Happy Birthday, Eddie

That's what his aunt called him. We know him as the Master of Macabre: Edgar Allen Poe. Today's his birthday. He was one of my greatest inspirations, so, here:

http://www.eapoe.org/

Learn a bit about the man.I am nearly ten years further along than he managed. I wonder if I will affect as many for the longer years.

silences between words

Angels do not dream
Save when they are demons

for dreams are made of vapid things
no use to the right hands of God

Here, it seems, we cling to dreams
or plays of utter futility

For we are granted nothing else
to see us thru the nightmare

What small thing can change this world
to a bitter ugly thing

from the grace of the One
filled with light and love

to a hell of pain and unbelonging
ripe with self doubt and loathing


Words

nay, those things left unspoken
the silences between the words

the inadequacies felt but not said
the emptiness left unseen

Astounding what harm we cause
thru what we will not express

it all comes down to the old man's words
a failure to communicate

being there

I hear you
from out here

I would curl
inside the curve
of your arm
warm you
and me
with a belonging
neither seems to have

strong arms around me
fingers fingers touching softly
it fills my thoughts
and warms my heart


but I do not know how to
cross the distance between us

life calls
with duties
large and small
and once again
what I want
what I need
gets pushed to
the bottom of
the list


maybe someday

for now
I dream of caresses
I cannot give
and hold on tight

if you know
it is enough

Pathways

Everything has led to this point

all decisions
all mistakes
all triumphs
all hopes and dreams

night time curls around me,
made a little softer
because I understand

we cannot grow
any way else

part of the journey
is the lessons
part of the challenge
is the trials

they make us who
we are
who we must be


Some walk alone

some walk in
pairs or groups

some meet at crossroads
only to diverge again

it is the way of things

no story ever ends
just warps its way along

and “along” has
brought me here

here I meet new eyes
not my own
but coloured with
a similar song

And for that moment
I know again
I am not alone

who would think
a distant smile
could warm me so.

too often in this life

after so many years
you would think
I would know better

after so many mistakes,
so many false starts at the gate,
you’d think I would wise up.

but hope springs eternal
that change will come
and something will happen
where nothing has been able
to grow in the past.


I don’t know why I even try

I do not understand
why I reach out time and again
knowing in the back of my mind
that i will be slapped down
yet again.

is it masochism
or a bleeding heart syndrome
or just me thinking that
there’s got to be one other
good person out there.

someone explain it to me
beforeI lose what’s left
of this mind.

Too Awake

I am so alone.

I do not know
if I am lonely
though.
Wiser voices
once told me
there is a
difference
there.

But life has
never hande
me else

and I do
not know
how to
change it.

I hate being
so seperated
in this shell.

I remember
ither times
other places

Where the skin
fit better
than today

didn't seem so
much like a
barrier

but rather
a comfortable
coat
around me

why do we choose
this method
of learning

What is the point
of questing for
belonging
when we are
but parts of
something grander

It is our seperateness
that makes us
ugly

Only the saintly
among us
get it right
in this life

and too often
they are martyred
for their differences

It's like we hate
being reminded
of what we cannot
touch here

because of the
mundaneness
of day to day

I guess I am
not so different
just eyes open

Yes
ignorance can be bliss
Wisdom comes with
a price

or perhaps a cost

true wisdom is
to be careful
what you ask for

It may not be
what you think
in the end

alone
is not
lonely
true

it is knowing
too much
and no one
to share it with

Undone

The man in the moon is crying
misting over at the passing clouds
I wonder what he sees
when looks upon his daugther earth

does he see the passing time
scurrying under his feet
does he see the changing seasons
or the ebb and flow of glaciers

I bet he sees only the changing colour
from blue to bitter green
as those unseen on her gentle face
lay waste to all that is home

we are not alone

but we may leave nothing here
to mark that we ever were &
once we are gone she will glow
that deep clean blue again

what a shame we cannot see
the greater picture as he does
learn humility and compassion
for that which gives us life

It will be our undoing.