On A Midnight Drive
The tempests toss...but with a single word they can be still...and in the peace finding solitude and comfort...release... Let us together strive to be perfect beings. Even if that means we become something more than human. Transcending humanity perhaps could be a blessing...to forget pain and regret...to have something more...something of a little more merit. Something greater than fate, or the cards life dealt to devastate...
Dive with me away from the confusion, maybe reality is an illusion. Come away with me into the silence of night…away from the painful blight. Come away with me tonight…on a midnight drive.
i've stumbled here
in an old dream
that i have known
but where can i set my eyes,
two lonely, runaway balloons
that crawl and stretch and fail to frame it
all at once: bloodless, mindless revelations
of a place without a body to clasp onto this intelligence,
red womb of space?
the roots of oblivion
are fed to great skeletons of air
and i can watch the pines hug at their endings,
an abysmal tongue that licks through
the soul of stone
as easy as water
will find water,
as gravity has found
of its peace.
and i can say this, now;
has never been the world.
call my name.
The past showers me with wishes,
The rain of the past, present, and future, pound endlessly.
Who, when, and where will my cross roads lie?
Who is calling my name?
When will my moment to shine come?
Where will life lead me?
The wind whispers to me,
breathing into me......
There is hope, for this journey all must take.
Live life with a passion, and take risks.
Sing your swan song with pride, and let yourself be heard.
The wind departs, and thoughts overwhelm me.
Climbing over the hills and valleys of my destiny....
Take my hand,
and never let go.
Let our hearts beat in unison, keeping us steady, even if the world drops around us.
The Bride of AtlasShe met him when the world was new;
when wars were fought in the cosmos
and celestial beings deigned expose
and visit themselves upon the mortals.
In darkness he came to her;
somewhere between fantasy and the real,
disguised as a human, burly and firm
with want of a lover and yearning for release.
She knew him as a man
and he loved her as his wife.
A Titan he had always been
at battle with Olympians
who garnered all of humanity's love
and chose war over peace to keep it.
As lightning struck, thunder roared,
and waves destroyed the earth,
all grew quiet as Olympus rejoiced
and she knew that he had lost.
Zeus then rest upon his shoulders
the weight of the world eternal.
A punishment made more severe
by lack of warmth from her mortal heart.
He carried his punishment made unending
as Earth's coarsened face gouged his back.
The insects and beasts stung and mauled
and the humans warred and burned his flesh.
Still he held the world atop his shoulders
The Ballad of My DogThe Ballad of My Dog
When I was young, my ears flopped down,
My coat was ashy grey.
I chased the tassels on the rug;
I just wanted to play.
I cried at night, for I was too short,
To get up on the bed.
For that is where I chose to spend
The lonely time of dread.
Now that I'm grown, my ears stand up,
I look like a small grey fox.
And, like when young, I sleep with you
I never liked my box.
My tail curls over like a pig's,
I have sleepy bedroom eyes.
I shake and shiver when I'm scared,
And whine and moan and cry.
Once a month, near the full moon,
I go a little strange.
I hunt for teddies to hump and protect,
My behaviour becomes deranged.
I gulp and lick at little fleas
Until I drive you round the bend.
You moan at me, and shout at me,
For this icky noise to end.
For now I'll lie upon the bed,
Not quite sure what to do.
But be warned, don't turn your back,
Or I'll steal teddy from you.
The Day I Didn't Die.For many years now, today is the worst day of the year for me. And I can't help but think it always will be.
Quite honestly, it should be the best day of the year because it is the day I didn't die.
Let me explain.
After a drunken phone conversation with the woman I hold dearest to my heart last night, the Aunt convinced me that it's finally time I share this story. If for nothing more, just to get it out and put it in the past. It's not a story I like to share. It's not something I like to talk about, but I'm hoping the catharsis of writing it down will help me be a better person. A person that doesn't dread the arrival of December 16th every year.
It's always a dark day because 17 years ago it's the day I woke up to find out that my grandmother was dead. And with her, any hope of a normal childhood because she was the one that was there for my brother and I when our mom wasn't and when our dad was on one of his rampages.
The hot, unsanitary, dusty operating tent was a world away from the tiled, clean and cool theatres that Rich was used to at home. He had signed up as a voluntary surgeon after watching one too many news stories about the wars that seemed to occur on a perpetual basis. He wanted to make a difference, so he gave up golfing holidays in Scotland and Southern France and instead flew out to whatever conflict had flared up during his leave.
This particular war zone was particularly horrific, and as usual it seemed to be the civilians who had drawn the short straw. He had got used to the pathetically equipped hospitals and aid stations, with ever dwindling supplies, and outdated and dirty tools. But the breath still caught in his throat when he saw the grievous harm caused to people. It wasn't all pervasive; if that had been the case he would have become jaded by its incessancy. It caught him unawares, out of the corner of his vision – the empty stare of an emaciated child, or a