Poetry

The Pilgrimage

I gave you my best
You saw my worst
I was crazy, you said
But all I ever did was
lose my mind over
your drunken promises.

We stood there
Crying at the dead
Pledging to carry on
Oblivious to the cracks
in our foundation and
our inability to love.

I’m gonna walk out
of your halfway house
abandon your divided care
secondhand emotions
Hop on the next bus
back to myself.

I don’t want you
Not anymore
Gonna pack my wounds
in a prayer boat
Let the wind bless it
to the end of the world.

I wish you well
and send you off
on your pilgrimage
Forever searching
With a foot in the now
and an eye in the past.

I don’t want you
Not anymore
Gonna pack my wounds
in a prayer boat
Let the wind bless it
to the end of the world.

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Poetry

Back to Dreaming

Before I met you
I harbored dreams of love.
Now I’m back to dreaming
Of a faraway promise
Which I can’t unlearn.

Shackled by rose-colored glasses
I evanesce as I falter
Through the adult world.
My child-like heart just won’t quit
A skip, and a hop at musings past.

How do I break my religion
Soothe the naked gash
When I still believe
That in some future
We would be One.

Days when my faith is limp
I chance you in my mirage
The little fire reignites
The prophecy, and hurls me
deep into the Never-intended.

Buy me a map out of the maze
Back to Feeling, Living, Smiling,
Walking, Running, Twinkling,
Resurrected by myriad wonders
Of the Sun in my dogged path.

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Poetry

Unchain Your Love

I could learn to live alone
if only you could unchain my heart
from memories of your love
flashes of your smile,
vignettes of your guitar.
I’m locked in our glory days.

My heart wants to be set free
from your indecision,
your doubts of us.
Unchain your love
Set me free.
Without me, you’ll be ok.

I could run to the end of the world
and you’ll still be there
‘Cuz we’re chained together
for better and for worse
Just give me the key,
and set yourself free.

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Poetry

Peas, and Things

She lays herself on a bed of eggshells,
As sleep tiptoes away from her,
Her head weary with feathery realities,
Faces off with unwise dreams.

Love who once nourished her inner piths,
now sends a chill down a sloped spine.
Pretend she will, smile she will,
To a life of immeasurable roofs.

Day and night, day and night,
A punctured soul leaks peas, and things,
into a closet lavish with mold,
through, through, with foggy truths,
As day engulfs the exuberant night.

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Poetry

Tears To Nowhere

Bloody tears sauntered out my almond doors,
down the labyrinthine roads often taken,
meandering on a muggy stream to nowhere,
after a coltish Puck shattered my glass screens,
with His trigger-happy forked trident,
jolting my sense-depths in ripples,
and exposed the cloak ’round my heart.

“Awake,” he jested, “be mine sport,
and look through mine eyen,
re-enter the world of trifles,
dalliances, tomfoolery and play,
where princely rovers romp amidst stained silk,
donning magnificent masks of red roses,
casting ornate spells with their gospel.”

My tear-stained heart recused herself
from this beguiling invitation,
to constant-feast on faith and hope
on the shady trail to her lost half,
a vestige nomad in her mind-camera,
whose hands made music with her strings,
and equipped a wanton soul with wings.

“Thou beest a fool,” he chided, “Milady,
Nightly in these tryst-worn woods,
comely earthlings as thyself, springstepped
in hot-bellied fervour for the noble prince,
are disgraced in the daybreak court of Helios,
and rediscover thyselves hocks of a wily rake,
whose pledges are sixpence to thine pound.”

As Jove struck his gracious shears at my spellbound eyes,
crashing pieces of eye-glass felled my heartstrings,
rupturing the life stream between me and the other,
with balmy wine gushing out freshly made ravines,
jamming dense my cavernous wounds with winter,
once I awoke to the truth of the practised gambit,
I plummeted the depths of my lover’s menagerie.

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Poetry

Pieces of Winter

Once a house, but never a home,
here, the fair babe now withered,
dying in a murky room, under the
wintry spell of the broken house.

It was said once in Spring, the house
glowed amid the same trite rows, and
welcomed her traveling heart into
the warmth behind its hazel door.

Summer came, and humanity danced,
and hooked her heart into a happy room,
rapt with mesmerizing tunes, fluffy air,
and eternal promises of tomorrows.

When she next looked out the window,
her eyes saw red, yellow and orange,
the leaves that sprung eternal began
its regime against the seasons’ end.

The house, thin-skinned and emptied,
could not protect against the cold,
which waved in intermittent shards,
bursting her heart, plumped, in pieces.

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