|
Viewing 118 - 121 out of 121 Blogs.
| Page:
|
|
|
|
|
14 |
This is an 'older' work and hence a 'repost'; but, its no less relevant today as when it was first penned. We - you and I - witness so much each day of our existence, every day from birth to cease... and sometimes - just sometimes, we are so affected within our very core that existence pauses; that we actually try to do... something, anything - and yet in the end we're helpless bystanders.
A lot of people 'speak' of abuse they and others they know have suffered, seen, and lived through. I believe a child's eyes are the ones that so completely expresses the horror and sheer meanness of such 'moments' and damn but THAT 'darkness' never seems to fade away...
Her silence has a texture - a feel, a taste... an eternity about it. "Another Mother Cried Today..." I watched...
As her face became the mirror
of her broken life;
as each dream surfaced, spread,
then faded to the next and the next
and the next.
'Til each was paid for -
each earned its due
with every kick-in-the-gut,
rip-the-life-from-her-heart,
searing touch of they'll never be.
And she KNEW it all along...
inside. I listened...
As she mewled in the agony
rocking back-and-forth in her NOW -
reality.
Too far along in the depths of comprehension,
too close to hear the lies she couldn't hold in
anymore...
the ones she told herself in the dark before,
the ones she lived and breathed 'til she believed,
the ones she whispered to her silent God,
the ones now stripped away and leaving bare
the flayed and ragged raw flesh of her soul. I understood...
her whys, her ways, and every how -
every reason, excuse, each self-justification -
witnessed each step on her path
of self-fulfilling hell
... and couldn't change a thing. Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing
This is a continuation of a series of 'writings' that take place at an open-air Cafe`. If there seems to be enough interest generated I will repost the earlier works here for viewing; otherwise, most are currently available in mySpace archives at the link given on my profile page.
...Cafe Series - continued...
It seems Mary isn't here anymore. I spoke with the owner because I wondered if everything was ok, and she told me Mary went - home. The cafe just isn't the same somehow - ya know?
"Just black coffee - please. In a mug, no carafe - K?"
Off she goes - to the kitchen I guess. Wonder what she'll say to the owner/cook this time... "That crazy ole man is out there - again. Doesn't want a carafe, just a mug. Damn, does he think I have time to wait on him hand-and-foot, refilling at HIS pleasure 'til HE decides to give-it-up and go on his way???"
Quite a mind-pic THAT...chuckling here. Ah hell, still its morning and the coffee IS drinkable and god knows how RARE that is.
I opened the new journal. Baptism-under-fire... chuckled again. Old pen, new paper, and yet still - me.
I heard the footsteps coming up. Felt the vibration of her 'placing' the mug none-to-gently just out of my reach. Coffee sloshed, well its her wipe-up. My eyes unfocused - again... I let the thoughts continue...
The other waitresses, well - they just aren't Mary. She had a 'way' of being who she is - was - in everything she did that was so damned unique - truly irreplaceable, least to me. It's colder now - here... the looks, the behind-the-eyes now aren't what always brought me back. There's a 'vacantness', a seeming lack of heart... yeah, I'm shaking my head lightly, slowly side-to-side - I miss... her.
Lonely is a way of life. Seems we fight that feeling and the encompassing fear with every breath, every pause, every moment we witness a 'happening' and turn our head to share - to the silence beside us. There are times we CAN breathe and times we wish we could - breathe... and it isn't just nights, just days, just lifetimes, just ourselves.
We hold so much inside... and its GOOD and WONDER-FULL and silly and sweet and so much more than the silences that surround us. We don't cry for nothing, really - there is a reason for every tear and sometimes we admit it - if only to ourselves because there is no one else to hear. Living DOESN'T fill the silence and death just punctuates its existence even more.
Damn, I miss her.
"Hershey Kisses..."
It takes talent
to touch
me
and touching isn't -
chocolate,
silver wrappers,
colorful strands, streamers,
ribbons and bows...
its the look within,
and behind the eyes
gazing into mine.
Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing
"Changes..."
People aren't 'things'
and things aren't 'people' -
'til they are,
until we are -
treated that way,
this way -
the only ways
- some ever know.
"Changes..."
Some 'things' work.
Some 'things' don't.
Some 'things' used to - yesterday,
and others even earlier today;
but, not... now.
Some will likely work tomorrow -
it seems you never know,
and THATs just "Life" in the end -
people - in the 'end'
isn't it?
"Changes..."
It seems a lot of
things
that shouldn't change - always does
change,
and life just continues
oblivious
and we -
we just continue
oblivious
impervious...
until its WE
that are somehow
some-when
'changed'.
"Changes..."
A few have 'tears' -
precious tears of
feeling, understanding,
missing, 'knowing'...
seems there's not a damp eye
in a world
of
yesterdays
until tomorrows
knock on our doors.
"Changes..."
Some changes are MOST unexpected
- seems WE are always the last ones to know.
Some changes are hoped - even PRAYED - for;
some are what WE'VE worked for and/or towards.
Some, a very select few, are 'dreams'
- while others are "Oh My God..."
nightmares - 'dreams' gone horribly,
terribly wrong.
"Its just business,
nothing personal..."
is a sad anthem heard over-and-over
but the EYES - the EYES looking into
mine
are so 'broken'.
"Changes..."
Many people have left
passed
and/or given up - on life as a whole.
We make 'do'
because its all we CAN do -
NOT that we want to.
We still smile
still dream - maybe a little simpler for some,
perhaps not - for a few;
but,
we HAVE more to 'miss'
and a day less to 'miss'
with each sunrise.
"Changes..."
Moonlight and music
and the softest warmest eyes
looking into mine.
The scent of dreams
wafting through my being...
and all the 'wishes'
held in my arms.
We danced through life
sunrise, through sunset
in star's glow
and found our 'dreams'
shared.
...and in the end
we had 'company'
along the ways.
Chris
Tags: Poetry
"20 - 20..."
Its easy
to quip answers
to life's hindsights
and hard
to remember
how you got THERE.
I've been guilty
and
innocent
of living life
daily
the only way I can -
as myself. Chris
Tags: Poetry
| Page:
|
|
|
|
|
14 |
|
