live your life for yourself
but i've found no greater heaven
than the bliss and purity
of truly loving another
elevating the static, the "same" that suffocates,
the sunshine from the soul, in the "just another day"
offerings of praise and passion
goodness in a robotic world
the touch which remains, everpresent
and with the goodness
comes the misunderstanding
one shouldn't weep upon a mere
mysterious strangers' goodbye
and in the eyes of others
i've seen and felt, reflected shame
too often, when i let myself cry
and then there is the bludgeon
of the beasts and chameleons
who seek to drain those
of the giving heart, willing
i and we and you and me
have all been used
into the lull of false beliefs
then awakened, to empty, cold sheets
but again, we try
fear, the cycle, repeats
and sometimes, it does
but we still care, why?
what other choice, really, could there be, or is there
to become the "too many", of the "walk on by stare"
it's too easy not to
and too hard tot try
sometimes, most often
i sit with myself
and wonder of this confusing place
the "what is the purpose", if alone, is the "die"?
not all of us have things come to us, pleasing
like life long loves, or the stability of feelings
that come from a strong foundation, of self
surrounded by family, success, call it "wealth"
this war is ultimately us alone, with our gods
needing so desperately, signs of comforting nods
that our lives, did mean something
more than just a selfish reflection to ourselves
we were felt, seen and heard
not just momentary objects, bought and tossed on the shelf
amongst the "everyone's"
to most we mean less than nothing at all
look around, those there for you, in soul
when you stumble, and apart, do you fall
my loyalty is deep
and to those i love and loved, i never leave
but the fact that i have been left, by many
is the alter of the ache in me
upon which this deep cut, follows and bleeds
just because you are true to yourself
you must never expect it from anyone else
loved today and then thrown aside, tomorrow
love, a commodity, which most trade, steal or borrow
but the handful of my "heaven blessed"
that have not strayed from my side
these are the treasured, chest
the pulsate of life, the divinity, in pride
are deemed as devalued and disposable
by those, again, "the lucky ones"
whose foundation stable, secure and immovable
parents and brothers, sisters, community
for the unlucky, like myself
they have contributed to the "ruin" in me
in the strain, that i let them
and the "cannot forget", sin
and in the reflection of loss
i see when faced with those, so fortunate
not know, the reality, of being left alone in the darkness
understand the shame, feeling helpless and lost
i've lived there
and i've known others who've too
and to those that have not
i say and pray, "lucky you"
for every clap,
there is a "boo" in the shadows
for every "cherish", to one
for another, it could perish, no matter
i am alone
and in love
with another mystery, unattainable
yet somehow, familiar
his utter beauty, tumultuous,
dominant, soulful, inescapable
when attached to the purest, in heart
to love him is painful
and strange, came the stranger
but it is palpably real, he
the two letters attached to the art,
heart impart, "we"
(this is all)
i have to give him
or you, the few i call my sacred,
as in others
bathed, hue and hold, of hope
love and fury,
(yes, for him, here i wait then, silent, unspeakable, "knowing" swells, come, came him)....
21 june 2019
the realm of the poetic.
prisoner of the psyche and the inescapable. heart.