Tag Archives: write

Just Another Chapter

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Just another mark of ink
upon a blank white page.
Stained in an eerie permanence
that I might not erase my mistakes.
Soiled with the arrogance
of another author’s place,
pulling at the strings in my life
without regard or taste.

Fingers tapping softly
with the sure-footed step
of the padded wolf,
the cunning of a fox,
the silence of a cricket,
crying out for reprieve.
How can I call this
relief?

Grasping at memories that flee my mind,
reaching for friends I’ve long left behind.
Foreseeing a future too far out of sight,
replaying a past that I still cannot fight.

Just another chapter in my book,
just another lesson
that I never took.
Just another mention
of a name that meant the world
in between words
that described how he walked away.

Just another chapter in my life.

Just another memory taken by tide.
Just another person stopped in time
with a hope that dissolved with any fate
and a life that returned when I misconstrued the same,
only this time, the boy to blame
who managed to heal my heart again,
loved me with all of his.

Just another chapter in the book.

And yet, I stop my author dead in her frightened tracks.
I steal her pen and snap the thing in half.
I tell her that I’m never going back.
That I’ll never return to that Hell-hole of a past.
That her finishing words to that chapter were her last.

This is my novel now.

And I’m rewriting the ending.

In the end, the character falls in love.
In the end she meets the man who steals her heart.
In the end, she is happy, with all of her soul,
in the end, she is whole, like the start.

Sometimes I feel like I’m not the one writing out my life. As if, someone in some cosmic universe was writing my story for me. And, please do excuse my language, for a time, she was doing a damn shitty job. My author must have been sadistic and angry at me for some incomprehensible reason. And yet, here I am, happy. I’m sick of everything else dictating the way I live my life. These are my days, my chapters, to rewrite as I please. I can’t change the past. But I can decide the future, and I can decide to live the way I want to.

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When the Moon Shines Again

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When the stars reached down in pieces left of ocean,
when the moon thought, “maybe I won’t shine this night.”

When the sun touched fires pandering the solemn,
to a graveyard lost in angel-blessing’s eyes.

When the spoken word left nothing in a memory,
and the swollen skies left tears for the unknown.

When the holy clouds opened up but shed no sorrow,
and the seeds of generations were never sewn.

Perhaps the God that you had dreamt of felt no pity,
for a beggar on his knees who prayed with scorn.

To the shadows of a world you left in tatters,
protected you from every other single storm.

And yet the stolen respiration you’d been searching,
spent no remorse when you asked yet again for more.

And the ravens that you called the end of your enchantment,
pecked and pleaded, “won’t you please open your door.”

When you refused all the light you had been given,
and told yourself that you would still be less than lost.

When you realized that nothing else could save your soul, dear,
when was it that you took in what it had cost?

And my God, I swear, He might see fit to forgive you,
for all the charity that you have paid yourself.

But I find myself less likely to release your blame,
because I only asked your smile and nothing less.

When you destroyed all the things I felt near and dear to,
and then you mentioned that it hadn’t been your fault.

I spent my nights wondering how to hurt you,
and all my days suffocating my resolve.

When the sky fell and the earth you burned before you,
was nothing more than ashes, burning to the ground.

Did you ever wonder if you might have an addiction,
to the poisons you set every time you turned around?

I might ask that maybe when I pass you on the corner,
that you avert your eyes and stare down at your feet.

But you don’t deserve the recognition that might grant you,
nor the pleasure of knowing that you destroyed me.

So when you rise to the Gates and Peter passes judgment,
and when God gives you your list of all your sin.

You might understand the gravity of your situation,
and all of the people that you hurt when you win.

And when the moon begins to shine for no other reason,
and the sun lets go of messages unknown.

And there is suddenly a beam of Heaven in the clouds again,
I’ll know, in my heart, that’s when you will be gone.

This began as basically a letter to no one in particular, but as I continued writing, I began thinking of everyone who had hurt me. It became about them and all of the pent-up anger I had never told any of them about (being somewhat of a passifist…). Then it transformed again from the people I hate to people who hate in general.

It evolved into a poem about intolerance, and the idea that no one who hates will ever do any good in this world. It became about the Holocaust and about human rights. It became about freedom and love, and spreading the love around. The message switched from hating your enemies to loving everyone just as they are. Talk about an oxymoron.

But it’s the truth. The world would be a better place if no one spread the poison of hate around. If people just allowed others to live their lives, and peace became the norm. But hey, I’m an optimist.

I guess I’m supposed to think that way.