Suspended

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Suspended
A wind worn branch,

reduced to a splinter.
I am a rabbit hole,
hidden beneath winter.

The morning starts out the same…
With smiles and good intentions
With energy and lofty goals
  But, the minutes are ticking
Toward the end of both
Toward the mid-day lull
Imagination grinding to a halt
Hitting the proverbial wall.

Wheels locked in place,
 gears wanting in power.
I am time standing still,
hand stuck on the hour.


The reluctant optimist,

 hopeful that there is more.
I am a tree lined road,
winding to the shore.

There is a fine line in place…
That separates good from great
That distinguishes less from more
 Potential, on the threshold of change
Sometimes it meets a path
Sometimes it’s on a ledge
The brink of a breakthrough
 Precariously near the edge.

An expanse from a destination,
 a misstep from being lost.

I am a suspension bridge,
 longing to be crossed.


The battered pitcher,
that’s been to the well.
I am the grizzled veteran,
  with stories left to tell.

Personal insights ready to be shared…
Seeing the importance of each day
Seeing the enormity of the little things
So much potential, yet to be met
Bringing along a passion for life
Bringing an open book to the table

The mind is more than willing
The body, fighting to be able.

A semi-automatic rifle,
unsure of where it’s aimed.
I am the winning lottery ticket,
waiting to be claimed.

 

 

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Weiland

 Weiland
Certain impressions

Cemented imprints
  Moments, that always
  Will remain with me.
Stamps of clarity
Distinct interpretations
Times, to never forget
That only I may see.

A concert among many
A smallish venue
Dedicated patrons
Pressed against the gates.
At that precise instant
I saw it in his eyes
The sure realization
The nod to his mates.

He knew he had us
The right people
Pleased to meet us
At one with his crowd.
With each familiar track
We rose to the occasion
To a body of work
That made him proud.

Belying his frailty
Gaunt and ashen
Worn down by the life
And wearing the age.
The consummate showman
Doing his thing
The slightest of figures
Commanding the stage.

I remember it vividly
The crispness of the performance
Struck by the energy
The electricity, the pace.
Tight and professional
The purity of the music
The megaphonic intensity
The smile on his face.

The wail of the guitar
Meandering behind his words
The roar of the crowd
As the last note sustained.
All had been sung and done
Two plus hours invested
The whole band as one
Fully and entirely drained.

Standing, arm in arm
Having given their all
Drenched in their art
Soaking in our applause.
 Recognizing the enormity
Of our live experience
 Spent on the stage
Entirely, and just because.

RIP

 

Disheartened

door

Disheartened


His mind was clearly made up

discussion was getting nowhere
I watched as he sunk down
slouching lower in his chair
I could see it in his eyes
that blank, empty stare
It was clear he’d had enough
and his reasoning seemed fair
Other things to occupy his time
what little time he could spare
It was a shame to see it end
a talent like his was rare
But when you lose that desire
 it becomes too much to bear
Your heart just isn’t in it…
and you just don’t care.

Your heart prevents you from going
though you know that you should
 It’s a time induced reality
 and no time ever seems good
You decide you’ve had enough
before you thought you would…

Because your heart just isn’t in it.

 

The relationship was trying
and he had no desire to try
Constantly testing his resolve
with your wandering eye
  Your self-confidence crutch
  and he was just not that guy
  He wouldn’t indulge you in your games
  Couldn’t be bothered to reply
 When you had nothing good to say
and everything else was a lie
  Thought that he would love you
until the day that he died
But you had worn him down
  and it was time to say good-bye.
  His heart just wasn’t in it…
and you were the reason why.

When other lives are affected
no time is ever good
You hesitate to leave
but know that you should
Feeling more like a failure
than you ever thought you could…

When your heart just isn’t in it.

 

You feel a sharp pain in your arm
like getting shot with a gun
  Remembering that just last week
you had pain in the other one
You’ve lost your motivation
  preparation is no longer fun
Spend less time in the gym
 reduce your training to none
Spend more time with your family
be able to play catch with your son
You know you’ve taken your last shot

that you’ve scored your last run
Realize it’s time to hang them up
your final game has been won.
Your heart just isn’t in it…

and you know that you are done.

Repetition has worn you down
to a level below where you stood
Your motor has lost its drive
nothing left under the hood
So sure that you would do it
until your body no longer could…

But your heart just isn’t in it
And that never feels good.

Life happens to us all
that’s just how it goes
Seldom does it make sense
yet, the heart just knows.

 

 

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