Says the Old Man Gasping on the Floor…

Says the old man gasping on the floor, his last breath announcing its arrival.

I remember before I loved you. I remember the empty moments, the hours spent imagining who you were. I remember the healing in my life, the challenges that came in preparation for the moment I first laid eyes on you.

I remember meeting you. I remember the waves of indescribability that invaded every part of me. I remember trying to gather my senses, but being so lost in that ocean of love that I had forgotten how to swim. 

I remember holding you, my love. I remember the hope we shared in the warm breezes that had once touched the mountaintops. I remember the possibilities we explored, the stories of truth we shared, ending in those embraces that only lovers know.

I remember the strength I felt in your blissful joy. I remember those moments when nothing else seemed to matter. I remember life’s struggles becoming easier, life’s stories becoming happier, and life’s potential seemingly endless in the paths our union had lit before us.

And I remember, says the old man gasping on the floor, when time and space became too much to bear, when the grains of sand between us became more important than the beach we shared. I remember when we ended before we began, and when the rays of hope that once lit our ways became fires that destroyed the very forest we had searched for.

As I look at the faces of love that surround me now, I see your youthful face among them, a figment of my mind. Perhaps you always were part of my imagination. Perhaps you existed only in my heart, a creation of my mind as a gift to a man so deserving of your presence.

And with that a smile, a tear, and a final breath. A life of possibility had been lived.

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If I Haven’t Told You…

If I haven’t told you that I love you, let me tell you now. Let me whisper the words in your ear, and bury the power of each day in your soul. Let me lift you from the mud, carry you safely up the slope, and gently wash the time we’ve spent apart from your beautiful face.

Let me feel your eyes burrow softly through my own, releasing a lifetime of splintered wood born from the walls we now destroy. Let me bathe in ecstasy as your smiling lips kiss my own, erasing the space between our needy flesh, uniting the time and space we’ve used to meet upon this place.

If I haven’t told you that I love you, let me tell you now. Let me exhale in your presence the breath I’ve held so long in your absence. Let me know you through the dimly lit space we share, a space where fear gives way to ecstasy, where time surrenders to eternity.

If I haven’t told you that I love you, let me tell you now. Let me write it in the clouds and etch it softly on the surface of our moon. Let the stars align to spell our destiny, and the heavens themselves sing out in the sacred praise.

There are no footsteps I have taken nor footprints I have left that haven’t pointed to where you are. I have pulled some mighty carts and carried some hefty stones to prepare my being for that moment when we will sit.  Still. In each other’s arms.

If I haven’t told you that I love you, please hear it now. Hear it in every breath you take, in every song you sing, in every drop of rain that falls upon your flesh. Hear it in the tick of every second, and in the mantra that your heart sings when you are alone.  Hear it, my love, and remember every single word.

There will come a time when you will look into my eyes, and you will know. You will feel it in my hand as it strongly, gently, grasps your own. You will know it in the waves of indescribable energy that pours over you in waves, in the ripples of pure ecstasy as your body trembles in response. You will know it, and  you will answer me without a word.

In that eternity we will find ourselves, drench, parched, and wanting more. Then, there will never be a moment where I haven’t told you that I love you.

 

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The Dream Again

She sits there, a chisel in one hand, a hammer in the other, a blank canvas cleverly disguised as stone directly in front of her. “She’s a hard one,” they say. “She’s tough to love,” they try to remind me.

I smile in the description, but I simply cannot see it.

The morning Sun shines nicely on her naked shoulders. She looks up, diverted from her stories and thoughts, if only for a minute. Her smile lights my morning, her glistening eyes betray a truth behind the smile.

The dream again…

She returns to her self, and those stories she likes to cling to. Her shell, hardened by years of tears and moments of bliss destroyed, is what others get to see. For me, I see so much more.

She feels soft like warmed butter when my fingertips draw little lines on her skin. She melts into me as I take her in my arms. I know her there, the two of us like puddles on the floor, making love wherever the moment demands.

She tastes like sweetened cream when my lips meet hers. She takes what she wants and gives even more. No softer heart beats in the throes of her passion, no stronger mind rises to meet me on the fields where we roam.

I hear the steely bits of her shell fall to the floor when I call her name. I can feel her love even when she’s far, as if she has never left my side. She knows me. She loves me. When I am weak she stands tall for me to hold, and when she falters no words need be spoken for her to grab my hand, and rise to her occasion.

The things I see most clearly are the things I see when my eyes are closed. It’s why we close our eyes when we kiss, or when we inhale deeply to catch a fragrance we wish to remember. Sometimes the eyes only get in the way.

I’ve learned to offer thanks for each scar borne upon me as evidence of my falling. In each falling I have risen. Each weakened step has made me stronger if, for no other reason, so that I can pick her up and carry her from the raging fire.

I know that in the moments when I need her, she will carry me as well. I know it in those eyes that betray her hardness with a soft glance. I feel it when her arms embrace me in a subtle mixture of grasping and letting go. I hear it in those whimpers that come as she sleeps, telling a truth that she rarely speaks of.

Yes, I love this woman. She leaves her cape at our door. She drops her cross in the foyer. Then, each layer of her falls to the floor as she makes her way to our room. Naked, unafraid, and wanting…

The dream again.

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The Chain

I once wore a chain.

It was wrapped around me like a vine. It was heavy, and it held me down. When I tried to swim, it kept me in the shallow places. When I tried to fly, it kept me closer to the ground.

I used to blame others for my imprisonment. I had a rough childhood, saw things no child should ever see, and bore the brunt of not being part of a world others wanted me to see. I hid the bruises, I masked the scars, and I pretended to be all they wanted me to be.

In my pain I blamed them. In my sorrow I cursed them. In my suffering I would rage against them.

Now, I thank them.

I once wore a chain.

I wore it, no one else put it on me. Others gave it to me. They showed me where to put it. I, however, made the choice to put it on.

Now, things are different.

If you try to give me a chain, I’ll watch your arms grow tired holding it. Maybe you’ll drop it. Maybe you’ll just walk away to offer it to someone else who likes the way it feels.

If you are wearing one, I may rattle the ends hanging loose. You may realize its weight and the energy you spend keeping it tightly wound about you. You may want to drop it, too or you may just love it too much to bear the lightness that comes in shedding it. Whichever, the choice is always yours, and there is much power there.

I once wore a chain. 

Now, I see the broken links scattered around like the broken promises I made from behind that iron curtain.  I once thought it made me stronger, but I now know the strength was found in discarding it. Once you no longer have something to blame for your stumbles, when you no longer have a chain to rattle to scare the truth away, you realize your true power, and your unbridled strength.

I bear the undeniable marks of a man once so burdened, and the rough calloused form of a man determined to swim, to fly, the scale the highest peaks. I am not the same man I used to be, nor will I be the same man I am. It is the way of a sprouting tree.

Yes, I once wore a chain. 

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I remember everything…

I remember everything.

I remember the darkest moments of my life, and how you held a torch to help me find my way.

I remember the moments when I could not stand, and you held me steady as I struggled in rising from myself.

I remember the moments when I could not see, and your voice gave me hope.

I remember when no one would listen, and you stood up and raised my voice above the noise.

I remember when I was riddled with doubt, and your kiss stole uncertainty from my mind.

I remember when I felt alone, and your caress told me a tale of all

I remember when I needed to fly, and you let me go to venture high above the clouds.

I remember when I felt the need to dive, and you gave me space to plunge beneath the surface.

Yes, I remember it all. I remember you. I remember me when I was next to you, and I remember you when empty space is all I find. I remember you when I lay my head to sleep at night, hungry and thirsty. I remember you when I search for a place to stay dry in the storm, and when I surrender and dance in the rain.

Such is Love…and in Love I remember everything.

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I Want to Know

I sit…

Wondering…

Forever lost in words without you.

I hear the wicked calls of nature whip throughout my body, calling me to a place where ample bits of flesh reside. I see the the subtle loss of memory, the missing parts of the story of my life, scattered about the grasslands and sultry beaches we have walked.

I stand…

Wondering…

Questions discovered in having found you.

I want to know what the world looks like through your eyes. I want to see the sunrise reflected in your heart. I want to see the sights that bring the greatest joys to your soul. I want to discover the canyons and plains on which you roam, and walk with you there.

I want to know what the songs sound like in your heart. I want to feel the rhythm of your existence, and know the temporal desires that vibrate through your flesh. I want to beat the drum with you, and know the echoes that bring life to the dreams in your night.

I want to know life lived within your space, and see the end of everything when you reach the mountain’s edge. I want to seek the breath you need as you crack the ocean’s surface, and feel the strain of love’s great cause as you dive there deep again.

I want to know love’s sweet taste again, and smell the fragrance of your scent as you demand the most of me. I want to know the fierceness of your call, and never forget the heat of passion you inspire. I want your lips, your heart, your soul…there.

I sigh…

Wondering…

About all the things I want to know.

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The Two of Us

Here we are. The two of us. Lost yet never more found. Apart yet never more together. Separate yet never more one.

We can’t count the miles between us, or fathom the time that has us staring at each other through empty space. We’ve lost the number of moments we’ve sat next to empty chairs, sang songs to empty air, and grasped at sheets left undisturbed and dark in the moonless night. We are, the two of us, so much a part of each other that the emptiness of our absence only seems darker, emptier, and lonelier. I should be feeling you next to me, and you should be so confident in my presence that there is never an emptiness again.

But alas we are, the two of us, alone.

We stare at the same stars and bask in the same beautiful sunlight. We laugh at the same things, and find pleasure in the same simpleness of life. We’re both brave in our way, and even in our moments of fear there is nothing but the other roar reminding us of just how fucking powerful we are. When you lie in silence you’ll hear my purr, and when you tremble you’ll hear me roar, never doubting that you will not be left alone to fear much in the darkness.

Despite where we go, or what we do, there will always be that memory. There will always be a distant sun that reminds us of this love that never dies, of this moment that never quite lets another come to be. In that way, we never walk alone.

If we are never to be together again , my love, I know that upon my dying breaths I will take note of the gifts this life has given me. I will see the great love that surrounds me and, even in your absence, feel your soft caress upon my arm, and hear your roar that subsides my fear. I will walk softly into the night beyond, hearing forever that soft voice that has so often been the light.

Without one there would have never been the two, and without love there would have never been the two of us.

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The Dress (Somewhat Adult)

She wears her fear like a dress, allowing it to gently flow through the twirls she makes to life’s subtle sounds. It hugs her nicely, exposing a form she tries to hide yet one that can’t be shrouded, raising interest in even the most casual observer to what is underneath, what is beyond, that layer.

I want her to peel that dress off, and I want to see her naked form. I want to lightly touch her hidden places, raising bumps of pleasure along the way. I want to kiss her in spots she tries to cover, taste the drink she tries to bottle, and feel the certain joy she tries to mask in the doubts her mind shouts with reckless abandon.

The world may see her dressed, but I will see her naked. The world may see her cloaked in fabric stylish to the day, but I will see her clothing strewn about the floor of our sultry church. The world will marvel in the way she looks in that dress, but I will know her beauty without it, and I will have quite a secret to tell her in moments when she forgets just how beautiful she is.

I will touch her. We will meet in space otherworldly, and we will make love with a passion rarely known to man. She will then sink into me, knowing that I do not own her, and I will then hand her that dress to do with as she pleases.

 

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The Beginnings of Forever (Mature Only)

Yes…talk to me. Tell me your secrets. Give me those little pieces of you that you rarely share. Let me join you in the bed you’ve made for us, and  give me breath renewed to the passion we share.

These are the beginnings of forever.

Touch me in ways I will never forget, and whisper those things you fear the light hearing. Let me embrace all of you, caress those sultry mounds and aged lines, and help you find comfort in my longing gaze. Permit me in those inner walls you’ve built, and lower the gate that guards your heart. There, I know heaven exists. There, I know I’ve found a home.

Show me what you see as flaws so that I may love them in return. Bring your lips to my own so that I may kiss you, and bend your breast to my mouth so that I can awaken you. Dance around with those curlers in your hair until my arms wrap around you and your rhythm changes just a bit. Make love to me in the moonlight, in the snowy crests on where we rest, and in the clear mountain streams we’ve come to bring us back to life.

Take my hardness in your gentle hands, and let’s share our mantras of tomorrow in the songs of our ecstasy.  Take me inside you as you enter my heart, and let the rivers of passion and streams of truth flow through us. around us, and between us. Give and take of me as I give and take of you, our rough edges fit, and our subtle curves meld into one beautiful picture.

I long for that color in this black and white world. Color that expresses the whole of us in each and every moment. Color that spreads the joy of a beautiful work of art, a picture several hold but few are captured in. I long for your wit, for your humor, for your open soul even as I want for your nails dug deeply into my back, your teeth sinking into my shoulder as I enter you. I want your hand in mine as we walk among the trees, your body next to mine as we take in the scenes of great beauty around us. I want to know every inch of you as we breathe, and to offer you every cell of my existence as we take our embraces to the holiest of human endeavor.

This is such a sweet, beautiful light that, when focused, cuts through the walls of time we’ve built. This is such a wonderful fire that not only lights our way but exposes the shadows we see around us. This is the sweet fragrance that contrasts the stench, the miracle that flays open the remarkable field of possibility.

But for now, a breath as I soak in the moments that we share. In these, the beginnings of forever, we plant the seeds of eternal harvest.  I do not want to miss a moment of this sowing, just as I have not missed a moment of the tilling of this soil. I want to take in each moment as we sprout, each second as we grow, each unfolding as we bloom.

Now, off we go…each new moment the beginnings of forever carefully written in the sand.

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I’m Just F*ck*ng Crazy

Sit. Still. Now inhale. A laugh comes through this happy smile.

Sometimes, I think I am just fucking crazy.

I love a woman I can’t touch, touch a woman I can’t love, and basically fret about in tawdry places just to get along. I hear stories of woe and cringe at the memory.

This was once me…

I hear their worry, and see it in myself. I see their melancholy and feel it in me. I hear their angry, vengeful words and in no time they’re spilling from my mouth. I am the blackness I see all around me.

I am also the light within the blackness. I see someone in need, and my hand automatically shoots out to help them. I read a cardboard sign made hastily by the bearded man sitting on a bucket by the corner and I know that could be me. Despite a fear of heights, I’ve climbed ladders and rappelled from tall buildings just to save another from harm. I’ve driven deep into the fires of hell just because a voice within me told me to, and could easily have died following a silent command that wanted to experience it all.

I’m a snarky bastard who loves you tremendously. I’m a fucking asshole who wants nothing but the best for us all. I’m a strong character who creaks with the onset of time. I have an impatient wit married to a settled mind. I always believe I’m right because, frankly, if I didn’t I’d change my mind. I’m stubborn, as well as stubbornly devoted to continued change.

I am a product of childhood abuse who could never harm his own, a man once so riddled with rage that grew into great love. I’ve lost so much in my life but find my cup full. I’m usually broke but am the wealthiest man I know, and enjoy living so much that I even smile through the sadness.

So, in essence I am an oxymoron, a spirit made into flesh who is the epitome of the contrasts essential to having a wonder full experience.

In a very non-New Age way I love myself. I love my assholishness as well as the compassionate me. I don’t need to smile all the time just because some guru somewhere told me to. Sometimes I can scream and rant and rave and curse everything around me. Then, I embrace it all, love the nuances of the challenges life has for me, and move on. There is always a present moment to attend to, even if that present moment is decades old.

I embrace my humanity because it is a gift. I see that wonderfully fucked-up man in the mirror as a complete and utter saint, a being so blessed with who he is that he could not imagine changing. Of course I could always be healthier, eat better, more fit and better looking, but I am perfect in what I see despite my own judgments. I sleep alone most nights, and only feel lonely in my thoughts of a great love that is too distant to embrace at the moment. I can sit still for hours and enjoy great moments of unease in the same wonderful breath.

To some, I’m just fucking crazy. To others I may just be completely sane. To me, I am perfectly normal. Insanely normal. Wonderfully normal. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Rejoice, and embrace that spec of difference that you are, that spec of white on a darkened canvas. You give everywhere you visit the shape it so richly deserves!

I no longer fear the darkness because I know that at any time I can simply choose to see the stars that live within it. I no longer fear falling because even thought I’m going to hit the ground, I realize I was always meant to, so I might as well enjoy the ride. I no longer fear change because, frankly, change has been good for me, even when that change brought me to places where survival was far from a certainty.

I no longer fear death because I’ve died a million times already, and in doing so realized I had feared living much more. I no longer fear love because it is all that I am. No, I haven’t rejected fear to find love, rather I’ve discovered love within the fear. I’ve found that to be a wonderful awakening, one where I can love myself despite what I’ve been told are my misgivings, one where I can let myself be without much need of reform.

Does all of this make me fucking crazy? Yes, I’ll admit it does. Mostly because I like the idea that I can live so radically different from what I once saw as “sane”, exist so differently from the way I was raised, and feel so opposite of the way I once felt that I realize it takes a bit of crazy to just jump from those places. Yes, I not only hear voices in my head, but I talk to them. Often.

I hope to write even more about my insanity. I hope to fulfill my destiny, and get so muddy along the way that all you can see is my smile through the drying muck on my face. I feel a definite era of change settling in around me, of even more dedication to the path I’m clearing, of even more conversation with the voices in my head. I feel a definite release of the distractions that have kept me confined, and a change in the mindset that created those distractions to begin with.

It feels so right. So perfect. I’m still smiling. Now, I can exhale.

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What you feel is life, what you live is another story.

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