Read Letters to Dandelion Online
Authors: Xve
touch and her promises,
Then I saw the storm in
the inevitable end.
How some trips are
better off not taken.
Where the end is revealed
in a parallel not seen, and
a pain to the chest
of the broken.
I watched her walk away,
in the dark, like a struck
match with fire of her
hair.
Spewing lies about my
intentions and after
insulting my whole persona.
I struck back, but I shouldn’t
have. The writer in me with
the sharpen words is always
too eager to hurt and then
the soft words are ignored.
Nothing will fix or save this,
I guess.
Nothing can clean this mess,
of this beautiful woman, who
came and went, like a shadow.
I’m just typing, and realizing,
my loss, but I knew I was in
the wrong basket anyway.
It may sound confusing, because
I am confused, but no one cares
about my thoughts.
I just wish she knew, that I didn’t
start that night off, to end it
that way.
I just wish she knew, how beautiful
she is, and how much I wanted
to reveal the good sides of who I
am.
Anything good is wrapped in tough
protective covering, and that cover
gets dirty, torn, beaten, but it
protects the good, until it is opened.
I can’t type a ladder of words back
to that night, or that moment, or
back to her arms.
My powers are limited only to the
next day, and in clarity to say,
I’m sorry, but sorry is a lonely
word.
Her heart was turned off from me
long ago I feel.
I wanted just to either rediscover,
of end things civil.
I don’t think you will read this.
But, Karma knows … I tried.
The Whites of Her
Eyes …
I’m not going to look, or seek, or search.
The doors to my heart will eventually close.
The energy of my desire will turn –
as will my focus sharpen towards inner goals.
As someone told me –
“Let the bird land upon your finger.”
Others have said –
“Things happen when you least expect.”
I’ve even written about chasing a bubble,
and have told God himself,
He can not condemn me for something
he is not willing to help me with.
I was born with an uncanny birth defect –
That I have no beating heart at all.
Why?
Oh, how sad !
And all types of simpatico bullshit you
might say –
But, if you didn’t know me,
you might call me an insensitive monster,
or cursed, or worse.
But, it’s better you don’t know me.
There’s less for you to judge.
And, even less for me to say.
Practically nothing for me to care about,
based upon your reaction.
No opinion which to sway.
I may be missing something,
I disagree.
So many swear they are happy –
But, I challenge that equation based on reality.
It’s a bold, cold statement, this is true, but feelings
in medical terms are an equation to an apparition.
I previously mentioned, the Hole in my Pocket
before I even had jeans.
What an invention, as it has
allowed me to lose a lot of
baggage, and only hold on
to what I need.
So, I live by the basics, and
what can fill my cupped hands.
I like it planned.
Though some laugh, and joke
and don’t agree, the last laugh
is eventually with me.
Now things are streamlined,
and I’m doing well.
My toughest decision is:
what to have for dinner,
or what to wear on any
given someday.
I’ve danced my way, out of Hell.
And I answer to no one.
So why fuck that up?
Anymore, I won’t fire my
love and desire, until I
can completely agree –
That I am as close as a
dangling eyelash, glued
to:
The whites of her eyes.
Big Fat Lie
A tall, beautiful Woman, told me,
that the way a man thinks to screw
me, is to demean me, and be mean
to me - - to obtain me.
And I told her, that that was a
Big Fat Lie
.
From the pit of Hell.
From the mouth of the Devil himself.
But, why do so many Women believe,
the childish actions and silly prattle of
little boys at play?
I do apologize is my standing, and I
know, in some cases, it would seem
boring for a Man to always be pining
for a beautiful Woman to be his own.
See, I have written pounds of words on
this subject, and here’s another attempt
to eventually get it right.
Women are the flowers of the Earth.
The living art that inspires art.
The motivation behind, many, if not
everything.
Man, is a by product of the World.
His arms are forged of wood,
his mind a vortex of ocean current, and
fire, with a desire to match, -- yet,
yielding moments of soft falling snow,
for someone he loves.
Men are a mix of what is necessary to
run, walk, pause, stop, sprint, and leap,
fight, retreat, and come back against
to brave the rigors of the world that
birthed him.
The world breeds warriors, and nothing else.
Women are the piece of him, which is missing.
And that he misses.
And no matter where he is, as she appears,
he’ll stop everything to obtain her.
Women are the beauty, he’ll - NEVER BE.
The softness he can not make in a lab,
or the shape he can not hammer out in steal.
She is the thoughts he can not conjure,
or the desire he can’t control.
She is the reason he will march to his death,
he will dive deep in debt,
he will rise from the ashes like a Phoenix,
he will cry for in the night like a baby,
he will conquer, kill and scheme and plan,
until he can be assured, that he is her man.
So, Women, please, don’t believe the big fat lie.
Any boy, who treats you bad, there is a little monkey
small and sad, inside his pants, trying and dying to be
your Gorilla.
Again, I feel I am falling short on this subject.
So, as long as I live, and as long as there is
a beautiful Woman who might lend her ear?
then let her hear –
No matter what has happened,
no matter who has hurt you?
no matter what you have lost,
no matter what has been said to you,
no matter what has been physically done to you,
no matter what you have lost,
no matter what you have done,
no matter what you will do,
no matter what pain you’ve endured,
no matter how bad you feel,
YOU are a Woman.
YOU are the portal to another soul and
no Man can do that.
You are a Mother, your children feed off of your
essence and they will become a version of you.
You are the original beauty, as everything in this
world was created by some Man, who was in love,
and wanted to provide a better life for his Woman.
You are all the things we want, and can’t create.
And, there is still some one walking on the face
of the planet, who will crush his own guts to be
with you.
You are everything this writer wants and sometimes
can’t have.
And if you ever think that no one loves you,
or
no one wants you.
Call me.
STORY
Evening shade has dawned over the
earth. Yet one
such soul has not noticed. Weary in his
travels, sore in his
muscles, cloudy in his mind, but full of
one objective in
his heart. He presses on.
He has walked many miles to stand
on the edge of
realizing his goals, and yet the struggle
seemed short. But
in his mind he had already agreed at no
cost would he lose
his true love; for every step he took
brought him closer and
ever closer. The hunger of his passion
fueling his body at
times where there was little or no effort
left to point the
direction.
Sometimes a fond memory became his
only friend in
times of need, or a recollection of a sworn
promise that to
him, steel, would shatter easier than mere
spoken words.
With this in our traveler’s mind,
he laughs about the
past, engages the present, and boldly
chases his future.
And then, one day ….
A plain little bird, with a bright yellow bill,
sang a charming mellow tune from atop my window sill.
Within my surroundings, the music seemed to fill,
as I woke to the sound,
and noticed my world around.
The walls which were always, a touch-tinge of grey,
appeared much lighter and luminescently brighter,
this mystical magical day.
The clouds that normally loomed, above my ickety-rickety
bed,
faded to obscurity from the song flowing inside my head.
My eyes what tend to stick closed on most dreary days?
Could not appear wider, when taking in the sun’s rays.
The bird chirped and peeped; hopped about on its tiny feet.
Circled and looked about – then all things, repeat.
I moved closer, as not to startle, but to simply observe,
My new found friend, this interesting bird who of my respect
is well deserved.
This harbinger of song, this bringer of happiness and peace
of which her influence, I hoped would not cease.
Of course it was new,
Of course it was different,
Of course I want this to last,
Who wouldn’t?
She was strange at first,
She was definitely different.
I became so attached to her beauty and magnificence.
It was just at that moment, when I had thought this all
through,
I stretched out my hand, in total hopes of holding you.
And then, she flew – long and far away.
Never to ever see her again, even to this day.
Returning me to an even darker world than previously before.
And nothing has been the same ever since.
When I sleep, I
dream …
And she’s always there.
Perfect little Blonde, with
pink streaks in her hair.
But, the perfection of what
I speak , is of how we’ve seemed
to grow.
To where she loves me too,
And we’re all to the other that
we know.
Yea, she spunky, and she’s funny,
and she’s two bottles of Alleve a night
for all the headaches and trouble.
She’s so sexy, and perplexing, and
keeps me on my toes.
She reaches for me, she kisses me,
She hugs me oh so closely.
She loves me – She’s not afraid,
not under pressure or under
any spell.
She walks with me, holds my hand,
kisses me with her beautiful lips.
She allows me to love her, and
when we’re together, the world
comes to a complete stop.
We have agreement,
We have trust,
We play, we reach for the
other.
We curl up together –
We peacably sleep –
And have fun when we eat,
because she’s my other, better
half who I can’t live without.
She mirrors who I am.
She believes in our abilities.
And we go forward and grow,
because to each other, we’re
all that we know.
But when I wake up –
She’s gone.
And I have to face the day alone.
Reality becomes one, as I realize
I’m alone, and the only thing that
loved me the night before,
were the wrinkles in the sheets.
SAYONARA SONNET
Adieu,
To you.