Heart

On the Grapevine

My life is spent here
in the dark,
watching reds
and counting cards;
sending thoughts
and dreams and hopes
into the fire
and the smoke
in hopes that out
the other side,
I will see my life
glorified.
I’d rather pity
than to be
behind a cloak
and never seen.
I know it’s wrong
to feel this way –
after all, what would
my others say?
But the storm that keeps
inside my mind
is one that doesn’t
fade with nights.

I’ll love and fall
and start anew
until those reds
fade into blue.

One of Three

Why is it that miles add
to loss? A country between
two was enough to cause
painful realization, but
an ocean? I am lost here,
unsure of my albatross
because Coleridge can
tell me no more. I have
followed poetic instruction
but the steps lack finality.
I can no longer be without
this thought, it is a lesson
I daren’t unlearn. All the same,
it is something I wish I had
never been taught. Some say

knowledge is more important,
some say faith; I am of
unfortunate circumstance.
I am of the knowledge that
no certainty is known, yet
also of the knowledge no
known faith is true. As such,
I cannot put pain aside
for hope despite hope
being all I yearn for. I feel
every unit of separation,
and can do nothing to appease
distance or pain. I am a man
lost in a sea of unsurety,
desire my sole companion.

Virtulove?

Do I trust in a world of sin
that love can be a happening?
I once placed hope beyond the screen
and ended up with ev’rything
that I cared for and I hoped for lost,
with dreams that forced to turn and toss.
I vowed to push lust to a place
and with it, that same screen away.
Now, in days where I can feel
that I am free of sin and devil,
in days where I feel I have won,
I see that same screen once again.
I do not think it is the same,
but there is yet no simple way
for innocence to recognise
the diff’rence ‘tween two sets of eyes.
Can one set truly be those eyes
which I have yearned for, day and night?
Do I trust in a world of sin
that love can be a happening?

Sentimental

The waves between two foreign lands
Halt destined love from coming to,
But on those shores where lovers stand
Are hearts that beat with purpose and truth.
For now, they wait with bated breath
Until horizons disappear;
They’d hope for love until their death
When free souls could, at last, be near.
Such a heart is hell to find,
For true love is a miracle,
But when the heart does truly find
Such never, then forever’s real.
__Let men claim heaven is fantasy;
__They’ve never felt what I have seen.

A Smaller Picture of Bigger Things

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
But flowers are nothing
In the sight of you.
They say that absence
Softens the heart,
But never again
Will we be apart;
For the thought of your loss
In this world of ours
Is enough to turn sweetest
Of moments sour.
This is the plight
Of the common at home,
What the warrior fights for

When he is gone…

The Music in My Blood

There’s no songs for now
and I’m not a fool;
I know this time
will leave me soon.
I know these feelings,
yet again,
will cease and leave me.
I won’t pretend
that this is right
and I don’t know.
I know the way that
my heart flows,
but if distraction
keeps me sane,
then bring perfection;
come once again.

Damn the Valley

How we are deceived
by the innocent,
by those who never knew,
by the ignorant.

It makes you wonder
if it is ignorance at all?
How could the obvious
be so small?

It’s been some time since
this feeling, or lack of,
has punctured my heart,
my hopes, my dove.

Days and weeks of
letting go and holding on.
Months, a year of falling into
a pair of nowhere arms.

My light is gone, at least
not in the angel I once saw.
But damn the valley,
to the mountain peak I claw

to try and find the lost
light once more.
That light is the reason
for life, for less, for all.