Walk On

We've been walking for so long,

In directions we never really chose.

And when we get lonely, as we all do,

Let's not say a word, just pull each other close.

The hard times will come, sorrow shall linger.

Hope be too frightened to step into the light.

I want you to remember even in the harshest days,

All is forgiven by the night.

Be strong for me.  I'll be strong for you.
I'll write for you.  Just sing for me.

The songs woven in the fabric of you.
Like wisdom woven into the tree.

You've been walking for too long.
Rest here a while.  Let trouble walk on.

Burn down the rooms where the suffering began,

Remove all the bars that keep us apart.

Burn bright darling.  Burn slow.

They made a pyre when they made your heart.

Since you have to burn, burn in style.

Remember my voice saying you were home.
All these words I write for you.  Take them.

They'll make sure you're never alone.

And this road, it is long.

Sometimes you feel you just can't go on.
I'll be there.  In a flash.

Just for the love, we rise, and walk on.

Whatever life chooses to put us through,

You're not alone.  You have me.  I have you.

The rain we shall make our baptism.

The wind the orchestra we sing to.

Let the smiles on our faces be,

The only religion we cling to.

 There are battles waiting for us.

Scars we have yet to receive.

But every tear we shed, my friend,

Gives us the humility we need to believe.
God may have turned away weary.

But he left behind a friend.

So I won't be angry when I see him,

In the silent valleys, there, at journey's end.

Your Favorite Chair

You love to sit quietly,

Upon your favorite chair.

You spend hours dreaming,

Playing with the fringes of your hair.

You find serenity there,

Beyond the comfort you seek.

You who must appear to be strong,

Allow yourself to be weak,

Upon your favorite chair.

It knows the silences of you,

It understands the depths.

It has held you still,

While the storms raged anew.

And no matter your worries,

You know they fade away,

Once you curl against the arms,

Of your favorite chair.

Where you know how it feels,
To be free.  To be whole. To be pure.
Where no matter the disease,

You know you'll find relief,

Curled up and secure,
Upon your favorite chair.

The censer sits in the corner,

Filling the room with frankincense.

You mumble, shift your seat,

And draw up your knees,

To rest your perfect chin.

You think your happiest thoughts,
Upon your favorite chair.

Your spirit soars to the Sun,

You look down at the city,

Huddled against the Sea.
Rest as long as you need.

The music ever plays there,

The cups stay full of tea.

Home waits for you, in the room

That holds your favorite chair.

Because your favorite chair, is me.

Little Bit of Hopeful Sunset Rambling

Remember when we hoped as easily as we dreamed?  And we dreamed easier than we could breathe?  And the world seemed haloed in soft, summer light everyday.  The birds sang with a sweetness they seemed to have forgotten. Or maybe those birds have long fled the awful cities we are all forced to huddle in around the various bonfires of ambition and other flammable things.

But I heard one of those birds today.  I think.  Or perhaps the memory of her was so vivid in my mind, and the yearning for her song so strong, that my soul broke out into song in nostalgia.  Either way, I heard that voice and that song, as the sun died, slashed to crimson by the haze on the horizon.  It reminded me of the wide-eyed, inquisitive, shy fellow I used to be.  It made me walk all the roads I've walked to sit where I do, overlooking the Arabian Sea.  And I found myself filled with that bedrock happiness that I've been missing for a few months now.

It's wonderful how the heart and the mind can take their hits, and dip and be scarred, and yet return to their former fire like embers kindled by a welcome breeze.  We are all stronger than we have been made to believe by a world that feeds on our feelings of inadequacies and sadness. Give them nothing any more, my brethren.  Give them nothing of yourself but what you decide.  Remember the children you were, remember the hope that bled from your eyes like smoke from a censer.  Remember that to regain your hope and your dreams and your unconquerable heart, you just need to take a moment everyday and hear your own song reverberate in the chambers of your soul.  Remember a time, a place, a feeling, a person, an expression, a song, a taste and be transported away from doubt and sorrow, and healed and emboldened to face down the terrors of tomorrow.

Stare life in the eye, with a sardonic grin.  This wasn't the game you wished to play, but you damn sure intend to win.  Victory lies not at the finishing line.  Let the rodents run claw over each other there.  True victory comes from standing still and gazing up at the sun, and remarking on how much the two of you share.

Be fearless in your questing, the world you imagine does indeed exist. Stare out of the corner of your eyes at your own life, and blink, and there it is.  Heaven isn't hard to find.  You were crafted out of it darling.  Feel it in your heart, fill it in your bones.  As long as you have your smile, you are never alone.

Listen to a lot of music, sing along as best you can. Make love to a wonder, and be there when they awake.  Eat a slow breakfast together, forget about the rest of the day. The day can wait.  Turn off your damn phones. Even if Leonard Cohen called me while I was with you, I'd tell him I'd speak with him later.  Think before you speak, but never think before you feel.  Don't let what your instincts know get confused with the things you've learned from this world.

Sweet Darling

There's something on your mind,

I can see it in your eyes,

In the way that you look at me.

Whatever's on your mind, sweet darling,

Undress that thought gently,

Let it shake itself free.

There's something in your chest,

Making you breathe all heavy,

Like the Moon breathes against the Sea.

Whatever you got in your chest, sweet darling,

I got that same thing beating,

Against all the cages They built me.

Let's spend a slow forever.

Within these four walls,

Under the light of a bashful Moon.

I'm on my way to your apartment.

There's a little traffic but I promise,

I'll be there very soon.

We'll banish all the bad things to the gloom,

We'll light four candles and fall into,

The dancing shadows in your little room.

There's something on my mind.

I wish I knew the words to hold it.

But they disappear when I look at you.
Standing there dappled in light,

Haloed in shadow, beautiful as the song,

I've never heard before except in you.

Hold me closer than forgiveness,

Lay me down in arms of liquid.

Drown me in your midnight dew.

Let our story have it's ending,

Let be born again anew.

Let it dance like new tongues of fire,

In the dwindling spaces between me and you.

If I Go

If I go, I'm going crazy.

Here's your ticket, take a seat,

Down in the front row.

If I go, I'm going home,

Where champa trees forgive,

And waters are too still to flow.

If I know, I know I love greatly,

Recklessly and stupidly,

Often to my own sorrow..

If I go, I'm going to Goa,

To live by the water and learn,

The songs only the sunsets know.

If I know, I know nothing,

More than I need, to live fast,

Yet be able to think slow.

If I stay, I'm staying forever,

You'll need an army,

To get me off the show.

If I write, I'll write much more.

This is the only cup that can hold,

The troubled waters I pour.

If I follow, I'd follow you.

Show me the battle, where

You want this warrior to go.

If you go, I'm going alone,

You're still unwilling to be free

There's no need to follow.

If I die, I'm dying happy.

I beat the buzzer,

I evened up the score.

I lost my light for a while,

Only to regain it once more.

I stand ready for my encore.

Sam Cooke Serenading An Empty Room With Me

Don't know much about history.

Don't know much about the stars I see.

I've read a few books on philosophy.

Written a lot of bad poetry.

But I know that I love you.

And if you were to say to me,

That you loved me too.

What a wonderful world this would be.

I get most things completely wrong.

All I've learned is how to pretend to be strong.

My patience never lasts for very long.

And I write far too many sad songs.

But I know that I love you.

And if you were here with me,

Loving me like only you can do.

What a wonderful world this would be.

Stars were made to lose their shine.

Clocks were made to lose track of time.

Love wasn't made to be proper or kind.

But you were made to be mine.

And I know this to be true.

And if you were here with me.

Like all my memories of you.

What a wonderful world this would be.

Nights were made for love-making.

Music to make your soul start quaking.

For all the silly things I'm stating, I know,

I was made to be yours for the taking.

And I know that you loved me.

I was waiting for you to remember it too.
But not everything can be as we wish it to be.

Some people are meant to be passing through.

At least they lingered for a second or two.

At least they whispered once I love you.

Now you're gone, I should be leaving too.

The girls are dancing, I guess that's my cue.

But don't think I'll be forgetting you.

Every night, every song, every kiss.

I'll remember, no matter what else I do.

Heaven can be found in no more than this.

Oh, what a wonderful world this is.

All The Colors We See

The joys descend,

In clouds of color.

Held in frantic dances,

On streets stained

With the celebrations,

Of the weary,

The world regains,

It's happier rhythm.

Be the colors you see,

Held in mischievous palms,

Itching to fly free.

Smile back at the world.

All the colors in you,

Are the colors in me.

Oh bring your sweet love,

Back home to me.

Look at the people,

Dancing in the streets.

They don't dance to remember,

They don't dance to forget.

They dance because they can,

For one day, dance away,

From fear and regret.

I remember how you danced,

When you danced for me.

We never rise to love, we fall.

I kept folding my cards,

She kept raising the stakes,

Long after I bet it all.

But all the colors I see,
That I saw in her.

She had never seen.

I must let her be free,
To find the colors in her.

I return to the street,

Where the happy harass the few,

Staining their skin with joy,

Washing their cares away.
And they throw no colors on me,

Nor do they ask me to join.

But I'm standing on their street,

In my clean white shirt.

Happy at everything I see.

The way I'm meant to be.

And all the colors I see,

Are exactly where,
 They're supposed to be.

One

One poem to remember.

One poem to forget.

One promise broken.

One barely kept.

One poem for love.
One poem for joy.

One for the daughter we never had.

One for the boy.

One because I hate you.
One because I love you.
One full of lies.

One heavy with truth.

One woman I loved.

One year to the day.
One woman I hated.
One too many times today.

One fight too many.
One last bit of sadness gone.
One last night of self-pity.
One last love song.
One last embrace.
One final bit of pain.
One last I'm sorry.
One last drop of rain.

One last poem for you.
One last sigh of regret.

One last sip for the evening.

One last cigarette.

Enough is Enough.

I was too tired for poetry tonight.  Too confused to make any sense.  Although one of my dearest friends told me that my poems don't really make all that much sense either.  And I looked over the last few months worth of work and realized that he's correct, although not in the manner that he meant.  Adorable and intelligent as he is, his brain simply ceases to function when he sees a poem, even those as simply imagined and constructed as mine.  What I saw didn't make sense was how many of them were about this one theme, this one girl who walked away, and then stopped, almost within arms reach, waiting for me to wait for her waiting for her confusion to fade and her love to return from wherever it had gone.

So many of the poems I've written over the last three months have been for, about, because of this woman.  And I'm not defending the volume of poesy I've laid at this lady's clearly absent feet.  Poetry for me is the words that burn in me, fires lit against all the darkness and absences I face, fires lit for all the comfort and joy I find in camaraderie and family.  Fires lit to dance around alone for the joy of being me, and alive, and awake.  And for a while - she burned brightest in me, and for a while it seemed, all she could do was burn me.

But what I wondered about was how long I dwelt in the ashes, and wrote only about the shadows she cast upon me.  There was a lot of light too.  How quickly did I forget that?  I have always thought of myself as someone with a pretty high emotional quotient.  I've always managed to maintain my equilibrium in all the storms I have had to weather in my modestly interesting and tumultuous life.  I knew who I was, and I liked what I saw in the mirror.  I was equal to the world and whatever it threw at me.  Turns out I was wrong.  I wasn't prepared for this woman.  And I'm glad I met her precisely for that reason.

After weeks of pretending I was okay, that I understood, that I had moved on and all the silly games our minds play with our hearts and our hearts delight in fucking with.  Never love the person you think or hope or imagine a person to be.  Love the person as they actually  are.  Never paint a person in colors they have never seen.  Your ultimate and inevitable heartbreak will then not be their fault.  It would be like blaming a mute for making a racket.  And I don't mean that caustically.  How can we expect straight forward honesty from each other if we just keep talking incessantly about ourselves and telling all our little self-aggrandizing tales and just overwhelming the other person's ability to gauge our true selves.  The answer is not more communication it's less communication.  Our bodies know our truths far more viscerally than our clouded minds.  Listen to your body language, watch theirs.  Listen to the rustle.  It'll tell you if your relationship is alright.

Be silent in your wisdom darlings.  Be humble in her presence.  And let her grow to be humble in yours.  Realize that you stand with the one person with the key to your final door, the one that holds all the light.  Get out of your own way.  Rid yourself of your fear and self-loathing and doubt.  Behold the miracle in their eyes.  Feel her heart beat its perfect counterpoint to yours.  This may seem silly and poetic and a whole bunch of bunkum and bullshit.  But I have felt this way, fiercely.  We must love ourselves grandly.  We are worthy of such love.  We really are.  Only then will the love we share the world come from truer waters.

I'm sorry my dear ______.  I'm sorry for all the poems that made you sad or upset.  I want you to know that they weren't Truth.  But rather an honest admission of a zephyr eddying in the storm that had descended in my life when you walked away.  They are little honest packets of me.  Far less than their sum and far more fleeting.  I wrote all my sweetest ones for you also.  Don't look at the angry ones, or the sad ones or the happy ones alone.  Look at them together.  And they are not the fires of you that burn in me, merely the flickers of shadow cast by your flame.   I just write them away as I feel them so they don't take hold on my core.  And it's foolish to expect our feelings towards each other to be simply one thing or another.  They never could.  You and I go far too deep to ignore the turbulence we cause in each other.  Admit it.  Accept it.  Move on.

That's my mantra now.  I am who I am exactly as I am supposed to be.  I have a long way to go.  But I'm happy where I am as well.  I am on the path.  And I am unafraid.

Streaming Consciousness While Falling Asleep Drunk

You were home,

You were the place of rest,

You and you alone,

Were where I loved best.

But what use is a home,

When the mortgage is your sanity?

And only one of you,
Is allowed to live there happily?

Dreamgirls can become nightmares,

When they believe themselves to be,

Greater than any dream,
Ever was and will ever be.

Certainly greater than any dream,

Dreamed by a fool like me.

You wanted the world didn't you?

Laid out at your pretty sandaled feet.
You wanted every little portion of me,

Served up to you at every feast.

For you to say this is missing salt,

And that hasn't been cooked right.

You wanted me to stay up and

Make sure you slept alright, all night.

And I did it all.  With a smile.

I baptized myself in the pools of you hair,

I built a temple on every little rock,

You ever rested on.  Anywhere.
But I learned my lesson, finally.
I'm amused it took me so long.
Learn to love the singer,
Never love the songs.
Never paint your lover in colors,
They haven't ever seen.
Love them for who they are,
Not how they appear in your dreams.
So this it I guess.  Closing time.
All that's left of us is being swept off the bar.
Forgive me I don't watch you,
Get into another man's car.
Excuse me please. Just one more drink.

Could you make it strong,

I don't need to think, tonight.

It's just you and me.  Love is long gone.
Take my heart, oh take my storm.

Lay me down in clean sheets of linen.

Kiss me once upon my brow,

Tell me my foolishness has been forgiven.
I must turn away from her I know.

Facing her makes me face too much sorrow.

I'll turn my gaze inwards and be 

Happy today.  Happier tomorrow.

Love Song for Palolem

The waters move away
From the crowded shore.

They move away from me,

And the rock I sit upon.

At the farthest edge of the beach.

Once my throne at the edge,

Where the land bows to the sea.

Now just another rock stranded,

Choking amidst the debris.

I turn to look at them,

Sitting safely upon the shore.

Watching me watch the sunset,

Sitting out there further,

Than they'd dare to be.

My brothers are working the bar,

Their laughter calls to me.

Calls me away from my lonely perch,

Away from the sun dying in the sea.

Cyrus is playing J.J. Cale.

Midnight in Memphis under,

Our father, the Goan moon.

Satyadeep is smiling fondly,

At everything he sees.

There's sadness in their hearts,

But it's a temporary thing.

They are made of hope,

They are warriors for joy.

My brothers on Monkey Island,

Where the sun always dies,

With a smile over an endless sea.

A quiet dog leaps up to join me,

Wags his tail once then curls,

Into a perfect ball of stillness,

And watches me watch the sea.

With quiet eyes he tells me cares.

His body scarred from a lifetime,

Of proving himself not afraid.
He doesn't start as I stand,

He doesn't flinch as I draw near,

He yawns a little dog yawn,

And let's me scratch him behind the ear.

There are other dogs playing in the surf,

Reclaiming the beach from the water.

The old dog looks at me for a moment,

Then races down to join them.

They growl and circle then wag their tails,

And race barking into the sea.

Together.

Cyrus calls to me over my reverie.

Tells me they're going to take a dip.

I watch them pick their way down,

Laughing at their endless jokes,

As they pick their way across the rocks.

They splash like children,

They laugh like old men content

With everything their lives have been.

I slip off the rock.

Into the water after the sun.

Waters still golden,

Waters always cool.
I swim towards my brothers,

With a gladness I've never known.

Because I know then,
That I am never far from home.

They take away my sadness,

And tell me I'm not a fool.

That as I bathe in the sea,

The sea, my darling, the sea,

The sea she bathes in me.

Screaming Defiantly at Bullets

I loved you like a man,
Loved sunlight, trapped in a cave.

I who was a king,

Learned to love you as a slave.

Like the orphan loved the memory,

Of his barely remembered mother.

The veteran sitting slowly drunk,

Remembering the hand of his brother.

Who carried him to safety,

Through the wires and the pickets.

Who whispered to him and stood,

Screaming defiantly at the bullets. 

I thought love meant never being a fighter,

You whispered it would only take me higher.

But my limbs were made of flesh,

My weapons made of hope and truth.

And hope cannot survive,

All the battles that rage in you.

There is a man out there,

Who will love you more than I.
But you'll make him feel wretched,

And try and try and try.

Now I've packed up my light and must be going.

I am a comet unwelcome in your sky.

Once the secret behind your smile,

Now the ugly truth leaking out your eye.

And this will make you angry.

This will take you further out of reach.

But this is what I've learned,

From whatever lesson you were trying to teach.

But I remember how we moved together

I never wished to do this alone.

So I'll take all this empty space,

And once again make it home.

Twenty Nine

Remember this day,

When hope returned.

And love enveloped you,

Like a shawl stitched,

By your mother's hands,

Especially for your shoulders.

Remember this day,

When your father looked at you,

Through eyes foggy with flu,

But eyes shining with pride,

Like fires who refuse to dry the dew,

That glittered like snow,

Upon your lonely mountain top.

Where you are alone only until,

You turn around.

They are all there with you.

The living and the others,

The whispers of your wisdom.

The old lady who loved you,

Like the child the Goddess,

Never pushed from her womb.

The old man who knew you,

To be the spitting image of him,

Even though he never found the words,

To tell you he loved you.

For the old lady who died paralyzed,

But who dances through your fears,

And your pain, and your sorrow.

Who dances and cooks and loves,

You, the only grandson, she ever knew.

Like the ghosts of the dogs that sit,

Wagging tails made of joy,

Around your ever open palms.

Like the old man who loved you,

Almost as much as he loved his fame.

Don't get lost in the world storm.

Remember this day, remember you name.

You who were named for the coming sun,

For the first rays of every day.

Shake off this shell you have become.

Return to yourself, Arunoday.

Remember this day.

At the End of Winter

I waited for you to come for me,
All day.
But you had so many things to do,
You'll say.
It's hard to love someone who prefers,
To be away.
The sun set far too slowly.
Today.
The eagles leapt into the pinking sky,
To play.
One landed on my balustrade,
And looked at me with a curious directness.
I got it some food from the kitchen.
But I guess it didn't like the taste of my tandoori.
Who can say?
What eagles want and what they see,
When they sometimes perch so silent
And judgmental on my balcony.
I am haunted by birds.
I was hollowed by her.
I am the winter burning,
Down to the summer sulphur.
I am the river turning to dust,
Littered in the ways left of me.
How I ran through the hills,
On my way to the sea.
The bears who danced in my waters,
The eagles who soared above me.
I turned every rock I came upon,
Into a lover or a slave.
And though I crashed against them,
With all my elemental fury.

I turn slowly to vapor while they survive,

Laughing with what remains of me.

New Forms of Prayer

Bend over bend over,

Let me see what bit of Heaven,

Got left behind.

Slide over slide over.

Let me wrap my desire,

Around your warm, crazy feline.

Crawl over crawl over,

And show me the meaning,

Of poetry and rhyme.

Tear this shirt, pull me close,

Let me send zephyrs along,

The shadows of your jawline.

Let's shake the world,

Let's rattle the cages,
Set fire to your fear and pain.

Take my breath away from me,

Push it back in my mouth,

Oh my darling, do it again.

Turn around one more time,
Heaven ain't hard to find.

Turn around one more time.

Let's move the couch to the corner,

And the bed out of the way.

Let's crumple up the curtains,

Find new meanings to words,

Like sublime and intertwine.

My perfect portion of sin,

A fantasy so damn complete.

Take me further than these words

Ever could.  Down into the deep.

Move to me like the champa tree,

Rises to meet the burning breeze.

Fold me into sheets of secret parchment,

Fold me inside and squeeze.

My deliverance, my trial,

My moment of liquid languid ease.

My endless storm, my sinking ship,

The tossing tumult of my seas.

Let me see what piece of Eden,
You happen to be.

Let's create a new religion,

Bite every apple we see.

Let's pray a while together,

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

Let's bring ourselves together,

From our foolish eyes,

To our penitent knees.

Perfect My Night

Oh this blessed winter, 

That lingers because we, 

Told him we loved him. 

The wind who knows my name, 

The sun that reflects my light, 

As it sinks into a crimson yonder. 

And I can see the evening star. 

Smile and say she's so glad, 

To find me here waiting for her, 

Joy in heart and pen in hand. 

Oh let the words dance, 

Let the ink learn the rumba, 

Let this Sufi soul unfurl, 

Like white canvas on a ship, 

On eternally swelling seas. 

I hear the chime of the temple bells, 

Hear voices raised in prayer, 

Voices made strong in song. 

I see lovers getting married, 

New lovers on their way, 

To one of those perfect nights. 

Where even perfect strangers, 

Get heady and carried away. 

And if there are any lovers fighting, 

They're kind enough to do it elsewhere. 

Make perfect my night. 

And just come on over. 

How can any night be perfect, 

Without my smile pressed, 

Into your bare naked shoulder? 

Oh make perfect my night, 

Let this music never end. 

Let me howl happy at the crescent moon, 

Let my every word be a poem, 

Let it smile at everyone and show them,

Life is worth more than your, 

Silly little dissatisfaction. 

Listen to the wind tonight, 

She knows your names. 

Let go your sorrow, 

Disentangle the joy from the shame. 

You were born to be happy.

Learn to remember. 

Live every waking day, 

Like the end of December. 

All that you've seen, all that you,

Thought had meant something more. 

Leave it all behind, 

Shine through the cracks in you. 

Because I know, one thing. 

I love you. 

I love you. 

I love you.

*********

This and That. But Mostly This.

I've been writing a lot of poetry lately, and most of it has to do with Love.  Which is kind of stupid because Love's been doing a good job of kicking my ass lately.  Maybe that's the point.  What do I know?  I just sit down to write and this is what's been coming out.  I know I act like I got it all figured out, and sure I can fill out a suit nicely and be charming and make girls giggle their vodkas out their cute little noses.  And even, on occasion, manage to beguile one enough to make her show me how she looks without her vestments and pretensions.  But the truth is I'm lonely.  And I've come to realize, looking around at the circle of people I know and love, that I'm not alone in this solitude.

So many of my friends are in the middle of one kind of emotional crisis or another.  And the strange thing is that we all seem to leave each other alone to deal with our own shit.  Sure we try and talk to each other, we hang out and play music and watch movies and eat out and consume much wine.  But then comes the moment when everyone takes that short deep breath, as if preparing to jump off a cliff, and stands and begins to head their separate ways. 

I watch the couples with their strained body language, as if his body's speaking French and hers only speaks German.  They bump into each other, they ask each other if they should leave, some of them even drive away to separate homes, alone.  I watch the single folk like myself, take that moment and glance around the room and find not one face smiling back at them with that twinkling, mischief in the eyes.  The light that doesn't need a name or a label.  The one that leads to rumpled sheets and giggling midnight snacks.  And I watch the lovers, who are out the door before the rest of us, at least for now.


Why are we all such strangers to ourselves and then consequently to each other?  How easy it would be for us to be easy and free and loose in safe company.  So why aren't we?  I haven't been able to figure this out.  The closest I've come is thinking about the darkness that comes before us, the stuff that motivates our actions, defines our responses to stimuli, the dark strings of experience and thought that make us their puppets.  We are all strangers to ourselves because we are all strangers to the darkness that comes before us.  We are moved, we react in ways we are not aware of to point that we even react to our reactions.  We don't own the ground we stand upon.  So how can we ever be trusted to take a proper step?

It's strange how everything in my interactions with the opposite sex comes down to just the sex.  Is that all that one can gain from one another?  Is that the best we ever get?  Clearly not.  Look at some of our parents, or family members who seem to not only have survived in long marriages, but even managed to thrive.  Why can't we do the same?  Why are most of us great at the sex and the flirting and that initial high-school phase of things and then just fall into the comfortably slow spiral into hatred and loathing?  It's like we want our relationships to fail so we can get back to that heady initial phase with someone else.  It puzzles me greatly.

Why does the woman I loved call me when she's lonely?  Why does she feel lonely at all?  Why do I even answer when she does?  How many poems will I have to write before she either admits she loves me or just leaves me the fuck alone?  Why does she make me prove to her over and over again that I love her?  Why does she then turn around and tell me that she's afraid I'll stop loving her soon?  Why the hell am I still writing about this stuff?

Important questions all.

I just recently made a few new friends.  Wonderful, wonderful people.  But all suffering from self-esteems so beleaguered it takes my breath away.  I look at these people, who are so beautiful, and young, and full of potential, and intelligent, and vivacious.  And I wonder: Why do they allow the world, and its mediocre hordes to dictate how they should feel about themselves?  All our lives we put other people's opinions of us before our own.  In school we worry what the teacher's say, at home it's our parents.  On the streets its the friends and the boyfriends/girlfriends, in college it's our lovers, then our co-workers, and on and on.  We make ourselves feel constantly judged because in our minds the measure of the world is unceasing.  But it isn't the world that measures us.  The world doesn't care.  We do it to ourselves.  So why can't we just stop?

I spoke to a friend who's going through a breakup and I found myself entirely at a loss for words.  Me.  But what could I say?  I don't know why he never treated her like she deserved, I don't know why she never realized what she deserved from him was more until after so much of her heart was already his.  I don't know what she should do.  Hell I barely know what I should eat for breakfast most days.

And Facebook.  God do I need to rid myself of Facebook.  Do you know how many times I've checked my page as I wrote this?  I lost count after ten.  And no one wrote or updated or any of that shit.  And I don't really even truly care, so why do I check it?  When did my solitude, which was always a friend to me become so damn lonely?  It would be funny if it didn't happen everyday.

Well that's all for now.  Not exactly the most coherent of posts I'll admit but I was in the mood to ramble it seems.  I've not yet quite managed to yoke my thoughts to my words.  They both still storm against each other like armies in a siege.  I'm the just the bricks and mortar in between it seems.  The battleground for the their conflict.  The ground that has to hold the bodies and the blood.  Ooh, what a cheerful fellow I am this night.

For The Girl Named After A Star

............

She walks to me wearing a smile,

With her arms thrown open.

There's o much joy in her eyes,

You never realize that,

Her heart lies, hurt and broken.

She speaks to me like a queen,

Pretending to be without a care.

I hear the words all the same.

The softer, more painful ones.

Deeper than any prayer.

Bright Lady, Bright Lady,

Named by your mother after a Star.

There are oceans left to cross.

So many wonders left to see,

Beyond this messy little bazaar.

Get lost in the world a while,

Rediscover your gypsy heart.

You don't need a man to tell you,

What the script should be,

Or how to play your part.

Show yourself the way back,

From fear and self doubt.

You've lingered too long in shadow,

Learn to be as bright within,

As you are to me without.

Learn music from the wind,

And poetry from the tired sea.

Sing to your plants everyday,

Be your own great love,

Be as reckless, as silly as me.

Bright Lady, Bright Lady,

Walking this path all alone.

Your mother named you after a Star,

So even on the darkest roads,

You'd find your way back home.

...........

Heart Skipped a Beat

.....

Heart skipped a beat.

When I saw you standing

On my kitchen floor.

Heart skipped a beat.

I caught it only after you

Were out the door.

Where do you wanna meet?

Anywhere under this,

Sky on this starless night.

I'll do everything but cheat,

Weave every joy I know

Into your morning light.

You sat on my balcony,

Like a piece of the moon,

Sculpted into a forbidden dream.

You're enough for me,

To take ever moral I clutch,

Apart at the seams.

You need to come tell me,

When I can make it,
All the way to you.

You need to come tell me,

You're the proof,

To my every truth.

Heart skipped a beat.

And I know you'll always,

Be just slightly out of reach.

There will never be a kiss,

Where the ocean and our feet,

Dance on a forgotten beach.

Looking at you there,

Sitting in my favorite,

Wicker cane chair.

Watching the cup in your hands,

The wind play the violin,

With your tightly strung hair.

Heart skipped a beat.

And you sipped your tea.

Oh my oh my oh my.

My life is not ready.

I need some time,

To make empty my sky.

Nothing left to want.

Nothing less will do.

Nothing I can ever have.

Nothing else but you.

Heart skipped a beat.

.....

For The Lovers In You

...

Winds blow like dancers

Across this restless city.
A bat flits by my window,

On his way to a hot date.

All the stars have long 

Since give up 

Their thankless vigil in the sky.

They lie amidst us,

In our carpeted homes,

Like tired siblings
Finally come home.

I see them laid out

Before me,

Fallen fires and dreams

Across the black carpet

Of this tired city.

A lady who's name is Vidya

Called me this morning

To tell me she loved me.

Does she know

Because she's lived

A life full of song.

Her every word comes

Out sounding like a 

Piece of music?

I am one of the blessed.

And so are all of you.

Stop yourself for a moment,

And breathe in the divine

Completeness in you.

Cease struggling to breathe,

In your rivers of doubt.

Make faith your breath,

And dive down into the

Silent abyss.

Serenity awaits you there.

Flow as this wind flows,

Zephyrs of contented motion.

Love like the child loves,

The ground beneath his

Father's feet. 

Love like the sky,

Loves the ground.

Learn joy from blind musicians,

And poetry from the sun.

Sing aloud and often.

Let all fear be undone.

Put on your dancing shoes lady,

Let me strike up the band.

There's music wherever you are,

Come take my large happy hand.