Someone Cared Enough to Take My Photograph

Someone cared enough to take my photograph
A momentary lapse in banal living
A microsecond when time held not only still
But enlisted a frozen smile over something long forgotten

Reasons for smiles become unimportant
Mere crumbs in the feasts of life
Smiles worn honest and real reveal not what the senses perceived
But the depth of which the heart is capable

Life becomes a tragedy of pain, anguish, and disappointments
Battering the inner self to the brink of submission
Yet, if the heart remains strong, courageous, valiant
The corners of you mouth curl northward, lifting said heart to manageable heights

Throughout the years, people steal smiles in merciless moments
Never using nor trading their ill-gotten goods
But tossing these signs of health and hope to the black dungeon of nothingness
Which leaves the victim powerless, hopeless, downtrodden

Nostalgia may deliver that picture
The one where your only care squirted up your gut, into your throat
Out into the world as laughter – and the moment the shutter fell
Upon your gleaming smile, the moment, the magic, granted a harmony with life.

Someone cared enough to take my photograph
Despite all which goes astray in life, despite all which damages us
So as to reveal a vibrancy, victorious in the smile’s very existence
Reminding me life and hope and love nurture laughter and smiles
Moments better to live in the real than rely on their reminders from the past.
The more I learn the less I know, yet this truth remains constant
The ability to smile and laugh exists as one of the greatest gifts a human possesses
And someone cared enough to take my photograph to remind me to smile and laugh in the now, to keep that picture alive…

Prompt writing can be a wonderful tool in a writer’s kit to own. I’ve honed my prompt writing over the years to the point that mere words or phrases elicit creative juices of which I cannot, nor wish I not, to control.

Today I watched an interview from the BBC back in the day where the interviewer was attempting to get Robin Williams to be serious. The interviewer actually achieved the near impossible task. Robin made a statement about a photograph and the fact that someone cared enough to take a picture of this person.

I’d been reminded by a FB post from a beautiful friend earlier in the day, of a Socratic quote which I’ve understood most of my life, that being, “The more I learn, the less I know.”

The photograph, the Socratic quote, and a simple smile prompted me most urgently to write a poem. When the muse insists, I do my best to oblige. What I learned from this poem is this:

Smiles are a truth of strength. If life beats you down so badly that you’ve lost the ability to smile an honest smile, the time has come for self inspection.

Smiling is becoming a vulnerable act these days. So much hate. So much loathing. So much fear-mongering. So much obligatory fear.

An honest smile is a healthy experience for your body, your mind, your heart, and your soul. Not a derisive smile. Not a smile at someone’s expense. A warm, honest smile from within which requires only that you allow yourself to feel the warmth of life. This is a truth for me.

Sharing that smile with others becomes not only your gift, but theirs as well. There are many who desire these smiles wiped not only from our faces, but more so from others’ eyes. Why? Because a smile is more contagious than any illness known to man.

Honest, loving smiles bring goodness into this world. As sick and dying as our precious Earth is at this moment, we need an epidemic of smiles to infect the world and set our feet onto better paths…

Mists of Yesteryear


Sadness. Despair. Underlying everything in life, these two emotions trickle through our hearts, brains, circulatory systems, thoughts, actions, decisions, whether or not we realize.

Where form the roots of these emotions? I believe the pall of death. From my life observation, people everywhere do whatever they can to allay the inevitable – death.

Many, likely most planet-wide, flee to religions to ease their underlying dread. Some actually achieve a level of intellectual and emotional distance from the reality that their life on this earth will end. I am not denigrating nor supporting religion. I simply observe.

Many, likely most planet-wide, flee the thought of death by the world’s distractions. Especially in this day of high technology and low intellect, bread and circuses, food and distraction, rule the hearts and minds. The deflection of recognition whence sadness comes acts as a temporary shield from our reality.

I do not write this for morbidity’s sake. In fact, I do not condemn anyone for their particular “avoidance” of life’s most underlying theme. I simply take this moment to examine some truths.

We all seek answers. Some believe they find answers and live on until they die holding these beliefs. This situation remains quite personal and quite within the realm of each individual person. They take their answers with them.

In many ways, I feel the search for answers a futile, unrealistic effort. There will be no true answer until that time, that moment after the last breath, where time likely no longer holds measurement.

Time. There’s a construct for you! We measure time as though the measurement holds true meaning in life. Yet, not one of us knows how much of this thing labelled “time” we actually possess. Time is an idea. Getting past time as a reality is nearly impossible in this time.

What is reality? This question has been debated for millennia. I look at wars. Death. Hate. Murder. Rape. Abuse. These feel quite real.

So why do love, peace, hope, tenderness, life, feel so fleeting? So temporary? My “mini” answer is the underlying knowledge of death and the unaddressed sadness and despair humans feel on an unconscious level.

We all shoot our answers in the dark, often striking others, altering their views of the truth of life and how to live it. I’ve always held, back to my youngest cognitive memories, that the worst thing mankind ever did was identify this thing we called life as “living.”

The truth, from my youngest moments to this day of writing is that from conception, we are marked for death. I realize this is an unpopular perspective. People do not wish to acknowledge this. People label this as morbid. Depressing.

I see the perspective more as truth. Reality. A path. The annoying presence of “time” keeps us from so many accomplishments. I know. This is also an unpopular viewpoint. The arguments for “time” are compelling. But stop for a moment to consider this:

John Lennon. Forty years old. Returning to the music world with his creativity. Years of potential music ahead of him. He had plenty of “time” until someone else decided he did not. Karen Carpenter, for me and even greater loss at thirty-three years old.

The saying goes that no one knows how long they well be alive on earth. What if we had labeled this thing we call “life” something like “death.” What if we taught that we are dying every day so make each moment precious? Would we be so prone to distracting ourselves from our ultimate reality?

Of course, the entire fabric of existence would be different. The acknowledgement would breed a complex and different set of viewpoints on the existence of humans on earth. My view of this, observing over these decades is that mankind would find ways to pervert the miracle of existence in fantastic proportions just as we’ve done so now.

Where is this post going?


Ok, this post is leading to a poem. Poetry and “Life’s cares in words and art…” are indeed the overlying premise of this site. Do not look to me for your answers for these answers remain held tightly within your personal heart and soul. If anything I write helps you discover something about yourself, be happy for your ability to learn something new about you.

Mists of Yesteryear

I Watch…

…days of dewdrops and school-bound walks fade into the mists of yesteryear.

…joys of vacations and discoveries and carefree times fade into the mists of yesteryear.

…first love and its exhilarating tendency to rapture fade into the mists of yesteryear.

…struggles to achieve and to excel in something of meaning fade into the mists of yesteryear.

…conflicts and confrontations over differing viewpoints fade grudgingly into the mists of yesteryear.

…the feeling of peace and connection to all that exists fade gently into the mists of yesteryear.

…the searching for answers in the mists of yesteryear yielding only sorrow and loss and futility

…for the day remains in my lungs, my heart, my mind and belongs not to the mists of yesteryear until I allow it to be so

…for the resurrection of love and thought and deeds may stroll the mists of yesteryear but these phantom mists congeal only as tears within in my soul, yet I seek them nonetheless…

…for life will always be the answer to the question of death…

…for the reverse to be true…

…making this moment most supreme outside the grasp of the mists of yesteryear…


I smile when I notice your digital peeks
Tiny footprints of love
I know you love

I smile when I realize you inhale printed words
Tiny love-molecules which enter your heart
I know you relax and sigh

I smile when I remember my anguish calmed by thoughts of you
Tiny snowflakes of emotional beauty
I know you send them freely

I smile at my attempt to write you into words
Tiny snippets of a soul much too magnificent to describe
I know your tears of joy

I smile when you slip into my thoughts each day
Tiny power-wisps which bolster my flagging heart
I know you love me

I smile
Midnight moon

Midnight Ripples


Her footfalls pad gentle through the waning light of my soul,
Their gentle drops of midnight ripple emotional pools, reflecting glints of her aura.
Memories, pasts, presents, and futures roll like temperamental tumbleweeds
Influenced by whatever cares blow in the existential winds.

She rights my ship without wont or care
From simple attention and digital smiles
Electronic demonstrations of kindness lacking in my tactile world
I miss her far beyond even the possibility of meeting her

Rhymes and reasons fall by life’s empty courts
No judgments to befall us other than our own misgivings about the time we’ve spent
She rises to the horizon, whether it be dawn or dusk
Claiming the love I cannot relinquish, she, without word or deed, owns all within me

Foolishness would be the critical cry of most whom I know
Less complimentary from unknown fellow travelers
Yet nothing from others conveys any detraction
For they know not the heart I’ve felt, read, and seen with my inner eye.

Here’s what I know and love
Her awareness of how her gentle drops of midnight soothe my soul
Her lovely, chiffon elegance when love and life meet in purer light
Her ever constant of love and kindness to me
Anyone would count her a blessing in their life

In My Darkness


In My Darkness

In my darkness

Words and concepts slither in shadows
Reality struggles against the bindings of fear
Love whimpers from pools of bitter damage

In my darkness

Goodness flees, skittish, traumatized
Truth searches jagged walls with bloody hands for escape
Light and hope bear no weight other than the meager soul languishing in death

In my darkness

Clever chameleons deceive the mind with temporal pleasures and distractions
Ghosts of atrocities passed and future call attention to themselves
There stands no forest…only trees

In my darkness

A gluttony of ego rises and falls as waves in a tempest
Maniacal illusions of answers to puzzles unknown spew the inner sanctum
Laughter and bravado create a false bravado of solutions to unanswerable questions

In my darkness

I lie in a pool of angst-driven sweat
Knowing truth will eventually glow and lead the way
Yet the intervals of clarity rain but isolated droplets into what remains of life

In my darkness

I dwell, wrestling with troubles more imagined than real
Or more real than imagined
Distinction elusive, evasive, eternal…

In my darkness

I search, desperate to define myself
Anxious of my inability to right my emotional ship
Until I slump in resignation-driven apathy

In my darkness

I find that which I often believe lost
Beaten into oblivion, never to be struck as a rallying chord again…

In my darkness

No matter how deep the well of doubt
No matter how lonely my crippled soul
No matter how dejected my loving heart

I reach a point of razor-thin ledges around the abyss
Falling off points where abject destruction must surely lie
I cease foolish, desperate grabs for purchase

I lie back into the blackness
Eyes neither open nor shut
Mind neither panicked or calm
Answers neither questioned or given


In my darkness

I rise to know…

…I own nothing but the breath I’m allotted
…I control nothing but the choices I make
…I love because my nature demands this
…I rise despite myself
…I cherish clarity’s kindly visits
…I realize truth never plays favorites
…I aspire once more in the pursuit of my truth
For that truth becomes all I require of a carrot, a light, a path

In my darkness


Periods of creative struggle never allows for easy living. At least for me. I know I’m down. I know I need to write. I know I need to get away and connect myself with my universe.

Yes, I own my universe. We all do. We simply allow others to define us rather than walking our own path. There’s an interesting “debate” I came across through a friend between the concept that we’re all the same and we’re all different. Both stand apparently true to me, but on far different levels.

Yes, we each exist as humans with emotions, rational thought, physical bodies, etc, yet each of us live completely different lives with different views and different reactions to experiences. We may hold strong similarities to individual experiences, but even in that infinitesimal difference between you and I on ANY experience, we are not the same. Nowhere near.

When you use general emotional reactions to situations, you may make argument for this “sameness,” but everything falls apart when you take into account the varying, impossible to calibrate, levels of pain, love, loneliness, anger, frustration, etc., added to the experiential truths we each gather within ourselves separate from others.

The complexities of life, individually stand impervious to homogenization. Governments, religions, corporations, all strive to herd us together to fit the molds they deem truth. Always, without fail, the efforts immediately fall prey to failure because the rifts and difference remain, most assuredly unseen for a time, but destined to fail.

Humpty Dumpty could never be more true a descriptor of the human race. We all search for answers in structure. I sense that path, time-honored and repeated for thousands of years, will never bring us one step closer to the questions we ask.

Ramblings. Just a peek at something I gleaned from the poem I just wrote. I’ve known this many times in my life, yet I constantly struggle, like everyone else in this world, to grasp it. Relaxing into the abyss, with a forfeiture of ability to manipulate anything, revitalizes strength. At least, that’s the way it is in my world, in my darkness…


Hello Lover…


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Hello Lover

Hello lover…

How are you doing?

I lie in bed
Awake and aware
I know who you are
Yet I don’t know you – but I do.

Did you know I’ve touched you in my heart?

I have.

Your black, silken hair has brushed my face
The slow smolder of your eyes
Your scent
your accent
Your intellect
Your heart
Your mind

All conspire to wrap me in attentive bliss
All conspire to deliver the Grecian Urn kiss
Yet in my heart, my mind, my soul
I’ve held you in my arms on a cool midnight’s sigh
I’ve wondered and¬† and dreamed of reasons why
Our time appears destined to never be nigh
But hope and love refuse to pass me by…


I stroll with you in my midnight mind
Marvel when you capture that which needs held
You embrace me despite circumstance
A world built to keep us apart
Both in our minds
And in our decisions

I do know this
A moment
A wisp of a summer blade of grass in a breeze
A rustling of an Autumn leaf swirled on a light wind
A midnight moon to cradle our love
A spring flower to tickle our noses
Winter’s ice which inspires our mutual warmth
they’re more than desires
More than dreams
More than grails for conquest and completion

Each embody love
Essence of definitions pertaining to all which is right s world

And I know this…

I’ve never actually kissed you in my dreams
My mind
My heart
Because that mere act could only be revealed in your presence
For the meeting of our lips would only be desecrated by the dream act of imagination
And is only reserved for hope
That one day the Grecian spell be broken
And I could slip into my remaining breaths
With the fervor and gentle passion of deep abiding love
Propelling each finite kiss into a gratified experience
Allowing my soul the honor and exquisite beauty
Of repeating this minute transfer of love over years or days, whichever is granted –
melded and melted into our worlds
where my own world intersects with your own world
to the point where the two mesh
and we smile
we know the other cannot feel anything less than love

Tis a dream my heart
A dream to cap all dreams
Slight moments scattered over time
Snippets of expression
To reassure you
And reassure me
That love does prevail
When its depth reveals
no end

Hello lover….

I do more than think of you…
I more than adore you for that is but candyfloss in the wind
I more than dream of you

I allow myself to hold you in my arms
To walk hand in hand after a troublesome day
To catch the scent of your hair
the glint in your eyes
to feel the warmth of your soul
for those actions stand as all I could possibly trace through the threads of experience
to fill my entire being with everything good and right
to go any further would only detract

Hello love,
For “lover” brings a defiled connotation in this world
yet in my heart I see myself brush back a strand of your hair with my fingers
I see a wan smile
I feel a knowing
and that’s all I need


May the day arrive that the warmth of our breaths cross each other
The touch of our hands reveal each other
The warmth of our embrace reassure each other
and the unimagined kiss define itself for each other
as two who know those moments of being one in love

Should we ultimately merely retain that which we’ve urned,
KNOW that you are loved.

My musings within the remnants of my midnight air this night….


I awoke from a deep sleep with these thoughts on my mind. Much as I desired to lie back down and return to my slumber, I rose instead to seek out my laptop from the living room. Once settled back into bed, I wrote “Hello Lover.” Now, in the grogginess of the hour before I must leave for work, I ran one pass through to correct typos (I always hope to catch all of them, but often some slip through).

Whether this writing makes sense to anyone is almost immaterial. It made perfect sense when I wrote it and now on the quick read-through, I still connect with the content. The one area I WOULD work on if I had more time, would be to clear up the line beginning “Of repeating this minute transfer…”

I actually DID tweak that line by adding the word minute, and the phrase “over years or days, whichever is granted -” to somewhat clear up what I’m feeling about the lasting power of a tiny kiss. Hopefully the addition works toward that end. I must now become a whirling dervish and get ready for work.

My Little Boat


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What once felt joyous and new morphed into pain, loneliness, suffering, fear, disappointment, sadness. No need for morbidity here, but sidestepping truth becomes a step toward acquiescence and surrender. Finding joy most often entails the worst action we may take. Joy never, ever owns roots without. The smile always, always emanates from within.

What mystic reference oozes out of the previous paragraph?


My love of life never wavers at its core. At times, all the surrounding camouflage wilts away. Other times all the pseudo-life decorations evaporate in a nanosecond as from ground zero at a nuclear blast.

Whether slow death or vaporization, my adoration of breathe and thought and love and beauty and many other wonderful aspects of living remains the foundational rock of my existence. In my pain, sorrow, suicidal thoughts and dejection, I remain true to my core.

I love life.

The pain of loneliness rose its devastating head these past couple years. A companion, a confidante, a compatriot, may, in the end, be nothing more than window dressings, but they’re quite real and their absence quite a wound on my soul at this time.

Yes, I know. I’ve heard it most of my life, and I’ve known it a little less than that amount of time – that love and happiness comes from within. I’m more secure within myself than ever before in my life. I know more of who I am and what makes me tick. I’ve come to love myself more than ever, which I realize is not saying a lot, but I do love me.

Yet, part of who I am involves relationship. Touch. Interaction. I do not believe as a species we are meant to live alone. There is a compelling, deep-rooted desire for companionship and the other social interactions listed above. I yearn for that connection. I nearly would state I am not complete without that connection.

I hear the objective roar from those who claim we should be enough simply within ourselves. We do not need someone else to “complete” us. I beg to differ. If you grant me the above statement that we are not “meant to live alone,” then part of who I am is incomplete without the love of another which I desire.

Here, we may get into splitting hairs. My children love me. My mother over-adores me. My sisters love me. My father loved me while he was here, albeit in most un-observable ways.

I’m speaking of the need for the love of another. I possess a deep, deep ability to love. I do not desire to pour this love over many. Just one. As such, I desire the same in return.

There’s the rub. There’s the issue. Right? Most people long for this. I’m no more unique in this than all the homogenized crap fed to the masses by governments, corporations and religions. This is a near universal longing. Yet, when you’re down and out emotionally with the absence of love one of the main players on the emotional field, the pain feels isolated to just you, your heart, and the black-hole frigidity of life.

I know I’m not alone. I know she’s out there. Somewhere.

Age wearies us, doesn’t it? Apathy creeps in like a skulking phantom. Why a phantom would require the act of skulking is a mystery, but apathy does not suddenly bloom out of nowhere. Apathy grows roots deep, breaks the ground, and eventually blossoms into darkness. Foul black and gray petals of darkness. Kudzu of the heart. The battle against apathy robs strength and stamina and raises questions of surrender.

As stated, I love life.

When I become backed into emotional corners, my go-to salvation springs from that love. This entire post has blossomed from a thought which floated through my mind and heart this morning. My little boat is my love of life.

My Little Boat

My little boat is unsinkable.
My little boat traverses the seas of life in all their raging torrents
My little boat saves me from myself.
My little boat allows me to heal from the wounds of others.
My little boat delivers me to island paradises every now and again.
My little boat takes the pure evil of this world and floats on its acid hate
My little boat feels everything.
My little boat weeps in its solitude.
My little boat should be loved.
My little boat will carry me to death’s door.
My little boat will hopefully carry me beyond.

All that is good and real and true in this life manifests itself as the sole cargo aboard my little boat…

As always, I write off the cuff on this site. I will do a quick once-over attempting to find typos, so please be forgiving should you find some. I’m always welcome to your discovery of said typos and will correct them if alerted. ūüôā


Where is the Conscience of Mankind?




News media. Politicians. Governments. Corporations. Used car salesmen.

Do you remember when car salesmen were considered the most untrustworthy collection of people? They once ran neck and neck with politicians for that ignominious position.

Welcome to the new millennia. News media cannot find truth anymore because they’ve long since ceased searching for it. Their agendas and propaganda serve only their nefarious purposes, most of which appears designed to divide people and instill fear and anger. Disgusting wretches who lost their soul somewhere along the propaganda path, paved subtly for decades by predecessors, now make an art of creating their own narratives to shove down an all too receptive audience’s throat.

Our schools have been dumbed down for decades. What identified once upon a time as a college degree, today would barely get you through high school fifty years ago. Yes, we own fancy digital technologies, but we use the bulk of the progressive gadgets for escapism, laziness, and war, many times with the three overlapping in incredulous ways.

Fear mongers.

I’ve written this before. They’re everywhere. Hell, watch The Weather Channel sometime. Most everything they present is fear based. Weathermen now have the masses in fear of thunderstorms. Oh my god, a thunderstorm is heading your way. It’s crossing 13th street! Hunker down! Protect yourself!

For all the good they like to point out, such as early warnings for tornadoes, hurricanes, and blizzards, they go to the extremes with aspects of life which have been weathered for eons by mankind. They lost their legitimacy when they began sensationalizing winds in a storm with “live feeds.” Most of those videos are beneath intelligence.

Fear controls many people. When you can instill enough fear, you can control – up to a point – masses of people. Fear is not enough, though. Another key component of control is division. Keep sections of society at war with each other and puppeteers may remain anonymous which allows them to manipulate the masses with all their machinated biases.

Controllers love dissension, fear, bias, and militant opinionism. These become cornerstones for news media, politicians, corporations, and…religions. Yes, religions. Many religions preach everything from hatred to exclusion. The Christians run the gamut of dislike to hatred for Muslims and vice versa. Jews are exclusionary in their own right. All fight, yes fighting, because their way is the only correct and true way to god. Doesn’t anyone else see how sick this is?

Of course, religious people immediately point at words like that and claim the person to be an “unbeliever” or an atheist (another group that tends to embrace hatred). Religion and money have murdered more people throughout history than any of the great diseases and plagues and pandemics. But are we now attempting to change that?

Ok, now we’re into the “disease” zone. Now we have lowered ourselves, ourselves being humanity, to manufacturing death through disease. Weren’t chemical and nuclear weapons bad enough? I won’t even address the pharmaceutical companies and their crimes against mankind.


What if we could kill millions of people biologically! We could set up universities with top minds to create a biological means to kill those we don’t like and not those we do like. What the hell?!!

Humanity is no wiser today than we were a hundred hears ago, a thousand years ago, five thousand years ago. In many ways, the knowledge of “LIFE” and how precious it is, was stronger in days when most people died in their 50’s and 60’s. There was an appreciation for life on levels we rarely see today.

The masses are much more interested in the debaucheries and entertainments of the day. The instant access to anything and everything. So little time spent on life. Contemplating our souls. Learning about who we truly are and how magnificent the world presents itself through nature.

Petty squabbles have mushroomed throughout history into wars. It’s no different today. If humanity were to get a report card, or no, let’s label it a progress report, on where we are in relation to life, and living it well, from our earliest days to today, I’m convinced at best we would show is no improvement whatsoever, and more likely, we’ve regressed.

The big issue in all this comes down to our innate inability to live well with the differences of one another. Do we possess a solution to our own insanity? I’ve lost hope in humanity ever coming to a place of peacefulness worldwide. Our countries cannot find peacefulness within themselves.

Our religions cannot find peacefulness within themselves.

Our governments cannot find peacefulness within themselves.

Our corporations cannot find peacefulness within themselves.

We, as individuals cannot find peacefulness within ourselves.

Hate. Fear. Murder. Control. “I’m the only one with truth” syndrome. People in power today lost the ability to check themselves and their motivations and what they will do to force others to adopt their way of thinking.

With 7.5 billion people on this planet, you will not find one person exactly like another. Our dichotomy of life is this: We are all human and we are 100% different from each other. No matter how much a “controller” attempts to homogenize a population, the effort is doomed to failure because no two people are exactly alike.

Yes, people herd themselves into groups and these groups set their agendas, but there is never a 100% agreement within each group. Once a group gets too big, the divisions become evident, mostly because people point them out and debate and argue over the differing points of view. We do not learn well from our mistakes. Someone always believes the masses can be controlled and manipulated, only to eventually find their plans fall apart.

Don’t look for any answers here. The identification of the problem would be the first step to attaining answers. There’s so much more to write and say, yet none of those words and concepts will deter mankind’s headlong plunge into self-annihilation.¬† We’ve now graduated from dropping bombs on each other to killing on a global scale.

Where is the conscience of mankind?

Buried with the countless billions who’ve died in love with life, and people, at the hands of those who lie, cheat, maim, murder and control without conscience. This is a global issue. This is a conviction of mankind, not one single group.

Now, I ask myself, where is the poetry in all this? After all, this site’s tagline states: “Life’s Cares in words and art.” While all these words I’ve spilled onto my screen qualify as “words” in the tagline, the intent of every post is to present something poetic in context to whatever thoughts and concepts I bring to the page. I desire to create a new poem, but one I wrote in 1982 and included in the book, “Loves Lost and Found,” comes to mind. It goes as follows:

View from the Top

We are self-made egos.
Consciences devoid of consciousness.
Self-praising souls, absent from reality.
Fools, toying with our own minds.

We are egotists. Misrepresenting truth,
not only to others, but ourselves as well.
Liars in the land of make-believe,
where all is as said, and all is not truth.

We are ego-maniacal,
gawking from our universe-centered opinions.
We see everything but ourselves.
We see nothing…
…of importance.

I Cry Myself Awake


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I write so many pieces which never make it into the digital world of publication. On this site alone I have 105 “drafts” on which I never pulled the trigger. This one grabbed my attention because of the title. I wish I’d made notes on the “germ” of the creative muse whence sprung forth the writing. I know who, but this was written nearly four months before the annihilation.

Nonetheless, there’s something here with which I still connect…

I Cry Myself Awake

I cry myself awake
Darkness enfolds my soul
A cold blanket which threatens existence
Distant memories of love falling from my grasp as I float aimlessly into space

I cry myself awake
Unlike all those hundreds of mornings
Days begun with hope, with wonder
Fascination with all the good life may offer

I cry myself awake
Because crying myself asleep only brings darker dreams
Dreams – the torturers of the soul with their promise
Wickedly turning to nightmares

I cry myself awake
Sobs wrack the foundations of my heart
A free-fall desolation left in their wake
No true place for the last years to reside

I cry myself awake…
Hello sadness my old friend
You’ve come to meet with me again
In my silence, I feel hollow as I weep
I feel the inevitable pain quietly seep
My heart is stabbed in its flesh by a dream gone sadly wrong
This ends our song
Which leaves nothing but the pain
Of loneliness

I cry myself awake
When the lure of hope explodes into dust
Hope, that cruelest of perpetual mirages
Serves only to amplify heartbreak

I cry myself awake
Confused as to where I go from here
No resolution available to my heart
No hand to assuage my bleeding soul
No hope for tomorrow’s dreams
Bleak. Heartless.

I cry myself awake
Writing as I once did
Knowing there is no cure for this
Knowing there is no peace to be won
Knowing I have nothing left me but the path of “move on”

I cry myself awake
Because the love I thought would save me
Cruelly becomes the knife which threatens my destruction
And the pain stems from my inability to equate the love I feel
With the loneliness tsunami I die beneath

I cry myself awake
In the knowledge that love has no true mate
That simply because I can offer my heart and soul
Means jack shit

I cry myself awake
Anger wells up
Directed my way for selling myself a bill of goods once again
That simply did not exist

I cry myself awake
Unable to be angry with the one I love
Angry at the one I love because I made up a scenario of happily-ever-after
Now I’m destroyed by my own heart once again
How do I pick up the pieces¬†when they’re nothing but a vapor?
How do I breathe?
How do I even care about who I am and what I am and how I am
When everything which meant something dies within?

I cry myself awake
knowing nothing
Desperate not to feel
Frantic to pass this pain from me
knowing there will come no cavalry

I now cry myself awake
When once I woke with such hope
I woke with anticipation for a new day
I woke with her in my heart, my soul, my existence
What a fucking fool

I cry myself awake because there is no refuge in dreams…