For As Long As I Have Eyes

I dream of flowing lines,
Of black and red reeds painted upon canvas,
Dripped into life,
Pulled forth from my mind,
The perfect representation.
The chaos of a moment
Captured for eternity,
Or at least for as long as I have eyes
To see what I’ve made.

But that vision
Is a just as much of a lie
As these words upon a page.
For they never were written,
Merely typed.
A digital expression of an analogy problem.

I am of two ages.
An alien in both worlds,
None his own,
None his hone,
None he wants to return to,
None he wants to live through.

I act and then think.
I act and then justify those actions.
A post hoc self-hypnosis to avoid dissonance.
A way to persist.
A way to function.

But to what end?

The answer comes
Calling out,
‘Daddy let me show you something!’

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

Fleeting

Eyes meet
A fleeting moment
Futures fractal
Possibilities endless

Turn away
A moment passes
Fading memories
What can never be

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

Fever Dreams

Fever dreams
Liberate the mind
Boundless and edgeless
Thoughts flow
Skipping between
Ponds of reality
No longer constrained
By rationality
I drift
What once thirsted for stability
Now wants for nothing
But the pretty colours
That seem to hold
All meaning
Within this play
Of consciousness

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

Chaotic Beauty

A chaotic beauty,
A trusting soul,
Mother’s love for all.

She’s seen things,
And survived worse,
Feeling it all.

A chaotic passion,
A new goal,
Abundance for her soul.

She’s taking action,
Making her mark,
Becoming her all.

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

autumn leaves

the earth sighs
autumn leaves
beautiful in death
fall discarded
left to decay
until the earth
takes another breath

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

An Apology To The Future

As elders
We suffer
The pain
Of our pasts

Niggles become nuisance
Ignorance becomes issue
Beauty becomes blemish

Choices
Made long ago
Become the chains of our present

Back then
I was free
To take any path
Oblivious of consequence

Now
Having walked those paths
Those consequences
Force me to keep walking

An adult
Bound
By the decisions
Of a child

I am
Who I am
Only because
I was
Who I was

Will future me
Resent these words?

Or will I look back
As I do now
With compassion
Knowing I did my best
With what I had?

All I can offer is
An apology
To the future

I am sorry
For the pain
My choices
Will bring you

This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

A Requiem For What Could Have Been

Last night
I dreamt
Of my father’s death

The slow pathetic decline
Of a worthless man
Was reformed into
A noble sacrifice
A resilient stand against oppression
An act to be proud of

I knew I was dreaming
Yet I preferred to remain
Bamboozled and blinded
By the beautiful facade

In the dream
I wept freely
For a man
I understood
Cared about
And loved

In my memories
I grew distant
From a man
I didn’t understand
Care about
Or love

I woke conflicted

Are my dreams
Telling me
That my memories
Are fiction?

That the feelings
Felt in the facade
Are more fact
Than the fear
And confusion?

Or perhaps
I’m only questioning
Because
My reality was retched

And that dream
Like others of it’s kind
Are a requiem
For what could have been

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

a waterfall shaping rock

thoughts
relentless
a waterfall shaping rock

each drop
trivial
yet collectively
devastating

time
forms ruts
inescapable

consciousness
relentless
a river scarring land

each choice
trivial
yet collectively
devastating

thinking patterns
guiding future
flow

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

A Page To Listen

My poems are tragic,
So that my life isn’t.

I write to release
the demons
I invented
To protect myself.

When I had nothing else,
I had a pen to speak,
And a page to listen.

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken

A Moment Fragmented

A moment fragmented
Against a lifetime
Of similar moments

A life shattered
Well before it’s time

Those moments
Replayed, rewound, and reworked

Those moments reconstructed
Into a tolerable shadow

Forever following
Forever protecting
Forever warning

Forever recalling
Those moments
Where life was fragmented

Forever forestalling
Advancement and growth

Forever focusing
Upon the past
And everything it implies
About the future

Another moment
Another fragmentation
Another destruction
Another shadow
Another protection
Another warning
Another follower

Just more weight
To carry into the future
Just more weight
To hold me in place
Just more weight
To remember

Just more
Just another

Just me
Reliving a moment

All those moments
Again

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This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken