In those fleeting moments between sleep and wide awake
My thoughts wander for a moment, and a sharp turn take
They bring to mind a moment that I once had known
But it was just a moment, before my heart was stone.
And in that fleeting moment, too many things I learned
The lips on mine a moment, the passion how it burned
That single heartfelt moment, I hoped would never end
A partner for a moment, a love not just a friend.
My mind seeks out the moment, when we our love expressed
and in that very moment, our friendship we did test
and push moment'try boundaries to places far away
and forever, for that moment, I hoped that you would stay
Then in that brief moment, when we crossed our rubicon
Our hearts were lost that moment, and all we had was gone
I long for the moment, before innocence was lost
For though we had our moment, how very high the cost!
Friday, January 12, 2007
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Icarus, Part II
The LCD panel on the seat in front of me shows a map that places us somewhere over Greenland. It is at least another 4 hours until we land in London.
I have been attempting to formulate a game-plan for my arrival. I have nowhere to stay and was only able to pull about $5,000 in cash together before I left. I know my paychecks will continue to come for at least one more pay-period, and I can pull the maximum out of the ATM.
The major problem is work. Without a visa, it may be difficult to find "gainful" employment.
I have been attempting to formulate a game-plan for my arrival. I have nowhere to stay and was only able to pull about $5,000 in cash together before I left. I know my paychecks will continue to come for at least one more pay-period, and I can pull the maximum out of the ATM.
The major problem is work. Without a visa, it may be difficult to find "gainful" employment.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Icarus Part I
The voice on the intercom that calls the flights is cold and calm.
The authority with which United Flight 1024 is called to gate B2 and American Flight 512 to gate G8 and Delta 256 to somewhere else is reassuring as I doze in the uncomfortable terminal seating. My name has not been called and I wait for that authoritative, reassuring voice to call me--an indication that I will soon depart this place leaving my cares behind. I am really in no hurry. The next flight will do, wherever it goes. It makes me wish that an Eurail Pass could be developed for American flights. Lee Marvin sang, "Where am I going? I don't Know. When will I get there? I ain't certain. All that I know is I am on my way!"
It will be at least two days until someone becomes worried enough to go by my house. At least two days until they discover I've left. I hope I left the cat enough food.
The authority with which United Flight 1024 is called to gate B2 and American Flight 512 to gate G8 and Delta 256 to somewhere else is reassuring as I doze in the uncomfortable terminal seating. My name has not been called and I wait for that authoritative, reassuring voice to call me--an indication that I will soon depart this place leaving my cares behind. I am really in no hurry. The next flight will do, wherever it goes. It makes me wish that an Eurail Pass could be developed for American flights. Lee Marvin sang, "Where am I going? I don't Know. When will I get there? I ain't certain. All that I know is I am on my way!"
It will be at least two days until someone becomes worried enough to go by my house. At least two days until they discover I've left. I hope I left the cat enough food.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Listen to the Rain
Come walk with me into the rain
that falls like loving tears
And wittiness catastrophic love
that spans the troubled years
and has left my gentle heart in shreds
alone, exposed to fears
too terrible to comprehend
just pray that hope appears.
The sound of softly falling rain
that echos in my head
Is amplified by loneliness
and fortified by dread
The sound drowns out the outside world
and fills my every sense
It takes away my consciousness
and leaves my body tense.
The subtle smell that comes with rain
promises life's rebirth
it overcomes the bitter scent
that fills my hell on earth
reminding me of dead flowers baked
in sunlights brutal rays
their beauty lingers, essence gone
their perfume fast decays
Like tears it comes from darkened skies
to fall upon the dust
of this the desert of my life ,
devoid of love and trust,
are fast absorbed by thirsty cracks
that run across my soul
but nothing do they satisfy
nothing do they make whole.
that falls like loving tears
And wittiness catastrophic love
that spans the troubled years
and has left my gentle heart in shreds
alone, exposed to fears
too terrible to comprehend
just pray that hope appears.
The sound of softly falling rain
that echos in my head
Is amplified by loneliness
and fortified by dread
The sound drowns out the outside world
and fills my every sense
It takes away my consciousness
and leaves my body tense.
The subtle smell that comes with rain
promises life's rebirth
it overcomes the bitter scent
that fills my hell on earth
reminding me of dead flowers baked
in sunlights brutal rays
their beauty lingers, essence gone
their perfume fast decays
Like tears it comes from darkened skies
to fall upon the dust
of this the desert of my life ,
devoid of love and trust,
are fast absorbed by thirsty cracks
that run across my soul
but nothing do they satisfy
nothing do they make whole.
Friday, January 05, 2007
February 3, 2004
slowly she moves, low to the ground, approaching, watching, listening, waiting for the right moment to catch me unprepared, unaware, her golden watching eyes never for a moment leave, their focus on my every move is kept
i see her approach, i feel her eyes searing fate into my soul and with every breath that gives life to my clay shell, my destiny sealed with the force of a thousand angry gods to which she belongs and to whom she will offer my soul
she cares not for the good that lies at my core, she sees only her prey and with that all-consuming thought she waits for the moment i am alone to pounce for she is nothing but cold, dark, silent reality from which there is no escape.
Monday, January 01, 2007
The Morning After
The Morning After
At one point in the night, the rules became void.
Nearing midnight, the normal decorous behaviors that one might have attributed to the prior year become obsolete.
That clock chime of midnight, followed by cheers of the New Year, the kisses, the hugs, the stolen glances, the raucous and illicit behavior that is normally unacceptable becomes the norm.
Inhibitions are ignored. The party is on.
And as the ticking of the clock begins counting down the seconds of the New Year, the spell wears off, one tick at a time.
The magical and wondrous moments that were so special in the fleeting moments of the previous year become tarnished as the spell fades.
With that stroke of midnight the ball gowns vanish and the rags reappear, the crystal slippers show their tarnish, the noble steed becomes a humble mouse once again.
And the guests who partake in libations increase their intake in the hope that the mysterious properties of the drink will once again cause the room to sparkle but the thrill is increasingly empty.
Those moments of the previous year, lived out in music and merriment, are gone and will never return.
And the one who subtly flirted, who stole glances with me in the candlelight, sees a different person when the lights come up,when the music stops.
How can an individual be judged on a few moments of gaiety?
How can a man be measured by a few brief indiscretions carried out in the magic of the evening?
Not even the artful skills of a furtive godmother can bring back the few moments of splendor as they tick away like grains of sand--one after the other--never to return to the hourglass again.
At one point in the night, the rules became void.
Nearing midnight, the normal decorous behaviors that one might have attributed to the prior year become obsolete.
That clock chime of midnight, followed by cheers of the New Year, the kisses, the hugs, the stolen glances, the raucous and illicit behavior that is normally unacceptable becomes the norm.
Inhibitions are ignored. The party is on.
And as the ticking of the clock begins counting down the seconds of the New Year, the spell wears off, one tick at a time.
The magical and wondrous moments that were so special in the fleeting moments of the previous year become tarnished as the spell fades.
With that stroke of midnight the ball gowns vanish and the rags reappear, the crystal slippers show their tarnish, the noble steed becomes a humble mouse once again.
And the guests who partake in libations increase their intake in the hope that the mysterious properties of the drink will once again cause the room to sparkle but the thrill is increasingly empty.
Those moments of the previous year, lived out in music and merriment, are gone and will never return.
And the one who subtly flirted, who stole glances with me in the candlelight, sees a different person when the lights come up,when the music stops.
How can an individual be judged on a few moments of gaiety?
How can a man be measured by a few brief indiscretions carried out in the magic of the evening?
Not even the artful skills of a furtive godmother can bring back the few moments of splendor as they tick away like grains of sand--one after the other--never to return to the hourglass again.
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