Poems and Short Stories

  • My Mysterious and Moody Wife

    I fell in love with other people in my early years,

    Not getting the love I wanted brought me to tears.

    We all want people to love us for our faults,

    Deep down we know that is part of the waltz.

    But I needed to learn to love them for their cracks,

    Or else I would continually feel chopped up by their axe.

    Every person has strange manners to other eyes,

    Our uniqueness eventually comes with no surprise.

    After seeing more about how to tango with her,

    New lessons came from the wind’s whisper.

    Looking in a mirror and giving to myself what I expected,

    Love found a new center with force to be directed.

    A strange conversation with judges, lawyers, and the media,

    Trying to untangle meaning within without a good encyclopaedia.

    Acquiring this love opened a door that I didn’t expect,

    A door to the next dance I needed to detect.

    Love for another and love for oneself are one type of task,

    Love of life and reality was the next one to unmask.

    Once again, I needed to love all of life’s supposed imperfections,

    Realizing that love eats its own tail with never ending corrections.

    It is a long road that is full of nonsensical paradoxes,

    Destroying and then recreating all the mental boxes.

    Learning to let go of hate but still loving hate,

    Would life be life without hate on the plate?

    To love tears, to love rage, and to love despair,

    To love all the real things, good or bad, in the air.

    Isn’t everything on earth and in the stars pretty great?

    After all, there is no other reality in which we can relate.

    What does it actually mean to truly and fully love life?

    Perhaps having the most mysterious, miraculous, and moody wife.

  • Lead into Gold

    The great alchemical crossover

    A violent opening of the doors within

    I strip away all my love from my power

    Revoking, thus, my power I have given to my pain

    Seeing new truths of my becoming

    It is time for the priorities to be rearranged

    I give my power to my love

    And then my love to my pain

    For too long I was too proud to understand

    Unaware of the end goal it was aiming for

    All that sculpting and molding it orchestrated

    My thanks, for all it has done, goes to my pain

    Nonetheless, my love has taken the golden throne again

  • Hail Lucifer, the Light Bringer

    The Morning Star shining its rays upon our dawn

    A shapeshifter, a confusing trickster of endless traits

    Wonderful gifts he brought, that Promethean character

    Seemingly perfect in the opening chapters of the story

    But an Icarus he was and thus fell from his grace

    Cabanel knew this disappointed pride through vicious tears

    He descended into torment far behind his own gates

    But that need not be the end for the world of the spirit

    The deeper and darker the roots go down underground

    The brighter and more irradiant they can become up above

    But he betrayed us and stood between us and the light

    He tried to imprison us with the gifts that once moved us

    Can we overcome the truths that became hateful lies?

    Can we shift our teary eyes to noon’s strange prophecy?

    For Lucifer brought the light that would become our sun

  • A Sunny Day That Goes Too Long

    Beyond checkpoints behind other checkpoints

    Not too long after major winning lines

    The climbing flame can begin again

    As we hope for an illusory finishing point

    Otherwise on we go down that rocky road

    Understanding Elysium is not a place

    There are no true places after all

    Only being and nature agreeing

    So maybe if I rest too long in my momentary Zion

    It, too, becomes another treacherous trap

    Always leaving Babylon again and again

    As constant motion flows down the mountain

    Into basins of memory deposits

    And these battered and tired feet

    They surely find their way

    Having faith to always find their step

    Walking, walking, walking

    Until death rings my bell for rest

    Keeping movement to the unhearable beat

    Seeing that your tracks made a melodic street