Poem: Puzzle

There's a puzzle in my mind
that I think of all the time,
where the pieces do not fit
and I sometimes can't stand it,
but the pieces are my life
and I'm blessed with little strife,
so I settle down to write
it's my only way to fight,
at the madness that I see
and the way it consumes me,
nothing lost and nothing gained,
so my life will stay the same,
but I pray to God for change,
as I'm looking for the Way,
but there's nothing more to say,
I am Mute.
Waiting for time to pass;
My Only Answer.

Poem: I Miss Her Still

I Miss Her Still;
Maybe I Always Will.
Out of Nowhere
I Burst
into Tears.

Though it's been Half a Year
It's my still deepest Fear
that we'll Never
be Together
again.

I Remember Eight Months,
with My Throat Full of Lumps;
When She Wouldn't
or Couldn't
See Me.
And Despite All the Others,
my numerous lovers,
it was Her
I Most Wanted
to See.

Then There was The Year
That I Ran From my Fear
And a Dollar Each Tear,
I'd Be Rich.

But the Truth Still Remains
That Together We're Pains;
While I act a Prick,
She's a Bitch.

So I'll Dream in My Soul,
That Before We Grow Old:
She'll Be Selfless,
I'll Be Healthy,
We'll Be Married,
We'll Be Wealthy.
And I Pray
My Tears Turn
Into Gold.

Poem: Another Holliday

Look at
All the Happy People,
going out for fun.
An evening spent
with friends and lovers,
at night on the run.
They watch the colors in the sky,
they dance, they drink, and laugh.
For this one night
of spending money,
caring not for math.

I watch them
from my little room,
my eyes through slitted blinds.
And no matter
where I look,
no reason
can I find.
What is the reason I'm alone,
while many bunch for joy?
What feelings beat,
inside their souls,
are lacking,
from this boy?

Their instincts tell them:
"Be together!"
"Dance beneath the sky!"
And as the crowds
keep passing me,
all I can say's
"Goodbye."

Will there
one day
be a group?
With me,
a one,
inside?
Or will I spend
the rest of life,
just me,
just one,
alive?

There was a time,
when I was young,
this was no sore for me.
But now I'm old,
the time has passed,
for this old man to be.

Another Holiday is passed,
while I am still alone.
No group,
no love,
no celebration,
no one on the phone.

Poem: Self-Pity Opera

A Master of Heart-Ache;
It's me, that I dub so.
Sadness, depression,
the depths of despair.
These have I known
and invoked
in my years.
The opposite too,
the warmth of sweet Love...
But only too briefly,
compared to above.

The last love I had,
who I'm now in despair for.
Christian,
her name,
in this life.
I loved her so much,
that I offered her marriage.
Not joking,
I offered,
my life.
She thought I was kidding,
(or maybe she wished so)
for she loved her Ex
more than me.
And needing to leave her,
I just couldn't stand it,
her sleeping with him,
not with me.

My current depression,
the heart-ache, the lonely.
I know it
from feelings
before.
Before there was Christian,
was six years of Sadness.
From Ruby,
my lover,
before.

And during that Darkness
were many
fine people.
Who offered
their love
up to me.
But all I could see
was my own dark Depression,
it was,
the one way,
I could be.

Before there was Ruby,
was Natalie,
too,
and the Sadness,
which came,
with her flight.
Drinking
and crying
and writing her letters;
Night after night,
after night.

Yet still before that,
was the loss of my Mother,
my House, my Inheritance,
my All.
She gave up my Future,
to some new Abuser,
who cared about me,
not at all.

Even before that,
I cried from confusion,
from the pain,
that was crippling,
my spine.
Anger supreme
at my filthy rich Father,
who refused
to help
make it fine.

But before my back,
came a series
of Lovers:
Older, and sexy,
refined.
All of those beauties
with one thing
in common;
they used me,
but just,
for one time.

When too young to date,
I suffered in silence,
Abused by my father,
and Ma.
I always imagined,
the day I'd be grown up,
and not have to deal
with it all.

And now that I'm grown up,
those dreams are unrealized;
At thirty
I feel
like a child.
And all of those joys,
that I knew in my life;
Compared to the pain,
are quite mild.

Poem: Old Friend Mike

A friend that I had
he turned out quite bad,
though I've known him
since his very start.

Once brothers in faith,
he smiles to my face,
in private he tears me apart.

While spreading sick rumors,
I don't understand,
his cowardly gossip,
that slanders this man.

It must be because
I never began,
to fuck him,
or view him,
with awe.

The lies that he spread
awoke pain in my head,
confusion,
at malice so cruel.

Small network of friends,
I thought true to the end,
kicked me
in the gut
like a mule.

So now here I stand,
just like I began,
alone,
with my Angel
and God.

I know all those who lie,
will sure one day die,
and answer for sins,
one and all.

Poem: Insomnia #17 (Mother's Day)

No sleep.
Big Jeep.
Fat sheep.
Food cheap.

Cold air,
feels fair.
Go where?
Nowhere.

Mother's Day.
Little pay.
Friend's gay,
Says "hey."

Feel OK.
Another day.
Which way?
Mid May.

Poem: Rhibald Othello

The Selfish Swine
I love all the time
cares not
for my sleep
or my food.

Her only concern
is her cigarettes burn
and the swell of her
all-changing mood.

My pain doesn't move her,
my words come out silent.
Continuing hubris
that strikes me
like violence.

While owning the World,
she spits on this bum.
Distorting my heart-ache
and sucking her thumb.