Have we been replaced?
the crumpled being in the corner mumbled,
to a jury of peers
who in quiet realize,
believe they will never allow themselves …
Yet his clothes are shabby,
the same pinstripe with a Jerry Garcia tie
pink button down oxford, and well-shined shoes,
he possessed years earlier,
during that last summit,
the day he resigned from today’s society.
Still, no one wonders where he is,
why he became,
how a life can turn beyond,
the normalcy of the human condition.
The new normal some might argue,
he might argue,
she might not care anymore,
given all the energy she spent defending
a frame of mind,
he no longer understood, or chose to wonder …
The idealism in surprise,
the beauty of spontaneity,
the sacrifice of one’s own belief system,
in order to complement
We are all too easily duped
by pretty sights,
and warm surroundings,
to such a degree of departure,
we sometimes do forget …
the crumpled man in soft murmurs.
does it matter,
do you even understand anymore,
would you recognize me in a bar.
if tomorrow we were brought together by time,
would we want to stay around each other
any longer than we did
when we thought it was the right thing to do.
I cannot seem to leave this period of my life,
I remember touch,
there was this new reality in my life that if I could just feel your fingertips
on the back of my neck,
that really is all I ever want to recall,
the sex just seemed too unreal to ever believe I could have that,
we together were so inseparable that summer
in a Volvo,
a brown 72′ wagon we would put a mattress in the back,
and travel to California together,
probably fuck quite often all the way,
we were really good at that.
If I do ever leave this place well then I know for sure I have to return
to that monotony of my life I would rather disappear from.
You do help me disappear,
I realize that today,
but I don’t think that is a really bad thing anymore,
I used to believe it unrealistic …
If I knocked on your door tomorrow, would you
I wonder if you would be the same woman I want you to think of me as
a man you knew one time before,
when we could remember this was far more real
than anything we try to pretend to be today.
a silence speaks while
we treasure our confidence.
I remember traveling pavement,
when imagining those around,
hadn’t a clue my state of mind,
I was hidden from their voice,
inside my own quiet hell.
The silence is that vacancy of my mind,
that piece I cannot fathom,
the look, the glance, the shoulder turn,
the indicators all suggest,
I am that person I cannot stand to be.
Yet, while in the truth of our own reality,
so often I will recoil,
stretch the truth to get by,
realize my desire my demon.
a word defined by stature,
status, state of mind, stoic truth
though a part of the broader picture,
often takes hiatus when reality,
that part of our lives we wish others to see,
escapes our own thoughtful
Everyday I look at trees,
at wind, at leaves, at nature’s dream.
Every night when I exhaust,
I will forget the simple beauty of
what is real in my, our, their,
in this simple silent world.
Without words, I might recognize
that symbolic gesture, less game,