So it seems here, now, in the mornings clean light, where all that I can do is observe—in nature that surrounds—human nature take its course.

I spent a good portion of last night, mooring with the tide, tied to emotions, most of which surely weren’t mine to suffer, though, like a good little buoy I did all I could to stay afloat.

But what causes a man to harbor such feelings of faithless dread.

Sympathy? Empathy? Selfless, selfishness?

Isn’t it funny how even when no one asks us to suffer, we often choose to suffer.

Could it stem from guilt? Plausible, though I think not. Depression? No, because I could still move. Trauma? Not in this case, as it had nothing to personally do with me.

Perhaps than maybe deeper, beyond the physical self, far from age or reason, like roots grown deep within the soil, always there yet invisible to the naked eye.

So then what?

Let’s take the current state of society in which the mind is placed.

We are and always have been reactionary beings, jumping to conclusions without fully taking the time and energy to understand or explore where these irrational compulsions come from.

So the year is 2020 and we are still at one another’s throats.

Not a day goes by that I don’t get a phone call whether or not I am willing to vote. Not a day goes by that I don’t see one side of the argument ready and willing to cut the other’s throat. Not a day goes by where I don’t get the impression that peace is just dependent on war, like an inside joke I just don’t get the humor.

So it’s within this grey area that I swim where both sides of the equation continue to expel these deep seeded emotions from within.

Had it not been for the open minded, tirelessly educated guidance and good nature of a mother, I may have gone another way years ago, though still I stay afloat while the undertow continues its torment.

So it seems here, now, in the mornings clean light, where all that I can do is observe—in nature that surrounds—human nature take its course.

I know who I am. And I know my intentions are good. Sometimes our actions speak louder than words but for most of us, words just don’t seem to be heard.

But that’s no reason to destroy what you can’t control.

So for those who cannot express or explain this current state of extremes we face both alone and together, I suggest this: be a beacon of hope.

Because what we know today, with or without our help, will surely change tomorrow.

So even in my darkest hours, I know, hope will never falter, light will find a way, and tides will turn, if not now, then surely another day.

Alone and writing.

all prose burn in heaven

I get the soul’s impression

that all prose burn in heaven.

Each homeward bound confession

chased tales back and forth.

Bipolar dreams depression

that yearn for common ground,

a fingers length extension

too tame to make a sound.

If all dogs go to heaven

who’s there left to be found?

A mother’s womb that’s kickin

an unborn Ezra Pound.

It’s with this last expression

your love comes to me now.

Released to death’s progression

a compass pointing north.

Tell me a story

There’s a part of me

that see’s this all clearly

like a child standing in a crowd

there’s really only one way out.

What is it that you see

it’s fine to disagree

why if the world’s mine oyster please

forgive me for the lack of belief.

I had this faith in you

I thought you had it too

how many smiles does it take to show

the unhappiness we grew to know.

Do you take this hand

would you understand

lighting matches just to prove you could

did it ever do you any good?

Tell me a story, one without love, cause it’s taken me for granted so many times—enough.

There’s a part of you

engrained in me now

I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit

it’s a piece I won’t ever regret.

So what’s the point of these prose

and insecurity poems

like a fish needs water to breathe

I guess it really isn’t up to me.

If this is just a passing feeling

I’ll agree to disagree then

watch the sun rise and fall once more

a couple hours then I’ll start the chore.

You see I know my problems

it’s not up to you to solve them

if I go out the Hemingway

like Kerouac first I’ll have my say so

Tell me a story, one without love, cause I’ve taken you for granted so many times—c’mon.

Tell me a story, one without love, cause it’s taken me for granted so many times—enough.

There’s this movie playing in my head

I never wanted to define you

Just wanted to walk calm beside you

But do I ever do a thing at all?

I never knew how to excite you

Just wanted to be like the fly who

Hung around loving your every move.

I never knew a second chance

As good as that first romance

A third time will only get you killed.

My palms are cold and sweaty now

It makes no difference any how

Like a has been actor thinking what’s the use?

I say it’s maybe

the way God made me

You say it’s crazy

that I’m this damn lazy

I’m addicted maybe

but it’s better this way

After awhile I’ll be all right

I’ll be alright, so.

I think I’ll watch the Super Bowl

Then re-runs of a TV show

Any distraction for two years will do.

I think I’ll start a private club

Then forget and invite everyone

Come one come all come make me feel good.

I never wanted to become

This ordinary silly chum

Up for hours feeling numb and blue.

There’s this movie playing in my head

There’s a plane a girl a detective

Who’s method acting’s got him nowhere new.

You say it’s maybe

the way God made me

And that hey baby

you’re a little lazy

but it’s better this way

this addiction’s crazy

After awhile you’ll be all right

You’ll be alright, so.

The thing that I am trying tell

The thing impossible to sell

A clear cut diamond people get confused.

I never wanted anymore

Than a reason to explore

The imperfections that I found in you.

Like that picture on the cellar door

A sad clown I just couldn’t ignore

His eyes were mine yes they were tried and true.

I wonder if no now I’m bored

I’ll take a couple then some more

Searching my pockets for my next excuse.

I mean anyone will do.

Robin Williams

Robin Williams

under the right light

had the warmest

coldest, sincere

blue eyes.

Oh, those blue

blue eyes.

Like Arctic waters

were those sad blue eyes.

Just a man who

made voices

who made miracles

who made hearts sing

who made hearts sigh

though he couldn’t see himself

without those majestic blue eyes.

So perhaps he made a choice

with all depression laid aside

to go out as himself

before disease could take his mind

before it could wash away

those blue blue eyes.

lovely pearls.

If you could put

everyone’s depression

in an ivory locked jewelry box

and free the world of self hate

anxiety, fear, despondency

there would no doubt be

someone hidden in daylights shadow

waiting, aching, yearning

and ready

to try on those lovely pearls.

Another On Depression. (written some time ago) Or something like that.

It doesn’t feel like a weight
or an isolated incident.

It’s more like a cloudy headed hangover.

The mind knows what it needs
but the body refuses to cooperate.

It’s like sitting with a good book
for hours, no wiser in the end.

Or driving aimlessly
with no set destination.

It doesn’t feel like anything,
really.

Just a relative constant
that comes and stays.

Like an uninvited guest – talkative –
with nothing good to say, whom

upon arrival you wish they would go
but on departure, a part of you wishes they’d stay.

It’s nobodies goal to be addicted,
is it?

It doesn’t feel like anything,
really.

Or something like that.

Yesterdays sadness today.

The day
is cold
and rainy,

the walls
smell
of paint,

a hint
of death
lingers,

my pockets
are
running dry,

control
is
a state of mind,

right now
I’m
out of it,

I bought
flowers
to liven up the room,

they
help
some,

today is
a soggy
mess,

as for
tomorrow
we will see.

The point
is,
that we will see tomorrow.

A Life Altering Depression that led to a Conscious Awareness of Choice.

If you lay in bed long enough,
eventually,
you understand that there’s no reason to leave.

When you don’t have the answers,
for the way you’re feeling,
you understand that it’s better to give them what they want to hear.

After you’ve made a decision,
hastily,
that feels like anything but,
all that’s left is to wait for the consequence.

If you hide yourself away long enough,
eventually,
you understand that the calls will stop coming.

And even if you had the answers,
for the way you’re feeling,
you understand they wouldn’t even make a difference to the big picture.

After you’ve checked the mail,
twice a day,
for what feels like months,
all that’s left is to accept the denial letter, denying you back, from where you fled.

They don’t want you anymore.
They won’t trust you anymore.

Do they love you?
Or.
Are they just putting up with more of your bullshit?

They want you to succeed.
Remember when they said, “remember us when you’re famous!”

Did they ever realize the pressure?
Or.
Weren’t they just trying to inspire you to believe your own self-worth?

If you lay in bed long enough,
eventually,
you understand that it’s difficult to be anywhere but.

When you still don’t have the answers,
for giving up on the plan,
you understand that maybe it’s better to give them truth instead of lies.

After your insecurity turns to shame,
and fear is watered down,
a fire begins to burn,
and all that’s left to do is coax it.

If you hide yourself away long enough,
eventually,
you understand that it’s your turn to make the calls.

And while contemplating the answers,
for the way that you’re feeling,
you understand that the big picture doesn’t give a damn either way.

After your shame turns to curiosity,
and fear fizzles out,
a flame can turn to wildfire,
and all that’s left to do is decide.

Will you get out of bed?
Or will you fake this grave till you make it?

Nobody cares, really.
Nobody, except the one’s you love.

Despair comes for us all,
but,
it doesn’t have to – always – be the present constant,
in fact,
no matter how hard you try to make it seem…

This is life.

There is choice.

This is not a heads or tails game.