i see your eyes staring at my own…

i see your eyes staring at my own
am i looking at the inside
or merely beautifully made curtains
thin enough only only to know
someone left the light on
but unsure as to what’s happening
leery to take the next step
pull the shade aside
and peer into the living room
will words ever tell the whole story
or will actions contradict the fairy tale
told to everyone
do the cinderalla dreams
always start after midnight
certainty so boldly displayed
has now been torn down and destroyed
leaving behind the soul
with a label saying “FRAGILE”
will any hands be gentle enough
to caress this one of a kind artpiece
and tend to it forever
and not become tired of its beauty
waiting for an answer
the questioning is paused
as i walk away from the mirror

6/6/98

frustration

a sad tear falls
i look through the blur
i see nothing
with my bloodshot eyes
from nights of endless despair
wondering inside
if my life will get better
my hopes have not matched YOurs
and my soul aches
my dreams cannot be lived
and i try harder to achieve
Your will seems no longer mine
i need to know hy
i say yes i hear no
frustration fills me
why is the hurt so real
when will it go away
i ask how come me
i hear just be patient and wait
engrossed in rage
controlled by the love
i blindly depend on
with no conscious thought
through the tears

February 20 1996

waiting

i look around.
no hope for me.
as i look on.
no hope i see.
life gets worse.
i wait more.
my heads aches.
i am sore.
no love inside.
a smile i wear.
my tender soul.
about to tear.
tears i hold.
beg to fall.
i hold tight.
will not bawl.
sit on my chair.
i watch the time.
fly by my eye.
no longer mine.
standing now.
waiting on.
look forward.
to the dawn.
yearning for you.
you i behold.
the time you come.
still left untold.
as i pray here.
a trumpet call.
my head looks up.
i start to bawl.

August 2, 2005

here i sit while the clock strikes midnight
images of my day flash before me
victories and failures intermingled
weave a story of a man confused
about his own worth to the world
trying to understand his importance
how is it that value really doesn’t come from others
or from all the thing he tries to do to impress them
how can it have no bearing on how much he can be loved
is it possible to be accepted simply because i’m here
and have nothing to offer back

another day awaits me on the other side of midnight
what will be my greatest challenge
i fear it is being loved
without strings or conditions
will i allow myself that freedom?

It’s after midnight and the streets all look the same again…

It’s after midnight, and the streets all look the same again…
a cold wind whips around my building, bringing a chill
to the skin of the man who calls my alley home
I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror
and wonder why I’ve been given enough grace
to live for this long
my heart sinks deep into my chest
a heaviness weighs on me that I cannot shake
I grab my coat and head outside…

It’s after 1, and the streets all look the same again…
the wind greets my face as I open the door
there is a stillness in the air that is difficult to describe
a silence that surrounds my soul as I walk
through abandoned parks and sidewalks
fallen leaves do not even make noise
when I step on them
I am alone

It’s after 3, and the streets all look the same again..
I find myself down the same destructive paths
increasing the distance from anyone who cares
it is no mystery, though, as to how I got here
a quick glance into my eyes could tell many stories
to discourage even the most hopeful
surely there must be someplace I could go for comfort

It’s after 6, and the streets all look the same again…
the light of day seeks to make itself known to all
even attempting to brighten ny darkened existence
and, somehow, for a brief moment, my heart remembers
not all hope is lost in this world
that someone desires my presence at his table
that grace and love are available even for me
if I choose to seek it from him
a new day awaits my choice to move
where will I go?