Awake...

On the very threshold of remembering a dream from which I just now awoke. I cannot remember any specifics other than the good feeling the dream provided and why. I awoke to have it dissipate before me into a bad feeling. Not sure why.

For all of it...

For that moment that has brought us together

For those moments we've embraced one another

For those moments we given a rose to each other

I am glad

Of the times we found, with us, naturally relaxed

Of those times surmounting us, painfully grasped

Of the timeless roses reminding, incredibly lasted

I am joyful

In an instance wrought with the wonder of you

Or an instance with a cry, not known what to do

Or an instance rose a loving sigh, a laughing spew

I am happy

Because it is all with you.

The flower of love

The rose eternally lives to be that flower of love
Forever a flower which reflects its beauty above
In rising above its thorns, in rising beyond the cold
In weakness is made strong, its story forever told

Memory of a rose

The memory of the rose is forever etched within me
Its beauty will remain there after time provides a scar
Its unity unsurpassed except by the cold of winter
Which has wilted its fading reds before our eyes

I can't...

At this moment I am very sad. Grieving seems to consist of both anger and sadness and often vacillates between the two. I don't know what to write. I have written a poem which remains in draft since yesterday. It will probably stay there. Just now I started a new one and stopped. Every poetic thought I have at the moment cannot get past the rose.

The rose.

There are really no words to capture how I feel right now. And I don't want to feel this way. By my writing here I am not seeking any sympathy or comments. Please don't. Frankly I am writing here to try and get something out. But I can't get it out.

The rose.

Hope is lost

It would be nice to write a happy blog for a change but there is nothing to write about. I feel exhausted, emotionally spent yet sad, angry, despondent, lonely, broken hearted. I could go on and on with other nifty descriptive terms. I hesitated coming here tonight because I don't want to blog of recent events but that is what is consuming me. And I don't want to have a pubic pity party but that probably is what will happen. Oh well.

I just don't understand. I don't fucking understand.

Everything after the above was backspaced out. Fuck that. Not going there.

We are all alone out there folks. Can any of us, self included of course, really and truly compromise enough to make a relationship work anymore? I dunno. I think it is a rare thing. I think we have all become a much more self centered society and as such selfishness rules individuals. And it just does not work, relationship wise. Include me in all of this as I am quite self absorbed much of the time. Of course.

I will return to the life of the cynic. Why have hope in something that just tears persons apart at the heart?

We are all fucked up.

All of us.

Today...

Today is a friends birthday. Today a friends step father passed away. Today my own life is in complete disarray. But my problems are small in comparison to the passing of a loved one. Duh.

With all the sadness that permeates today I am glad there is one with a birthday to celebrate.

Happy birthday Zooty! :)

A rose...

Grasping by hand that rose of beauty which we are
Its delicate colors warm us with each fragile touch
Avoiding prickly thorns, else we bleed, render a scar
Gaze at petals of radiant clarity, fingers wrap in such
Its fragrance fills us when darkness hides color afar
Carefully held onto, a loving memory beyond much

Family

The PC is currently operating at what appears to be a somewhat normal level so taking this opportunity to blog. Today my PC has been difficult again. Time will tell what happens with it. I just know it does not like me.

So today I had decided to call each of my children and my parents. I had also intended to attend a 12 step meeting(am thinking weekly would be a cool thing) which I did do last weekend for the first time in ages. The weather did not permit the latter. But I did call each child and my parents. Made contact so far with 2 out of 4.

My youngest son is 12 and of course his interests and friends are changing. He has not returned the call I made to his cellphone. Nor did he return the last call made last weekend. That hurts. The oldest son(20) called back tonight. He was cleaning up the house before his girlfriend comes over. Was good to talk and laugh with him a few. We like to recite lines from the movie "Full Metal Jacket". We did. I miss him terribly. I miss both my sons terribly.

My daughter was the only one to answer the first time. She was feeding my granddaughter or trying to. Sounded like a struggle was occurring. Interspersed with the sounds of young words emanating from this young one was the sound of rebellious terrible twoish sounding noises. She is not two yet. Some things start early. My daughter said sometimes parenting sucks. I laughed. On a different note she told me she was going with her boyfriend to Jamaica for Thanksgiving for a week. Wow. Be good for her to get away.

It has a long long time since I have called my parents. I will not disclose how long. Rather embarrassing. But I called. They did not answer. Called tonight at 6:30 and quite often they eat out on Saturday evenings. I forgot about that. I hope to talk to them before the night is over. I don't hear from my children often and it hurts. Yet I don't call my parents very often. Hmmm. How can I be upset about my children not calling me when I don't call my parents. Hell, maybe they learned that from me...

And now we pause for an announcement...

When I began this blog last July(4th I think) the purpose of it was to get myself to writing again. Write something, write anything. Within the context of a blog I saw it as more or less a diary of sorts in which I could express my thoughts and feelings, hopefully on a daily basis. Perhaps write the occasional poem. Writing poetry is where I really get off. It may not always come together as I want it to but occasionally it really floats my boat. Anyway since this is my blog I have done with it as I see fit including writing about a personal relationship from time to time. I am not sure airing certain things publically is a good thing or not. Perhaps it is unwise to blog about something so personal as I have the past week or so here. So for now I will refrain and write more generally or more cryptically.

So if something seems like it has gone missing that is because it has.

:)

Lost and Found

Edging away from the shore the murky waters reveal depths unknown
Memories of comforting warm sand under foot fade into cold storage
Uncharted passage where mappers of futile endeavor frequently inquire
Lost is a treasure for all who hold secure that which surpasses knowledge
Discounts for sale, found at your local shoreline mall where mud is plenty
Floating away towards friendlier waters where clarity is freely found

Aftermath

There are no proper words in this aftermaths eve
There is only a sadness which penetrates my soul
Acute regret of hurting you who makes me feel whole

A return to recovery after many years away...

Perhaps the only way I will sleep tonight is if I write some. So much is on my mind and yet so much I really don't feel I can write here. A while ago I was almost asleep. On the very threshold of it when my overactive mind woke up fully. So here I am. Ugggg.

Did something earlier tonight I had not done in at least three years. Went to a 12 step recovery meeting! Yes! It was great to go for the somewhat long walk it takes to get there. And once I got there it was great to be there. The old timers I knew from the past, some of them were oddly distant however. Oh well. It was still great seeing some old faces and lots of new ones. Contributed several words to a difficult crossword puzzle that was being played at a table prior to meetings start. That was fun.

The meeting was filled with smoke. Yep. Did not care for that but I was not tempted to smoke. Be a year smoke free December 1. No can do on going back now. So I sat there and listened attentively in the smoke filled room. I thought to myself something I have heard in a Nicotine Anonymous meeting said by someone rather smugly one time. They said if you are still smoking than you really have not recovered to the extent possible regardless of what other addictions have been put down. Hmmmm. Interesting. I find myself tending to agree. Easy to become self righteous against smokers so I must be careful here. But it is a crutch. It is an addiction. It certainly is a path of running. Running from tension just to name just one aspect of it.

I want to go back. Recovery is a good thing. The principles are a good means by which to live ones life. However the smoke filled room which I exited with burning eyes after 40 minutes is an obstacle. Next time I will sit further away from the tables, perhaps near a corner. Maybe tomorrow in fact. :)

Apparently the smoke filled room gave me a headache. I cannot rid it either. Took something but to no avail. I thought I would write of other preoccupations in the here and now but upon second thought, no I won't. Not here and now. Nada.

Hope

When the winter came, the uninhabited found habitation
Looking into a mirror his reflected scowl aged him
A prior fall gave fertile grounds absorbed precipitation
Gazing into a stream his wavering smile grew dim

When the hail pelleted, the injured sought protection
Seeing in a vision clearly a dream colored darkly
The prior fallout's remnant left little hope of resuscitation
Yet viewing them revealed a beauty to put it starkly

Questions...

In the age of melancholy where is the figure of speech?
Without a metaphor will dilemma find expression?
In this moment of transfixing where should one gaze?
Without a compass which road hides beyond the fork?
Into the realm of solid spectrum where reds become blue
Without a doubt a tragic tale, perhaps one filling a gap.

Nothing New Under The Sun

It has clouded over this morose morning
All the colors have turned an ashen gray
Its a new day but feels like an old one
Afterall what's new under the sun?

Torrentially Speaking

See the torrential downpour upon mountainous excursions
See the rocky areas made wet by cloudy buildup expulsions
See the bright day made gray from deviations of precedence
See the wondrous time take pause before a hazy preference
Feel intense saturation permeating throughout the stoic zone
Feel discomfort cast by streams of an unlimited rising moan
Feel released when the pen decorates paper with its airy ink
Feel peace in knowing the papers capture rendered it unique

Their year

The time was a year ago when they first began
That first night being spent together on the phone
Ending in a shower of static arousing the unseen

Naturally together they meshed immeasurably
Untimely conflicts saw them clash periodically
Ending in a wash of ugly reverb dousing their fire

Yet time bore them out, each time to begin again
Learning more, sharing more, drawn yet closer still
Unending in streams of a current, housing each echo

Those moments gone past now partial to them alone
Together their presence a candle remains bright
Unending in floods that feels each finding the other

A safe place

Are you there? I'm here
I feel safe with you
Lending the way to silence

All day her feeling touched me
Reaching me inside with a smile
One of the nicest things ever said

Middle of the night we aptly appear
Awareness made calm in a still place
Slumber may find us frolicking about

A magical mix distilling our safe place
Relaxing, smiling, laughing, loving
Grasping each others natural lure

Random thoughts on writing...

It's rewarding to write something held or felt within one whether it be in ones normal style of the somewhat cryptic or a more direct raw style bordering on a chant or a song. Poetry comes in all styles and there are no rules. Let no one tell you otherwise. Ancient eastern poetry used repetition of a thought as opposed to sound. For example if one reads the Psalms of David in the Bible one will see much repetition of a concept. Check it out.

Anyone can write. Writing is nothing more than thoughts or feelings on paper. That's it. We do the same when we speak, it's just we use or mouths as opposed to our fingers. Mmmmm. LOL! Of course some are more conversational than others and seem to be gifted at gab. Same for writing. Some are more expressive than others... Irregardless it is rewarding and something I recommend highly. A daily journal is a great starting point. Back in 99 during my divorce it was the beginning of writing per se for me. I may not be the best and I may break the rules but it is something I truly love to do. So I do it.

But just as I sometimes wall up and say little or nothing at all so do I with writing sometimes. I can become frozen in my own ways or walls. Sometimes that is a lingering process, sometimes not. It always feels good though when something finally comes out. What we hold within us will always come out eventually in one form or another. So...