Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter

Friday, April 30, 2004

"Even though I know,
I don't wanna know.
Yeah, I guess I know.
I just hate how it sounds."

Aaah, you know sometimes I think I feel too much. Drive myself crazy over everything. Empathy, the empath does that so well.
I have this incredible need to be needed, in whatever small capacity there may be. But then doesn't everybody? I have these hopes and dreams but what good are they if you can't share them with your friends. The people closest to you, the ones that can understand you when no one else can, or will, or take the time. Emo-ness, lol, that's what this is.. Maybe its just a self-pity fest.. but nothing wrong with getting it all out.. that's how healing is attained. Love lost, heartsick, it sure takes a lot out of a person. I don't ever wanna go through it again.. what might have been... I'll never know.
Me Creo Que

I am meant for this...
To keep forever what's
in my heart with
need and pain, from
the absolute numbing
to the fire of wanting
a touch. Your touch
could ignite
everything I hold deep
and dear, trembling and
open only to one man.
Your truth has been
a complicated one so
difficult to gather,
to piece together
yet truth the same,
in sincerity.
I think that
hope is the one thing
left worth holding.
Every floor, every department was at over 100 percent capacity yesterday. Plus, the nurses kept us all busy playing musical beds, haha. Yeah. Moving patients from room to room, each time they do that, the entire bed has to be cleaned for the next patient. So... a lot of unnecessary work. And a lot of stressed-out housekeepers. Someone I work with came up to me yesterday, said "I'm looking for some ceiling hooks." - ok, why? - He said, "That's where we're gonna have to put the next patient, hang 'em from the hooks..." Well, it certainly helps to have a sense of humor through it all.

Wednesday, April 28, 2004

As The Crow Flies

Nice day to be a bird...
Especially this one here
I see has freedom in the
heart and a song in mind,
calling, calling to anyone
who'll listen. Perched atop
the highest point of the
Taco Bell sign I just passed.
With its own voice and dreams
of tomorrow, as if to say
"I've worked and plowed through
struggles and confusion, focused
on personal injustices, dreams
of becoming, something to my name
like appreciation earned...
I have waited twelve years
for this moment."

(Ahhh... Graduation is in the air. :)

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

Made a trip out to Best Buy, and then to Barnes and Noble this past weekend, and picked up Parachutes, by Coldplay. Excellent, I've been wanting to get that for a long time, and I always loved the song, "Yellow." Barnes and Noble had the book I wanted, If You Want To Write, by Brenda Ueland.. I've barely gotten started on it and already I know this is gonna be a great one to go back through over and over again.
I went looking through some Charles Bukowski books when I was there. I think there was more of his books on the shelf than anyone elses. Someone on Xanga posted one of his poems a few weeks ago, and I was really impressed with this Bukowski.. I'd always heard of him but never read any poems of his, but now, what little I've seen I really like.. hmmm. Bukowski rocks the boat right out of the water, lol.
This afternoon coming home from work, I passed by the Taco Bell. And I kept hearing this bird call, so looking up, I saw this huge crow perched up at the highest point of the sign, just making himself known.. this went on for like five minutes, till he flew away, and I turned to see where, just following his path.. There has to be something to be found there.. something creative, free, or just plain a different angle to be seen. Some analogy that I'm close to.

Friday, April 23, 2004

Are You

Are You

Voiced from a distance
across the field of litter,
paraphanalia and trailer trash.
Are you Charles Benoit
of Liberty? Are you?
of the small and weak?
Serial killer in the making?
Can you feel my eyes now
burning poisoned darts through
the back of your miserable skull,
focused for vengeance on your
despicable motive? The shrunken
black heart that you possess,
that you've always possessed.
I saw what you did,
we all saw what you did
for sport, from an afternoon of
beer and weed, maybe you even
shot up that day. Did your veins
feel it? Feel heat like hot coals,
the same burning embers you drowned
a life in? I hope that you did, hope
you forgot even to bleach your works.
We all heard what you said
in order to free yourself
of witnesses and charges.
Witnesses and charges always
return to hiss and claw
and bite back the way you
have come now, are you really
free. Come now, have you looked
over your shoulder lately?
Can you sleep at night?
Can you look in the mirror?
Friends and enemies, my friend.
Which ones can you trust?

(Sometimes I can barely contain my anger over people who torture and kill animals.
In this case there is an actual Charles Benoit, did actually live in Liberty, Missouri at the time. Three years ago, he was arrested and charged with animal cruelty after holding a stray kitten down in a hot grill. The kitten died after being taken to the vet, and later the charges were dropped after the witness was harassed with death threats from his friends.)

Thursday, April 22, 2004

Tis The Season

Tis The Season

They say these storms
bring hard water early on...

And I am watching the skies
constant for familiar patterns,
circular movement there, that
signals the beginning of chaos
multiplied by the finger of God.

Irony that, how the new life
of such a season can still
bring destruction and death
for the unfortunate handful
of those caught randomly

(For the Illinois victims of last Tuesday's tornado, the first big storm of the year)

Monday, April 19, 2004

Can't Forget

Digging deep,
ever deep through the surface,
try and find your windows
to the world.

Oh, and how you delve higher,
penetrating deeper still,
whispering to me
your intentions.

This is what makes you
the shadow that takes my breath.
It's the voice that stops my heart,
the one thing that leaves me shaken
and calling your name when I stumble.
I can't forget.

Friday, April 16, 2004

Farewell Show

Such long distances they came, over Rivendale, through woods and tangled brush,
finally stopping at the point where
Arlington meets Abbington, they had traveled
far on one last hope, and by now had become
fed up hometown heroes ready to begin
flogging Molly for the messed up directions
she gave. "But," she stammers, over the wireless, "It's just over the horizon, a
dead giveaway, I swear, you can't miss it."

Lost and late, but arrival and destination reached. Now the music is in full swing.
Bagpipes missed but the CD proves awesome,
loud and stirring to those in favor.
This crowd forms in random circles, each
overtaking, overtalking its own din.

But between the set...
"Lo, hark." I mean, "Yo, listen up."
"Did you guys hear that?"
"Sounded like a sneeze, who was that?"
("Aaatch, eeee!")
"What the - huh? There it is again"
"Bless you, and Gsundteit!"
("Caaatch Meee!")

And suddenly from beside us
a goth chick with spiked hair
and thirty piercings cried out,
"O Romeo, thou hast stage-dived
and met with the cruelest of floors,
and now idiocy finds you tragic
not once, mind you, but thrice!"

Ego bruised and pride gone
after the fall, Romeo slinks
back up on stage, reclaims his
spot, grabbing the bass, all
ready now, they can finally begin
serious fun and game time.

A night not to be forgotten,
a night not without incident
to be sure, when the bouncer
is bounced and THE song promised
never to be played again
is played again, for all the
old times, and for new beginnings,
for luck and success, and "Don't
forget.." all the little people
who were there before you signed.

(A local Christian Punk band, Fed*Up, has been signed for a record deal. This was an account (at least my version of it) of their last show here in the area before they moved to Tennessee.)

Just some trivial ranting here...

"Baseball, hotdogs, apple pie and Chevrolet"
Let me rephrase that, take liberties with
this long forgotten ad campaign and come up with a similar slogan much more to my liking
on things "American."
"Soccer, veggie burgers with sprouts, coconut creme, and a restored '65 Mustang"
A personalized opinion, and probably trivial as well, but isn't that what makes us individuals in the collective, a part of the big picture, but living, breathing, seeing, observing things "outside the box?"
I have not participated in the past two presidential elections.. my son gives me a look of disdain when I say that. He wants to be part of the process, he wants me to be part of the process. The truth is, I haven't cared for politics at the governmental level... I mean, why do that when you have all the corporate politics you can handle already, shoved down your throat?
But this is the year, they say.. "make a difference." Blah, blah, blah. Its the same old rheteric, with a few clever sound bytes. Very few.
Campaigns are promises that no one has ever been able to back up. What I'm trying to say is that every four years it's the same... points made, records examined, mud slung and the spin always threatening to reach new levels of confusion. Never mind any of that, I'm just trying to get by, gain more stable ground personally. Why would someone like me care about Bush, or Kerry, or any one of them?
So, I guess I should apologize in advance for the apathy here. I may change my stance, in time. Maybe.

Thursday, April 15, 2004

Once In a Lifetime

And you may find yourself
on a bus or a train
pulling out of a cowtown,
old Harry's stale
stomping grounds, be
ready for anything, not
even caring the outcome
as long as it's a new start
and you can survive.

(Some lines from David Byrnes came to me just out of the blue this morning, lol)
Fell asleep last night trying to watch the news.. fell asleep sitting up, and stayed that way the whole night.. These different hours everyday are a killer. The worst is on the days I have to start so late, getting out of there as late as all that just totally sucks, I'm worn-out all the time because of it. Damn HCA, I can't wait to leave.

Tuesday, April 13, 2004


Pray for rain to cry in,
to walk in with no shelter
against this night,
so that I can drop to my knees
unable to find speech, form sound,
the salt that blurs my sight
such pain, searing gut instinct.
Palm flat to rocks and earth,
makeshift safety, for peace of
mind I'm tapping the ground, please,
tapping out some subconscious code,
take these feelings away, take these
feelings away.
And you are watching
through still cold branches
of trees, through clouds,
through millions of miles,
perhaps judging, perhaps not.
I am too blind to see you
but I know you are there,
silent, ever present nightly,
glowing, turning profile
to each phase, I know you
are there, offering solace.

Monday, April 12, 2004

Aaaaaahh! I'm cursing the back button on my keyboard. I just lost another poem. (grumble.. #*%*&*@#!) That's it, no more composing online.

Sunday, April 11, 2004

I hope everyone had a happy Easter. I know a lot of us had to work, but there's good times there too, even at an HCA facility. Luckily this holiday always falls on the weekend, when the Big Shots aren't around, lol. It was still a good day, no chaos except we were shorted empty cart for the trash and dirty linen this time around...
Some things never change. :P

Saturday, April 10, 2004


I'm left with a heart
that still beats strong
with conviction to heal,
a soul that can still
cry at times for him
who has found another.
No matter the damage done
that was never intended,
no matter.
I found no waste in time
for the risk of it all,
saw no fair or unfair
through those feelings
that simply are,
where and when they are,
impossible to second-guess.
I have been left with
no bitter thoughts, words.
I have no more fear.

Friday, April 09, 2004

Recalling A Dream

Take the boat out on the water
at midnight under the stars
in the open air, just to feel
the coolness of the ocean,
just to listen for a liquid break
of movement on the surface
against the wood.
I close my eyes to listen
for the words "salt" and "sea"
and remember only panoramic
photos of the World's Lighthouses,
given last Christmas to friends
on the way home to Boston.
I close my eyes to recall the dream,
sitting on that bench there,
along the boardwalk, shedding bitter
pieces of meaning, my heart poured
out to a faceless kindred soul.
I close my eyes to recall
a strange chance taken, spoken wisdom,
silent tears giving way to
sobbing the truth of lacking clarity,
then on to finding direction.
The dream was years ago and forgotten.
Forgotten until now, it must be
years to the day and a day later.

If you listen you can hear it,
the sound of a heart beating
still, the sound of a loss so
hard to bear...
Survivalists say of the strong,
running to something is far
better than running away.
I am not running away...
What is there to run to now
when the unshakeable has been
brought to the core.
Why would there be nothing save
the whys of pain and emotion that
have become this nightmare.
He still haunts
my waking hours, still haunts
through the long ago
and far away,
where he sat next to me
at the ocean,
prophecy personified,
a faceless dream offering
consolation to a life torn, to
a light having gone out, how
much clarity is needed now?
How was I to know this would be
the consolation?

Wednesday, April 07, 2004

Anesthesia, Stat

Misunderstanding stopped us
in the hall one morning
on the way to break, said that
the overhead page
reminded her of a story of the
daughter of the Tsar of Russia..
No, that was Anastasia.

They say her mind is going,
losing track of time.
She didn't used to be like this.

Held me up for an hour once
with ramblings of her son, how he
should find religion, and God.

She jokes sometimes about
eventually ending up as patient
on the lock-up unit.
Should I tell her they're starting
to take her seriously?
Who's misunderstanding?

Tuesday, April 06, 2004

Wheres the motivation to write today, for all the yesterdays that I haven't written a thing. I think what I really need to do is just get away, in the other room with just the paper and pen and write... anything.
See I have all these things in my head, somehow getting pushed back again, and again. Sometimes its like that for me though, it happens when I can no longer wait to put something down, some of the best stuff I've ever written has been the ones to come out all in a rush of words, when there's no stopping them. Its almost like a flood, either that or the thesaurus exploded. Funny image that, exploding thesaurus's... like a volcano, and the words land just anywhere on the page. Its a start. At this point, anything is a good start. Well, it's settled then. I'm off to light a fire under the imagination. See what I come up with.

Monday, April 05, 2004

More of the similar, only when it's again those you think you're closest to are too busy to spend time. Always running off with friends, I don't know why the kid even bothered to come over in the first place, didn't come in till after I was asleep, then was already gone again when I got home from work. Again. Ok, that's what's been bugging me. That and the struggling and the writing and the nearly everything I can't grasp.

Sunday, April 04, 2004

I feel I've been like a sponge for everyone's bad experiences lately, some of the people I work with. It's draining, zaps so much energy. I probably need to step back from them. If any one of them felt like this they would do the same. It wouldn't be so bad if there wasn't so much of it at once. So this is my reasoning for why I haven't been quite myself the past few days. It took a while, then again, there may be another reason, I just don't know.

Saturday, April 03, 2004



What have the stars conspired
with you tonight, so full the moon
and me so empty, alone and wanting.
What language does the rain speak.
He could be the wind tonight, pulled
through branches, dynamic among new
leaves, swirling with insistant
push-pull of circling at me, around
me, invisible, haunting and distant.
Then returning, again haunting, its
only his face in my mind when I close
my eyes, only his touch to dream of.
Such dreams are difficult when
there is no sleep.

Thursday, April 01, 2004

Burlap to Cashmere (and back again)

When they break things down
that should be unbroken, like life,
to each their own
pursuit of happiness of a dream,
or even just to eke out survival...

When they fake living, match hell on earth
with pounding fists, bruises and broken
bones I never expected to see...

When still others spew violent premonition
with skinhead tags written on wall
meant for healing, now instead a recruitment
poster for gang membership...

When a jealous woman turns psychotic,
turns vandal, stalking, threats on machine,
unsigned letters and face-to-face confrontations...

I don't want to read about
the end of another friendship
in the papers.
Small Kisses

Kiss me for the shallowness
of breath that you bring,
for the delicious weak moments
I have in these time alone
when I call your name.
I have waited so long
I can imagine now my softest
touch to you, to smooth
your hair, or my fingers
gently moving
across the shadows
of your face.
Eyes can lock in shades
of blue and brown
for the extension of sensing.
Small kisses to you, my love,
and playful tongues that turn
serious, as moments take us
both to this higher level
where we are the safest
within each other.