I woke up to find

I am not sure why, but that night I awoke to see her sleeping so silent an serene next to me. Her hair was delicately draped across the pillow and her soft beautiful breasts lie beneath the cover of satin that lie over us. It was then that I knew I loved her, the only problem was that I was not in love with her. Night time was the great equalizer, during the day we argued, we couldn't agree on much in those days, but when we went to bed, we became two people holding each other for warmth in the cold of the night. That is not to say we didn't have much in common, far from it. But it was the little things she didn't like about me and I about her that seemed to set it all off. Sometimes I would get mad at her for being so cold and uncaring about my feelings when she was trying to do better, it was just hard sometimes to be with someone who had a tendency to be moody. Had I settled? Had I so wanted to be with someone that I had made her in to the image of my goddess? Had I taken away her faults so I could see in her what I wanted to see, only to now find that I was playing a trick on myself? Now I know she wasn't the one, I wish it had been so easy to see at the time. We loved each other, but I had taught her noting of how to love again. She cared about me but it was not in the way that 2 souls perfectly pared do. We were friends, who had had some sex, that was it.

I am a great lover of women

I am truly a lover of women,
Not in the way of a Don Juan,
I do not have great escapades of passion
nor do I find myself bringing them all to their knees in Stacy,
yet I do love them,
the female form as if sculpted by the hands of God
I love them like a cone suer loves his wines
or a Audiophile is enamored by the music of his HiFi
I sit with them in awe like a man in an armchair
eyes gently closed soaking in Beethoven, or a Mozart concerto
Yes, I am a lover of women
their sweet soft voices singing into the night.
Gentle altos, and angelic sopranos in a harmony of sublime beauty
delicate perfect grace.
Mystery in their stare
the likes of which I could unfold forever
wrapping myself in it until I disappeared forever from the view of the world.
I love the tender lips of a woman who is in love
as though it were in fact her first time being so.
The scarlet of nails freshly painted
or the feel of the nape of a neck against my parched and swollen lips
the way a hip can move and bring to life an inanimate piece of cloth.
Yes I am a Lover of women, yet I cannot say why
they entrance me, and one day I may meet
one who will, with arms fully open
make my life extraordinary.

Wher is my other door?

They say that when one door closes another one opens.
Now I am standing in my living room with the stink of stale air in my nose
and I wonder, where the hell is my other door?
The one that closed did so with a bang and I found that the cold dead air of winter was closed out with it.
Too many doors have closed recently, and I am feeling like the world is closing in on me.
Many have become too busy to spent time with me
some have left for their own reasons
and the questions still remains,
where the fuck is my other door?
They talk to me of doors, and closets full of clothes like i need to hear that i need to make space.
Now it is all empty and the doors are closed and i still can't find the door in the darkness I was left with.
When? When is going to be my time, if not soon, i will have to force the hand of the gods and make my exit, through any door necessary. But really all I want is another open door
All I want is love, is it too much to ask for?
Can't they see that?
Where is my door?

Trapped

Trapped. That was the way I felt, my chest was tight, and my breathing was hard. The staircase was a usual one, it had doors on every floor but the problem was that this one you couldn't get out of when you got into it. Every door was locked and the only way out was through a door that had an emergency alarm on it. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, I was in a position that was unfamiliar to me and extremely uncomfortable. I was trapped, and the only sound that filled the hall was the echo of my beating heart. I reached to my side to find that I had left my leatherman in my car and as such I had no tools that could be used to pick any of the locks in the stairwell. I was in a situation that kind of reminded me of my last few relationships, there was nothing I could do to turn the course of it all. I was stuck with what I had and where I was. I didn't think i would feel the heaviness of my chest but here it was and i was back on the edge of the precipice again, nowhere to go but to jump. I never thought I would be claustrophobic but when you have so little space to go and so little room to be and there is nothing you do to end it but to call out, I swear the walls were closing in on me, I swear...

Worship the goddess moon

Worship the goddess moon
Smooth languid dreamer
her gorgeous purple rose petals
music like a honey rain
Diamond mist from his blue light garden
she chants beauty for and easy sky
as waters they shine my love
and so above is singing for the sea
I picture you lie next to me
watch a friend if only by a moment
and recall we were here
when no storm was soaring near.

AInt it messed up?

He never meant to get in trouble. The creditors just came and tried to help him, tried to give him that instant satisfaction that he wanted. Tried to make him feel good about the spending, hey he could always pay them back later. That was long before the phone calls, before he had been caught in their trap. Now here he was trying to sell his art, trying to make some headway trying to get out of the debt, the trap he had sprung. The problems was when there was a monthly finance charge that matched the minimum payment there was no real way to get free. No other way short of the death of a long lost relative or a winning lottery or big winning in Wendover. It was a mess, yet there was no real way out of it. He had tried to pay more than the minimum but it never caught up, the headway was never made, and in the meantime he loans from friends drove a huge barrier between the two of them. He was trapped, like a fly to flypaper, the more he struggled against it the more it tied him down. He ate too much, he liked the nicer things too much. The only problem is that when you are born broke, how can you learn to not be and in fact be free from a debited life. How can you have the things you want without feeling like you will have to wait until you are too old to enjoy them. There was no way out, and as he lay on the bed contemplating selling his own organs for a way to be free he cried, cried into the pillow in the apartment where rent was past due for another month. There was no way out, and he didn't know what to do about it.

I have seen into the eyes of madness

I have seen into the eyes of madness
They say he was unstable
they say he had problems before it all happened
But I have seen into the eyes of madness
and they look very much like my own
I know what it feels to not be set aside as important
I know what it is to repeat words over and over
I know what it is to hate the world and all it stands for
I know what it is that drives a man to kill 32 people before taking his own life
Wanting to get out and take as many with you as you can
hurt them, hurt the reason you feel alone
It is not the games, it is not the music, its not the movies that drive people to kill
rather it is being raised in a culture where your contribution doesn't seem to matter
It is being marginalized, bullied and never built up.
It is being opening up to someone only to be hurt months later
It pointing to what is to be wanted and saying that without it you are nothing
the shirt, the shoes, the pants
The Jansport backpack the fast car, and big house,the girlfriend
It is selling the lifestyle and making that lifestyle only achievable by those who have the means
Showing us that the only value is to be found monetary gains but never teaching those who don't have it how to get it.
I have seen into the eyes of madness and they often look like my own
the frustration we have accepted as part of the human condition but doesn't have to be.
I see the madness in traffic jams
in fear that leads people to need to carry weapons to be safe.
We don't build up, we tear down then wonder why people are afraid and unhappy and lash out.
We don't teach people to be happy with themselves, what they have and where they are, instead we run a break neck speed and wonder why people have broken necks.
I have seen the eyes of the world cry and yet do nothing tat will fix it. Children are still avoided, taught that certain things are what they should want and others are what they should not.
It is no wonder we loose so many to suicide, it is no wonder we have high crime, it is no wonder we have become a mad world who points a finger at they who point out the madness.
I have seen it and I am not pleased.