I would like to be a writer. I began this site with amorous intentions, and over the course of time, I hope to have evolved as a male in an ever changing society that is today, recognizing the true beauty and elegance of woman. My words and notions will I hope respond in poetic verse of many genre and style. Come along and please share your ideas and insights. Thank you for your visit.

Posts tagged “depression

This Quiet Shell


I am this quiet

piece of my remaining self,

no one knows,

I won’t let anyone else

inside,

I’m only this

secluded memory

not shared

therefore

non-existent.


How I Destroyed Love


The fragile nature of knowing,

having insight,

the kind we like to deny,

that’s my world,

the crisp reality of burning flesh.

 

When scarred,

there is no matter of hope

the once brilliant scope

of passion, unbridled

desire in sweeping form

 

Is gone, felt in some waves,

occasional reminders,

a soft smile,

a similar glance,

quiet afternoon reflection.

 

All I can do is stave off

the tears that cry

my name,

the only name I can say aloud,

for the privacy of love remain.

 

I wonder how it became so crazy

that I can only answer riddles

in my own mind,

and they’re not nearly as satisfying

as a look in her eyes.

 

Only today, I realized

alone

how easily I did

destroy love,

a quiet solace is my nightmare.


There Are These Wintry Days


When in the atmosphere

of sheltered season,

when the ground lay bare,

inside a white coating of nature’s ware,

There are days

when I do sit alone,

in my own despair,

I wonder

how long mihgt this travel

I have endured cause little beware,

when suddenly

it becomes

the overwhelming truth

and no solace

might ever allow some patience,

some retrospect,

a certain category of

life is difficult

and we all learn through own

own endearing event.


Inside The Mind Of Depression


I wonder if they know,

his mind was quite unspoken,

when a revelation

of sanity would steal his passion.

 

Sitting alone again,

alone again,

sitting again in the quiet of an evening,

wondering just how this happens,

wandering throughout the many avenues,

the mind will take this forlorn

mechanic

this human condition,

this interaction,

a travesty one might suggest if only anyone else

really cared as much as

the real victims that exist around

our selves

all the time.

 

Ever do we wonder about the soul,

when lost in the critical masses

of exceptional reasoning.

 

Inside that depression piece,

seems to speak its own mind

when no other reasoning

comes to mind.

 

On a given day,

the world,

no matter if it might be local,

perhaps across the world,

there is a reason,

if in the beat of our audible pulse,

the heart can speak,

and she will honor love.

 


A Silent Reckoning


Absolute stillness, a quiet,

has its own foreboding feel,

footsteps of an animal,

ever soft, nearby,

curious,

eyes will look, though concern,

only for affection.

 

Back to silence,

ticking in the distance,

soft notification,

an eternal reminder

how quickly august has arrived.

A person might smell the fear,

the unknown,

a wonder of purpose.

 

If there were a music,

to bring me somewhere,

I would choose its tantric

melody

to hide this anxiety,

though it is the will of the mind,

a trapping of this questionable

sanity.

 

Is it all artificial,

this world we live in,

everything man-made

without suggestion

of miracle,

divine intervention,

a thorough timeliness,

to a clear definition.

 

I wonder out loud,

a heavy gasp,

air traffic overhead,

I realize now just why,

sitting in the comfort of my home,

the restlessness does continue,

without offering a solution,

only further reason to …

sigh.


Feeling Isolation


It is sometimes not a choice,

this element of a stationary hold

on moving forward.

A desire, a passion, a sense of drive,

suddenly sedentary,

asking for little in return,

yet the payoff is frightening.

 

While standing in the middle of a storm,

sometimes wishing to be caught,

whisked away like a piece of dust,

no longer apparent,

just a brief tug on someone’s imagination,

maybe nostalgic,

a sweet reminder

of a different time.

 

How often is it they never really knew,

the leftovers,

a salad with every favorite spice,

and yet

the element of taste

is its final departure.

 

When long ago,

I first gained consciousness,

I remember this immediate sadness,

I cried for many hours,

holding on to a memory,

a lasting storyline

that after awhile,

rather soon really,

it bored my closest allies,

or so they seemed,

and I had to let it go,

yet we all know love always returns.

 

I suppose if I let the notes continue to

dance upon the keyboard,

I might suddenly realize,

perhaps soon enough,

or maybe …

there is a purpose in feeling,

in responding to the emotional drain,

in gathering strength,

in overcoming.

See this is the apparent flaw,

that part that only wishes to dull the pain.

Where is that urgency

to step up the dopamine.


When Shock Numbs the Soul


It is a relief,

a quiet release of air,

then a somber tone,

maybe a tear.

 

It’s when we finally,

understand,

or we recognize we need to.

 

So often in our lives,

we pretend we haven’t any more time,

and yet,

look what happens years later,

we suddenly come to terms with mortality.

 

We are funny sometimes,

the way we protest,

create a mountain out of

a simple phrase,

then afterward, we cry.

 

And the beat goes on …