Poetry

Poem: Impure

I couldn’t really fathom, you said you were my friend
But was I really all that special, or did you just pretend?
Are my prayers so unworthy? are my thoughts so impure?
That my secrets should stay hidden under this hood of misery

I ask; how can this happen? You ask; how can this be?
The remnants of our friendship are washed away to sea
Although we cried for mercy, the world rejected it
Were our desires so unearthly that we burned them in a pit.

There’s a window in the bedroom, a light piercing through the clouds
So gather up your wishes and stare the city down
When the moon rises above us, come the creatures and the damned
So gather up your wishes and stare the city down

It was never meant to happen, but nothing could be done
Hand in hand we felt it , but all you did was run
Is it truly so unholy? Is it truly so unsound?
That you give up what is calling, for a place among the clouds

You ask; how can this happen? I ask; how can this be?
The pounding of our lifelines pulse simultaneously
Although you won’t admit it, you’re ignorance and pride
Were our desires so unearthly, that a brother had to die

There’s a window in the bedroom, a light piercing through the clouds
So gather up your wishes and stare the city down
When the moon rises above us, come the creatures and the damned
So gather up your wishes and stare the city down

Poetry

Poem: Who Are You?

Could a picture define itself?
Could a work of art tell you what it means?
Can a photo tell you that it is a scene?
Could a video tell you it is moving?

Interpretations are disconnected from the thing being interpreted.
Can a spoon put food in its mouth?
Can an ID card tell you who it is?
Can your teeth bite themselves?

You cannot be the person helping and the person being helped at the same time.
You cannot be the paper and the person writing on the paper at the same time.

Bob’s experience cannot tell what Bob has been through.
That would be the scenario if you tried to define who you are.

You and I are awareness, an awareness aware of itself.
What a beautiful thing.

Does your destination know you’re on your way?
If you failed to meet with it,
Would it come and greet you and say
“You didn’t make it, but I did.”

Can the sun shine over itself?
Can happy music feel happy?
Awareness is a different deal.
Awareness can talk to itself.

A dog can ask you for a treat, but can a flower ask for better soil?
Isn’t awareness the difference of it all?

Poetry

Poem: Gone Ego

Frozen in time
Times when the mind is absent
And its absence speeds up the mind

Here, but gone
presently away
Counted 50 years in a second

Describe yourself to me
because I can’t see
I can taste you, but I can’t feel you

Here, here, here
Gone, gone, gone
I can’t tell the difference

I can feel that I’m here
But I also feel that gone

Poetry

Poem: A Soggy Dream

I had you in a soggy dream which made the world so real.
It was strange, as you loved me in it.
I didn’t know what to think, what to do.
I’ve never had you like this before.

The sky was tinted with sparks of hope.
My existence wasn’t miserable anymore.
For a second it did not matter to think
That my mind seems so gone.

I missed the fact of your insults, in it.
I missed the fact that you left.
Dreaming an impossibility fuels my day.
But in this dream, love was blue, and it was you.

I did not notice your lack of makeup.
Your skinny arms did not matter this time.
All of these things I would think of,
when I try to find reasons to move on.

Waking up felt better
than when I had you in my arms.
Because writing about you is a pleasure,
while seeing myself again in you.

Poetry

Poem: Lone Wolf

He walked in from the pouring rain,
notices the thumping on the roof,
pulls up a glass and pours himself a drink
He loosens his bootstraps and sits in bed.
Water backs his eyes as his mouth goes dry
He grabs the remote and points it at the television.
His eyes are fixed on it but he doesn’t see the twisted wheels;
turning in his head.
He hears the voices drifting from the television
They only pass through him and splash flat against the wall.
The air kisses his skin with icy cold lips.
Memories float from the deep but they speak no words and make no sounds.
He takes another sip from his frosty glass.
He says goodnight for the night is at an end.

As he sleeps, the woods awaken gasping for air.
Eyes illuminate the shroud of trees, crawling closer to the man in sleep
The moon hummed a somber tune.
Noises felled the air.
A stagnant wind guided the falling rain.
A movement of leaves on trees with empty hands.
A lone wolf howls and makes his mark
Lurking in shadows, closer…closer
With fangs of thorns, he gnawed on his neck
And dragged him back into the woods somewhere

Poetry

The Saddest I’ve Been

I’m the saddest I’ve been in a while.
Can’t get to its roots,
I’m lying down on bathroom tiles,
fallen like an rotten fruit.

It’s as if the river got stuck.
And it doesn’t know which way to go.
Feeling like I got hit by a truck.
And I died long ago.

Living as dying remains,
a broken glass that’s never been filled.
And it’s just there afraid,
wondering if it will ever be healed.

I can’t run, I can’t walk,
I can’t talk, I can’t dream.
A board with no chalk.
A creek that can’t stream.

And it pushes people away,
instead of pulling them close
Tired of chasing people my way
Better alone than imposed

And it’s not my fault,
as it’s not theirs either.
I can’t shake this away,
I should’ve never asked to be born.

Poetry

Unity in Divition

If we are all part of the universe.

And therefore we are all one.

Why do we feel so different?

Why are body and soul so apart?



If a string holds us together.

And all the knots can't be undone.

If we won't be here forever.

Why must we get what we want?



There is really no point in remaining

around what we think is the sun.

If all of our thoughts are so selfish,

Then why has existence begun?