#WriteFree365 – Day 325: Wherefore Art Thou, Gene Simmons?

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(Frank Turner, man.  He’s a genius.  Day 325…)

Not that I can point the finger, I’ve been a sinner just the same.  Fallen hard in love at hotels, and by sunrise, lost her name..

Contrary to popular belief
I don’t bleed hearts for ink
I don’t dip into the jar of unrequited desire in order to write more perceived hypnotic art
Left to right is the way I was taught to write
I’m not placing you under a spell
Now if you come at the snap of my fingers
That’s choice over manipulation.

Hearts may shatter because they were thrown and not caught
I’m not obligated to hold every beating essence
Attaching to my words
Does not mandate me to carry your heart

I’m sorry you are enamored with the artist through his art.
I’m not sorry I didn’t return infatuation to you
But I will not take the entrails of your heart
And make an example of you.

#WriteFree365 – Day 287: Good & Gone

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(I have a pretty intense headache.  I also had a pretty good idea that left me early in the morning because I didn’t write it down.  Day 287…)

Sometimes, the things I need are right back where I started from…

I had an idea for a poem
One that tugged on my chest so hard
That I fell when it let go
Confused and motivated
I searched clouds while plummeting to Earth
For something I had no claim over
For something The Universe gives and takes away
That poem could have done more damage than the thud felt once I realized it was gone for good

To that poem
That incomplete creation
So human yet so divine
You remind me of that adage about loving and letting go.
I released you from my left hand
Like the last balloon
Since you’ll deflate soon
And we’ll both crash in unfamiliar places
I’m glad I’m no longer a weight that hinders your flight
I’m glad we separated before we got too high into the atmosphere

That pull on my chest will happen again
And I’ll have a poem I can finish
While you’ll help some part of The Universe write anew.

#WriteFree365 – Day 258: Worse Things Happen At Sea

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(Frank Turner is just amazing.  This reminds me of the breakup poem I wrote like three years ago.  I remember when I said I’d never write about the end to a specific relationship.  I think I’ve stuck to that.  Day 258…)

You say, “Worse things happen at sea.”  I say, “Worse things have happened to me…”

You’re not dead.
That smell of rotting flesh
It’s not you
It’s me.
Maybe that stench is your name escaping
From holding cells in my stomach
Think of it as a quenched thirst
Or the remaining waste of the perfect meal
Either way
I’ll excuse myself
Since my presence disgusts you so much

That pain you feel is not the fatal blow
It’s your spirit working tirelessly to relearn how to love without my love.
The weight on your chest is your soul getting used to support it without my spot
You’re strong enough to never drop it
Since you’re still breathing
Exhale while you push that weight up
And let me go
When you’ve had enough exercise.

Remember how thrilling that dive into bliss was?
This is your lungs feeling overmatched by the endless pool of infatuation
You’ve held in so much adoration
Trying to see how long you could stay submerged
That you think you nearly killed yourself
Even if you did
The operative word
Is nearly
Exhale on the way back to the surface
And be sure to catch your breath
Before diving again.

#WriteFree365 – Day 251: Vital Signs

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(This is a subject I often come across internally.  With recent world events, I question those tones when I don’t put my pen to them.  Day 251…)

Well, I’ll never get to gray hair.  And I’ll never be in the black.  But I can tell stories that most can hardly dream..

Is it selfish of me
To ignore the cries of the world
For a day or two
And walk through doors that may produce my own tears?
Do I have the right to change who I cry for in the middle of the storm?
Don’t answer that.

I understand the world needs me
What good am I to a dying world
If I don’t check to see if there’s any flesh rotting beneath the sunshine?
Sunshine only gives living things life
That which is dead is just illuminated along with the glory
And I still don’t know how much light I need to keep growing

Somewhere between watching the world burn under a magnifying glass
And burning dead roots to keep me alone
Lies that answer I told you not to give
Let’s see who I will cry for tomorrow

#WriteFree365 – Day 249: Plain Sailing Weather

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(Spotify found some more new music for me.  This one is from Frank Turner.  Day 249…)

Just give one fine day of plain sailing weather, and I can fuck up anything.  Anything…

It’s always confusing waking up
And seeing sunshine
Feeling winds against me that I don’t brace myself to withstand
That I don’t lose surety of if I have more tomorrows to see

But here I am
Questioning the validity of today because it’s not raining
Apologies aren’t beating against my window
Forgiveness isn’t begging for you to chase it in the storm
That which is damaged is lost

Remember when your eyes brought clarity?
The pressure to keep them dry was high
Sunny days
Stopped being filled with carefree smiles
And were replaced with nervous laughter
I stopped believing the storm was over
And convinced myself that in your eyes
Was a calm that let me know
I’ll need shelter somewhere else