Another foot or so.
And after you have shoveled
The winds begin to blow.
But night has overwhelmed you and so to sleep you go.
Cradled in your bed, fits of dreams begin
Until the nightmare shakes you
And wide awake you scream.
For all your work has come to naught, nay sorry this I say
The foot of snow that yesterday was cleared with force so fierce
Has come to haunt your every joint
And break you piece by piece.
I always forget that there is no dog waiting at home. Always. And surprised, each time, then saddened, as my expectations vanish, as the air, or the ghosts of dogs past. What is wrong with me?
He is not here, not the last one, or the one before that, or the one before that…but they all hang around, tempting me to believe in their existence. And why not? How comforting, when the wind howls and the rain hits the roof so hard you keep a lookout for leaks, yes, as if they were here, to protect, to comfort. Each time, each and every time, I steep myself in delusions of comfort, safety, blissful ignorance, when there is none.
After the realization…
So you enter your house, put down your keys, head to the stereo, select a jazz CD, get a drink. Does it matter it’s only 2pm? No. Time and wine are independent of each other. Each time you indulge is a new experiment. The first drink you had when the bottle was brought home was sufficient. The second day, also, one drink was sufficient. After that it increased. Two on the third day, three on the fourth day. Today is the seventh day. Today I believe I have lost all hope of maintaining anything resembling a reasonable intake. Today I am about to finish my third glass. Today I have discarded caring, lost all empathy for myself, lost all reasonable connection to the outside. Today, this moment, I am going downstairs to refill my glass.
Heaven help me.
oil painting from the Sand Lake Ambulance collection – for sale
Cold settles cruelly in your head
It chases you quickly into bed
You cover every part you can
Yet still it clings, so unwelcome.
Open the cupboards
And there it is
Hiding in corners
And dishes and things.
Take off your gloves
And it appears
Slip them back on, and whoosh! Disappears!
Open your coat, it rushes back in
Wrap on a scarf, add on a hat,
And so you presume that is that!
It’s crushed for a moment,
Put in its place
But then it strikes back
It lashes your face.
Oh, cold, how I wish you would go, you must know
I shiver to think of all the snow
That lingers behind as you exit the scene
It stays for a week, sometimes longer it seems.
‘Tis very annoying to shovel so much
I’d rather be drinking from a tea-cup
And savoring winter on the inside
Watching through windows, people slip and slide
While laying about, safe and secure
Dreaming of summer spent at the shore.
In France they liked me yesterday
Today it was the USA
Tomorrow who knows where they’ll be
Oil painting part of Sand Lake Ambulance collection for sale
As long as they do follow me.
I know it’s been some time since posting
But that should not indict my hosting
Just say hello, I’ll say adieu
Should you so like me, I shall too
Though rhymes be silly, fractious things
I hope they put a smile on wings
That take you soaring, flying high
For miles and miles up in the sky.
Oh, that I was Shakespearean
Your heart would open up and sing!
I start to freeze–
December always makes me sneeze.
My body shakes from nose to knees
And I begin to cough and wheeze.
Then January starts the year
With Polar Bears in bathing shorts
Madly running on the beach,
Diving into waters deep.
Now blizzard warnings warp my mind–
You better not delay.
Winds will howl all through the night
To drive the snow away
And bury cars in six-foot drifts
While all you do is watch and wait.
So open up your pantry doors
And see what lies inside.
Your larder looks a bit up-tight
It hasn’t food to last the night–
It’s just a case of fight or flight!
Get going while there still is light
obliged to all
my brain dissolves
in New Year’s wine
in champagne’s fine
in chocolates and delicacies
that palates must attend
to such distress as tongues
and taste without refinement
as we pursue a state of sheer inebriation
without a hint of what the morn shall bring
in pain and torture
as heads collide on pillows softer
than an angel’s hand could lend.
Oh, we are, doubtless, a species of abuse!
So, this is about
A woman friend of mine
Who said she was upset
At Obama’s reelection,
And I ask, why?
Romney was against abortion, but she did not think she should would take responsibility for a child of a women forced to conceive, no matter what the reason.
She did not care that he had no thoughts or comments on whether women should be paid equal pay for equal work.
He would privatize Social Security, and possibly leave millions of Americans destitute.
And health care? Well…
So, why was she upset?
She is not rich.
She depends, partially, upon her husband’s pension (they are both recently retired).
She is upset at the increasing property taxes and health care costs.
Is there someone who can enlighten me?
From your humble blogger, runningwithellen
come join me
come join my tears
come see the world as it is.
come join me
come see despair in every corner of the world.
cry no more, for you are yet to join,
tears are ours,
tears are everywhere.
Come see pain first hand
technology will not prevent the torture at our hands.
We are inconsolable
We are replete with regret
as we dip into hell, past heaven’s gate.
Lord save me, though I do not believe.
But once, just once, prove you know the total despair
Wreaked on this earth from those who dare
to use your name to justify the horror
the suffering of generations to come.
Once I thought that being childless was sad, but now I know this is not so
That I did not endanger another
Nor contribute to the misery we are inclined to.
Look at me, my years unfolded
Long life I wished, one time I thought
Now I know, somewhere, not far, lies answers
To end now is the only answer
To stay a manifestation of a lie.
I’m sure you must know
I’m never this late
I’m usually asleep–
I live in the woods
With nary a peep
From fish or from fowl
Though they usually don’t howl
Like the coyotes do
Or the resident screech owls
That lurk very near
Yet rarely appear.
So I’ll turn off the lights
And tumble to bed
I’ll say my good nights
And sleep pretty tight
Till the mice start to party
At 4 in the dark
And I pull up the covers
And wait for daylight!
Oh! Très bien! Très bien!
Uno or dos
I seem not to know
Whom I like most.
I count on my fingers
Five – up to ten
And then I begin
To count them again.
This is quite fun
Having you here
To read all my gibberish
When it appears
And though I do know
You’re all very busy
I can’t stop myself
From making us dizzy!
It’s a dog eat dog world
If you know what I mean
It’s Martini and Rossi
It’s a drunk’s perfect dream
There’s a bone in the cupboard
And more in the store
But you’ll pay through the nose
And eat off the floor.
So here’s to the jobless
And the minimum wage
To Obama and Romney
And the millions they make
For themselves and their cronies
For the widening gap
‘Tween the poor and the rich
And no middle class.
Just one more thing –
Here’s to Silver and his crew
In New York they had thought
A raise was their due.
But they screwed themselves royally
And this I don’t mind
For its been several years
Since I’ve seen a dime.
I’ve been without work,
Just one of a crowd.
Don’t mind me saying
I’m not really proud.
But I can’t rightly say what a restaurant looks like
Haven’t been to the barber,
Cut my own hair, that’s right.
And the doctor, well hell
Who knows the last time
Had my temperature taken
Or felt really fine?
And my house,
Well it’s standing
But when winter comes
The thermostat won’t reach past 51.
That’s Fahrenheit friends,
Not Celsius, no
So I’m glad those old sweaters I didn’t let go.
So here’s to Silver, Obama, Romney and all
The politicians who knock at my door
Wanting my vote
For what, I should ask.
They’ll do what they want
And we’ll fall through the cracks.
To say “miss” is to imply there once was, but I assure you there was not.
Growing up in a morass of mediocrity, accomplishments were relegated to others, and ours was a life marked by others’ needs, a turning of the lamp before dawn, a turning off at night. What happened between was of no consequence.
Nor did it provide satisfaction or mere contentment.
It was but a passing of time till sleep. Sleep, less and less each day, and time grows burdensome.
Fragments of contentment appear and disappear, so subtle that their remembrance lasts not long, insufficient to be recorded.
Which yesterday revealed a moment with the possibility of renewal, satisfaction, meaning, continuity? If there was, it is lost, intangible.
Last night I sent a bus careening, with people calmly going to their death
In my dream
Wrapped in plastic
But that was the second bus
The first hurtled out of control by itself
The first was a ghost
A foretelling of the second
And a third, split in two, suspended in air
And shrink wrapped
With damage control emblazoned on its side
Spun down the corridor after the two.
Then I woke.
At 4 in the morning you wake, depressing yourself
At 6:11 it’s not the same.
Two pots of coffee, and you’re almost sane.
Insidious is this sorrow
So many tears to shed
Though laughter fills the air instead
This sorrow weighs against my chest
To live a life filled with regret
That tears can never stop the tide
Of sorrow walking by my side.
why so my heart breaking
why do these tears come tumbling
flooding my soul
why must I feel so empty
oh lord, why am I so adrift, disconsolate
cannot just one thing in this universe make me whole
must I search till my heart breaks for finding nothing to replace the one being
that made my life whole
I cannot end these tears
there is no reason nor recourse for the tale that echoes forth
I have but solitude to seek and in that state I would find a glimmer of my former self
I am hyperbole and so inclined to meaningless allusions
I am a fragment of what you see
and inclined to be nothing more than the wind
and more a figment than truth
I am reality, but only in that fantasy that we perforce seek to surrender ourselves.
oh god, must I be this
I should drown in sorrow before I regain a spectrum of humanity
that this humanity be but wind and water, both gone and vanished into the air
I am but soiled in how I did regard the hearts of others
and yet I would relive these sorrows were you to let me pass to worlds that would divine the beauty of the world to come.
Let so my passage be, and to this I would incline my one true heart
to meet that heart I know does await, if not one true love, than one I should love, and with your will
I truly set my soul to be the keeper of this trust, to that I do compel myself
to fail thee not in this endeavor.
How quiet he is.
In death as in life.
Soft, smooth, once warm, now cold and stiff.
Gone my love. Gone my long companion of days adrift and nights awake.
Gone now, gone forever, three feet down, an amendment to the soil.
To mask my pain and ask forgiveness.
What life did you lead. Were you served well, you who bent your head and body to my will.
I did ignore. I did. I remember well.
Soft, my boy, soft next to me, so easy to put aside.
To gather back those times, the endless repetition of a life’s attitudes, changed never, repentant forever. Time finite. Time infinity.
You left, and I sit, shocked that 16 years passed before me, unnoticed.
Asleep in your place on the floor, the discomfort comforts. The last sleep and weariness of each day blurs my mind of thought and emotion. Kept at bay, I exist.
If I had a nickel for all the eaten pickles
And a dime for every cone
I’d hop aboard a plane
And fly to the Ivory Coast.
And then I’d board the largest ship
That sailed the ocean blue
And float and float in circles
As long as the sky was blue.
This isn’t heaven
The clock says
I’m slowly fading
Yet here I wait for 2:14.
Now its come
And now its gone
The clock still runs.
To be precise
I cannot last
And now I crash.
No doubt at 3:22
You are dreaming the whole night through
Yet here I sit, you see
The clock displays 3:23
And should I think to wait some more
I’m sure it will say 3:24.
By now my mind is wandering
A half hour I’ve been pondering
So with surprise I find I’m vexed
It only says 3:26!
Here I lay thinking
And you say I should
But not by you
It’s myself out of touch.
Behind pillar and post the nightmares collect
Dream on you say
But soon I regret
The stomping, the yelling
The howls in the night
If I don’t wake up soon
I’ll have such a fright.
Well, life is just that
To hell and then back
Yet the sun also rises in spite of this fact.
Brought to tears
my heart does cheer
and thoughts of how you appear
to mellow my response
in ways I may enhance
a quality of life
so often rife
with war and woe
though this I think you know
my feelings are sincere
I must reply
I am not tied
by land or sea or sky
and will admit
with fitting wit
I’d rather live than die.
A lake is not an even shape
With ins and outs and rocks that tempt your very fate
And even man-made obstacles, the decks that jut out from the shore.
There’s that, and then there’s even more
Like water slides, they’re in your way
And little floating balls that mark
The edge of which, I know not what.
But if you turn your mind around
You’ll see that other things abound.
The beaver dam is one, you see.
And lily pads, there’s more than three!
Don’t get me started listing things
It never ends, so to begin
I see two deer, as dear can be
With mother walking very near.
Some fish are jumping in the lake,
And slithering away, a snake.
Did I forget about the birds?
Now really, that is quite absurd!
For there are blue jays, juncos too
And chickadees, count twenty-two!
And buzzing off in rapid haste
Are hummingbirds in every space!
It never ends, the things you see
Around a lake, around a tree!
I do not listen well
For silence seems to overwhelm
My senses in the blackest night.
Yet come and stand abreast with me
And you shall hear, with sheer delight,
The sounds of nature calling you
Some soft, some sharp, some clear, some bright
Though midnight be the time you rise
And rub your eyes to come alive.
What screech is that?
Not tires on the road,
So deep within the forest grove.
An owl you say,
Though I am city-bred
Agreement slips between my lips
As eagerly I search the night
For other sounds and prod you with delight,
To tell me all the secrets that I missed
Growing up on city streets.
What happens when you lose all reasons for living, when existence seems meaningless?
Why does this happen?
Is it simply the result of a set of circumstances, or is it inherent in the person, something that was always there and only needed a trigger to be set free?
And when you begin to go over the things you want to put in order so that your death will not put others in distress over the things you may have left unattended?
And when you solidly believe that even though you maintain the ability to laugh and enjoy certain aspects of this world, that your existence is worthless and noncontributory to the betterment of the community, in such a way that you feel there will be no loss, but surely a gain for others, as you leave space and resources for others to make better use of?
And even when you formulate these feelings, a part of you remembers something you truly wanted to do, and already you want to postpone your end in order to accomplish this one thing.
The result, though, is no less sad, for the depression remains, and joy is only fragmentary.
Ending seems so more fulfilling than constant mediocrity.
Tears welled and drowned this cheek
Live without life
Vanished and vanquished
Years of delusions
Awakening to nothing
A last knowledge of time wasted and wasting away.
Alcoholic stupor headaches vision blurred
Distasteful renderings of a former life
Senseless heartbreak of minds wasted
He stood above the rest
Reason to walk this ground, this earth, this gift of God
Until the end of days envelops and darkness wins.
I turn and he is not here
I stumble time, time and again, the memory jolts me awake
He is not here.
So why I, in pain, do I return home?
Is the bother of living worthwhile?
Cannot you see that all is misplaced?
If not for him, then why?
Myself, I am obscure, irrelevant.
Contributions to the face of man escape the scribe’s pen
Will time erase the pointlessness of days passed in dreary acquiescence?
Pain dulled by daily drink
Drunk by noon-day light
Slumbering till morning light
Pretending that day is night.
Why is existence so perverse that life cannot itself erase
stupidity of man’s footfalls
that deemed by others are acquired of gifts and glories
And go beyond the grave
Imbued by all to be the virgin’s gift of glory everlasting?
Wronged, wronged, forever wronged!
Downed, screaming wronged!
Break my soul that I should live beyond this day, this time
Knowing misery creeping through life’s decay
of mind and spirit. Of rot and putrification.
Take kindly or not at all
In this, in that
Your mind it would collapse
But for the curtain drawn and closed
The daily play that would unfold
Is shuttered under hasp.