Intimate Compositions

Eternal Love

April 25th, 2018

Love, Oh Eternal Love; how long will you forsake me? On my journeys I have encountered you. We spent many seasons together. In the summer we spent time together in the warmth of the sunshine, and in the winter we cuddle by the fireplace. You enthralled me with passion and desire. I long for you. I miss you. Where are you? Where have you been? It has been seven seasons now since I have seen you. I wonder if you now spend time with other men, in strange places and dark corners, giving yourself away freely with no thought of me; with no compassion for my plight. I stare out of my window at night thinking about you, jealous of the men that hold you and keep your warmth. Love, Oh Eternal Love, they could never know the depths of you like I do. They could never know of your mysteries and inner secrets like I know.

I have explored every part of you; I have tasted of your sweet nectar. I have searched your inner depths, and discovered your delicate ways. You have comforted me; you have kissed me. When will I see you again? I cannot put you away. I cannot pretend that I don’t need you. I am a man bordering on obsession, because I know what you mean to me. There is no life to be lived without you my darling; my hope in you is my silent prayer. You are the morning dew on freshly cut grass. You are a beautiful garden, budding anew with life season after season. The hibiscus and the orchid renew my spirit; the black grapes and pear trees provide a sweet savor.

Spring is here and summer draws near. I will wait for you Love; you will come back to me. I will sing to you from afar; I will sing beautiful songs to you and hope you hear me. I will remind you of our time together. I will remind you of the passion we once had between us. I am here darling; I stand with open arms. If I have to, I will wait one thousand years, and then one thousand more. I will write another song for you oh Love, and I will sing it to you in your dreams. Please do not forget me, for I am the man you once gave yourself to. Love, forever I am yours.
We Dance

April 21st, 2018

In tempests, we shall dance.

In the midst of the deep sea, we shall dance.

In fire, we shall dance.

In floods, we shall dance.

In the face of fear, we shall dance.

In endless sorrows, we shall dance.

In our darkest days, we shall dance.

In the throes of death, we shall dance.
The Ancients

April 19th, 2018

Their grey hair and weathered faces tell the tale of their lives. The elders who have survived throughout the generations. The old ones who have seen the hard years. They have seen abject poverty and war. They have survived. They have lived to tell their stories. They tell their stories in soft monotone voices, and whispering tones. To sit at their feet and listen to their stories is to understand their journey and their plight. Their deep seated eyes are cloudy, almost ghost like. Their stares are haunting, and can touch the soul. Their eyes have seen many things indeed. In their old age they are content in their spirits, and have gracefully accepted their mortality. They have lived; they have experienced. The ancient ones take joy in their offspring; their grandchildren and great grandchildren quicken their spirit, and give them reason to live longer. Their history is passed down from generation to generation. They are revered and loved. Their words of wisdom are words to live by, exceeding any price or value. In their old age they speak with directness and profoundness. It is refreshing, and a break from the normalcy of political correctness, and the herd mentality. Their twilight years are filled with serenity and peace. Elderly couples rekindle their romance year by year. The elderly women age beautifully in their elegance, and the elderly men age well in their youthful strength and grey beards. They are the ancients. They are a treasure.
Memories

April 18th, 2018

A child stares out of an open window. Tears stream down his face. Pictures of his mother lay on the floor. He has lost her. She has passed away. The boy was told of his mother’s joyous spirit, her personality and the way she was. He was told by her friends and family how happy she was to have given birth to her one and only son. Yet, he can’t remember her face and her warmth; he can’t remember her touch and the love only a mother could give. He clutches a picture of her and holds it to his chest; he kisses her. He scours his mind for the memory of her, at least one precious moment. He finds none. If only he could remember the sound of her voice and her laughter. If only he could remember her bright smile. He closes his teary eyes tightly, and tries even harder to remember her, but there is no memory of their time together. With his eyes closed, the remnant of his tears fall onto the photos of his mother. He opens his eyes and looks at her pictures intently. Mommy I love you, he says. He will carry her in his heart forever. A heartbroken child stares out of an open window. The cold winter wind touches his face. He hopes his mother can see him; he hopes his mother can hear him.
For The Afflicted

April 14th, 2018

I see your affliction. I see your pain. You are not unnoticed. I see your misery, and your many sorrows. I see your heaviness of heart; I see the toll the hard years have taken on you. People pass by and stare. You are looked down upon, sidelined, and ostracized. You have lost hope and have given up. You have nothing left to give. You are misunderstood. You have suffered in silence for many years. I see your suffering. I understand the depths of your pain.

Family have turned their backs on you. Spouses have left when you needed them most. You have lost your means of income and have no one to turn to for help. You sacrifice everything for your children, but it’s still not enough. Friends have abandoned you in your time of need, and former colleagues talk about you behind your back. I understand your plight, and I see your pain.

Physical illness has caused you immense pain and suffering. Mental illness has caused agony, and great sorrow. You are in constant distress. You try to hide your affliction from the world for fear of being outcast. For fear of being laughed at and persecuted. I see your pain.

You have lost your home and are now homeless. You never thought it would happen to you; you cry every day and night. You were disavowed by everyone you know, even those you held close. I see your pain; I see your tears.

You suffered abuse as a child. You were failed by those who were supposed to protect you. You have carried this secret with you into adulthood. It is a heavy burden that has weighed you down. You have shed tears in the dark. You have suffered in silence. I see your pain and your tears. I see your anger and your sorrow.

You used to be vibrant, happy and full of life, but depression has taken away your joy and your happiness. You are in pain. You try to be strong for your children and smile, but they see your tears. You have contemplated ending it all; closing your eyes forever. I see your intense pain. I see your weeping and sorrow.

Addiction has ruined your life. You are a shell of who you once were. You have hurt the people that love you; you are held captive by your addiction. You want to stop and you have tried many times, but now you feel that you are at the point of no return. I see your pain.

You have been tossed around from home to home, and you feel like nobody wants you. The foster parents who said they would always love you, have thrown you away like trash. You are tired of the broken promises and disappointments. You want to be genuinely loved. I see your pain and your hurt. I love you.

You have suffered abuse for many years. It has broken your spirit; it has dimmed the light inside of you. You want to leave but you are afraid; you don’t know what to do. I see your torment. I see your suffering and your many tears.

You have carried heavy burdens all of your life. They have worn on you along the way. You want to be free. You want peace. I understand your plight; I see your suffering. Tears fall as emotions encompass me. You are not unnoticed. I see your affliction. I see your pain. I love you.
Window To Her Soul

April 10th, 2018

The sight of her pain wounded my spirit. Her smile and the light in her eyes hid her suffering and darkness. A deep darkness and pain that wore on her. Her plight was one of survival. A once bright light inside her became dim. A piece of her soul torn away, every time she earned her living. She lie there, wilted and despondent, eyes wide as if in a trance; her cries and sorrow internal and not heard. She is numb; the act is done. The familiar scent of dirty and worn bills fill her nostrils, as they are left on an old broken down table that has seen better days. She lies there, still and quiet. Her eyes remain wide and trancelike, as she stares up at the ceiling. She is not sure how long she can carry on. Her spirit is broken and her life energy is low, but she knows no other way. She wants to be noticed; she does not want to be judged. In a small corner she stoops, and lets out tears in quiet solitude. She desires love; she desires warmth. Her soul is weary. So many long days. So many perilous nights. A heavy burden rests on her. She will carry it as long as she can. The pain is unrelenting and unforgiving. She seeks rest. A long comfort; a deep sleep.
A Secret Place

April 10th, 2018

I travel down a lonely road. The door to my world is hard to find. It is hidden in a secret place. Seldom has it been found. Seldom has it been entered. My world is infused with violent winds and tempestuous seas. The skies are grey and the rainfall is heavy. Few have sojourned here for any length of time. I am a man who has come to terms with my reality and existence. My choices are few; I must continue on. I realize the futility in looking back. The door to my world is more difficult to find and grows smaller and smaller by the season. I have resided here many years. The road is harder to travel as the years go by. There was a hurricane here just two seasons ago. I have survived the winter, and must prepare for the spring and summer. Maybe I will have a visitor in the fall.
My Dream

April 10th, 2018

I dreamt I wasn’t afflicted. I dreamt I was in a vast and beautiful garden. There was peace and tranquility. There were no tears. No sorrow. I dreamt that I had triumphed over my fears. I dreamt that I had a sense of normality. I dreamt that there was a cessation to the war that rages in my mind. I dreamt that I didn’t have to endure the pain of my childhood. I dreamt my mother hadn’t died. I dreamt that cancer hadn’t caused my grandmother great suffering in her last days. I dreamt that she hadn’t suffered at the hands of depression. I dreamt that I had escaped my silent torment.

I awaken to my reality.
A Beautiful Song

March 24th, 2018

A song for the oppressed. Rise my people, rise up and dance! Lift your voices and sing! Sing the songs of your fathers and remember the smile and beauty of your mothers. Let the sun reflect on your brown skin and energize your melanin; let the sun’s rays kiss and bless your lovely hue! Sing my people, sing! Let your voices rise to the heavens and shake the earth! Sing my people, sing! Sing because we are sanguine, and because our people are of a beautiful brown hue. The melanin within us reverberate and jump to the rhythm of our ancient songs and cadences. Women, let your octaves drift through the generations, and men let your baritones vibrate through the bones of the dead! Sing children, sing! Let your voices ripple through the universe and the vast galaxies! Sing the songs of freedom, and hum the hymns of rebellion! We are not a defeated people; we have life in us yet! Sing you generations of the oppressed, sing a new song of hope and triumph! Let the ancestors in the spirit world hear it, and dance again! Let them move with vigor and rhythm. Dance, my ancestors, dance! Pound the drums and move your feet! Oh, those old songs of rebellion, and those beautiful songs of uprising! Let loose of your shackles, overtake your oppressors, and let us live, but if we must die, we die in insurrection, and we die side by side. Our eternal souls shall still sing! We shall be remembered.
Insomnia

May 3rd, 2016

In the world of microsleep, there is a realm of untapped ideas. A dream world of unlimited creativity and endless visions. Dealing with bouts of insomnia for the last few years has exposed me to this hidden and seldom visited realm. On occasion I may have been without sleep for two to three days. Having to take care of day to day activities and the daily stresses of life, I find that adrenaline takes over and I am able to complete tasks even when running on virtually an empty tank of energy completely drained and in desperate need of sleep. Without any complete scientific information and solely based off my own self observations, I have come to believe that the mind and body go into automatic pilot mode and everything becomes surreal. It’s like you’re moving without knowing you’re moving. For example, the phone may ring and I answer it without even knowing I had picked up the phone to answer it in the first place, or completing a task and minutes later not remembering I had completed said task. It’s as if the mind becomes super focused at intervals throughout the day depending on what I’m doing at the moment. Now here is where things get really interesting. During these periods, if I didn’t stay occupied, I would fall into periods or segments of microsleep. Microsleep is an involuntary action of unconsciousness (sleep), for a very brief period of time, usually several seconds, due to sleep deprivation. It was in this state that I had the most vivid dreams and ideas flowing through my mind. Though very brief, in an analogy, I think it could be compared to something very small but with high potency. Very vivid, very colorful, directly in your face like an action packed 3D movie.

The drawbacks of this wonderful dream state are obviously the sleep deprivation, the risks associated with microsleep, especially for people who operate heavy machinery, and those that spend large amounts of time behind the wheel. The thing is, when you go into microsleep, most times you’re not aware that your eyes have been closed for several seconds, or that you have actually slept for several seconds. I have been embarrassed on more than one occasion by someone waking me up, only to tell me that I had been snoring. Another issue with these dreams and visions is that as beautiful as they are, they are hard to capture and be retained in my memory. As hard as I had tried, I never could remember all or most of these vivid dreams; usually just a fraction of them could be retained. Nonetheless, vivid, prolific, creative, and colorful they are. I found that usually after two to three days without rest, on that second or third night, I would get at least six to seven hours of deep sleep. On other nights without the bouts of insomnia, I would and can have vivid dreams, but not nearly as vivid as my dreams during microsleep. I attribute these dreams during my normal sleeping patterns to REM sleep. In conclusion, I would say that the trade-off of insomnia and sleep deprivation, for an extremely vivid dream world with an ethereal undertone, is totally subjective. As for me, I’m still pondering this very question as I write. Insomnia is not pleasant, but just a glimpse into that heavenly dream world is more than inviting to this author.