Month: February 2000

Darkness is the absence of light
No faith will bring my fear
Anger is a loss of love
Regret will not accept.

It seems a presence ever slight,
to even those so dear
lose the strength from above
stolen by secrets kept.

Most often lost throughout the night
At dawn it may appear,
The long-awaited dove
and grateful, having slept.

From what place comes this awful fright
Remains still so unclear
Are these dreams simply of
The lies that have now crept

Into my psyche, terror’s blight
The whispers I don’t hear.
Tired by push and shove
and still I’ve never wept.

I shall retreat back to the light,
let go of all this fear.
Embracing now your love
All gifts I must accept.

The life I’ve found, it seems so right
And I will meet You here.
Take my life, too, above.
This way I chose, for none except

Myself. To you I must requite,
And yet they do not hear
My words, so devoid of
Justice to my concept

Of Your presence. My life they spite
I think; I am too near
This lie. I’m not above
And they have been twelve-stepped.

This message that they choose to fight,
This truth I hold so dear,
With no denial of
Living by your precept.

The dark must be absence of light.
Faith can remove my fear.
Anger comes from no true love.
No regrets; I accept.

How did I let it get there?
This I cannot know
Without breaking intent stare:
Learning to let go.
Hole renewed, I am not home,
Not with you or me.
Here I am, again, alone
Lost hurt and sappy.
I know that I brought me here
And now I must go.
Leave the old-school brand of fear
Let HP now show
Through me, to me, in my life
Where I was before
FUCKING HELP ME!!

Protection for whom I love,
Without resort to push and shove
I am filled with burning rage
Yet cowardice has set the stage
See the evil hold them back
A voice, not subtle, screams, “Attack!”
My mind points out: they are sick.
My heart beats louder: punch and kick.
Is rage hell-sent affliction,
Or pacifism my addiction?
I could hurt them, should I try,
Or use the peace to justify
Inability to make a stand
And stop the terror that is at hand.

What the hell, this can’t be right;
This peace I surely cannot feel.
Serenity does not seem real,
But keeps me, still, through the night.

When I forget that old lie,
The cold, dark fear that holds my heart,
Let go, surrender, that’s the start.
I feel; I know; what means why.

I feel love, but still I fight.
It’s tough to make that choice to heal,
When simple life seems so surreal,
I find ways to blur my sight.

I will try to hold this light
A glimmer of the waning truth
Find harmony now in my youth
And set my soul free in flight

If my eyes close to the light,
I find that I don’t want to deal
With you, or me, and I will steal
Our love will become so slight.

I probably ought to cry
About the way we had to part.
But I have made reserve an art
In spite of us, my eyes are dry.

Punish me with all your spite;
It’s not my fate that you will seal.
I don’t use you as means to feel
I know today, that’s not right

I have learned that I must try
To find that peace within my heart
I knew before this ache did start
I do not have to live this lie

I forsake this gift of sight
Because illusion seems so real
I tell myself that I can deal
I think I do not need the light

It is all so good, today
I found this way that I impart,
Make the best of science and art
Find some truth in all I say

I now have no need to fight
Though truth and time seem to reveal
All that I will try to conceal.
Still this life will be so bright.

Having seen a father die
That his son might live,
It is now clear; I must try
This great gift to give.
To share mine with another,
A bond now so true,
As I’ve shared with a brother
Now I share with you.
From this union, there shall spring,
Through a sacred dance,
A new life, a human being.
Now He has a chance.

All are one, but one’s too many;
I know this isn’t enough.
Life and love ought to be plenty,
But what if you call my bluff?
These words are cheap, I mass-produce
The lines, I feel each one true.
However, to write seems no use
I don’t want to bullshit you.

Fuck it; I’m tired of this poetry shit any goddamned way.

So many, so shallow, so often,
These are the lives we make
To ease, to scorn, to spite, to soften
The pain of each days wake.
But these, too, are sure to not suffice
If they are so heartless.
A longer plot, though it lacks the spice,
In truth lights the darkness.
Do it right; do it deep; do it real;
These are the lives we make
To listen, to love, to live, to feel.
Just give yourself a break.