Making up for lost time

Promises from our past

For just a moment...
Let us forget..,
What we...were.
What happened,
to Us.
Our past,
like thorns in our thoughts...
Marked....with blood and loss.
We lose sight of what,
Could have been.

The valleys and mountains of your body,
A biblical garden of eden.
Your skin left scared,
Years of corrupt lovers and abandonment
Have left your earth rough.

But after many dark....dark nights,
The sun still rises...
The bright blue sky above...
The youth...has finally grown up.
The grain stands tall,
And the age old saying....stays true.
You reap what you sow.

Դլե Յաման,

կարոտ մնացի հայրենիքի

Martiros Saryan "Armenian Landscape" 

Musings, alone on a Saturday night

I was once a Sunday Morning Dreamer
Birthday candles blown out
Wishing for a love so true,
Eternity in awe of us.

The clay brakes off
The real me seeps through
The cracks of the facade
We put up to find love.

The distance between us grew
Our kisses were shorter
My hands, not allowed to explore
I don't blame you for it.
How could you keep loving me
Now that you know me so well?

"The Lovers II" (1928) by Rene Magritte

2,787 Miles

The old saying goes,
"Distance makes the heart grow fonder."

2,787 miles.

Coming to terms with the loss
of someone who wasn't there.

The Sun doesn't ask of you anymore.
And the Lighting to young to remember.

2,787 miles.

The bright lights, the call of the big city.
You were always destined for greatness.

My heart, didn't grow fonder.
but after all this time,
its finally let go.

Maybe the truest cliche of them all needs a remake,
"Time and Distance heals all wounds."

2,787 miles.

Nouvelle Vague

It feels as if the rain has come to wash away the past.

Gustave Caillebotte Oarsman in a Top Hat (1878)

The air is a bit more crisp today, as I write aimlessly on this blog. I openly, and often, admit to seeking the attention and validation of others about my writing. But this one is for me. There seems to be a new wave coming, I'm ready to sail into whatever may be ahead.





Forever More

What once was fantasy,
Is all I've ever known.
Happy Alone...
my memories..
guiding me.

In every breath
There's life.
The morning sun,
smiles bright.
I've found myself
In the light.

These winding roads,
take me home.
The fog clear,
Could you believe me now
If I Smile...

The bottle under my bed
left Alone, gathering dust.
My feet rooted in the soil,
I begin to grow again.
What once was a fantasy
Is all I'll ever know

French new wave greats Director Jean-Luc Godard and cinematographer Raoul Coutard 1960 Paris

Perspectives on a Sunday night

(Jean Luc Godard's "Breathless")

Here are two poems, unedited unrefined.

I am not sure where I am going with this premise, maybe just combine them into one? Not sure yet, let me know what you all think.



muffled voices
whispering into my neck
the taste of Tequila
on their breath
as they leave my room
their skin marked with
the Love I promised
Red and Sore,
they'll never forget
the night we spent.
Their morning coffee
just a bit more bitter
the next day. The taste
of Marlboro reds,
still coating their tongue..

I watch you as you washed away
the lies used to reel you into my arms.
Stumbling as you step out of the shower..           
cold air gripping your skin, stinging
where my hands gripped you into staying..
You can't get yourself to look me in the eyes,
empty promises of "doing this" again,
You'll go home, you'll go back to what's
been calling you all night, remembering me;
Every time you tie your hair tight,
Every time you hear "unconscious desires".
Passing thoughts they fade, like the
Bruises I kissed away, Replacing them
with scars of regret, A drunken mistake..

Like my life so far, Sailing away into the sunset
We can just move on, maybe to the next stop,
Hopefully she's as beautiful as you..

(Boys Don't Cry covered by 3 6 chambers)

Red Moon

Third post of the new year and oh does it feel good to have the writing bug again. The support from those of you who read my ramblings has truly been the highlight of my Sunday nights/Monday mornings. I've broke my post view records twice this month and I'd hope to do it for the third weekend in a row.  For those of you who are mad, Thank you!

There is only one poem this week but two artworks by the great expressionist Egon Schiele. Schiele was the Tumblr famous and world renowned artist Gustav Klimt's protege. And in my humble opinion Schiele outshines his master in expressing the true rawness of emotion and expression in his art. Klimt, who was once reprimanded for producing overtly sexually graphic paintings for a Science academy, was known for painting his muses into his work. Schiele enjoyed parodying his master, and at times stealing his muses outright as his own mistresses. In all his eccentricities, Schiele's paintings epitomize the grotesque beauty in Sex and Sexuality. He has become an obsession in the past week I cant seem to get out of my head.

 (Egon Schiele "The Girl"1918)

Nabakov's Wet Dream

She walked with her head forward,
Her sun-kissed face.....
drew the light from the entire room.
Why would I read Ted Hughes?

She knew what love was,
only agreeing on the differences.
Her fears manifested in her potential,
her small frame, Shaded by her huge
Presence.

Losing her thought's into the second cup
her voice cracked, She seemed real.
She was art, and She knew it.
Maybe she didn't. Maybe I wasn't there             
pretentiously lost in my own voice,                   
trying to prove to her that I was real.

Something in the way she said
"familiar yet so distant'
rang through the fog,
as Mingus played that work song, 
She became art.

(Egon Schiele "The Embrace" 1917)

And finally the song of the post, Charles Mingus - Work Song. Enjoy

If Only

When No one is Around

Say my name
When he promises you the world
Say my name
When he holds your hand
Say my name
When his lips meet yours
Say my name
When he enters your temple
Say my name
When he says he loves you...

For your love is mine,
For eternity...like you've said
Countless times,
Say my name.

(Edvard Munch - The Kiss 1897)

Repentance

I long for absolution.
The memories I've got
They torture my head.

The memories of
Your perfect eyes
Draw me towards blindness

Your pale, freckled skin.
The canvas of my love,
Longing for another's touch.

Your soft hands,
That held my heavy head up
Fit, perfectly locked
With foreign paws.

Your sweet sense
of Crazy, babbling on
To discomfort others.

The sun asked about you.
Her almond shaped eyes
Filled with tears, missing you.

I long for absolution.
Losing you,
An unforgivable sin.

(Nothing Compares 2 U- Written by Prince Covered here by One of my Favorite Local bands 

Capital cities)

Good Riddance

GOOD BYE 2018

What a year of loss, frustration, and unequivocal sadness.

I fell out of love in 2018
I lost one of my brothers in 2018
I gave my all for nothing in 2018
I lost the passion to create in 2018
I hit rock bottom, again, in 2018
I began to crawl my way to back in 2018
I found optimism in 2019.

I feel that in my current state of mind, sharing my scribbling and poetry may be the best way to cope with how I am feeling.

(Scene from "In the mood for love" Directed by Wong Kar Wai)

This isn't another goodbye, but a see you soon.

"There's one thing Ill do 
if it ever goes wrong
I'll write you into all of my songs" - Devon Welsh

And now some poetry written throughout 2018:



New Years Day

The love in my life has left me.
The cold winds of winter passed us by.
6 months have gone since summer
When death came to visit.

He did not take me with him.
Left me missing my dear friend
Isaiah...41:10 "Fear not, for I am with you."
But you left us. so Young and full of life.

The new year has come
With the bright sun, January 3rd 72 degrees.
The love in my life is missing.
But with the sun comes a new
Love for life.

-1/3/2019



Reflections on a bottle of Pinot. 

I find myself
Constantly rushing to get ready to go
But never get to where I'm going.
Running through the dead end streets
Of the hollowed out world that are my
dreams.

I'm racing a clock that always is
A minute ahead. Chasing a thought
that has no end. Frequent sadness
Grips me like a cold wind.

The words I speak. Carry no noise.
My message to you. Holds no meaning.
Yet the others of the world sharpen their
ears. Like the knives in the drawer,
My heart grows jagged.

-10/25/2018



Instagram Love Song

Your subtle gaze
and sweet lips
Sings songs of innocence.

Your heart pure
Like the bright white stars
In the dark blue night

Intentions of pleasure,
Missed opportunities,
Given away to the undeserving.

Some things are inevitable
Just as the day always follows night,
Your sweet song comes in with the
morning sun.

-10/3/2018




Two poems about birthdays.

1.
Dry heat of the August sun
The smoke filled air
25 years old now
25 lifetimes worth of memories
My life my life my life in the sunshine.

25 years of howling
Gone at 16
Gone at 27
9 years sober
3 years in love
25 Revolutions around the sun
Wrinkled skin from its rays

Reflections on the past
Lost so many
Gained so many
Day by day learning to cope with the heat.

2.
I am nothing more
Than a stranger to myself
Singing songs of love and hope
Screaming to the world
My unique message

Shake off the dust
Of your faults and failures
Sow the seeds of success
Water them with laughter and joy
Reap the crop of your future

Live righteously yet free
Of the bounds of society
Be you and only you
Unapologetically
Unrestricted.

-8/13/2018



A song to encapsulate all of 2018:

Justin Vernon's (Bon Iver) cover of "I can't make you love me" by Bonnie Raitt