Mask

Mask
2/25/2016

What kind of Mask - do you put on?
What kind of Mask - have I?
And is it a Mask an observer
Could easily push aside?

It is -- you say? How charming.
Do you -- Honestly -- believe that's so?
I find your argument - lacking --
Because of the things I know.

My Mask is - one of Smiles -
It doesn't often crumble away.
I often push aside my Hurt,
This Mask I wear everyday.

The casual observer won't notice,
Or even - Care - to look.
And even the ones' I Love the most --
My pain most overlook.

So don't tell me your mask is obvious,
Stop -- Lying -- to yourself --
Because it hurts and hurts and nothing works --
And it further wounds your soul -

A Carousel of Guilt

A Carousel of Guilt

6/17/2015

Guilt—

A thankless feeling

With rarely a true meaning.

Something often felt

When there is no need of it.

So many things to feel bad about-

Opening the doorway to Guilt where it can

Reach into my chest and grip my heart until

The blood stops pumping—

And I can barely stand—

And I can’t sleep.

A carousel of memories

Obstructs my vision

Leaving me feeling

Void—

I want to apologize

But who is talking?

Me?

Or the Guilt?

But even when I shoo the Guilt away

It comes back, knocking on my door

And if I don’t answer

The Guilt forces its way in

Coming back full force.

But as it turns out—

Guilt is a trickster—

As cunning as Coyote

And as cruel as Loki.

He spins the carousel bringing forth the bilge.

But the truth is—

Like all tricksters—

Guilt is a liar.

The horrific memories

That swirl

And twirl

Across your mind’s eye

Are nowhere near as bad

As Guilt likes to make them.

The other party involved

In whatever Guilt brings forth

May feel very little

Or absolutely

Nothing

About what Guilt drags you

Through shit over.

But Guilt is hard to get rid of

And a carousel isn’t an easy thing to move.

But the fact is—

Most things aren’t easy to get rid of

And using all that effort—

The pushing

The tugging

Only makes you stronger

And once you fight off the Guilt

You’ll find yourself better than you were before.

Only then can you truly tell

If you are the one talking

Or if it’s guilt—

And if you find you are the one—

Then the apology you make

Will be more heartfelt

And more genuine

And that will make it all the better

And only then

Can you truly kick Guilt out the door

And remove the foundation of the carousel

And move on with life.

When They Walk Out the Door

When They Walk Out the Door

5/26/2015

The worst feeling one can possibly have

Is to see the one you love most, walk out the door

And you don’t know when they might be back.

To let go of that hand is the worst thing of all

Whether they come back to you or not

Really isn’t your call.

So you wait and you wait until you see them again

And you can’t help but smile when you see their face

But then you must go on and pretend

Like everything is going to be alright,

You have to take a deep breath

And put up a righteous and glorious fight

To not succumb to the pain and show the tears

And to keep a tight hold on your secret

And put a leash on all of your fears

So the one you love most will not worry

And stop to make the goodbye longer

So instead you push and try to make them hurry

Out the door when all you want is to be together

But you have no choice or it will be harder

So instead you try to be wise and clever

And get them to leave faster and be on their way

So you can cry and hurt by yourself

And hope to see them again another day.

But the one you love notices

They always do,

They can see the hurt on your face

And the sadness too,

So they don’t walk out that door

They don’t walk away

Instead they stay and dry your tears

And at least for a little longer they choose to stay.

They make everything better

And though it may feel like you will never

See their face again

You don’t have to hold tight and pretend

Because they will ease away the pain

And help you keep yourself sane

Before they step out that door

And promise to see you because your face they adore.

They will kiss your lips

And promise it’s not the apocalypse

They will always come back

And kept your heart intact

For they love you most of all

And they will help you keep your head tall. 

Places in a Pen

Places in a Pen

1/11/2015

I let my pen lead me to places unknown

To lands and countries where I won’t be alone.

Where I can speak to others and send them my words

Where those words can fly high like the wings of birds.

Words hold many a secrets, written in song

They show the whole world a way to be strong

Through showing us emotions, songs band us together,

To risk a cliché, they make us birds of a feather.

Or through words in poetry, written in verse

Through which many a century the reader may traverse

Back to olden days, where pens wrote great epics

And even children knew the value of poetics

Because glories were written to heroes and gods

And all across the land, words could trod.

But a pen in the right hand has powers so vast

That even people on high can’t find a way past

The places they lead to, the courses they lay

But those held on pedestals choose to put on a play

To avert the dull masses and disband the faith

They once held in writers whose words show the true face

Of the ones hiding secrets, and telling the lies

But who hold all the power, who seem so noble and wise.

My pen leads me to stories, of heroes and kings,

Or of beggars and thieves, or things that pull on the strings

Of what’s deep in your heart, which makes you feel joy or pain

And puts your mind in places that you cannot explain,

And they bring stories of people who live through hard times

Who are victims of war or abuse or of crimes

Or of people who live in a faraway place

Or were forced from their homes, from their own lands displaced,

Or stories of fantasy, where the hero’s a pawn,

Or mysteries, or adventures, must I go on?

Words bring us much but most aren’t aware

Of this wealth of intelligence and how much is there.

A large part of humanity won’t pick up a book

In which holds so much knowledge that they now overlook,

They won’t know any empathy or make a new friend

In the characters of a book, and they will not descend

Into wars so vile, and battles bloody and dark

And on glorious journeys they’ll never embark.

People don’t understand where my pen can take me

But the fault is their own and I am happy

To keep it myself, though I would like to share

I must leave it be as is only fair,

They must find for themselves the power pens hold

Because if not the feeling won’t be made of gold.

Writing is something that I do everyday

To get out my frustrations and push them away,

I use it to pull the stopper on my heart

So that turbulent emotions won’t tear me apart.

To force a love of writing and reading is bad

So I’ll leave them be until they take my hand

And choose to find joy in the words from a pen,

And then I hope that they can enjoy it again and again.

Emotions

Emotions

4/29/2014

I am tired—but I do not sleep.

I’m full of sorrow, but I do not weep.

You fill me with love—but this does not show.

You fill me with hate—that I drag in tow.

I am full of joy as I face the day.

I am full of pain—that never fades away.

There is a dull ache, that festers and grows,

A sinking ship that I cannot row.

Sprouting lines of shining flowers

Wither and die without rain showers.

When autumn comes, leaves shrivel and die

But spring comes again—and things come alive.

Exhaustion turns to sorrow—and back again—

Just like a whirlpool turns—and never—ends.

Love turns to hate, but then is gone.

Love comes back again, and that’s not wrong.

From joy comes pain when things dissolve

It’s no simple problem that we can solve.

A clock keeps spinning—it never ends.

A cloth may tear and it will soon mend.

Spiral on and never stop,

We don’t give way to what time’s wrought.