Roses Under Dark Sad Eyes
Inside the Roses,
but below the heavens
is the place where our differences met.
We forgot the Giants that
roamed the earth;
the sleeping Gods
and the Demons who are in a coma
waiting for Chaos to awaken.
We forgot who we were,
and who we think we are,
and who used to define us,
and who we would sit and worshp,
and who we wish would hold us.
We felt the stars drop into the
circle of Roses,
and we hear laughter
and strings.
We hear the elusive
Sixth chord.
We aren’t wicked.
We aren’t different.
We aren’t believers.
We aren’t doubters.
We aren’t diseased.
We aren’t afraid.
We aren’t sure of any of this.
We were fine.
I’ll Be Your Cat
To this very day,
I don’t feel alone
knowing that you are
out there somewhere.
Even though
you’d rather not be
with me anymore.
Even though
I was too near
for you to feel safe,
so you built
a walled citadel.
I picture you
looking for knitting needles
watching a show
with those wide bright eyes
in a galaxy of freckles.
Sometimes I wish
I could turn into a cat
and have you find me
and let me live with you.
I’d curl up in your lap
and purr
and follow you around
and rub against your leg
and I would watch the
door, waiting for you to
come home.
I’d sleep at the foot
of the bed,
and you would be happy
because I would warm
your feet.
You would touch me with
that perfect slight touch,
and I’d feel warm inside
knowing you were there.
7 Years
What if you had only 7 years left?
What would you want to do?
What if you didn’t know if you’d make it the whole 7 years?
Is it important to become someone that everyone remembers?
Is it important to complete some kind of list?
Why try anything if all that will happen is you die?
What if the future just makes you cry?
What if you only remember your mistakes when your life flashes before your eyes as you ride the bus home watching the world go by completely oblivious to your pain and terror of a future cut short? What if people seem to waste your time with their pitiful problems why all you can think about is how you don’t have time for this and you need to walk away and never come back? What if pain is the standard feeling you feel deep inside your soul and just when you think you’ll snap out of it you don’t?
Would you rob a bank?
Would you smoke crack?
Would you finally go see Cirque du Soleil on mushrooms like in that one movie?
Would you raft the Grand Canyon without permission?
Would you let all etiquette and manners go?
Would you tell everyone?
Would you just tell your loved ones?
Would you keep it a secret because you don’t want people to treat you weird?
I guess we’ll never know.
Crazy Lady
I remember seeing you the first time,
and thinking that you were attractive,
in that plain normal kind of way.
You looked put together,
and normal.
Totally out of my league.
Then you started talking.
I heard the voices that accompanied your
thoughts that drove you
through the night.
I heard the insane orchestra
that frightened you
and hoped no one would hear,
but I heard it.
I saw the twinkle in your eye
as reality dimmed,
and your world spread out before you.
I saw your utter insanity
and I fell in love.
Cello
Nothing makes me more nostalgic
for love than a cello.
The deep rich tone that usually
backbones some romantic melody.
It’s dark and it hits the heart
with heartbreaking vibrations.
There is a huge difference between
hearing the cello with someone
and hearing the cello by myself.
The violins sing high into the stars,
The guitar plucks it’s way down a
meandering stream,
The horns crash against the rocks
reminding us nature’s wrath,
The viola is somewhere in a valley a
mountain range away,
A harp accents an ancient
kind of love,
The saxophone either makes it
crude or cool,
The flute reminds us that love doesn’t
have to be masculine at all,
and the cello will either put
our hands together,
or tear the night sky away.
The clarinet is the saddest instrument
ever played,
but the cello will always remind me
that I have a heart,
and it is always aching.