A Person Can Dream

So that I don't forget,
because my memory often fails me,
and my imagination grows weaker, as I grow older.

Right now, it is the memory of something,
of Someone.

Some kind of flare of attraction,
Some kind of bond in loneliness,
in the search for someone
to 'love'.

Some kind of affection, found too late.

Found before he moves to a distant place,
with a small chance of a future meeting,
except maybe in a couple of years in passing,
maybe never again.

Or at least never again when the timing,
or when the search, aligns.

But hope rests,
in those few moments shared, before he left.

When it was finally recognized that there was a strong affinity,
a shoulder to lean on,
a shoulder to kiss.

Maybe one sided,
but none the less,
a memory that I want to hold on to,
to treasure,
to keep,
to put me to sleep.

A memory to distract
and think of all that could have been.
To live in fantasy
and imagine what probably never actually would have been.

But a person, can dream.

Pessimism

If you didn't know,
I would hate to tell you so.

That the life we live
does not have much to give.

That the man of your dreams
is never what he seems.

That the love you feel
is not actually real.

That you and me
were never meant to be.

But regardless,
we'll find meaning in
almost anything.

Always creating something
out of absolutely nothing.

Opa

A thousand tiers
of a mystical mass,
Building, uniting, defying
as the storm does pass.

A thousand tears
for a noble man,
Building, uniting, defying
as a family can.

The skies clear
so that the eye can see
a beauty only known
by you and me.

The sun is setting.
The clouds reflecting,
great colors and depth.
My heart has strep.

Colliding within,
Nature begins
to take its toll,
and by doing so,

It shows us the balance
and guides the way
to understanding the challenge
of accepting today.

Beauty lines the path
and cushions the fall,
so when that fateful day comes,
I can still stand tall.

Melancholia

Only when you recognize the bad
do you see the good.

True bliss gleams
in the light of darkness.
And the most content feelings bloom
from the depths of sorrow.

Beauty unnoticed
comes out from hiding
and appreciation ignites.

Tears of sadness fill the ocean
so that joy can part the sea.

And we can finally see
And we can finally be
At peace.

State of Mind

I am still a series of highs and lows,
but I think I have finally found a middle ground.
Accepting and expecting the least,
to help calm my nerves down.

I have found comfort in my own skin,
reaccepting what is within.
But future plans are still up in the air,
giving me no time to prepare,

For what is to come.

Aging

As time goes by,
the weight of the world,
placed piece by piece
on the ends of child's smiles,
slowly pulls down
and transforms them to frowns.

What I Am Into

This year I am into being me.

Not into being someone else,
Not into being someone I used to be,
Just into being me.

The I35 Median

Meadows of gold.
Patches of silver.
Oceans of shimmering blades.

The sun strikes.
The wind whips.
Creating fields of metallic waves.

Forces propelling the motions:
Billowing, bending, bowing, and dancing.
Gratifying, inspiring, and enhancing,
The human eye.

The Wind

Today I heard the wind whistle in my ears.

As I walked through a narrow brick passage,
the wind pucked its lips and blew downwards
as if trying to make music with an empty glass bottle.

And in its attempts, it was successful
because I heard that same, familiar, low pitched tone
that is sung from lips on empty glass bottles and narrow brick passages.

Summer Night Walks

There is one great thing about the suburbs in the summer:
the vastness of the area, the evenly paved sidewalks, and the silence of the evenings allow for great summer night walks alone.

Everyone is in bed by ten, which times perfectly with the coming of the cool evening air.
The straight paved sidewalks allow for swift determined strides with swaying hips.
The sole klunking footsteps can be heard throughout, mixed with the familiar chirping sounds of a cricket.

Bunnies run ahead, startled by the incoming stranger.
Thoughts clear and confidence gains as the steps proceed; a march to one's own mind.

In a place as dreary and uniform as the suburban community, it is hard to think that one can get any peace of mind,

But it is there...
in those peaceful, inspiring summer night walks.

Feminism

Don't look at me with those eyes
of hate, of anger and despise.
I know you may feel disgust
for the things I've done against your trust.

The dirty whore inside
with every woman she does reside.
She must come out to play,
so today

Indulge.
She won't be out for long.

Confusion and fear consume,
and it seems nothing will resume
to be what it once was,
so now what does

She do with herself?

No barrier any longer exists,
and so she continues to persist
to throw herself around.

But why this view,
so dirty and skewed.
No religion to "guide" her way
and yet still today

She feels like a whore.