Monthly Archives: May 2012

Reason Be Our Guide? I think NOT

Reason,
There is no reason…
 
Let reason no longer be our guide,
For it has steered us wrong,
Directing us down the path most taken,
Rather than the more righteous and rewarding path,
That leads us to sublime and infinite delights,
Passion and requited love,
For there is no reason,
None at all,
Only rhyme,
Only the suffering of logic,
Inspired by meandering fools,
Of ignorance’s suggestion,
Reason be not enough,
Supplanting the torture of a wounded heart,
Reason be not kind,
When love has given way to comfort,
And comfort has given way to decay,
The once sweet aroma of true bliss,
Given way because of reason,
To a resistant strain of manifest destiny,
Reason be not enough,
To uplift,
To inspire,
To require a deeper and divinely rich appreciation of love,
No reason be not kind,
To the lover poet,
Warrior of words,
Who herein bestows truth,
Free from reason,
In spite of logic,
Herein requires that you abandon reason,
Claiming from reason that which is yours,
Feelings and emotions,
The only true human reward,
Both pain and suffering,
Sorrow and ecstasy,
Free from the glare of that impossible urge,
To analyze,
To dull,
To squash those, which reason need, not interfere,
Nor are reasons sought,
Let reason no longer be our guide,
For there is no reason,
None at all,
And should you fall prey,
Become victim of reason in matters of the heart,
I can assure you,
That logic dictates,
That love will fade into insignificance,
For in matters of the heart,
Reason can not supplant passion,
And passion is not logical,
Therefore,
Let it reach the furthest corners of this earth,
Shout it from the mountain tops,
Express it on every corner in every city on earth,
Where love exists,
Reason be prisoner to passion,
And as guard passion will guide the way to whole feelings,
And that,
Is the greatest gift we will ever know,
Should we figure it out…
 
SDM

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At First

 
At first,
The heart feels as if it is imploding,
As if love had goaded you into an imagined place,
Through the looking glass,
Like wonderland,
For surely that is the fantastic reality of love in bloom,
Yet what remains,
When the wonderland gives way to wasteland,
Blossom gives way to decay,
The once championed longing,
Now more like an unseemly repression,
Clearly the space was more than the distance between us,
Hidden though it may have been,
Malicious or not,
Realities clear,
Where’s the medicine,
Scotch,
The sauce as putrid escape.
 
At first,
Like a heroin addict,
Craving just one more fix,
The days seem to go on ad infinium,
The once healthy and affirming love,
Becomes a toxic narcotic,
That threatens the very ability to breath,
Living more like dying,
As the body and mind combine dramatically,
Where every single sensation,
Is a painful remembrance of something you can no longer hold,
Save for the memories, which themselves,
Are more like bullet wounds where once were kisses,
Sleepless nights,
Torrid thoughts,
Impossible or so it seems.
 
At first,
As time passes,
The once impressive love,
Becomes a lonely recollection,
The sign that the convalesce of the spirit,
Is near complete,
The time then nigh,
To rise above your own feelings,
Reclaim what was yours all along,
And begin anew to live.
 
At first,
Everything seems made up,
Like every one is a cutout of a cutout,
As by nature one compares the past with the present,
Hoping to create a future,
Though impossible as you hold fast to the past,
You must let go,
You must allow yourself the opulence,
Of anew,
Feeling human,
Having feelings,
Finding emotions,
That will again carry you through the day,
Enriching your life,
As only love can,
There is no remedy for love,
But love.
 
SDM
 

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Love’s Resume

Love’s Resume
An Open Letter to Love (Wherever and Whoever You Are)
 
Whoever you are know this;
 
I have loved you since the day I was born. My every thought is of you and the love that we already share – though neither of us knows it.
 
In the spirit of honesty and openness I thought you should know;
 
I don’t have a job. (Nor do I want or believe that I can hold one – I am done playing that game)
 
I am a writer and always have been.
 
Though for years I ran from this truth as I wasn’t prepared to play the game I had to play in order to be one. However, I have written for advertisers, politicians, corporations and even some magazines.  (I didn’t like nor respect the strings or hoops I had to jump through)
 
That being said as a writer it is important for you to know;
 
I hear voices (lots of them including Hemingway, The Fitzgerald’s, Whitman, Shakespeare and more)
I am temperamental and can at times have a short fuse
I attend my shrink like others attend church trying to unlock the secrets of my madness
I take pills, several of them, in an attempt to exist (the alternative would prevent our meeting and falling in love)
I drink (no excuse offered though I can tell you it is far less than I use to)
I live life to the fullest and record it dutifully (for when I am gone my words will live on)
I can and do write on anything for several hours a day and it is all that keeps me sane
I think of you so much you’d laugh
I write about you so much you’ll cry
I am imperfect
I have a beard at present and may at points in my life feel it necessary to have one (to protect me – more on that later)
I SMOKE, (I QUIT)
 
I pang for the perfect sentence…
 
So yes, I am a writer and there is no question you MUST love me for this or it will never work.
 
I don’t have a penny to my name. (Well maybe a few and I can give you my two cents worth on this one if you would like)  Again this being said it is important for you to note;
 
Money does not make the world go round. Love does.  ONLY LOVE.
Money is necessary to live and for nothing more.
I will never hold a job again.
I am already the wealthiest man in the world because I am choosing to live this life the way that I see fit not by some arcane and asinine rules that do nothing to enrich my life or give it meaning.
 
I have no want of material things save the computer I am now typing on, a few changes of clothes and food.
 
I have no desire to live in a mansion or own a Ferrari.
 
I have no desire to live in a city. Though I could live close.
 
I seek life, daily, responding to the little intricacies that others fail to see.
 
The outlined above is an indication of the things I think you should know that are negative. What follows is self explanatory.
 
My name is Sender,
I have loved three women,
I have been the world over in search of requited love,
I am thirty five,
I am highly educated and in great shape,
I am the third of eight children,
I want a family,
(though I fear that I may not have one now)
I want a wife
(a lover that I can call home)
I want a home
(though I know not whether it will be in North America  or anywhere else
as I travel with the winds that guide me to you)
I want to travel constantly,
I still have at least twenty plays, three books, six movies and tens of thousands of poems to write,
I am intelligent, kind, caring, loyal, compassionate, empathetic, romantic,
a big softy with a gruff exterior,
I am an attentive and passionate lover,
I am assured that I am a great kisser,
I love to cook and long to cook for you (trained in classical French and self taught in cuisines around the world)
I will always give you the best of me,
I am giving to a fault (this has gotten me in trouble with all three previous lovers)
Offer great advice,
Offer you a sanctuary without judgment,
Always tell you the truth (sometimes believe me you won’t like this)
I will always show up,
 
I long for you…
If only I knew who you were…
 
Do you?
 
SDM

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I Want To Live Again

I want to live again,
Without feeling like I need to ask this wayward brain for permissions,
I want to live again,
As once I did,
A little more wise,
A little less destructive,
A little more happy,
A little less torn,
I want to be free of these troubles,
These blues that cry out for freedom,
These blues that are every shade of sadness,
Shall I be free,
From the unrelenting toll of progress,
While wearing cement shoes,
This devious and dark friend,
That is more enemy,
Yet remains the gift my intellect has given me,
Broken in three,
Two different solitudes,
With me in the middle,
Supposedly driving the bus,
Would that I could be a fool,
Would I,
Would you,
Should I,
No,
For that price is too high,
So this pain,
Is the toll that I must pay,
On the highway of desolate regards,
This Black Dog is the one with which I must walk,
All the days of my life,
But I want to live again,
Truly live,
Without this passionate grasp of emotional fear,
My frayed nerves craving a moment without trembling fear,
For it must be fear,
Though I am not ignorant,
As I traverse these daily trespasses,
Hoping to discover,
The secret that makes three, one,
And one stand proud and strong,
Dominant me leading the charge,
Fighting the righteous battle,
Of my own indignation,
Towards the present that I’ve been given,
The gift of words,
The curse of the same,
Constantly traversing an ever changing line,
Towards myself,
That I am loosing control,
I am not in control,
Of these enemies that I must keep closer,
If I am to find the will not just to survive,
But thrive,
I want to live again,
As once I did,
Carefree and elegant,
Innocent and determined,
Finding my inner child is my liberation,
As Peter Pan floats through the air,
I no longer want to be shattered,
A fragment of a fragment,
A splinter of a shard,
A solitary piece of a broader whole,
No I want to reclaim my life,
Driving I and I,
Into I,
I want to continue down this path,
Paved not with good intention,
For surely I am already living in hell,
No this path requires good actions,
Constantly rewarded,
For making strides against this current of depressions dark river,
Filled with tears and sorrow,
Hanging over my head,
As Chicken Little squawks that the sky is falling,
Not falling chicken, not falling,
Drooping,
Sagging filled with a depth of morose impressions,
Just like my intellect,
In a war I fight to win,
But lose battles daily,
I want my life back,
I want to be free from this burden,
Free from this strife,
Free to roam with internal peace,
Forged on the back,
Of illnesses that none should have to face,
So I sit back,
And write my way back to sanity,
Or perhaps to insanity,
Either way,
One day,
I will be free,
I shall be free,
Please,
Let me be,
Free.
 
SDM

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