I want to write a poem for this Place but I can’t find
the words to express
The excitement I feel at discovering new spaces, meeting
new faces,
And finding my place on the map. But I wish it was us.
I wish I could share it with you but it’s enough to for
me to know
That you fill the recess of my mind with what you
would say if we’d had more time.
So go live your life; know that I’m living mine,
And if some day our paths cross I hope that this time
I can look you in the eyes with mine dry and say,
‘I wish you the best.
I hope you find the girl that can witness
The amazing person I was able to see if only from a
distance
Of looking through the brokenness another left behind
And seeing past the flaws to a brighter state of mind.
Please know that I love you for the person you are
And I’ll always hold on to the times that we shared.’
But right now I’m hurting and the words would be false
So I’ll retreat to my silence and create my own distance
I hate to be here in this place and position
But my mind has been filled with unanswered questions
Like,
What happened to the values transcending unrealistic
ideals of romanticism?
Criticims of who we are face us daily in the mirror
And we don’t like what we see.
They call our lives the human race because we’re on the
fast-track to erase
The evidence that we ever felt anything at all.
What happened to the time when our Fathers were our all?
I want to grab my bat and ball
And call over my shoulder to the Father, now gone,
‘Come on, Dad. I’m on the front lawn and I’m waiting for
you.
I’m tired of the other boys that don’t know what you do–
That think a grope is a hug and third base is something
you touch rather than run to.
I want to go back to the time when my world was as
big as you…’
Five feet ten inches; I remember my hands were the size
of dated sidewalk imprints.
What happened to a striving or a passion or a struggle,
A cause to be devoted to more than just the cause for
survival?
Our primal instincts are to be the best that we can
But if we slow down and breathe for awhile maybe we’d
understand
That most of our best moments were when we were at our
lowest
And we let a friend be strong in place of us… just
once.
What happened to the energy we all had as children?
We only lost that because we lost something to believe
in.
We’re told magic isn’t real but I know that true love
exists
And if that isn’t magic than I don’t know what is.
What happened to respect for the ears of our elders?
Everything is fuck this and fuck that to prove we’re not
sheltered
But there’s beauty in responses that are free of our
cussing
So why don’t we try to use language and say fuck to
fucking?
What happened to the innocence of hands held and kisses
kissed?
Degenerating instances surround circumstances I once
thought were true.
I don’t know what’s real anymore but I know what I’ve
been through,
And I’ve learned that my mind is see-through around you.
So I’ve learned to avoid you
Because I’m tired of the fallacies surrounding our
attemptes to move on.
Honesty and sincerity are all but gone
In an attempt to find ourselves again–
I want to call after you, “Please, Love, come back
to me.
We’ve lost so much time playing grown-ups and make
believe
I wish I could be all that you want me to be
But I can’t change who I am in the hope that you’ll love
me.”
So we’ll make love on a bed made with sheets of regret.
I say we ‘make love’ but it’s really just sex;
I look over your shoulder as you kiss my neck
To the girl on the wall who you’d rather be with.
So I’ll close my eyes and retreat to my silence
Silently repeating to myself and the darkness,
‘The relevance of innocence is in a sense gone
And abstinence has been remiss and we have moved on
To lies that keep us satisfied until the orgasm ends
And we return to being puppets in a play of pretend.’
Creativity is shunned and the world has become infused by
sex
Instead of word poems that seek to express and give voice
to who we are
Rather than who we sleep with. Yet I believe that love
exists
And ‘true’ and ‘loyal’ are with love interchangeable
because without one
The other ceases to exist in pure form. This love is rare
for the forlorn
But it is my solemn vow to find what’s left of it on the
horizon.
Every Sunday I hold a three-month-old. Looking into his
eyes I know
That his world is no bigger than my hope that he survives
in the unknown.
Singing him gently to sleep with all the sincerity I
could muster
It reminded me of the time when your head was on my
shoulder
And for a brief instant we were completely together.
My world was no bigger than your voice teasing me to
sleep.
Now that your voice has ceased I’m looking for something
bigger than you and me
There are greater goals in the world than searching for
the next fix of locked lips
And yes, I do miss you so
Why do you think I chose this song for this poem
I miss your laughter and the the feel of my hands as you
hold them
I miss the blue in your eyes but lately I’ve had to draw
on my memory
Because I can’t remember the last time you looked at me
I cried with you once and I cared enough to wipe my tears
off your cheek
Rather than expose my heartstrings for you to pluck and
find weak
I am tired of the reverberation of questions regarding
bad timing
I realized last week you’re gone and in time we
Might be able to be friends but that would be pretend for
me
So I’m stopping here, saying, ‘Goodbye, please remember
me.’
I want to reach for the sky on the swing set at Penny
Warmed by the filtered sunlight of a friday-night twlight
Wrapping me with greater sincerity than your arms ever
could for me…
Because it was me.
What happened to my own sense of reality?
I’ve learned to define beauty by what you think and see
And I’ve since ascribed value to valueless things.
I’ve lost the love and respect that used to define me
Your absence and neglect only serve to remind me
That the words ‘I miss you too’ are too often misused
In the ruse of saying ‘I have no time to make time for
you.’
So I’ll pick up what’s left of my time
I’ll pound the pavement of this city searching for
something
Stronger than your lifeline and I’ll learn to rewind
Every regret (even the ones I haven’t had yet)
And I’ll define myself by the beauty you first saw when
you first saw me.
I’m tired of my sense of reality.
Filled with practicality…what happened to my journey
Of finding wide open spaces, new places and unique faces
Surrounding my cerebrum and always keeping it fresh?
One day I’ll learn that there is certain value in
unanswered questions
But for now I’m left behind you asking…”What the
hell happened?”
