Peaceful
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Friendship
I once spoke to an older man, who said with quiet words
“live life, not for yourself, but for the moment in front of you that will be remembered.”
The man was insane at the time. Yet now I know how true he was.
I was not his student. No I was just a casual friend who called him by name.
Yet I do not remember his name, only the bad smell of cheap cologne he wore at night.
Like his voice, it was not a thing you would forget.
The other side of the road
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Defiant, Featured, Inquisitive, Mystery
Some choose, to be different
glancing across the street,
watching people walk on by.
Others find themselves sedated,
failing to realize where they are,
or even where they are going.
I find myself moving along,
sometimes fast, sometimes slow,
often waiting for a signal that never comes.
I find myself waiting with hope,
failing to protect my caution,
as I step into traffic I cannot see.
I want
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Regret
I don’t want anything, except for the things everyone else has.
The moments of simple joy and quiet pause
when hope isn’t needed, or ever required.
I want the moment of life, simple and unedited
full of passion and lust, desire and greed,
when breathing is deep and sexual.
I want the seconds to last,
beyond the fraction of time I have, perhaps forever,
as I try to forget how frail my soul has become.
I want, too much, too many simple, basic things,
the kind of things that everyone else has,
that I simply know nothing of.
Soul Becoming
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Spiritual
Once, when I was little,
I remember hearing voices.
Chaotic and playful,
perfect,
friendly.
When I was older,
I had become deaf,
slowly losing myself
to the murmur of indifference,
that we call society.
Now I know,
that I am far more,
than what other people see,
I am, without doubt,
listening.
I didn’t ask
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Loss
I didn’t ask for this, the sweet dream, or the bitter awakening.
Nothing bothered me in the figment, as everything seemed so real.
It was my life, a perfect place of agony and reflection.
Thoughts conversing and evolving, changing and evading.
This was a moment of instance, of sheer delirium.
The time when everything but me was within sight.
No it didn’t seem right, and didn’t hold my belief.
Yet it was real enough tonight, a hope so brief.
I didn’t ask, no I didn’t dream,
it was the bitter fright of living,
which left me to scream.
There was a day
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Creative Writing
I looked at the reflection of my life, ripples of thought pushing through my mind as my tears fell swift, yet with pause. Each drop of life that was lost pulled me farther and deeper into recollection and illusion, moments filled with nothing but figment and intangible dreaming. I cried, blinding myself in trying to feel, believing that each second was precious, and sacrificing everything I had to believe. Faith was not my strong trait, yet the wisp of cool air against my neck reminded me of being a child, it touched me as if the youth of yesterday was something I still possessed.
The water was cold, my warm breath glanced off the surface like misty fog embracing a rocky ocean shore. The voices in my head were so faint, like gulls talking against the rhythm of the waves, being drown out by the fury of the sea meeting the security of granite cliffs. These sturdy walls overlooking the sea of my life were simply perfect and unmovable. They were not obstacles to be overcome or destroyed, they were obelisk and icons. Simple representations of things in my life that could not be changed.
Yet the world, the shear power of the fluid emotions of the sea, tried again and again to crumble them into sand. My faith was not an abstract thought, but a rational acceptance of the beautiful view I had from such a strong vantage. The soil at my feet was moist and saturated with my love and adoration of life, the ground I stood upon felt soft and sensual, yet somewhere down within my being everything had solidified into hardened rock.
I wondered, as I looked at the sea, as the feelings tried to reach me, if I was not meant to leap from my place of solitude.