Orion, Orion, Orion.
You’re three in a row,
And a hard one to let go.
I still see the sea in my dreams,
And the crashing waves on the shore.
I, he, she, we
Left him in the ground.
We flew, and showed him
We could fly too,
To the heavens high above,
To the eternal sun,
Where I would meet you.
With you,
I challenged eternity
With my mortality –
My limited time.
I left you in the sky,
And learned how to fly
By myself.
With my self.
The Con in Conviction
Dear George,
I see you on your final walk,
With your bag in hand –
A bible as a booster seat.
Oh, it makes you sit high enough for heaven
And your tears carry the current
Across your face and you
Will burn – your heart
Gives out and you are gone
From this earth.
Now I look at you –
Or what’s left of you.
A charred child,
With a bible as a booster seat.
Aesthetic of the Pragmatic
Oh, the encouragement of pragmatism
And a forceful realism –
So tiring it makes me dream
Of purple skies, and a sun
That travels from North to South.
The pessimists rejoice
At another day just like any other.
A juxtaposed optimism resides
That ultimately turns itself inside out
And is expunged
Like yesterevening’s regret.
Chaos and Mirrors
The man in the moon
Mirrors and reflections
Subsequent light refractions
In a glass eye
Where I look upon a sky
Of fire and the hurricane
In which I find myself in the eye
Of the storm that blows
Around me with a wind
That flows and shows its force
In my mind and oh
It twists and turns relentlessly
The currents of thought
The streams of consciousness
The waters of life
Are pulled and they form the tide
That washes over me
And they are created
By the man in the moon
Past, Present, Torture
Shadows and echoes
Remain from a past
I thought I had lost.
Tears on my cheeks
Flow, as the blood that runs
From the tears on my skin –
Caused by a hand that held too tight,
And a senseless lack of sight.
The you I once knew,
Was still the one I loved –
An inspiration, the one
I could turn to
When it was only us two.
But I flew too close to the sun,
With you –
And time and time again
I burned in a sea
Where I couldn’t see
The real you on the inside,
Hiding in plain sight.
How I now might
Try to explain why
I can not look at you the same
As then, as maybe then
You will understand my pain.
You have a head like mine
But your eyes only look ahead.
You grew up too fast, as I did,
And now you forget the past, as I did.
Please learn from our history.
See me, and my misery
When you force yourself into me
Again and make me remember
What I tried to forget.
Subconscious Conscience
The mistress of my dreams
Appears once in a blue moon
To turn me so blue for a morning.
I know she is not my lover,
And yet my dreams force me to love her.
My brain’s fabrication –
The most sinful sensation.
She leaves in her wake
A judgement that aspires
To be like the Cross
That used to haunt me
In my dreams.
I wake once more,
And her face is replaced
With shame, and guilt.
I have been framed
Like a painting
And hanged
On the wall,
For all to see –
For the crimes I have committed
With the mistress of my dreams.
Aisles and Isles
You have me in your hold
And I cannot cease my search
And find peace as long as your arms
Are wrapped around me.
I’ve searched the seas,
The aisles and isles,
The lands, all twenty and five
But nowhere do I find
Your face, your arms and oh,
How I long for your embrace.
For you have captured my soul,
And my mortal coil
But I lack your touch, still.
You, my ever evasive mate,
Are not my seagull.
You are my octopus.
A Personal Tragedy
The ever growing audience waits outside the closed curtains,
And I stand on the stage, in the spotlight that never darkens.
I can hear their whispers, their shouts, their every breath
Resonating in my head, conjoined with my thoughts
And I try to find my peace and remember my piece.
I can’t remember, and the fragmented memories are like broken glass –
Transparent and only visible if I touch them and turn them visible
With my bloodied hands, covered in sin and tragedy.
Temptation calls me to open up the curtains, to peek through
And see the masses that call my name but
I am afraid, and I am so tired of the constant noise.
I wish someone would tell them that.
Maybe then they would be quiet, and allow me to pick up my pieces
So that I may continue my performance on the stage I know all too well.
I have truly made it my own, and although I have largely been its sole witness,
Every memory, shout, whisper, each piece of broken glass adds to the decor
And sets the tone for my thoughts.
I did not open the curtains, yet, despite my curiosity.
Another man takes my attention, and I finally notice him
In the broken mirror and I see that he is me.
A broken smile breaks my face,
As I barely recognise the eyes
That look back at me,
Glistening with tears after years
Of standing on this stage
With the closed curtains.
Glances that Last
Every look, every glance
Makes me wish it could last
Forever –
This moment
That I look into your eyes
Passes but I know
We won’t and that you
Will stay in my arms,
As we float here in the sky.
I won’t let go of you
My love.
My heart is in your hands,
And your heart is in mine.
Deep Blue
Floating on the open ocean,
The waters rise in my boat
And I heave bucket after bucket
Just to keep my head afloat,
But the rain won’t stop pouring down
From the heavens above.
I’m imagining the sun above the clouds
And its warmth touches the rain –
Its taste turned to bittersweet melancholy
That touches my lips and my tears
Join the ocean when the waters
Cover my neck and choke me.
The ocean takes me in its loving embrace,
Their hands – the memories that kept me in place
Now gently cradle my face,
And I see you there, too,
My creator, my God,
That brought me the rain,
From the heavens above.
JD Poetry 