Room 108 Night

He awakened to a dull blanketing clamor
Lights and shadows moved across the ceiling and walls, caused by passing cars and
Nothing looked familiar around the room
The smell of a cheap hotel, the towels, the pillows

When he was driving all those hours and hours he thought –
He thought, and kept thinking, at least he would sleep, sleep till daylight
But —
No such luck

And loneliness like a truck with its high beams on
  bore down on him with the horn blaring
And he had nowhere to go to get away from it

Blank emptiness chasing him like
  the crazy vindictive trucker in that Spielberg movie he saw as a kid —
What was it called?
Oh yeah –
“The Duel” —

He wondered when people had last had sex in that room –
He wondered if he would ever have sex again –
He wondered if he would ever get back to sleep

He could still smell bourbon from somewhere,
With ever more lights and maddening shadows moving —

The heater was blowing, singing a sort of suicide song
And he suddenly understood —
What the words of that song

Meant

Stains

You think about it all the time,
But never have you said

The weight you carry in your heart,
The words within your head —

But in the morning, hard and gray,
You’ve known these secret pains

Then covered up the traces,
All the bruises and the stains.

To all the world you’ve shown a face
You’ve painted on for show,

But that’s become habitual;
Now, everywhere you go,

You just display the sunlight.
You’re a beacon mid the rains,

And no one sees the leakage,
Or the bleeding, or the stains.

It doesn’t matter anyway.
You know that’s how you think —

And when you seem on edge, I know
You’re really on the brink —

Why is it that you won’t come clean?
There really is no knowing,

But maybe you’ll see hope to know
Your stains at last

Are showing

The Night Was Made for Loneliness

The night was made for loneliness,
For sitting by the sea;
For watching sunset, knowing you
Are far away from me

The dark, it loves my aimlessness,
My visions that take flight;
It also sends these slow regrets
To nag me through the night

My mind me keeps turning back to you
And reaching for you there —
The night was made for loneliness,
And knowing you

Don’t

 
Care

The Ugliness of Life

The ugliness of life, it waits
Around the corner, in the dark;
For all we might procrastinate,
The ugliness of life will leave it’s mark.

For long with patience will it seek
The moments we are down, or weak,
And scour down the shores and docks,
The country roads, or city blocks,
Or happy pathways in the mist
That we might hap to walk upon.
The ugliness of life, it sits
And from its hiding place, it won’t be drawn.

Until the moment it might choose
To show itself, to our regret:
When all we seem to have, we lose,
And our few certainties, upset.
Yet still we travel, as we must,
Our meagre stock of hope and pride,
With ugliness around, we trust
It’s sister, loveliness, is just outside…

The ugliness of life is there,
Around the corner, every day;
In all we seek, for all we dare,
The ugliness of life won’t
Go away

To My Friend (Who I Do Not Yet Know)

When I was in my twenties
My body fell apart
And inflammation spread down to
The lining on my heart

I started to have seizures
My platelet count was low
I was awash in bruises
From my head down to my toe

They had to take out part of
The structure of my back
My spleen was then the next to go
And what else? I lost track

I had to go on steroids
And gained X million pounds
Believe me when I tell you
It was worse than it sounds

The guy I asked to watch my house
Cleaned out my bank account
While I was in the hospital
With all this to surmount

And I was so depressed
I wanted all to end —
But what I want to tell you
My still yet unmet friend,

Is sometimes good things happen
That we cannot explain;
That I, somehow, got better
And found relief from pain

I wish that I could guarantee
A bolt out of the blue
But healing one day came to me
And could still come to you

Connected

The emptiness that is my soul,
The hopelessness that lies this way,
Are each a temporary thing:
For moods are minutes in a day,

The day that life is in this span,
And questions come as answers flee,
As dreaming hovers, like the clouds
That swirl around us restlessly.

These chemicals that we call “us”
Are scattered bits of foreign stars,
With each a flickering, at best,
That maybe lights, or maybe mars

The footsteps of some other’s way.
This is the truth that solace knows:
That where we go, some other’s gone,
And someone in the future goes,

For we’re connected, though we feel
Apart, alone, and frankly, lost —
For empty roads and searching hearts
Both find the ones who life has tossed

About. Like you. I know it’s true,
For every bit of warm regard
You send my way, there is the trace
Of how well you know, “life is hard.”

But out there, on the road you’re on,
Are different detours and travails,
For though you’ve been rerouted, it
Cannot be truly said, “she fails –”

As long as you – and me as well –
Can be true to our loves, our friends,
And try our best from where we are,
And when we ought to, make amends,

Then barren times, and barren earth,
Need not dismay or set us back.
For every path is different, every
Surplus is a kind of lack

And it’s our choices make us, us.
Not circumstance, or skill, or looks,
What kind of car we own or drive,
How many cats, how many books —

Our character they say’s our fate.
I have not always welcomed this:
But I have seen the sunrise smile,
And I have felt my true love’s kiss,

So empty roads need not be so.
If I perspective take, and keep,
I can adjust to hills and turns
And when I stop, relax, and sleep,

And know, that though we be but mist,
We have a purpose here, today,
And that each cloud that wanders, will
Get lost, sometimes, along the way.

Charcoal

Every Saturday, her dad
Would grill in their backyard;
With charcoal hot on cinder blocks,
While she kept watch and guard.

And savory and sapid-sweet
Were those times without care;
Until the day the grill went cold,
And her dad wasn’t there.

See, no one lit those coals again,
Although she looked in vain;
In bars and underneath soft sheets
She sought that taste again.

She could not find her lost charcoal;
Her desperate search – no trace –
Till she woke in a small white room
With charcoal on her face