Letters to Dandelion (10 page)

choir
practice when we were once Angels in

heaven
to do our thing.

Yet,
with all that surety, of watching the lines

of
our lives draw together, and feeling the

passion
I have in making love to you.

The
plans in my head, the grand designs to

a
life we could live, and a love we can have,

I
just don’t know if you’ll ever be mine.

So,
I wonder who will love you again.

Who
will be lucky enough to re-win

your
heart. Because all things are scripted,

and
nothing remains the same.

I
just don’t know, how I will live,

after
I don’t know where you are.

The
only thing I do know is,

right
now, I’m in love with you.

For
all my words, I can’t describe how

I
will miss you, maybe, as if my guts

were
scooped out with an ice cream

scoop.

I
know I will cry for you,

and
I will hurt for you.

and
I will never stop loving

you.

Mack
Truck

There’s just no point in
asking ...

No matter what is going on,

you are caught up in the moment

of getting.

And though I am doing all I can

to be correcting, my words fall

like fine China into the grinder

of your foolishness.

As you reach for running gears

and shredding shears, I try like

a silly boy to employ measures

of safety, security, love and care.

I always say, the way is not easy,

so why try to find that lost way?

Your heart is bent on foolishness,

and sold on emptiness, you attach

your concerns to wickedness and

are enthralled in deceptiveness.

It is just my guess, that God must

love you too, to shadow you from

inevitable doom.

But, what am I to do, seeing the

true you, in an array of emotions,

desires, a fire in my heart to have

you like no other, even though

many before me had already come.

I am pathetic and stupid, more over

so because I keep placing my heart

in the road, and falling in the trap to
have it close on it and bust like a blood
filled water balloon.

No trouble, no worries about me,

I’m the punchy clown doll of life

who always seems to stand back
up after a decent thrashing.

As I write these words, from my heart,

you are already bleeding, and I can
already see a brand new start that’s not

so fleeting..

But a start to what?

As, all women are completely lost, just
like you.

So, that start is a world of travel

away. And there’s just no point in

asking for directions to nowhere.

Reckoning

As
I clipped my finger nail,

at
4:30 in traffic,

little
did I know,

by
5:30,

my
heart would be bleeding,

from
to someone whom I would

be
speaking,

as
she mercilessly cut

my
heart of flesh

out
of my chest,

with
words, I duress,

because
I shared with her a

silly
notion, that her Sister,

I
was deeply in love with.

I
got the usual, I was called

a
sick stalker,

and
a pervert

and
a loser.

I
was told I was so co dependant

and
a fool,

and
I didn’t know her as a person,

and
as the well inside, felt the

tide
begin to rise to cry,

I
apologized for interrupting

and
simply asked,

What
harm have I done?

To
anyone.

By
being willing to be tool,

by
having some sort of human hope,

by
saying something that

there
is such a world full

of
worse to someone to say.

For
being able to want to

envision
a future with a person,

of
reach out for happiness and love,

in
being proud to claim the other

as
each our very own.

Why
in this world, in this air ocean

of
taint and black, that has become

the
human psyche of cause and

affect
towards one another, why

is
it so outlaw, so criminal, to

say
you love someone,

and
dare to hope for it to be

returned?

Funny,
I have been told, that

you
are not in love, when the

other
doesn’t ratify the contract,

or
reflect the favor or sign the

deed
of.

But,
when two people meet,

no
matter how, and one has

the
feelings and the heart,

to
open the window to the

soul
and share that secret,

standing
there, exposed,

hoping
for acceptance,

asking
to be forgiven

of
their shortcomings ,

eyes
closed because of

fear
of rejection,

quivering
and shaking

due
to fears of the past,

must
the final blow be –

to
be ridiculed?

and
mocked,

and
scorned,

and
insulted,

must
the final action be

to
ask forgiveness

from
having any feelings

at
all?

Must
being in love, always

feel
like being hit by a truck?

with
spiked tires, and a belly

of
flames under the transmission?

Yeah,
I now, these are my ever

stupid
comparisons.

And, I know, no one is listening.

She don’t care

To her, I’m just a working stiff,

a lament,

a fool.

Maybe she’s seen things happen

and on a grandeur scale,

that’s why my just words fail,

and she doesn’t care.

No matter how hard I try to

impress, she’s got bigger and

better fighting for her dress,

of which, I may only get to

hold when it comes flying

off of her.

So, what am I doing? A yipping

puppy, clamoring at her feet,

as big horny dogs sniff around

for play.

She don’t care about me,

She don’t see me,

She don’t need me.

As she swims the ocean without

a paddle or land in sight.

Even if I sweat blood,

it would be a laugh,

had a stroke? A bigger joke,

or fell of the signature of the

universe into the silent abyss

of blackness.

She don’t give a fuck,

shades of her house are

drawn,

and to her, so am I, just a wire

frame of hollow existence

and pointless rhetoric speak.

You expected me somewhere to

say Geek?

You so typical, a moral

mother fucking reader.

No wonder why I’m the

writer, and you’re out

to dinner.

Funny, she don’t care,

she’s probably sitting
right next to you.

I
have nothing to offer her –

So she has nothing to say.

I have nothing to give her,

So she has nothing to gain.

I
have no ladder to elevate her,
No rope to pick her up.

So, in her mind, with me,

she would only seem to drop.

So, there is no conversation, only

hard silence and an ice cold look.

Yet, little does she know –

Just what she overlooks.

For I may be nothing now,

A hopeful, a worker, a drone.

I may be small at this time.

A dreamer, a gambler, no home.

But she is the key,

the key to my success, the spark

to my change of fire.

Her loving eyes,

Her kisses at night would drive me to  go
sky-higher.

Her smiles would forge the sharpest sword,

for within me to slay the world.

Her hugs, her love would ignite my heart,

to bond me to her more.

But, deception comes at a high price, with

a grave cost as it isolates and separates,
as

it drastically creates, these lop sided
views

of independence and indifference and feeling

of self-worth written on blank checks of

nothingness.

Our separate worlds, stay separate.

So, I look at her, and realize in my heart,

that I’m sitting here, willing to do my
part.

Separation is to Death …

As Death is to a separation.

Like all Mathematical equations,

an answer is never the variable,

but the outcome.

Missing someone –

Never seeing them again –

hurts just as much,

as if they had died.

It means a private,

one seat funeral in

your mind, and only

your tears, with no

one with you to cry.

No one to console,

or hug you, or tell

you the catch phrase,

that everything will

be alright.

Things are never alright

though.

And a separation hurts
just like a death.

Your memories always

calling for that person,

of laughing with that person,

and still loving that person,

But all in the wind, and

just an illustrated illusion
of opaque visions.

For your arms will never

relay to your brain that you

can feel their warmth,

You ears will only replay

the scratchy recordings of

their voices,

In laughter,

In conversations,

in learning moments

of growth and despair.

Your lips kiss cold air –

And your heart, will never

synch in rhythm to their

own beat as it permeates

through the flesh of their
chest in a moment of purely

loving them.

Apparitional –

Ghostly –

Vanished –

Gone –

Dead.

And the whole part of it is –