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"Friday 3/11/2011..."
Its the hardest thing...
breathing and
watching
where you've walked -
paused -
places you've actually touched,
change
into nothings.
I'm having mind memories of people -
damn, so many and oh so real -
people
just everyday faces and voices,
encapsulated moments of anyday events...
vanish - swept away
in a moment's reality...
a continuing aftermath
of life.
When you've been THERE
it isn't news
or TV
or a reality show
or a curiosity...
and I'm crying
for the ones there
and all the memories taken away.
Chris
Pray for the ones you know
and for all of the ones you didn't get the chance to
"Life..."
I pause
whisper -
she stumbles...
I look,
smile...
listen to her breathe...
She has a taste
- not quite what I first thought
nor what she always believed...
Who are we
afterall
to each other?
What does it take
to taste
existence
and prove anything at all?
I pause
she whispers
we walk on.
Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing CHris
Skies are just beginning to lighten up... perfect time for coffee...
The steam from the mug just expands and expands into transparency.
You ever feel like that? - like we are expanding into transparency? I know we are a part of a vastness - just not WHAT that part is or means or does... think of being a grain of sand (with personal awareness) on a VAST beach... and waves WILL come in - and out as well... and we soar upward with the flow and slowly spiral and sink afterwards back into... each ourself. Becoming compacted into the mass once again.
"Sunday morn - before the dawn..."
Church... church...
we gather - each as we see,
belonging ='ing into our longing to be
part and close to
another - ourselves - the Greater
and its ALL the gatherings
together
become one
cascading into...
an endless STREAM
rising and arising
a speck of the all
part - apart - whole.
Sunday morn...
The 'view' within my mind... rising and rising - a stream of being - linked - linking... its one heck of a view from here... right now... how does one describe existence...
I wanted to pause - here with you this morning... The ebb and flow of living seemed to touch me... nothing of vast import...but everything coalesced and a vision of existence... a perception I wanted to share... and by my pausing right HERE - right now, this moment - I HAVE shared it.
Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing
"Me-in-disguise..."
I can't give you a rose -
a violet, a sunflower...
not even a daffodil - a weed.
Seems silly... I even seem silly -
to me about the nows,
but its true and I know it.
My mind is wandering a bit
the 4 AM whispers
flow and float by...
I see shadows in the dark!!!
my eyes fill up and and and...
I take a breath ~
and the feeling just
sinks
in
and the breathing softens
and calmness envelops me...
and the darkness IS a friend
it gently holds me.
I'm cold
always hated being COLD
cold is HARD
cold HURTS
it makes me cry
memories
make
me
and do they make you as well?
4 AM - does anyone KNOW
how many breaths there are
tween 4 and 5?
... and what about 6, 7,
tomorrow
and yesterday?
How many sinking ins?
- being helds
- listening to the whispers
flow and floating by
at 4 AM...
I don't feel - good
or bad
just
cold.
Wwwwwould you understand the why?
I can only share me -
the person I am.
Its all that I have -
thats mine,
at 4 AM
or tomorrow
or yesterday
"Teardrops - falling down from my face, leaving litlle tear tracks - traces of love..."
"Whispers - flowing through the darkness. Wishes only dreamed of - traces of love..."
"Windows - never to be opened... only to be looked through - locking each within...."
"Silence - echoing existence - filling all my senses - is all there is..."
"Teardrops - falling down from my face, leaving little tear tracks - traces of love..."
I hope someone
hears
you.
Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing CHris
"Wishes..."
Time flows in waves
in then out and away
then back...
I wander the shore...
touching the driftwood,
shells gleam in the sand.
And the waves fill in my footprints
and I can't see where I've been
nor know where I'm going...
I hear so many things...
feel the air brush my heart
fill my being
and dry my tears.
Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing CHris
"Tuesday..."
I appreciate the uniqueness
of whom we are...
and all of the efforts it took
to shape us.
We live as we can
and THAT is what we see
within each the other's eyes.
Love is touching a cheek
so softly even the tear doesn't know
it was shed.
Its the letting go though the sheer HURT
is so DEEP and yet unlike ANYTHING you knew -
just because to NOT let go
would have the other FEEL THAT level of hurt.
I throw snowballs
Damn well too...
I tickle and tease
chuckle and laugh.
I've drank Red Mountain
with the same verve as Dom Perignon
kissed lips so damned soft and willing
that I still have dreams.
Ancient is not old
old isn't ancient
Its the heart we have within
for the thoughts we hold so close -
that even a YOUNG woman would
BLUSH
and just maybe wish inside
she were a lil bit older too...
Don't get lost in aging what you see...
get lost in each others eyes, heart, and mind
and Accept what you find
and appreciate knowing
you've touched something inside yourself
most others never will...
dreams and starlight
wishes and dancin' faerie
the echoes of forever.
Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing
"Tears..."
You bring a smile and the scent of lavendar,
the taste of warm bread with that hint of butter,
the sound of heartbeats and held breaths escaping...
and leave each morning holding my heart so softly.
You are the dream I hold each night,
the whispers forever floating -
floating in the moonlight,
all the wishes I've ever made
on every falling star there ever was.
You dance within my life
and flavor all there is
with all there can be...
and the least I can say -
the very least
is
"I love you..."
Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing
"Merry..."
YOU present the image...
KNOW the 'buttons'...
and have THAT taste...
and JUST that 'touch' of class...
I can hear your laughter
and I don't care -
about the teasings
or the perceptions
or even give a damn about
what your reality IS...
I just KNOW
I thoroughly appreciate
...the dream.
Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing
"Awake..."
I took a walk in the sunshine
paused at a graveyard
of lost thoughts, hopes, dreams.
Paused listening to the echoes
of innocence passed beyond any nows.
Sat down on a grave -
leaned back on the headstone...
head lolling to the sky
and didn't cry a tear... just looked.
There were trees
and birds...
the sound of cars passing by
...and the silence of the lambs.
Lost lil lambs is what we/they are/were...
now/then and evermore.
Playground benches -
some of iron and wood,
recycled wastes of futures passed...
the graves of our days
their backs the headstones
framing our lives and the lies
and the presents we never saw
for the realities they would be.
And the breeze stirred the swings
and the ghosts - the ghosts
of all the yesterdays there ever were
crowded so close.
Then I cried.
Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing
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