Magazine Posts

Forlorn the Moon
in the off-color sky,
asking of life's question.
Please tell me why?

You steal my love's
memories, of life's joy.
They exist no longer.
Was it the ploy?

A benevolent God is,
not what you are,
while a life is taken
from Heaven a far.

She knows not my name,
of this I agree.
She's says I'm her husband,
but cannot put a name to me.
She will say, "Yu Hu", at times,
"Hey You", yet I still see her,
when she says, "I love you"
with her words of sincerity.

I am here with you now,
and I always will be,
waiting for forgiveness
and our souls to be free.

I've never met anyone
quite like you,
of this, I am sure.
You post of adventures
and all which you do,
of golfing, bird hunting,
to name just a few.
A designer of clothing
or shipping of wares,
then off to places
about which I have read,
fishing, merchandising,
photo shoots too.
You're quite the person,
a most remarkable you.

A wayward shroud
has fallen
over me.
I cannot breathe;
cannot see.
Blinding me now,
hoping to be,
returning again,
life's new reality.

Here sit I,
alone in the room,
mind mired down
in mental gloom.
Feelings I have,
forcasting the doom,
which I feel is
cold as a tomb.

Downward spiral,
began the day,
as common sense
has gone away.

Spiraled ribbons of sanity
have been compromised,
for those who notice,
changes, which came over me.

A careless use, a sentence break,
using words which atrophy.
Mattering not, what path to take,
losing my touch with humanity.

I am transparent
as an opaque glass.
My mind still cloudy,
with words I amass.
Words of frustration,
not joyful to me,
but words dispicable,
is what I see.

I do not need this
at my point in life.
Enough, already,
she is still my wife.

Can you come the morrow,
at a quarter past three.
I'll be alone,
she's sitting next to me.

I sit and I write,
using paper and pen.
My favorite being,
a Pentel Energel with
metal tip, 0.7 ball tip.
I use refills,
to reduce the cost
and have new bodies,
in case one becomes lost.
I write in a Notebook,
capturing my mind's view,
as these words, now flow,
outward to be read by you.
Thank you for reading,
and the comments you make,
for my imagination lives on
with your love's sweet intake.

You want to draw,
but don't.
You want to write,
and won't.
What is your problem,
learned one
Are you sad for yourself,
old one?
Pick up your spirits,
you are,
stronger than this
spirit jar.
Be the best you,
can be.
Success will be
yours, eventually.

Crazy in the head.
Crazy in your thoughts.
Inane are your comments,
A memory of Forget Me Nots.

Why
are
we
here?