Veterans Day Poem: Ode to the Absent Fallen

It's Veterans Day again (or Armistice Day, as my Great-Grandfather Ned would insist).  In honor of those who have served, those who have fought, those who have fallen, here is a piece of poetry I was inspired to write while visiting a cemetery not so long ago.

The flags flutter in the breeze,

symbols of memory,

of passed away dreams.

The heroes, the fallen,

those who have gone,

will a final rest ever truly be known?

I sit and I wonder

where have you gone?

Is it a far better meeting

or more a tribulation tone?

Will I know it all soon

or be condemned to ignorance

for the weeping we've sown?

For the days have gone too soon;

as I look at the stones

my mind hearkens back to you,

forever alone.

A day come and gone;

I'll miss you, you know,

but we'll someday find solace

in the truth we have known

I leave you with these words;

come back home.

Do something to honor a Veteran today.  We owe them!

Never Love (Poem/song)

It's late on a Monday night.  I'm alone, wired, and revisiting some old dreams and schemes.  I'm not sure why I share these bits of artistic expression.  There are maybe 3 people who actually enjoy them.  Yep, feeling like Van Gogh again, only with words instead of paint.  Oh, well.  If it reaches anyone, it's better than staying hidden away.

Here's a bit of a twisted song that popped into my head not so long ago, something of a play on the sort of imagined love that sneaks up on you, either for someone or some thing that really isn't what or who you dreamed them to be.  Basically, loving the "idea" even as the truth escapes and ruins everything.  Sometimes, we suffer silently inexplicably.  What strange humanity...

The more I'm with you

the more I want to be around you

You're burning into my soul.

You're magnetic

tugging my iron heart so cold.

And the fire that burns

eats away at me

leaves a fiery pit deep within me,

and when the truth comes flooding in

to quench the fire

it's an acid sting poured down that makes me cold.

You're the perfect lover that doesn't exist.

You're every boy's fantasy, lightning quick.

You're the sting of forgotten dreams

bursting my ship's every seam.

You're the love worth fighting for that'll never be won.

You're the great pretender that's yearning for some

but it won't be mine.

I've lost my time.

I'm sick to the heart when I'm thinking of you.

Inside I'm bruised and battered for the things you do

and there's no way to forget the pain

of the things we never said.

For the future, how can we find the perfect one

with the seeming impossibility that's come and gone;

the tomorrow together, when we can't say the words?

Because the life you give to me is vibrant again

even though your wrong proclivities drive me insane

and I'm not even going to be there

when you fall.

And it's none of my business what you're going to do

None of my problem—no , that ain't the truth.

I'm caught by your possession,

in ways you don't even know.

For you're the perfect lover that doesn't exist

an old man's fantasy, twisted and sick,

a long lost dream of what we might have had.

You're the hard case lover that's already lost,

the pretty facade that's shattered and wrought.

A long lost impression

that's clinging to me.

I want to see!

How can our never love ever be lost?

Can imagination make up the cost?

They say love’s as easy as one, two, three.

Now this blind insanity’s killing me

for it’s a ghost of a thought you can’t figure out,

hidden reality and it’s all about

the burning inside (it won’t let me be!)

If you could find the words to say

why can’t we be that way?

But you’re the perfect lover that doesn’t exist,

a long lost fantasy that never is writ,

the painful future, whether without or with.

You’re the sweet, sweet poison that makes me sick

down deep inside, where you don’t want to fit

and the weight of reality

will never set us free.

Oh, my never love

someday you’ll think about me,

or so I dream...

Depreciation of Dreams (Poem/Song)

I've been feeling rather moody lately, and while that isn't good for writing concrete fiction it is rather good for throwing down poetry and song lyrics.  I'll have more to say about my musical dreams in another post (when I can collect my thoughts more coherently).  In the meantime, enjoy this bonus poem/song, which speaks of the struggle to find something more than this mundane existence proffers.

There comes a time when dreams betray you

and fantasies fail you;

yes, I've known for so long.

When you wake up

and find that you're shaken;

the reality's bringing you down.

No matter how hard

you try to cling,

that goddamn truth

is gonna do you in.

There's no getting out

of this sinister place

the world of facts can't be denied.

Another fallen dream

never to be realized,

never to be seen;

all a forgotten scheme,

the kind we feel should be real—

if only it could be,

then we would be free

Tell me it's better

to live all our lives

slogging away in real time.

Show me it's best

to live like the rest

never knowing what else we could find.

If this is so great

why does it reek

of sorrow and boredom and hate?

Are we truly meant to live only once

without ever challenging fate?

Dare we venture

beyond these gates,

endeavor to dream again,

whatever the stakes?

It takes but one flight of fancy

and we're back in the race.

But then it comes 'round again.

They tell you no, no, no!

You run into a brick wall.

Failure makes you feel small

and your faith in your fantasy's gone.

It's a fleeting dream

condemned to nevermore.

For the dreams betray you

and fantasies fail you;

we've all seen them disappear now.

Seen tomorrow's promise

vanish in to dust

never again to be found.

But at the end of the night

dare we make it a fight

or throw up our hands and resign;

surrender again and say goodbye

to our promised fantastical sight?

Will it be all right

to give up on what might?

Unrequited–A Poem of Secret Torment

In the next few weeks, I plan to start posting more to the blog, which means finding different things to share that will hopefully be of interest to you, my appreciated readers.  Here's one writing-related feature that I'm trying to bring back; sharing my poetry and song lyrics.  Let's see if anyone is interested...

Many of you know that I have written poetry for almost as long as I've been writing fiction.  I even had a few poems published in my early 20's, though the stack of rejection letters rivals that for my fiction marketing.  Poetry is an outlet for emotion, and sometimes telling a story.  At least, that's how I write it.

Today I share with you a deeply personal poem, something that was written for someone who will never read it... unless by some strange twist of fate they discover this blog... but even then I doubt they'd ever consider this to be written for them...  Er, I don't know if they'd laugh, scream, or cry if they ever did realize... Oh, crap, I've said too much.  Let's just get on with it already!

I have kissed you in the dream

your skin so pure

and lips demure,

yet when the dawn came

crashing upon my eyes

I swear I saw your face

before the fleeting shadows

of the never night

assured you were not there.

I seek your passion,

the forbidden love

that never will be known,

for this man is a dreaming darkness

and you are the light in the night,

the light I can see within

the eyes that'll never know me.

Your alien world

holds many pains and pleasures

the secrets you'll never share

of your darkest despair.

It has nothing to do with me

for my love, unfulfilled

it shall ever be,

so I can never cause you pain

The dream that never dies

but never knows truth

is the saving grace

of this sleeping man

who toils in solitude

and of the unrequited loved

who will never know

the touch of my tender soul.

Forever it shall be

the agony of the impure

this heart of tarnished gold

loving chaste from afar

and ever praying

that you'll never be the whore.

In closing, I hope you appreciate the artistry of the piece, above all.  If you enjoy my poetry, let me know, so I'll know there's a reason to share more of it.

Yesterday's Fantasy (Poem)

For quite a while, I had a feature called "Minstrel Mondays," where I would share a poem or set of song lyrics of my own creation.  That feature has gone by the wayside for the most part, because I don't think there's a huge interest in my poetry.  I used to write a lot of them when I was younger, though they never got me anywhere.

Today I present a little poem I put together back in 2006, which may have some meaning for you.

Sticky day

that I'm feeling,

of things that flow around

me, unending passion

never realized,

forgotten with age,

fallen from the tree

of knowledge, we seek

something we'll never get.

Yet out of it all

we find some meaning

that was never meant

to be.

I can't see your face

anymore, that's why I

try to feel my own.

It's not what I remember,

this sanctimonious me,

the eyes that stare back

are somebody without a

care of what I want.

I forgot myself in the

haze of tomorrow's reality.

I'm happier in yesterday's fantasy.

Plebeians of Plebiscite

Here's a little poem I threw together many years ago.  This one just came to me in a flash one evening.  It has been lurking at AuthorsDen.com for quite a while, and it was viewed well at first.  The title is somewhat inspired, so that draws in the poetic types.  I don't write much in the way of poetry anymore, so enjoy it and share it.

Drinking muddy water from a mason jar,

letting it all soak in

This is my life,

the sunny side of this hard land.

I till the soil of the seeker's vision,

fertilize their imaginations to

unending possibilities.

A mosquito lands upon my arm,

I crush it with my hand

and somewhere a dragonfly dies

for the sustenance I have extinguished.

Ripples appear in the pond's surface

as a slumbering mystery decomposes

hidden among the muck,

unknown to the minds of modernity.

Slide sideways through the hallways

of possibilities.

Our world is always remarkable

through the unshaded eyes of innocence.

yet unremarkable to the rose-tinted vision

of the unperceptive plebeians of plebiscite.

You know this means something,

but don't ask me what,

for I'm just the poor farmer

laughing at the idiocy of it all.

Welcome The Sun

I was glorious yesterday, a sweet spring-like day, even as the lingering essence of winter remained.  It was almost 70F in the shade during the afternoon, and for the first time in months I felt very much alive.  You don't realize how depressing and physically debilitating the winter can be until it's over.  Here's a little poem I threw together in honor of the blessed warmth.

The sun hits my brow

and I know I'm alive.

Oh, sunny days

I want you to stay.

There are times

I feel like the rain,

don't want to get up

lurking in dismay.

Yet when I'm growing

near your light

you come up next to me

and everything is all right.

Oh sunny days,

please come back to me

so I can see

the meaning of every way.

The way I live it

is yearning for the sunlight

even 'round midnight.

The darkest day

is long forgotten

as the winter wind

is blown away to spring

and the summer's heart

burning deep within me

melts the icecaps dry.

I love the sun

of the autumn

and the midwinter's thaw,

perchance it happens,

but as the return of warmth

brings us renewed pleasure

I once again find myself

thankful for us all.

Will tomorrow be as bright

to give us each a remembrance,

a sweet embrace of our spring life

awaking from frozen slumbers

of our shadowed past.

Forget the snows

and the gloomy showers

and embrace the purity

of tomorrow's radiance.

Plebians of Plebiscite (Minstrel Mondays)

Here's a little something I threw together several years ago.  I think it's one of my better pieces, actually, but you be the judge.

Drinking muddy water from a mason jar,

letting it all soak in

This is my life,

the sunny side of this hard land.

I till the soil of the seeker's vision,

fertilize their imaginations to

unending possibilities.

A mosquito lands upon my arm,

I crush it with my hand

and somewhere a dragonfly dies

for the sustenance I have extinguished.

Ripples appear in the pond's surface

as a slumbering mystery decomposes

hidden among the muck,

unknown to the minds of modernity.

Slide sideways through the hallways

of possibilities.

Our world is always remarkable

through the unshaded eyes of innocence.

yet unremarkable to the rose-tinted vision

of the unperceptive plebeians of plebiscite.

You know this means something,

but don't ask me what,

for I'm just the poor farmer

laughing at the idiocy of it all.

I'd Give Up Eternity (Minstrel Mondays)

Here's a pretty personal poem that I wrote for my wife shortly after we first fell in love (wow, it's been over 10 years now).  It was a time that certainly changed my life, and led me down a far different path that I had been on beforehand.  So, after nearly 11 years in a drawer, here's a piece of poetry I hope anyone who has ever been in love can understand.

I love loving you

as I've never loved before.

So long I've been forgotten,

yet now thanks to you I'm found.

Please never let me go,

for I cannot imagine the pain.

It hurts to think you'll ever be gone,

for my once dead heart

has now been reborn

and only you can keep it alive.

Stay with me as long as you can.

Never betray me,

and stay forever true,

for we can never escape this

high we've fallen into.

I ask the powers that be

that time will not take us away

from one another again,

because life would be nothing

if I can't share it with you.

Everything I have,

it seems so little.

Compared to you,

it all is nothing.

Not long before we met

I held the universe in my hands,

I felt the very breadth of existence

lurking in my mind,

I knew such the answers,

tasted spiritual truth,

yet all it did was lead me to you.

The facts of heaven were

at my fingertips,

and fantastic figures waited

willing to tell them all.

But now that I have you,

it all faded into irrelevancy.

I've given up the secrets of eternity,

just so we may be together,

if only for our lifetimes.

True love is so wholly illogical,

but fun to an absolute.

Maybe I've been a spirit far too long,

and it's time I enjoyed my human fate.

My soul can wait,

we'll be one once again,

but for now I just want to live.

The future may be uncertain,

but with you it can't be too bad.

I'll share with you the secrets of me,

and together, perhaps later,

we can proceed as once I had planned.

But for now, I only want to be with you.

Eternity can wait,

forever, if necessary,

and I'll leave it up to you.

Shall we give the world the truth it needs,

or let it wait in blissful ignorance?

Only you and I can decide.

I'd rather be here

with you in my arms

than flying with the angels any day.

An Inkling of You (Minstrel Mondays)

Sometimes, a poem is best left without explanation.  Read it and glean what you can from it.

Your graceless beauty

haunts me every day

Your saintless sultry

brings me a supple smile

When your train has left the station

I will still remain

committedly yours

There have been others

there will be others still

but everything I dream for

is waiting under your skin.

Elsewhere, I'll never find

that solitary look

you have in your eyes

For there are dreams we share

without even knowing

but we are worlds apart

beyond believing

and I'm never going to find

a single piece of mind

in all the days

that we are through

I can't look upon you

We have a heart to keep

locked up in our minds

trapped away from reality

timeless and unkind

We'll never know each other

so long as we're alive

but I know

we won't let go

To have an inkling of you

I know I'm a lucky man

yet you know only the shadow

I cast upon your plans

a caricature of compassion

lurking in plain sight

but never will we bring

ourselves to partake

of our inherent right

There will come a day

where nothing will be said

if we should stand

hand in hand

going forward forevermore

in broad daylight

Surrender? Never! (Minstrel Mondays)

Today is the opening day for the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award 2012 Contest!  I've already gotten my submission safely delivered, and can now sit back and dread next month's first cut, where 4 out of 5 entries will be dropped because their "pitch" doesn't pique the curiosity of the anonymous judges.  I feel I have a good shot this year, but I thought that last year when I failed to crack the first round threshold.  It's all pretty random, and heavily based on personal tastes.  I just have to hope that I receive the right judges, who'll like my sales pitch.

I'm still waiting to hear back from someone before I reveal some pretty exciting news.  Stay tuned for that.

Now, back to Minstrel Mondays, with a general poem about the entertainment industry.  Whether you're an aspiring writer, actor/actress, singer/songwriter, comedian, etc... you'll find something familiar in this piece, that I dedicate to everyone who has a dream and still strives to fulfill it.

Hope

it's what I need

it's what I'm seeking

each and every day.

Let me on

the stage again

so I can pull off

a miracle.

Never in my life

have I ever asked for more

but never have I ever asked for less.

It's nothing to receive

this immaterial thing

but we're all hoping.

Throw it out again

trying hard to win

at a game that has

no ultimate winner.

Losers still abound

and failures come around

to the realization that

no one ever knows.

You could be the hit

they've been waiting for

the superstar of tomorrow

waiting in the wings

but by chance you turn out

to be yesterday's star

you'll never know

how far you could go.

Giving it your all

is only thinking small.

You've got to get out

and give it someone

else's hundred and ten.

How can you do it alone

when your competition is overgrown?

There's no comparing numbers

with the borg!

Step into the light

and keep fighting

for your moment.

There's nothing worse

than thinking "I could've tried."

If you try and fail again

even if you never win

at least you'll sleep soundly

knowing you did all you could.

When history is written

the worst of the losers

are those who never tried

and are left forgotten.

If you keep striving for the mark

even if you never reach it

somebody

somewhen

will at least know you were

alive.

Out In The Cold (Minstrel Mondays)

It's an off-beat love ballad, for those who have loved, left, and returned.  It doesn't really apply to anything in my life, but I've had book characters undergo this sort of situation, and I'm certain some of you out there can relate to this.  Ah, sad regrets...

I never meant to leave

I wanted to stay home

but the nagging voice

inside of me

had other things in store.

But the calling of the moment

will sadly slip away

when the tide of change

leave us wanting.

You might think this is the end

our day will never come again

and I can't say anything

that'll make you feel assured

but as I slip away

I'll be left dreaming of the day

your eyes will be once again in mine.

For the bitter winds of autumn

sing a tune of sorrow

even as the afternoon glows

iridescent blue

The lonely howls of winter wind

will chase me back to you again

and if you let me in I'm certain

we'll forget about our fallen fate

amidst the comfort of the night

Don't leave me out in the cold

dreaming of our yesteryears

when tomorrow could be our brighter day.

Take me in your waiting arms

and we'll make this life go far

even if we say farewell again

The bitter snow is falling

upon my naked soul

as your cold shoulder shows me

a sad refrain

The frost stings my lips

as I wait for your last kiss

wondering if you really mean it

For you didn't put me out

I chose this cold I know

but it wasn't cold that day

when last I saw you.

How quickly seasons change

and the pleasure turns to pain

when one bad choice comes to

a bitter end

No one would blame you

if you shut me out

left me to this fate my mind has chosen

but letting me back in

will surely warm your heart

as I rekindle the love you're

sorely lacking

I'll make it up everyday

when we're together

So don't leave me out in the cold

and I promise, we'll be here when we're old

even if I'm gone from time to time

for even when I go away

you know I'll come home straightaway

so long as you leave your light

shining my way

Know that I'm in your heart

always

The Dawn's Returning Light (Minstrel Mondays)

Happy New Year, everyone!  Here's a fresh piece of poetry for the coming days.  Enjoy it, and relish in the newness of the season.

A new day is dawning

A new way is calling

and time is slowly

ticking down to a fall.

The end isn't nearing

but it's starting to look

like the beginning.

I hope I will be here

when the stars come shining through.

Break out now before it's too late

catch the wave and claim your fate

seize the moment that you know

is yours for the taking

and your life will be great.

But if you shirk from the light,

hide your eyes,

lurk amongst the shadows

that loom over your time,

you'll never know the

glory of tomorrow.

Stand up for what's right

for you and those that

really matter.

The little secret you hold

is that the light of the world

lies deep within you.

The tree grows tall

straight and narrow,

supported by his neighbors.

Cut down those around him

and he'll quickly bend and fall

under his own weight.

I have an axe to grind

and it's getting near harvest time.

Don't be the tree,

be the lumberjack

and give her a whack!

Psycho Christmas Massacre

In the grand tradition of farce, here's a cynical bit of poetry for the Christmas season.  Something of a Bob Dylan meets Frank Zappa, with a little Spike Jones and Weird Al mixed in; it's wild, crazy, and mismatched to reflect the chaos of the season.  Don't be offended by the mad rambling.  Have a merry freakin' Christmas!

Get your shotgun ready

you know it's gonna snow

We've seen the last of

green, green grass

so the end is sure to come.

It's not another solstice,

it's the end of days.

Make sure you've got

your stocking full

before you kneel and pray.

Christmas time's a-coming

get ready to spend, spend, spend.

The world is made of money

so your credit card says.

But watch out when you go shopping

'cause granny's on the warpath.

She needs to buy those new designer jeans
for her grandson in the pen

and you know she's gonna hit you

with her psychedelic bat.

Keep your shotgun ready

to claim that final turkey.

An angry mob of mothers

will take the skin off your back

They'll bludgeon you for kicks

and use your blood

for decoration.

Ho, ho, ho,

You know that's a

hateful thing to say.

Don't you know

the prostitutes now have

a union of their own?

They ain't no hos anymore.

They're all legally licensed for resale.

Santa Claus,

more like Satan's Claws

They don't call 'em sleigh bells

for nothing.

The man in red

will have your head

on a pole to terrorize his elves.

Keep the greenies

sweating in the shop,

cranking out hunks of plastic

laced with lead and arsenic.

You know his workshop was

outsourced to China.

Now he's really red!

No more Rudolph,

they farmed him out

to the butcher's shop,

for no one really knows

if there's a reindeer in the stew.

Beware the store brand;

it may be you you're eating!

Shop 'til you drop

onto the icy pavement slop

and give up your soul and toil

to the man next door

with the mortgage a mile long.

He doesn't care if he sells out

his wife and kids' future to

afford that fifty inch wide screen

so long as he's fat and happy,

he can watch the football game.

Credit is free money

nobody has to pay!

Madmen climbing the wire

of their store-bought prisons.

You know Uncle Sam

would be ashamed

of the farce this world's turned into.

Cats are eating the flesh off

the fingers of the frozen

hobo on the street corner

all for lack of a restaurant.
Dogs are mating under

cardboard boxes in the

alley, beside the lonely

astronaut who's had his

shuttle grounded by the President.

There are cowards in the street

waving switchblades and firecrackers

wishing they were Jesse James

or O.J. Simpson.

There's blood in the air

and smoke in the water

and everyone's crying crocodile tears.

Does anyone really care?

This was Christ's season

once upon a time,

but that's all over now.

Don't forget to pray to your

pagan idols on the stage.

They might put Cocaine in your stocking!

Everyone knows it's the end times,

so make sure your shotgun's loaded

Zombie apocalypse may be

just around the corner.

Just ask the tabloid man.

When it comes down to it

you can never be too ready.

Buy ammo, and whatever comes,

you'll know the score.

Have a happy holiday.

A Merry Christmas to all,

and hope you survive!

Jack Fir Misery (Minstrel Mondays)

In today's Minstrel Monday selection, we have a philosophical poem I wrote when I was twenty-one.  Take whatever you can from it.

It seems that everything

is coming down around me,

and nothing stops

the burning of my eyes,

or the harsh sting

of the wind-blown jack fir

as it tumbles down about me.

The smack and the crack

of a splintering timber,

forced to the ground

by nature's breath.

I stand beneath the behemoth trunk

and limbs of softwood that tumble

and remind me of the pains in my heart.

Life's not easy for me,

as I see our children

reeling with pain.

Yet death never comes,

for it pleases me so.

This life may be pain,

but better we go on

to make it a pleasure for others,

if we cannot partake of it ourselves.

Life never tastes bitter

to a fallen man.

And the trees still make sounds

even though no one's around,

because there's always air

to resonate vibrionic waves.

Only man could be

so arrogant to believe

that sound only exists

when he hears it.

Just as feelings only exist

if the memory persists

and he can feel them.

That is why children don't understand.

They've never felt the pain.

So is it so wrong

that I go on

protecting them now?

Should I stop to care?

Those who don't know pain,

don't know they're not feeling it.

If ignorance is bliss

let the idiots shine

if only for their fleeting moment

amongst the brilliant sky.