I Ran

I Ran

Backwards, too frightened to look forward, too stubborn not to look back.

Eyes tightly shut, like a crazed stampede of buffalo, mindless juggernauts of brute strength propelled me faster.

From prudence, towards independence and freedom to do as I hoped. Not easily accomplished in this our real world.

Covering invisible bases I could not see, feeling the nonexistent pads as I stepped upon each of these.

With my heart was fire, from pain, exertion, and desire. Believing I have to win, losing is a foreign language not spoken.

Because I must, to get to the other side first, to dare the spoilers, haters, and deviates of now, come for me if you can.

I am here having focused on and now knocking upon my destinations door before I left.

Courtesy of Playcomments.com

                                                                                 Courtesy of Playcomments.com


That Day

Life’s victories are not without cost. This bitter reality rang true for every first responder who gathered below, and without hesitation ran upwards before the towers fell. 

 On that day the courageous of Flight 93, in which the will and tenacity of the passengers aboard shattered the momentary calm of that Pennsylvania field before cooling metal and fire made that same field silent save for the wind and Nature’s sounds, take control again. 

 Held blameless is Fate, an innocent bystander this time, or Mercy, although plenty was found on that shaken and crushed pile of smoldering tears, the World beheld. 

 There was terror filling the hearts of Humanity that day, as cheers from the ignorant are washed away by the tears of multitudes. 

 Can we forgive those that formulated and then produced such an end, yes, some of us can, because as some cried out it was the Will of Allah, know we that because of the freedom GOD has indeed pledged to Mankind so this terrible act is a reward of the same freedoms. 

 We as Humanity, can persevere and do, it is a Blessing from GOD that allows us freedom to act positively or in a small segment of the World’s population–negatively. 

 We do this–forgive, because we can, but, never ever believe we will forget. Selah.

Captured Beauty: Melancholy

Captured Beauty: Melancholy

Eyes of the largest pools of innocent
charm reflecting back to the viewer
exactly what they want you to see.

Life’s questions motives, hears only

The eyes stare, not with hate
as some imagine. Easier to claim
disgust, a shake of the head or shrug
of the shoulders than to look inside

You see me in the places where you
have walked – I was the loner, whom
all claimed was unapproachable,
while I wore my jeans that never
seemed washed, hair long and
sometimes unwashed for days,
adorned in a black leather jacket
when cold over an ever-present
T-Shirt that was underwear during
winter and outerwear during summer
while upon my face the scowl was
ever present.

Perhaps I was the hip nonconformist
priding themselves on keeping sane
while a World tore itself apart.

Am I the tender beauty whose eyes
have observed enough of the
injustice in my time to flee inside
mind and save that small place
where I might cower or relax without
the unfairness that seems the
established norm today. My hair I
need to cover all or most of my face
because there are villains that are
walking about in plain sight and
working to destroy youths futures
behind closed doors.

I could be the class clown who while
making people laugh at my antics,
was observing all and trying to see
the truth within people.

Was I the ner’ do well whom, most
grownups gave up as lost, dense,
radical – not seeing the true beauty
before them bearing up under pain.

What now when even our society is
split amongst right, wrong, kinda.

You wish for me to leave the safety
of an environment I can control and
move all out into your ideological
self-realized “myscape” then accept
that as the status quo,
pppllleeaassee – hello any active
brain cells moving about in there.

Who decided a few people should
determine the course for millions,
that should scream loudly about our
system of living being flawed.

So I have constructed a wall inside of
my mind where brick by brick I built
over time, upon hurt after hurt and
I shelter there, against pain, injustice
and unfairness practiced as the
norm today, against theft and
mocking those who are the victims.

I do not stare to offend, only while
behind my wall I do not wish to speak
to anyone. Not, rude just please a
little space to hide from this World
and it’s angry at times persistent
demands on my time.

I share this with you, I use my hair as
a shield and a shout out to others
that you are not alone, we are not
any better than other people, just
different. Shielding my eyes from
stares and smirks or even ridicule
is not unheard of, being abused or
bullied because I do not look like
some politician, or hair cut like the
military is no ones business but my

I like me as I am, please try liking
yourself – it works.

So you look into my eyes of guarded
resentment and you think I blame
you, I don’t even know you.

I can see every finger of resentment
pointing inward from my brick wall,
straight towards me. I do not need
to be constantly reminded. The status
quo is doing fine admonishing
me in my own head with droning
droning droning – yesssch.
Sometimes I want to ralf.

Hey, haters of my hair or perhaps that
I wear mascara as a guy, or too much as a
girl, so what.

I love, too. There is a cute guy at
work that I am ga-ga about, though it
would not show on my face; or that
there is a woman who I am love with
whom I would hug her forever, if she
acknowledged that she even had feelings
for me.

I have a heart, it can be hurt.
I have feelings, they can be abused.
I have opinions, they can be debated.
I have choices, I have made one.

I stay veiled behind my hair and
I build my wall a little higher, seems
safer and the pain is mine to carry

Poetry “building my wall” Thursday



I stood witness as the tears
began their trek down her cheeks,
nothing to stop them, or to ease
her pain, she spoke not of relief.

my heart was taken, my soul was

I felt I should do something, say
some words of comfort, try to massage
her unseen hurt, lift her face then
cupped in my hands and tell her forget

take all the time you wish, take every
measure to heal, your agony your pain,
should I tell how each time I walk
away from you, my heart shatters, is
broken and tattered as it bursts from
my chest and lies before me;

a million crystal shards scattered in
my path, as you weep openly, my silent
tears are strewn like footprints I leave
upon the sand.

I suffer every minute of every single
day, love is like a covered fence one
stumbles over in the brush while trying
to make ones way.

Your tears may touch the floor, or
even wet your chin, fear not, for i
also cry by hiding it with a grin;

if I lost my senses and for a moment
dropped my guard and rushed to
comfort you by kissing up the tears
and returning them back tenfold
by gently covering your mouth with
mine, whispering brave encouragement
as you have nothing to fear.

step carefully sweet lassie as the
folks in the old country might say,
this one is deeply in love with you,
see you pick your way round him
carefully, the crystal shards from
his broken heart every where do lay.



I turned to the bar and you were there,
waiting patiently for your order to be
filled. I gathered my senses my heart
was light as a feather seeing you gave
me a thrill.

I wondered have you returned to walk
your path as it was destined for you.

Would it be crass, froward or rude if
I walked up and spoke to you two.

Would I upset your plans or the image
you wanted to set, if minutes I stole
were a few; might those who love,
protect, and provide for you understand
the depth of this view.

Why was I not there to please you that
night and show you the respect you were
due, perhaps to share numbers and explore
natures endless wonders, we might not be
judged harshly – say true.

You are here now at least your image is
here, beautiful, serene with poise.

walking with grace and dignity of place
your reality was fully enjoyed.

I wonder now where did you go, are our
futures slated to pass, or did fate
steal you away selfishly, once more,
and into anothers grasp.


I saw the dark tousled locks as
they bounced with every step;
I hoped that the dark eyed beauty
would be she who rippled my emotions
until I wept.

I could not see your face, the
continuous movement of the crowds
was at a furious pace.

I only know and this was true,
you had long held sway binding
away for a future day my endless love for you.

I am not offended by this burden
of desire,
remembering our embraces which
I still feel should have lasted for hours.

I am not ashamed at the whirlwind of
thoughts I am fighting to control,
with each dark curl moving to and
like the member of a dance team
who knows where each person goes.

I saw and felt your round face,
the stolen hugs we shared were
a shower of grace.

I could not steady my legs,
having fallen in to the power of
your spell;
I grasped the railing tighter and
tighter wondering if this dizzying
weakness was what the leapers
sense before throwing away their
lives to oblivion without a yell.

My heart stumbles and I happily
except any comeuppance that is
since it was I alone who in a headlong
rush became hopelessly entangled in

Forget piety, ignore convention and
the social norm, I think displaying my
love for you before all would be considered
bad form.

I could taste your perfume still as though
a part of my life, I can still feel your body
pressed against mine, the warmth from your
neck beautiful, the hair cascading

I feel you breathe, chest rising and
falling, I am comforted seemingly
secure, sheltered and safe, I have
found my nirvana, no longer is there

I can close my eyes when I embrace
you feeling myself drowning in the
passion I have created, like a clear
dark pool that awaits my body slipping
under my final prayer is that
I hope, never found.

Turning for another glance, I see the curls
bouncing like wayward children
each to his own, my heart beating faster,
my breath can’t keep up, my
grip on reason is long past due;

the crowds thin for a moment and
the tousled hair is in full view, rounded face
with alluring eyes turn my way as lips part
with a beautiful smile;

I return the smile and turn away so
my tears would not show, sadly
shattered, my heart in tatters;

it wasn’t you, it wasn’t you.

Poetry Thursday

Last Run

Running through the middle of the street,
seems safer, no shadows, less fear, the sense
of pain no less i hear.

Running from the lie, peace not found; death does
not care if you are standing up or laying down.

Running from the hurt, agony and dread, bullets
in the chest makes constant blood that is shed,
as the body’s actions wind down. No more running
for me, as i sink to the ground. Street is wet from
a newly fallen rain; the sweet taste of the street is
like nectar to my brain.

Running down the seconds like a childs wind up
toy, my life ebbs from my chest as water down
the drain. Death is a friend so close and now is
simply so clear; for the end of my life is finally

Running from the pain gave me no sweet relief;
anger, then hope, then sorrow when found without
help. So i fled for my life which was already taken.

Running was wise; for her it is why i died, so her kisses
not tasted; perhaps in another life might be found.