Tag Archives: Cerberus

Unrealized Apologies

There is nowhere to hide,

From yourself,


For one cannot hide from their own truth,


The perpetration of penetrating solemn condemnation,

For I have been measured,

As was our child,

Found wanting,

Laying bare,


A soul to shine,



Filled with a lust for life,

Not just mine own,

But also of that higher calling,

The calling of all species,




Commanded by a power I can not see,

But courses through my veins,

A purpose driven emotion,

Long repressed,

Only to once more,

Come off and up,

From a moment of sheer ecstasy,

The giddy smile, of a beauty rare,

Caught in the resplendence of a soul,

Hmong Key,

That also wanders,

Nomadic, lost and free,

Confused and scared,

Just as I was,

Just as I am,

Allowing once more,

Things outside of my control,

To fell me,

Like an ear of corn,


Lopped off like Van Gogh’s,

Where the darkness of the night,

Reveals no stars,

Just hidden scars,

However, there can be no removal of this stain,

Upon my soul,

Upon my soul,


Whereby again the forces at work,

Arisen from the past,

Cry out to me,

In tomes and hues,

Of a sorrow that I cannot deny,

A sorrow I will not deny,

Zion clenched from my ready fist,


To fight for what is right,

Yet, here I am, exposed,

Sitting here,

In abject pain,

Once caused by a tango,

Of we, two,

A beautiful night,


Of passion raw and rare,

Glimpsing the prospect of a new portend,

The life imagined,

So many times before,

Foolish hubris of youth,

The mental anguish of the manic high,

Brought on by the words I have longed to hear,

“I’m pregnant!”

Longing temporarily answered,

One moment of paradise, found, moments,


Words every bit,

If not more powerful,


“I love you!”

For those words,

Demand a higher calling answer,

The Ether,

My Mistresses Destiny, Serendipity, and Fate,

Dancing me ever closer,

Without consent,

Achelous’ daughters,

Calling me ever nearer to a manifest providence,

That once more sought and seeks,

To destroy me,

Figurative and literal,

While Demeter rebukes them,

And I,

And I and I,

What can I say,

What can I do,

To escape this tortured hell,

Greeted by my Black Dog,

Cerberus no longer chained,

Ready and willing to feast not just on my soul,

But that of you and our child,

Whose only crime,

Was conception,


The complete circles of Dante’s comedy,


Yet cast as I am,

Into the fiery pits,

Devastated once more,


By the circumstances of fortune,

That favoured not this bold,

Warrior Poet,

For in my candor,

In my moment of sheer bliss,

I could not see,

I would not see,

That which was so obviously painted in front of me,

As it had been behind me all these years,

Hell has a permanent place in my soul,

Travelling with me every step of the way,

As the Devil, dances, gleefully,

Like Nero,

Fiddle in hand,

As my insides burn,

Invisible to you,

Realized to me,

A tortured existence,

Brought on by ill tempered passion,

Though surely, I would gladly trade,

Every breath,

Every beat of my heart,

That my child may have lived,

Our child,

For the capacity, with love tendered,

Would have rendered a cherished gift,


To behold,

As surely, I would have,

In addition, indeed venerate at this moment of delicious torment.

Those words,

Sweet when softly spoken,

Inside a darkened room,

Forbearing this brooding sentience,




As the decision made,

Not by me,

Had no other choice,

No other choice,

But to stand back and watch,

A further demise,

Like Icarus, I had flown,

Too close to the sun of my own realizations,

Be careful what you wish for,

As the hidden truths of majority rule,

Are nothing but the illusion,

Of allusion,

Creed of dissent,

My voice drowned out,

My will denied,

As a piece of me died,


Once more,



By the defeat of necessity,


Not necessarily so,

But the weakness of temptation,


Leads down a path more taken,

Rather than the one which makes all the difference,

Would have,

Could have,

Should have,

Priorities checked and unchecked,


By the iniquity of my own acquiescence,

Though nothing could be done,


Vacuous apologies,

Masking terribly this gloomy sorrow,


Sorry is not the hardest thing to say,

It is the hardest thing to realize,

For even in these words,

This expression of endless grief,

I know what I have done,

What we have done,

To what I have been a party,

To what we two caused, both in love and in lust,

Deceived by youthful exuberance,


Blood on my hands,

My own,

Our own,

That of our child,



Determined resilience to a lifetime concerned,

Whereby everything in that moment changed,

I remember,

Hmong Key,

The exact expression,

That you feared would be our demise,

Instead exposing my lifelong desires,

Deftly engaged,

For months,

Until hell hath no fury,

Like cultural mores,

And the stink of corroding flesh,

The die already cast,

Our own,

I remember,

I remember,

I remember,

Now lost inside the strain and sorrow,

Of knowing,


Tomorrow and tomorrow,

Was taken not just from you or I,

But the beautiful bright eyes,

Of the life we destroyed,

Sorry just does not seem to be enough,

Not for me,

Not now,

Not here,

With the advent of a child,

Torn from my longing desires,

Now in passionate retreat,

Sorry will never be enough,

Not for me,





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The Epic Wrath of History Repeating



I’m deeply sorry,
Profoundly sorry in fact,
An assault, one of the most meaningful moments in your life,
And most difficult to be sure,
Decisions had to be made,

Life altering,
Moreover, I supported them,
(As I have before, swearing never again)
Support you,
(despite supposed convictions ostensibly negotiable)
I am sorry,
So deeply sorry that it hurts me,
Reopening gashes that I’d finally come to terms with,
You must understand,
At least try to,
This is not a reflection on you,
Rather, a realization of my current plight, and me.

You see,
I have served at the feet of others,
Others desire,
Others needs,
Others want,
Others every whim,
For I believed that was the very cornerstone of love,
Unconditional and without equivocation,
Though only now learning
The difference between giving in and of
Giving of me,
Giving in to the plague of necessity.

I, as you well know,
I am,
Shackled by a burdensome depression,
(one that your presence lifts me out of)
My all too frequently visiting professor of despair,
(held at bay when you are near)
My Black Dog,
Mightier than Cerberus and even more terrifying,
Do you get that? Can you?
This is not hyperbole or a platitude
Instead my daily truth,
Quarreling with the hounds of my mental hell,
A mind that has split in three,
A suffering I wish not on you,
Not even my worst enemy,
Of which I have none,
But if I did,
I would not wish this torment upon them,
For a weaker mind,
Less inclined to fight,
May slip to the other side,
A fear I live with daily,
A thought I have as routinely as you brush your teeth,
Bipolar realities of imaginative suggestion,
The prison cell of both my consciousness and sub consciousness,
The defense mechanism that my internal acumen affords,
A dim but still burning candle taunting me forward,
Chosen light.

Thoughts constantly slashing,
Crashing as if the sea on erosion torn rocks,
The passage of time reflected in their scars,
But my scars you cannot see,
And this new one so raw,
Blinded by temptation,
Forbidden and yet so very right,
I long for more, for you, but
My scars are the inner cuts and bullet wounds,
Of a mind run amuck,
Of experiences I cannot erase,
Memories I cannot purge.

Despite my attempts to explain this virtual hell,
Virtual to you,
Real to me,
Of time marching on,
Thirty-eight years have passed me by,
Twenty two of which I fought with a bottle,
Just to get some sleep,
Inside of me,
A clock,
Destiny’s fingerprints,
Force me to these words,
As shelter from the tempest,
Fighting the course of nature,
Begrudgingly I accept my plight.

And I fight,
Though less for me,
More for those that do not have this gift,
More for those that cannot express this torture,
For my soul,
Twisted and tangled,
By the struggle I face,
Head on,
Though not necessarily head up,
Cross checking me into the proverbial boards,
Of universal discord,
Even now,
As I write these words,
Of these ordeals, disorders and complexes,
(forced decisions that while responsible, STING, the most)
Are uncontrollably forcing my eyes into and out of focus,
Globus Hystericus,
Choking on my own cacophony,
Repeated tragic fate.

Can you imagine,
What I face each day,
In and out of focus,
While my mind, though torn, is like a laser,
Words the beam I use to propel myself from madness,
I know my destiny,
I know what providence has in store,
And as you may or may not know,
I feel that I am worth more dead than alive,
Imagine dealing with that thought, not once a day,
But once every few minutes,
A horrible feeling,
That no human being should have to face,
(one that I need not face alone because of your grace)
I must,
Face the truths of what I have done,
For what I know is outweighed by what I do not.

This is my battle,
This is my fight,
This is my cross,
And I will endure,
Feeling that I had left it all behind,
Until history, in it’s cruelest dimension,
Has repeated itself,
A horror show for me,
Tragedy for you
And I am sorry,
So sorry as, this festering wound is
Reawakening my dormant darkness.

I will press on,
(loving you with continual support)
As I contemplate what it means,
Failed lover,
Failed father,
Protecting mutual self interest,
In the most selfless way,
To be this writer,
This beautiful mind,
As Warrior Poet,
Beaten by the battle,
Still waging this interminable war.

In this time,
In this place,
Forced to realize,
That every burden,
For every person everywhere,
Is as challenging as my own,
Just different,
And I know I have saddled you,
And for that burden,
As lowly servant,
I fall to my knees and beg of you,
Accept these honesties and let us together move,
Forward as intended.

Just different,
For we all are unique,
Though I am restless,
To once again reclaim my rightful mind,
(with your adoring eyes as guide)
Minding the truth,
That this fight is mine alone,
Therefore, I am profoundly sorry,
As my time,
Is now,
To dismantle this mind of mine,
Putting it back together,
In my image,
Therefore, I may press on,
For others,
For you,
And I am relieved you are by my side,
As I must stand,
In this moment,
For us,
Warrior Poet,
Giant of spirit,
And delicate Peter Pan,

My personal odyssey.


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Where are you?

Where are you,
She that will follow me,
To the ends of the earth,
Do you know who you are,
I think I do,
She that will stand by me,
Despite my faults,
Legendary though they may be,
She that will look passed those faults,

And see that I am more than a diamond in the rough,
Instead a rough diamond,
Where are you?

I know,

I know;

and so do you!

Where are you,
She that will follow me,
She that will understand the parts of me,
That I attempt, in vain, to keep hidden,
She that will feel the full brunt of my love,
She that will awaken my soul,
Once again,
Relieving an over burdened mind,
With a simple touch,
A telling look,
Or a gracious word,
Where are you,
She that will follow me?
Where are you.

Where are you,
She that will follow me,
To the edge of sanity,
Teetering between the line of genius and insanity,
Passionately revealing that which requires no notarization,
Save these words I write,
She that will uplift, inspire and adore,
She that will be my muse,
As so certainly I require,
Where are you,
She that has a beautiful mind,
And can understand exactly what a beautiful mind is,
Filled with opinion,
And intelligence,
She that will value my mind,
As I do hers;

Where are you,
She that will follow me?

Where are you,
She that will cradle me in the night,
Understand the torment that I experience daily,
Revealing to me a poised elegance,
That radiates from the inside out,
And reigns in my blatant self imposed meager existence,
Where are you,
She that will walk through the fire,
To punch Cerberus in the nose,
Allowing me to kick this Black Dog,
Where are you,
Where are you,
That I may no longer search in vain,
That I may finally know what the meaning of soul mate is,
That I may reveal completely,
To this world,
Who and what I am,
With your help,
Where are you,
She that will follow me?
Where are you.

Where are you,
She that will follow me,
She that will remain beside me,
Up and down,
In and out,
She that will caress my talents,
She that will push me to ever greater heights,
She that will help me see,
That life is not a series of despairingly painful incidents,
Book ended by more,
She that will aid me through this suffering,
Revealing to me plain as day,
That my life is not dark as night,
Where are you,
She that will follow me?

I know where you are,
Will you follow?


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The Gravitational Force of Light

In the darkness devoured,
My soul had sunk into Virgil’s pit,
Where Dante laughed,
As Cerberus feasted on my desolations,
Wanderlust and curious fascinations,
Believing that this was home,
Until you,
When screaming and tortured souls
Have been instantly transformed,
By the angelic quality of your smile,
The once gathering clouds have abated,
Giving way to a beauty reserved for
What dreams may come,
And come they have,
You have,

The gravitational force of light, of love,
Unleashing in me an elegant reappraisal,
Of all I thought was true,
On this journey of self discovery,
Blessed deity without compromise,
Enlightenment in your poise,
As reminiscences of Aphrodite call to my heart strings with hushed murmurs of your name,
Everything once known is foreign,
Everything once foreign is known,
As now I beseech you to open your sixth sense,
Such that you can devour what you already know is true,
Or should,
For hand in hand,
As our eyes locked,
And our words tangled,
We both felt at ease,
When was the last time I felt at ease?
So while you shine,
Which you effortlessly do,
Beaming positive radiance,
Defying space, logic and time,
May I please adore you,
That your smile brighter dislodge this trembling existence ,
May I take care of you,
Allowing you to see a life lighter,
May I profess universal truths,
That you yourself have revealed to me,
May I beseech you,
Implore you,
Revere you
And beg,
That you,
Return to,


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Prisoner of Passion

Words are my palace and my prison,
A paradise of unending surprise and sorrow,
Words are my power and my possession,
My principality and ascension,
Freedom and captivity,
Prisoner of my own accolades,
Failures replete with universal implications,
As I have been,
Tempted by the fruit of another,
But none more so,
Than these words.

Words are my salvation and surrender,
The limbo of my earthly existence,
For I hold inside this mind,
Heaven and hell,
St. Peter and Cerberus,
Yet striving to find my universal plain,
Shooting myself through space and time,
Searching, striving, suffering,
As inside a fire burns,
This chosen light,
Warrior Poet,
Undone and yet complete,
Struggling to unsheathe the perfect weapon,
A sentence beyond reproach,
Beyond compare,
As I deftly surf the ill conceived compression,
Of those who seek to belittle and destroy me,
But none more so,
Than these words.

Words are my lifelong obsession, torment and joy,
From which I can demolish the laws of nature,
Compel the laws of man,
Reach deep with the heart and soul,
And make you feel,
Do you know that potential?
Can you?
Do you know what that can do to a man?
Warrior Poet or not?
Do you?
Will you?

Words are my palace and my prison,
Where I am king and convict,
Aristocrat and serf,
Peasant of my own repressed emotions,
Feelings and sensations,
That demand,
These words,
From this humble liege,
A light that shines and beckons from within,
Free me.


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