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Posts Tagged ‘Sad’

Love Me Syndrome

Another tempestuous night in Town Park, melancholy

Wild Thoughts, seeks harbor from the fell dampness.

Across an old Maple, restroom facilities, in a stall,

His Swiss Knife carves, help!- a grounded cardinal,

Over faded, besought scratches, then his number.

 

The windows behold an ashen canvas, dashing away

A lustrous moon, sour lampposts, the path back & ahead,

But in buckets of rain, runs a scarlet damsel his way.

Wild Thoughts escapes on some path, Love Me Syndrome

Skips past roley- poley earthworms stuck in puddles.

 

The gales deepen in fury. By the Maple, a scarlet,

Melancholy soul runs to the restroom, closes the stall.

She sees unspeakable markings, one freshly concerning.

A knife on the basin, she dials the splintered number,

My name is Lonesome Dove, I’ve waited a long time for you.

 

A calm develops, drenched footsteps echo anticipations.

The beautiful ones, raised to know what comes & goes,

But not what stays- saturated under fluorescent sight,

They sparkle. Lonesome Dove eases five minutes in.

Your real name isn’t Wild Thoughts. Care to know mine?

 

From outside, a whip of lightning licks the Maple,

Crackling, thickly green branches smoke up, catch fire.

They ponder a tragic moment. Is it you? He knows, It’s

Me. Tragedy. She flies, red tail vanishing in the rain.

 

That night, a tornado brewed, ravaging Town Park.

Love Me Syndrome claimed one, but not the other.

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It must feel like the pearl stripped from its mother.

A solar system after losing a star to a gaseous implosion.

The sensation of color seeped from the all seeing eye,

Saying goodbye is the hardest  part.

It keeps your eyes wide in anticipation, anxiety,

Plagues your dreams like a collage of your life.

Saying goodbye is the lost talon to an eagle’s wings,

That spins and flutters until falling in the

Hands of branches, a rampant river,

Or behind the ear of a boyscout.

It makes you look at everyone differently,

This is the last time you’ll see them, treat them

With patience, care, big eyes, and bigger tears.

We say goodbye for various reasons,

Tired of the old, we yearn for something to wake our hibernating souls.

We say goodbye sometimes to hurt others, to make them never forget.

Some know they won’t live forever.

But more-so we say goodbye because we have to.

Forced by the hand of fate, good or bad, it’s change that must occur,

And hopefully endure until a goodbye years from the last.

Change is the next step to saying goodbye, like

Goodbye-change, linked together like chains, a compound word to mean a lot.

But goodbye, change- isn’t saying hello or goodbye at all.

In fact, most people are of goodbye, change type.

Because saying goodbye can really be the hardest part.

It is the casket that is buried, holding your child-

Hood, like a time capsule, only, it’s saying goodbye, not hello someday.

If you dug it up after time, you’d only find bones of the flesh you left there.

It is love, the strongest feeling, we say goodbye, to sometimes,  save others.

It’s love that sometimes is the dark half of a still planet,

That had such beauty to those that knew, now nothing can see through the black.

Love is the thing that keeps you glued to a papery situation,

That is held taught on a bumpy road, that tears, again and again,

But there are no goodbyes.

It’s saying goodbye to love, though, that is truly the hardest part.

When you pull over the car because words are deer in the road,

And as she lets them loose, you’re hardly dodging the first one before hitting the next.

You feel the moon glow and look into her almond eyes, but they’re looking away

To the stars.

Your tears cascade, and your body shuts down, words skip and chop,

Wanting to hide in their turtle shells, but sometimes saying goodbye to love

Is inevitable, when her hands are cold, and she pulls away from your kiss.

It’s saying goodbye to perfect love that once was that is the hardest part.

But saying goodbye is the glass cannon of mixed results.

It could fire off without problems, which rarely happens.

It could shatter from harsh impact and hurt who lit it from behind,

Or it could send you, the ball, rolling to the side,

Somewhere you hadn’t seen or known about,

Readied in the glass barrel.

And that chance is why saying goodbye is the hardest part.

But chance is why we say goodbye at all.

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Many times, I’ve lost a friend, and many nights I’ve cried,

Pulling petals from daisies just to let myself know I tried.

I’ve burned a lot of flower stems to bring flame to a candle,

So I can see the past’s picture, though it’s one that’s hard to handle.

And still I can’t sleep until, the slow, heavy rain,

Has hit the rooftop, and carried sounds, that help me drift away.

I’ve walked on many cobbled roads, and maybe hitched a ride,

But still and will I walk along until I’ve aged and died,

All my life I’ve been alone, with hopes of friends to share,

And some have joined, temporarily, now they travel roads of theirs.

And still I can’t sleep until, the slow, heavy rain,

Has hit the rooftop, and carried sounds that help me drift away.

I think about the things I’ve done, and wonder if I’ve tried,

If there was something I could have done, to stop the teared goodbyes.

But the golden rule I’ve learned from life, is people come and go,

I can only hope our paths cross again,

Someday, while I walk with flowers in my hands along the cobbled roads.

Still I can’t sleep until, that solemn, heavy rain,

Has hit the rooftop, and carried sounds that help me drift away.

– Jasper 9uince

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Silver bridge that slides along the crystal blue ocean,

Take me back when I was a born to run man.

Squeezing the sun and quenching a thirst for adventure,

I never thought afterwards, I would go nowhere  and retire.

.

Country blues, spurs, snakes in sand,

Take me back when I could understand.

And buck up, giddyup on the wild horse with my friends,

I ended up home with my eyes dragging on ends.

.

Dusty, zest, clumpy plateaus and mounds of martian dirt,

Take me back when I couldn’t get hurt.

Boxing life in Arizona, winning round after round,

But then I slipped, lost focus, and fell flat on the ground.

.

The white ocean, the ivory beach,

Take me back when palm trees were within an arm’s reach.

And I felt at home for the first time ever.

Where am I now, in space forever.

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I get up every day, go down every night,

I thought there was a way, to win the restless fight.

A friend once sang to me, every little thing is gonna’ be alright,

I hadn’t the heart to tell him, that someday he’d learn he wasn’t right.

Bit my tongue, held my breath,

Hoped for a hand to shake me from death,

But it was nothing, nothing that kept me feeling like that spaceman

Sitting in his tin can.

 

I took a pen, wondering where to begin,

Started writing, and presented my life with a little spin,

Placed rose petals along my path, made myself one that would win,

Found love, she bestowed her charm, the world’s greatest sin.

 

And then I crumpled it, tore it in pieces, realized I was crass,

Discovered I’m the lunatic on the grass,

Remembering, games, and daisy chains and laughs,

That I was one lonely, forgotten jackass.

 

So I’ll play the part, and watch the day divide,

Alone and conquered, while everyone else’s eyes are wide,

I never listened to any ploys and so no one ever lied,

And now I board the train alone, and make it the best goddamn ride.

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Blues are the crush you can’t have.

The orange without juice,

Summer without sun.

The Blues close your eyes,

And tunnel down your throat to the bottom of your tub,

It scrapes the edges clean, until you moan and ache. ache

Ache…

 

Blues paint Picasso’s beauty,

Sing Ray Charles’ melodies,

Makes a grown man cry.

The Blues are the most human thing about us.

 

The bird whose lost its baby to a bully of a wind,

Could never chirp the blues,

No fly squished on the window,

Hooked fish,

No blood cell.

 

I walk into a speakeasy,

When the times are tough.

I let the bartender serve me a stiff drink,

And after awhile, I let him pull an overcoat over my back.

Because the Blues are caring,

The blues know sadness,

Better than an astronomer sees the stars.

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A friend that is closer than family left today.

He’s driving off to the west to do what I wanted,

But money and a little reality slowed me down.

It is a sad time, and we are all affected by it.

We all show it in our own way, sitting around the table, playing with cellphones,

To keep our minds occupied.

-The one leaving talks too much, leaving all he knows, here, for a new future.

-The other who stays pushes the thought away he will be back and laughs.

-I can’t say a goddamn word or think up much about anything.

For the past three years, and before, in high school for more,

No friend ever stuck by me through the happiest moments

And the hellish ones like him.

I’ve saved his life, we went across America,

We are the world’s best hackey sack players, And yet,

We could talk night thru about Carl Sagan or plans for zombie invasions.

Talk the inner theories of music, or play.

And now we’re all grown up.

We’re 23 and a wedge has split our friendship apart.

When the door shuts behind him, all the memories come back.

Along with every friend I’ve lost in the past,

But this one is the hardest to cope with.

I find it hardest to say goodbye.

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