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The Reason Why I Breathe

Here I stand, in the midst of a maelstrom,
for I’m a poet. I don’t get paid, I get ignored.
The images I produce in exchange for feelings,
have the littlest affect on those I long to care for most.
This fact is one that should have already been absorbed
into my bloodstream, after all, I was not born for happy endings.
I was however born to love. I have been blessed
with several opportunities, but none
have ever eventuated into everlasting circumstances.

There was a time, I opened up my mouth
to speak with a beautiful stranger,
but I did not say a word; not a cry, not a whisper,
not a sound; the silhouette of silent ambiance
deafening my hopeful dreams.
Instead of terraforming my confidence
into a state of leadership, I retreated into myself,
wishing for vain circumstances that would not arrive.

I am many things, and alone is one of them;
the apex of my existence, without chance of ever leaving.
In your eyes however, I witness the potential for a future,
and I cannot help but fight secure
the beauty of this paradise. It is in my mind
that I propose the incidents which lead toward our meeting,
concurring on the day I celebrate my birth.
On days before this one, and all those that come after,
I carry with me the unspoilt desire to obtain a kiss,
my arms however trembling like a tumbleweed in the wind
at the thought of touching you, whilst I writhe
before your eyes like an ant, beneath your magnifying glass,
burning not only from the outside in, but from the inside out.

Beneath your luminous tranquility my heart has prospered,
and though the light of purest nature warms my skin,
you are the embers of the ignition fluid in my soul,
warming my insides. You are the sun in my sky,
serenading me wholeheartedly with your light.
No words would be needed from my lips to convey such feeling,
for the rhythm of my heart when pressed against your ear,
announces all that which words could barely comprehend.

In a hundred years, or more, the warmth of your hands
in mine shall remain like volcanic ash dribbling across my fingers.
There will be no pain, and no conflict the two of us
cannot resolve, for as long as we have each other,
no obstacle, however large, could dare oppose
the heroism of my eternal desire, to live harmoniously at your side.
I would wish for any words exchanged between us
to resonate inside your heart, like the chorus
of an outstanding symphony, the never ending echo
reducing all will power you ever had agaisnt romance,
to enlighten you with the honesty of my emotive announcement:

I cannot image living my life without you. I would wish
to receive a response, both positive and pure,
for every soul deserves to have their heart acknowledged.
When the world has forgotten that I even am alive,
my only wish is for you to kindly remind my life
why I am still breathing, and why, I will breathe again tomorrow.

To my Step Daughter

To my step daughter, wherever you may be tonight,
you are the apple of my eye, you are my sunlight.
Liara, I swear, I unconditionally love you the way any father should,
and if you were in danger, I’d sacrifice myself to save you, you know that I would.
You know I loved your mother, and like you, I loved her with all of my heart,
and I’m sorry that the winds of change inevitably forced us apart.
Now, the Pacific Ocean, it stands like a gargantuan wall between both me and you,
but believe me when I announce, I can still feel your love just as you can still feel mine too,
and come June 26th this year, we’ll be reunited once again,
for this father-daughter story of ours, it is the stuff of legend.
Don’t ever believe I’d forget your birthday, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,
and you must know there is no one else out there for me, you are my only girl,
and when I reach American soil, I’ll wrap you in my arms, and kiss you on the head,
and that night, you wouldn’t dream of loneliness, no, you will dream of happiness instead.
At the same time, I will dream of your future occupation;
whether you will be a lawyer, a shrink or a musician?
A journalist, doctorial staff, an actor or a member of government,
like a politician, or perhaps either a Prime Minister or President?
Now Liara, come your birthday you shall be granted my present; a gift of continued support and love,
and the realisation that you are the only angel whom I pray to in all of Heaven above.

The Way it Ought to be

SYNOPSIS: About a man who failed to properly live the life which had been granted to him, and the opportunity of new love that he so wished to have as his.

Light a candle to remember the fallen soul; the deceased wonder of us all;
the child of a deadly sacrifice that which is love eternal and infinite.

Such could, if I be lucky, be the words spoken on the morning of my passing
over an intrepid candle that burns most brightly in the hour of my death,
for failing terribly to properly live the life that had been given to me.
Although I wished to be not nobody, I failed to become a certain someone
and so I am forced to sit in the abyss of my soul whilst contemplating love,
as I stare into the eyes of the man who stares back into me from the mirror.
His expression fills me with sorrow as he forces me to remember the past;
such as it was the element that brought me to the place in time I am in now.
Perhaps if I had changed my actions, life would have become the way it ought to be.
But then again’ I think, as the face of the young woman that I love fills my mind,
maybe everything that happened, happened because fate had always wanted it to.
If such be the case, then fate it seems, is an insidiously twisted creature
for leaving my withered heart to die alone within the passages of this text.
The story behind how I came to feel this way happened during the last winter;
such being an event I remember so well for I relive it everyday.
I will paint the scene as it was for me; in colour; vibrant, fluorescent and true.
A party, it was, in a friend’s giant house, with music playing from dusk till dawn.
This friend of mine had just turned twenty-one, this party being a special occasion,
for nobody ever turns twenty-one twice, thus, everyone had been invited.
The house itself was two storeys in height, looming like a huge, pitch coloured monster.
The lights that were on were its facial extremities, making it look so alive;
if one judged the party on its exterior they would have been terribly wrong;
music was passable, food was delightful and the alcohol kept on coming.
The lights were turned up to their highest extent illuminating all of the house.
The walls were constructed from the thickest plaster, yet they rocked to the beat like leaves.
The luxurious furniture looked so eccentric, whilst someone puked up their guts.
The people present danced to the groove, dreaming of getting into each other’s pants;
and as all of this transpired I looked towards the tower of erected gifts
and just as my eyes came to land on my present, they began to drift towards you.
You were leaning up against the far wall with shadows dancing across your features.
One boot covered foot was against the wall, whilst the other was placed upon the floor.
You wore tight blue jeans that were glued upon your magnificently formed body.
Above the waist you wore a light brown, formalised jacket, with buttons down the front.
Beneath this was a feministic shirt that was an aqua and pink in colour.
Your jet black hair was curly in appearance and tied back in a crimson scrunchie.
In one hand you held a piece of literature, whilst in the other a beverage.
I would go on to describe the beauty of your face but I could not find the words,
for there are no words in any known language to describe someone as beautiful;
those, bright dark brown eyes; those luscious crimson lips; that incredible, heartwarming smile.
I realised then I need you, the same way I need oxygen, food and water
and I know from now on my thoughts when I masturbate will consist only of you.
I wish to love you the way Achilles loved the battle and how he loved the sword;
the way Marc Anthony loved Cleopatra, or the way King Midas loved his gold.
It is now in this story that I proceeded to make my way over to you.
I wonder, how you would react knowing your beauty has captured a man like me,
and as I undress your ravishingly fabulous body with my dark brown eyes,
I know I should be put to death for the heavily sexualised thoughts that I have.
It is now that I go to speak, but I unfortunately fail to find the words.
You look up at me and seem almost annoyed; you don’t want another pick-up line;
but the unfortunate thing for you is, you’re about to receive one anyway.
You roll your eyes and stand aggressively before eventually asking my name;
I say you won’t ever require it, for you have everything you’ll ever need.
From now until your body is but dust and your life’s all but a sweet memory;
until forever is no longer forever you will not need to know my name.
Besides, what is a name, even my own, when you don’t have the man to give it to?
This is why my silence is so bitter sweet, for together, we will never be.
With that being said you gently tilt your head and wonder what question you should cite next.
You ask ‘where are your feelings, where do they reside, where do they shine the brightest?’,
and I say ‘they are where the sun does not see and where the moon cannot penetrate’,
for I’m the pariah; the interloper; the worst of all the world’s pretenders.
This is the excuse I wish to give for trying to grab your heart and soul with lies,
for inevitably, such is the later conclusion I will be forced to write.
Never in my life have I been captured by a beauty that I could not have;
but such a woe it is to find that such has unfortunately occurred
and I am been played love’s romantic fool the same way a musician plays the drum.
But even as all of these words, thoughts and ideas are, all of them, but said and done,
I would very much like to get to know you until we are not strangers no more.
I’ve never felt this way for anyone or anything in the entire world;
for you’re everywhere inside of me; you are in my air; my bones; my heart; my blood.
However, as sudden as your heart struck me down with such a force, light lightning,
more sudden was it when another man came up to you and stole your heart away.
He asked you then, with his truly, romantic words, if he could mould your heart a-new.
You looked to have been swooned with joy; captured in the oceans of an age old romance.
He took your lusciously silky hand in his, just as you took his damn hand in yours,
emotions flaring uncontrollably as you stared into each other’s eyes,
being fueled by a powerful passion that made me swoon in the most horrific way;
and with this, he whisked you away, to make love to you the way the Gods intended
and now, every time I see you, you break me, for I wish to be more than friends.
You have made the heroic lion living inside my soul weep a thousand tears;
you pulled out my heart, raised it towards the Heavens and lost it in the black of night
and now I am forced to carry your memory, that is; unforgotten.
Because of you, I have so many scars that cover what this man once used to be.
I have a scar upon my broken heart; a scar that fails to ever go away;
a scar that is in fact a plague, insidiously caused by this ravaged romance.
If you were to come back to these arms once more I would never – and I must stress this,
if you would please come back to these arms once more, I would never be broken again.