Dispatches from the Suicide Hours of Immortality

The poem is a pied piper for the rats in my mind

the sunday times 9.16.18

states of need

 

valves of intake

cleared and recalibrated

 

new blood for the letting night

reason exchanged for random emotion

 

proper vents in place

all that comes will go

 

and you will be dragged

to your eventual death by

anything and everything

 

unless you learn

to stop holding on.

*

mourning blue

 

thinking of you

as you think not

of me

 

somewhere new and grown into

where there is nothing for me

 

for what little room in your heart

you had for me

 

has since been filled

by things i’ll never know.

*

holding ground

 

accepting the actual reality of the moment

does not validate the content of belief

 

the intention is to undo resistance

toward the emotional experience

of the instant

 

in the midst

of hardwired tendencies

of reactivity

 

as we endlessly crawl

toward the light.

*

void and fire

 

nothing to do

with anything

 

threads bare

and free

 

gray

begins

the day

 

nowhere to go

but blue

 

asking entrance

and acceptance

 

a fair trade

for the scars

of love

 

deep

and

winding

 

thru the labyrinth

of the heart.

*

getting on

 

pulling hooks

from holes in

the heart

 

closing circles

and packing up

 

hope still burns

somewhere

 

old ways and habits return

only reminders to make new ones

right quick

 

for loss can swallow you whole

fully and completely

 

so pay attention

and keep your fucking wits about you

 

as sad and blue as it gets

you must always be vigilant

 

keep moving

 

because if you’re just sitting around

waiting for the next moment

to contain what this one does not

 

it

never

will.

***

“Why should it be so hard giving up

seeking something you know you can’t possess?”

  • Lew Welch
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the sunday times 9.9.18

not this, not that

 

gates crashed

broke and entered

 

somewhere inside

all is good

 

even in the midst

of everythingallatonce

 

there is a safe space

 

every storm

has its eye

 

constant yet evolving

adapting and embracing

all that is

 

seek this place

know this place

 

leave a trail if you must

 

for you will never

not need

to find it.

*

at long last

 

ever the circle

wrung around

corners cut

 

embers of memory

burn and remind

 

here before

back again

 

the only difference

being time and response

 

and knowing now

only a change of habit

 

can bring about

the habit of change.

*

turn towards

 

sides flipped

 

nothing doesn’t belong

 

suffer the fool

of your past self

 

be the ground

let yourself crumble

 

to find your moment of truth

 

and live outward

from there.

*

inner weather

 

systemic fronts

roll in undetected

 

nesting

in nerve

and bone

 

embedding codes

of reaction and decay

 

deep in the fibers

of optic recall

 

until muscles strangle

and tendons tear

 

from the historic weight

of everything we have never

let go.

*

better be damned

 

odds are best

either way

 

no venture expected

without doubt

 

focusing rather

of the calm persistence

of presence

 

somewhere between

no longer and not yet.

***

“A thousand dreams within me

softly burn.”

  • Arthur Rimbaud

the sunday times 9.2.18

at hand

 

crosses bared

as the nights wear on

 

setting controls

for the heart of a

brighter sun

 

downturn swayed to advantage

beating the laws of only average

 

roads and roads

always away

 

until we change direction

and head inside.

*

negative theory

 

from the waste of want

purity of pain will stem

 

from the disdain of lovelessness

bloom the flowers of death

 

from cracks of light

breed the existence

of emptiness;

 

we

are not

the universe

 

we

are

the

black

hole.

*

deep wake

 

greater odds determined

overthought and undermined

 

lost on leaving trains

into smoke and silver

 

the heart still fresh with forgetting

 

never this far

never this free

 

to start over

again and again

 

in the hollow of in-between

there can be safety and ease

 

once the anger and sadness

have burned away

 

once we delve again

beneath the broken surface

 

to right the ship

once more…

 

for what are we

but our past in the present

learning to surrender

to the unknown horizon

that lay ahead.

*

hopeful abandon

 

mountains unmoved

as rejection continues to validate

the inner monologue

 

the ongoing myth of my-self

haunts the psyche like a hungry ghost

 

buying the lies of the mind

 

embedded in the blueprint

beyond the service of memory

 

translating modern pain

thru antiquated modes

of code and cipher

 

forcing need into faulty

and structurally corrupt geometry

 

as light crawls the settled dust of forgetting

 

finally knowing full well

but still struggling to accept

 

that the only way

to face the inevitable points of break

is with the blinding certainty

that everything

is uncertain.

***

“Between stimulus and response there is a space.

In that space is our power to choose our response.

In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”

  • Viktor Frankl

the sunday times 8.26.18

the world is slow and blue

 

hard to know

where i am sometimes

always few and far between

something

or another

 

lodged behind the heart

peering out from the coral

 

as the sunlight

breaks the surface

and this beautiful life

sinks on in.

*

 

one in the afternoon

 

here from gone

always back around

 

sadness like a cloud

love like a ghost

 

the heart a shadow

cast in the shade

 

here from gone

always back around

 

sunlight like immortality

pain like a flower

 

the mind a secret

lost in a storm

 

here from gone

always back around

 

this room like a tomb

these words like a song

 

this soul a bright parade

down avenues of the damned

 

here from gone

always back around.

*

touch & go

 

distance remains

without return

 

left in the fade

urged to let go

 

still too bright the memory

still too raw the nerve

 

as scars cover wounds

with thicker skin

 

only forward

is strength;

 

she still haunts my dreams

in the most beautiful way.

*

trace amounts

 

still missing

 

shadows cross

the vague periphery

 

last love gone

 

minding the gap,

the emptiness,

the sorrow

 

being with it

for lack of something,

someone,

else

 

letting go the why

letting be the now

 

over and over

until it’s enough

 

to

push

things

forward.

*

loop

 

from impulse

to manifest

 

control to reactivity

intensity thru fixation

 

circles boring holes in the mind

 

wanting

begets

wanting

 

needing break

and recondition

 

to reset the rails

and burn a better path.

***

“It’s not enough to say ‘Yes, I’m in pain’,

You must acknowledge and experience it.

Then, little by little, accept it. Once you do that,

it gives you the means to move forward.”

  • Michael Taft

 

the sunday times 8.19.18

fresh hell

 

out from the arms of love

strangeness and sameness abide

 

the same sun

burns different now

 

yet similar to

summer’s past

 

new light

is nothing new

 

a cage

is a cage is

a cage

 

laughed the roses

out loud.

*

fade in

 

fault lines imagined

tethers severed

 

masked backward

in turning time

 

down backstreets

and alleys of the mind

 

dark with the secrets of dusk

the heart courts the dawn

toward better days

 

and all things

good for the soul.

*

solace for infinity

 

dread bearing down

as slumber crawls the mind

in the smallest hours before daylight

 

dark rooms of mourning

hold keys to moving on

 

feel the weight of your bones

and the sadness within

 

let it rise with the sun

into the waiting blue

 

and begin again.

*

over easy

 

settled in dust

the fading spark

barely blue

 

wires crossed in tangle

blind to corners turned

 

ending up mired in nowhere

 

too soon to be so deep

too late to be so sad

 

things break

pages turn

 

holding in wait

somewhere close

to the heart

 

hope knows better

but plays along

 

if only to welcome

the dark comfort

solitude affords.

*

already here

 

thru the motions

voids remain in

secret places

 

missing from where we are

 

one side down

one side away

 

reasons

like stones

slowly turned

 

released from the weight

of not knowing enough

to move on.

***

“The big challenge in life is

to chisel disappointment into wisdom

so people respect you and you don’t annoy

your friends with your whining.”

  • Marc Maron

 

 

the sunday times 8.12.18

solitaire

 

patterns hold under pressure

 

traps of the mind

sprung and reset

 

as the heart follows suit

 

back to the walls

of every night forward

 

for now

and future

foreseen

 

these words

need be enough

 

to fill the holes

that sit in the dark

and wonder why.

*

closing bell

 

emptiness adorned

in latitudes beyond

conception

 

pieces in the ether

miraculously eschew

 

heavy lids

weighted secrets

 

each to each other

and gone

 

brushing away

the loose ground

of false foundations

 

to unearth the blank slate

beneath the broken heart.

*

last light

 

down across the sky

 

still burning

into the dark

 

the city dissolves

beneath the tongue

 

and with it

the bitterness

of love leaving.

*

clean break

 

control wrested

from chains of

the heart

 

back to the empty shadow

of the space beside me

 

soon to fade and

forget the reason

and carry on

 

for loss is to be gotten over

 

in hopes of some day

striking gold again

 

and this time,

keeping it.

***

“The eternal quest of the individual

human being is to shatter his loneliness.”

  • Norman Cousins

the sunday times 8.5.18

negative space

 

untethered

another sunday

falls thru the clouds

 

from early gray

to burning pavement

 

nothing sound

least of all mind

 

reeling from stalemate

and static

 

from chatter and minutiae

 

a few more seconds

a few more minutes

a few more hours

 

one

by

one

by

one.

*

sea and sky

 

dust glitters

filled with light

 

strewn and scalded

 

petals of doom

in the flower of

the heart

 

aching for boundlessness

and truth

 

so we dream because

we cannot fly

 

and we wake

because we cannot

stay.

*

crave and blame

 

moments inherit

the space we’re in

 

be it sorrow or joy

 

escape is never

a feasible option

 

still the swarm

of thought and dream

will follow

 

over and thru

 

returning to scene after scene

scouring what’s left of scar and sadness

 

held in a pattern

of endless turning

 

habitually overestimating

the domain of control

 

compelled to obsess

and never leave well

enough alone

 

forever pulled away

and longing to come home.

*

later

 

outside the lines

void in the clear

 

grayed and subtracted

 

tides of emotion

roll and crash

 

gone again from

the heart of chance

 

as the road narrows

trailing off into dusk

 

and the sun sets

beginning another night’s

burning down.

***

Loneliness adds beauty to life.

It puts a special burn on sunsets

and makes night air smell better.”

  • Henry Rollins

 

 

 

 

 

the sunday times 7.29.18

grasping at straws

 

there is this that could be

and this that won’t

 

and love somewhere

in between

 

drawn back to what never was

in hopes of what it still may be

 

if nothing changed

but everything;

 

retreaded and overthought

 

such the fine line between

the one that got away

and the one that needed

to go

 

and my mind hangs and scrapes

picking and pulling at these things

 

until nothing

and no one

is left.

*

down a road

 

here in the red night

of the wandering mind

 

quickness cut

to mortal bones

 

inside echoes

another forever gone

 

thoughts obsessed on possession

with tenuous holds on anything

closer to the heart

 

surrendering sweetly

to another broken something

 

farther from somewhere

i already thought i was

 

going someplace i couldn’t be

 

just an oasis

in this desert

of lonely nights

 

a vague sadness descends

and mostly dissipates upon

 

the reoccurring realization

that no matter what

 

all can still be well

without most things

 

we think we can

never live without.

*

gut check

 

reflecting presence

stripped of scar and shadow

 

braced for becoming

again and again

 

and just as evidence suggests

there will never be an end to darkness

 

so does it suggest

a better light can be found

 

with each new rise, fall, and fuck-up

 

but only

under one condition:

 

keep going.

*

dark gold

 

divided

by slumber

and solitude

 

night

and deeper

night

 

spaces

between

spaces

 

lightly dusted

with sorrow

and hope

 

burdens

bartered

away

 

for confinement

and recalibration

 

and the strange kindness

these words have to offer.

***

“Why is it

thunder’s first announcement

of impending black

can calm me easier than daylight?”

  • Rod McKuen

 

 

the sunday times 7.22.18

bone hollow

 

birds and stones

too many and

not enough

 

little things

chip away

 

as the pinhole

swallows the chasm

swallows the abyss.

*

suffer some

 

all along the way

pain comes as love goes

 

sadness leaves

while joy returns

 

death waits

as life approaches

 

this is proven

this is truth

 

everything is impermanent

 

and whether everything has a reason

or everything is a lesson or indeed

if everything is completely random at best

is anyone’s guess…

 

but you may want to consider it all

as necessary

 

and instead of constantly holding on

 

just try

to keep

letting

go.

*

fade out

 

over in the mind

 

the reason

and the words

 

the drift of ways to part

in the dark of the heart

 

shadows ache for substance

cloaked by the wantless need

for certainty or closure

 

quietly settling

for neither.

*

the sharpness of objects

 

here in the light of darkness

reading too much into everything

and then some

 

trying to break my own heart

before anyone else has another chance

 

done before

and done again

 

self-inflicted preemptive strikes

 

trading pen for tongue

words for wisdom

and pain

for poetry.

*

unremoved

 

rise on

thru drift

and haze

 

remember love

practice love

be love

 

falling back

into old ways

never pans out;

 

center your peace

 

and circle outward

from there.

***

“Some say love is a disease,

a fire in the blood that burns

every human city down.

I’ll take my chances.”

  • Erica Jong

 

the sunday times 7.15.18

like this

 

everything now

is a start

or an end

or simply

a way thru

 

both ends burning

meeting at the spark

somewhere in the middle

every so often

 

and then,

not;

 

sometimes

both the hardest

and the easiest part

is just letting things be

what they are.

*

enough

 

the longing ease

of what is here

 

the days remain shadows

of what we are

 

still the steady flow

of life and river run

 

as the fires of time

burn us alive.

*

if anything

 

falling back

on broken pillars of thought

 

the trap of mind

making its presence known

 

still the madness of habit

the doubt of guessing seconds

 

as the time

spent away from the moments

 

adds up

to everything

that is not here.

*

no different

 

pointless communion

for the sake of words

and appearance

 

to quell the emptiness

until it returns

 

away for too long

the distance begins to matter

 

with no sign

of any change

less than drastic.

*

minus one

 

never with ease

are ways parted

 

even when expected

and braced for the blow

 

pieces fall away

and what’s left

is left

 

what’s learned

is learned

 

and, hopefully,

what’s lost

can still be treasured

for everything

it once was.

***

“Love breaks my bones,

and I laugh.”

  • Charles Bukowski