Tag: writing

The Ice Under a Red Sky

A youth born with innocent eyes.
Short-sighted. Unseeing nor caring about the world around.
Reaching out for what never wanted to reach back.
Falling down until the only ground below has left it starving.

All was wanted – one who would see the good in the eyes.
One who would feel the kindness of a fragile heart – who would see the light in a gentle soul.
With a monstrous frame of unacceptance and hate.
Inside was warm and gentle – a loving soul.

The walls around – waiting for something to break them down.
Wanting someone to see – for once – the hidden light and warmth that dwells within.
Waiting for that glimmer of light that peaks through the crack in your walls.
Staring eternally at everything – waiting for the spark of love that shall creep into the light.

The walls taking ongoing damage. Please bring them down.
Inside and out – the war goes on.
Nothing compares to the pain and damage – to the light and warmth inside.
Screaming in desperation. Not wanting the cold.
Holding on. Trying so hard to make it with kindness – in a world fueled by hate.

Deep in the corner of the heart.
The light’s final tear freezes against the icy skin of the unwanted. The war of forever turns the warmth to the only comfort it once had – within the ice.
The walls begin to crack. The new cold from what once was warm breaks free.

Trying to survive and adapt to the new surrounding climate.
Only in time, it freezes over – the eyes now see the true nature of where they belong. Innocence is lost as the heart has frozen over. The soul fades to black…
…resting cold – unwanted.

The final tears freeze as the sky grows red.


Back To The Start

So far away. So very close.
Into my veins. Into my heart.
Forgive me while I lose my mind.
I did. Done. Can you find me?

Lost in the belly of a dark abyss.
Fearing the unknown. Laughing at the skull.
Crying on the inside. Bleeding on the outside.
What the fuck is going on?

This emptiness is killing me. I am talking to myself.
I hate myself. I cannot catch myself.
Can someone tell me what all this means?
My invention of feelings. My living nightmare.

Slice through these veins. Break down this wall.
What is this? Can I breathe? Will I fall?
I run away. My “minds” – are screaming and bleeding.
Grab my antenna. Look into my eyes.

See me. Find me. Like me, please?
Tear me apart. Put me back together.
Please hold me. Close to your heart.
Never let my nightmares live again.

Take me back to the start.

Become The Skies

I fall beneath the sun.
I march before the shore. It tears me apart.
I am told to run. Pulled into the blade.
My brother. My blood. My truth. My art.

Will you follow me now? Into the dirt?
Where the sun never follows you down?
Am I to blame? When did all the flowers turn to dust?
Forever I fall. Our leaves. Forever frowning.

Lay me down before the dawn.
Ever wanting. Drying my eyes.
Walk with me. Stare at me. I am here.
My book. My creation.
I now become the skies.

A Fallen Memory

The cold air is raping my soul.
A glance above at the foreseeing eyes of pain.
I want, plea and hold to justice to whom bury me in hate.
I lay weak and wet from soil moist with tears.

My heart- dying in punishment.
It weeps desperate eyes towards a final trial.
Do not deny me this final breath.
This air comforts me with a fading light.
It fills me in my hollow hopes of a new dawn.

The sun has set and the air is thin.
A frozen touch – like ice. My spine absorbs me in pain.
A blinded vision of hope covers my body. It tells me the truth.
A forgotten destiny that shall see no more.
All is forgotten and is to be so true. Its thick tar of night.

Forever lasts the night. One last scene from above.
Filling in what was left of my heart as the sky disappears.
I see my future in black. It is damp and cold and it tells me its name.
Reach up to the sky. It is no longer there.
One with the Earth.
A fallen memory.

Robot Sunshine

Smashed rocks feel like a warm light.
I run. I dive. Running from this strange glow.
Bricks and mist.

I find and lose, with so many tears.
Find me dying for a thrill, among the light.
Chase me once again. Towards the rising moon.

You win. We both lose.
Tied together. Shining a light. I have to go.
You keep me in.

Let me go. I just don’t know.
Let me grow.
Or just let my robot shine.

1984: Into The Fire

So here goes. MeBike1984Bullying has been in the news lately. Sadly, it always is somewhere. Kids get bullied every day. I wish that I could protect them all and be a big brother to them. I cannot. However, I can tell my own story as I can. In pieces. It may take awhile but if you follow me here, I am sure the pieces will start to come together.

My first experience with bullying was when I was five years old. The year was 1984. Autumn. My family and I lived in a rented house about ten blocks from the school. Before this, I had been back and forth across the country of Canada due to my father’s work until we finally settled down for a bit on the east coast.

I know my parents rented the house we lived in. Only a small, two storey home, but to me, it was like a mansion. I was happy. I made a couple of friends in the neighboring houses. He-Man and the Masters of the Universe had become my heroes. This was even before I got my first BMX bicycle.

I was excited to walk to school on that first day. All on my own. A chubby kid. Going to school. I remember being so thrilled. I remember smiling. I was as happy as I can remember ever being in life. Walking down those sidewalks toward my future.

I made it about five blocks. Then I heard the taunting. I looked back to see their grins and lit cigarette lighters. “Come here, fat boy, we’ll fry that blubber off, you piece of shit!” one of them yelled. I made it to school. Those punks likely were not serious – though I was terrified. 

My entire first day of school I spent preparing my mind for death. I was convinced that I was going to be murdered by being burned to death on the walk to lunch. We started with half days the first year of school. I ran to the nearby lunch building that day. Hoping I wouldn’t run into those boys again.

I made it to the lunch table. I remember how a girl from my class told the teacher;
“We just got back from “skew.” I was fascinated by the way she pronounced “school” and I felt so safe being at that lunch table with her. I just smiled at her. Funny how i can remember this moment vividly but I cannot remember her name.

I got to know the swings on the school property, especially the taller next door high school swings. I felt if I was there that a teacher would most likely see anything happen to me. The higher I could swing, the farther I “flew” away from any of them.

I got my first BMX bike while we lived there. A smaller bike at first, then a larger BMX with white tire reflectors. I am still amazed at how many tricks I was able to do on that bike. It was an amazing time before that bike was stolen from the school bike rack.

Things were okay for a year or so while we lived in that small town. I had a few friends in the neighborhood. I rode my bike to the nearby swimming pool each day in the summer. I was happy. I was set.

Though I had no idea, as a young child, what my parents were going through at that time. In their personal lives or even financially. How could I? Things would, in fact, change very soon during the couple of years we lived there. My life was just beginning. A new baby brother. Another move. A death that would haunt me for life. Things that would forever tie me to that place.

Those short years would mold my entire childhood and become a major tentpole in my life story.

Many stories to come. Time is going to skip around a lot to piece things in my life together into short stories.

I am learning to tell my story and learning how to present it to you all.

Thank you for reading.

Stay tuned. ♥

Mirror Money

You flew by just like a firefly.
I didn’t seem to mind…you flying by.
Where were you anyway? Why didn’t you bug me?
Not worth a swat? Cuz of what?

Look in the mirror. What’s the matter?
A new horror? Expecting more…or?
Wine won’t change a thing. Crashing down.
Who will guide you, without wings? A cashing cow?

Broken. Crunching gravel.
Searching. Running away. You’re lost. Now, what…how?
You were a friend, left in the dirt. Smile and move on.
They didn’t mind at all. What was going on?

Back to work. Smile. Bring a lunch.
Never walk afraid. Never deserving a punch.
Far too close. Too close to tears.
Keep going forwards. What’s next? Too many fears.

Step up. Wake up.
Did you forget me? A friend? Did you give up?
I almost gave up. Bled my open truth. Sew me up.
Lose me everything. Catch me everything.

You found out early. Life goes on.
You may be smiling, this boy rides on.

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