruises my heart

Nurture may not be your nature,
but there is something I should say.
Lonely leads to lonesome,
when it only goes one way.

A man should never talk about
such trivial things
The importance of touch, and all
that it brings
Or the way that the lack of it
sometimes stings

There are those who feel the same, I
would guess
It may seem absurd to others, who
need far less
But contact comforts me thoroughly, I
must confess

It does distract me from my ease,
as such
Our house is only so big, yet are insticts
seldom touch
And constantly reaching out to you, feels
like too muchimagesM5E0G21W

I grow weary of the initiative
and find myself hesitating

Nurture may not be your nature,
but there is something I should say.
Distant leads to distance,
when it only goes one way.

Companionship keeps me close, when
push comes to shove
I don’t doubt your sincerity or question

your love
And I do realize that it is your hand
inside that glove

I wish it didn’t matter to me,
but it just does.

I am preoccupied with the initiative.
Is it is just me?

 

SHELTER

Suppressing the urge to start anew

He knows just what he shouldn’t do

Never opens his doors at all

Never leaves from within his walls

 

His eyes may be open wide

But usually he will choose to hide

Safe within a world of doubt

Deafening whisper, reticent shout

 

Room to room with scattered thoughts

Kitchen cupboards holding empty pots

Basement depths, in cold calamity

Off-white walls, housing humanity

 

Ghosts remind him of past pains

Dragging demons like heavy chains

Apparitions fade into darkest night

Dissolved by cracks of laden light

 

An echo of places and names and places

Unfamiliar feelings and familiar faces

Hallways filled with hollow laughter

Closets shelved with before and after

 

Room to room with scattered thoughts

Kitchen cupboards holding empty pots

Leaking fixture, in bathroom vanity

Off-white walls, housing his sanity

 

His room is colder than ever before

Bitter draft through hardwood floor

He pulls the covers over his head

But feels no warmer in this bed

 

Sleepless hours afraid to dream

Lost alone in a recurring theme

Sheltered from the break of dawn

He always keeps his curtain drawn

 

Room to room with scattered thoughts

Kitchen cupboards holding empty pots

Low ceilings, in harsh tranquility

Off-white walls, housing humility

 

Room to room, in sheltered resistance

Off-white walls, housing existence

.

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