Caffeinated Armageddon

Posted by in Coffee, Coffee - Volume Two, Inquisitive, Spiritual

I dreamdt of waking
Trying to lure myself from fruitless ambition
To taste the wine as it caressed my lips
Breathing the nectar of life I had forgotten

But it was pretty pointless
I set my coffee on my desk
As I had done a thousand times before
and my eyes wandered out of my window

From my vantage, this sleek castle of glass
I could see hundreds of people living
Moving in a world that I could only witness
Like a spectator or a referee that didn’t know the rules

I could hear the hum of the air conditioning
The mindless chattering of coworkers on the phone
Yet it all seemed chaotically meaningless
As if I was paused in a world of hectic crisis

I thought to myself
Wouldn’t life be grand if it was different
Could I dare to be an artist
Should I care if no one knows my name

My boss scurried by my office door
I wondered why they thought so highly of this game
A competition of man eat mouse
Where the little guy never got the cheese

I sighed, pausing my thoughts for a moment
Pondering how wonderful it would be
To live in a place where we were all meant to be
And when I resumed, I simply took another sip of coffee

My Breath

Posted by in Coffee - Volume Two, Inquisitive

I was cold, not much more than usual
But my fingers were numb
Enough that I fumbled my coffee

I looked in through the window, on accident
And I saw a dream that I used to know
Yet she didnt remember my name

Was I the figment of imagination
or was I just translucent
as my body surely felt intangible

My breath however, was warm
I could feel my heart pulsing
Even though I knew it missed a beat

The tips of my fingers touched the cool glass
And I felt the thousand miles between us
As it danced on the pane of contemplation

I wondered, how could love feel so old
When faith seemed to be locked away
On one side of a wall I could barely see

I smiled, or at least something inside of me did
When I glanced over at her talking
I felt good, enough that I quietly said hello

Yet when she looked up
Her eyes passed through me
The phantom of my emotion was gone

She was simply left gazing at a symbol
Drawn on the frosted glass near her
Of a heart that faded from her view

By Herself

Posted by in Coffee - Volume Two, Inquisitive, Loss

She was tormented

Afraid of herself feeling

Feeling alone in fear

Never holding anyone dear

I see her dreaming each night

And I hear the screaming

But what is this meaning

Of the feeling she was needing

My life

Posted by in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts, Inquisitive

These words were not something I had imagined
No, just mere fallacy of belief I had as a child
Words that carried through to my life as an adult

I could breathe
Yet I could not take in the wonder around me
I could see
Yet my eyes denied me the gift of vision

These thoughts were not something I could hope to understand
No, they were simply a story that I liked to read
One that I often found myself portrayed as a character in

I was never the lead role
Just a casual personality that often received honorable mention
I was never in the spotlight
Just a supporting stage hand that managed to make the world seem more real

These moments were not something I had experienced
No, they existed in a place of hope and destiny I heard in passing conversation
A brief exchange of someones life as they tried to relay details I couldnt mistake

I was always missing the point
Just as if I had gone speeding by the weathered man holding a stop sign at a crosswalk
I was always finding myself asking twice
Just as if my life was simply so different that nothing I heard could be compared

These days were not something I could relive
No, they each happened only once at a speed I could not control
And I was usually incapable of noting the important things I failed to see

I could hope to remember one part
And I would often refer to it as being the best detail of a fundamental story
I could hope to believe that my actions added to the plot
And I would often regard myself as blinding leading in a story called my life

The Things I am

Posted by in Coffee, Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts, Dedicated Poems, Inquisitive

I never meant to say anything
except the things I meant to say
the words that came from my lips
compared nothing to those felt in my heart

The rain would fall
and I say a name gently
it makes me feel comforted
by a love that never faded

The clouds part
as day fades to night
a crimson light ignites a memory
and my soul realizes itself alone

Independent in my life
as a partner to a life I cannot define
A soldier who cannot abandon his path
yet an artist who lives so vibrantly

I walk down the road
watching others as they watch me
Holding myself to a fate they cannot believe
as I wait patiently for a signal to let me walk

I pass a beggar
and for a moment I look into his eyes
as I tell him his life is defined by no one
and he responds with a face so honest

I walk into the corner cafe
as I glance around the room
smelling a hint of a double tall irish cream latte
and I wonder how I know that smell so well

The barista looks calmly at me
smiling as she begins to brew my favorite drink
and I ask her where the best seat in the house is
she gestures so whimsically to the corner I always sit

The Wanderer

Posted by in Coffee - Volume Two, Inquisitive

One day I found myself
Truly dumbfounded by where I was
beneath an old elm tree
on an avenue of life that seemingly held good memory

In front of me
an old Volkswagon van
seemingly settled in the spot it always had
yet ready for a cargo and to move from a moment
that was the only one I could recall

To my left sat a hydrant
holding itself steadfast to the earth
preparing for a day to save someone’s life
that may simply never come to be

To my right was an alley
dividing a community into distinct halves
allowing two groups to share something in common
but designed to keep them apart

Behind me rested a simple home
For some family I had possibly met at the street fair
yet it lacked a face I could recognize
leaving me perplexed to my famiarity

Yet within me I felt only a feeling of being transient
There were no signs telling me where I belong
No directions to indicate the route I needed to take
and no visitors to share my questions with

The Palm Reader at the Street Fair

Posted by in Coffee - Volume Two, Inquisitive, Spiritual

I sat down
aware that I as seeking a reason for being here
The old gypsy woman smiled with her weathered lips
grasping my hand so gently with such warm fingers
as she pressed her palm against my own
and told me what I was scared of

That my life was short
but not incomplete
My heart was defiant and strong
and that I would become a passionate spirit
troubled by trying to reach a point
that would move farther than I could travel

She told me that I would not faulter
that while life did not encompass my dream
that it would touch someone else so deeply
and my hope and faith would inspire another soul
It would pull them from the bitter soil covering their hands
and allow them to cherish an embrace of a loving heart

I asked the old gypsy woman
if she could tell me how to best travel
her eyes spoke of her wisdom in such matters
and without words, she placed a single rose petal in my hand
She closed my fingers around it
It was warm, secure, and soft enough that it faded from my grasp

“That is what your travel will be”
For a moment, I did not understand
I pulled my hand from her and looked down with doubt
The petal was gone
It was now a full rose in bloom
Vibrant and amazingly delicate

“That is what your life will be”
I was confused
My eyes deceived me
and my imagination seemed to play along
but I felt something
A part of my spirit heard what she had said

I looked into the old gypsy woman’s eyes
and said I believed her
She smiled and laughed under her breath
as she knew I didn’t understand
I took a dollar and left it on the table
Yet she placed the dollar back into my hand

“This will bring you true understanding”
I took it and slipped it back into my pocket
as I waved good-bye to the old gypsy woman
I began walking slowly to my house while pondering her words
My thoughts asked so many questions that I could not answer
and yet I found myself at ease

I wandered through the street fair, delaying my return home
As I looked at a colorful world that amazed so many children
and left the adults wondering about daily life
I looked at the clowns and the parrots,
the merchants and the beggars
and I found myself understand everything so clearly

Yet I did not understand myself
I was a child looking at a soul I could not comprehend
It was lavish in color and so unique in its construction
My thoughts of everything included nothing of me
until I simply bumped into a stranger
as small boy, who reminded me so much of myself

He looked at me, no through me
a tear in his eye
and a trail of unhappy thoughts on his face
he pointed to the sky
high above us a single red balloon faded from view
and yet the boy held it dearly in his heart

I took the boy’s hand
and told him it would be alright
I reached into my pocket
Searching for the dollar
and instead found a single rose petal
a petal of no value I thought

But I made my way to the merchant clown
who was a lovely old man
Telling him I needed a balloon to give this small boy
and without question he gave it to me free of charge
He smiled and he laughed and gave me the balloon
he even patted me on the head

I turned to the boy
but he was no where to be found
I searched the crowd and found myself alone
wondering how I had delayed my own problems
to give something of myself to solve a child’s dilemna
and I was simply left holding this pretty red balloon

I walked home, somewhat frustrated
Gazing at this simple floating piece of rubber
That for no apparent reason made me so happy
and I laughed, having tried to do what I could
Realizing the old gypsy woman was right
that a rose petal would bring me understanding

I would hold onto a dream
a petal, a balloon
I would hold onto a faith
and keep it dearly with my childlike spirit
trusting my heart to the beauty and happiness
an old gypsy woman had shared with me

A Wanderer on the Map of Creation

Posted by in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts, Inquisitive, Spiritual

Well gee, I usually don’t post directly to a blog…but what the hell. I’m bored tonight and my friends just left after having a little get together and now I’m sipping my cup of patiently brewed coffee and wondering about all the good things in life.

A Wanderer on the Map of Creation

I stand here
Comically laughing at who I am
Asking myself one more time to describe myself
and looking at the things I could be compared
I do not know if I am white or black
But I feel so many colors in the passion coarsing through me
that my lips quiver with a tongue yearning to share who I am
Yet I am just at a point in my life
A single miniscule point that is so hard to properly quantify
and everything in me tells me where I am today will move
Sometimes quickly, yet sometimes slow
and yet I will always know I was here

I am
Somewhat funny
and even personable
My friends say I am wonderful
and my voice often agrees
Yet I am not perfect
I have dreams
and a chaotic imagination
I can see a world alone
and I can see myself near you
My hands are strong
yet they sometimes fumble

I am
Never perfect
No I have flaws aplenty
that I sometimes hide
Yet my pride is not that defiant
and I can often question myself
But what you know is barely me
As I see deep within a heart that makes me breathe
Oh yes, I am not perfect
Yet I can sing like an angel
Sometimes quietly and sometimes like a siren
and my mind can lose itself so often

I am
A romantic
I believe in holding ground that very few believe
My heart is so very courageous
and forces my spirit to stand with or against
No I am not weak
I lived even when my body said I should no longer cry
even as I looked upon what I thought was my last moonlit sky
I can only regret that which I did not defy
and when I am resting I’ll probably ask myself why
Oh yes, my words are  something that are truly complete
and when I feel myself wandering, I just ask that we meet

I am
Simply me
Someone who believes myself to be greater than right here and now
My hope is simply a fuel to desire something more
and for this tragic yet wanting fire I will simply burn
Yet I will not release myself from this dream
Oh god no, I will never run from a vision only I can have
As I will stare back into a mirror of my own design
and discover a way to share this thing to a beautiful refine

I am
The wanderer
I seek that which makes me not complete
but gives me a method of stating the way I define myself
My will forever forces me to a spot outside my soul
Searching the night sky, reaching to the heavens above
and for my sinful greed I will one day find what I need
I will define myself by the words I have learned in life
My greatest challenge will not be finding what I am
But simply discovering exactly what I can be

I am
Not alone
I am simply finding myself
So that one day I may be closer to you

A walk in the park

Posted by in Coffee - Volume Two, Daily thoughts, Inquisitive

Bright sun
Warm breeze
echoes of geese on the water

Green grass
Brisk aroma
Details left so small within my mind

Simple thoughts
Magical dreams
The things that fuel my breath

Laughing casually
Aimless wandering
Defining everything of who I am

Subtle love
Living intoxication
This life I call my own

Completely freeing
Delightfully inspiring
Just a simple walk in the park

Lucid Dreaming

Posted by in Coffee - Volume One, Inquisitive, Regret

Nothing could simply be more forgiving than the damning feelings of quickly feeling that subtle want of loving taste.

 

Life pulsing slowly, saying soothing words that are simply nothing more than whispering memories of fading desire.

 

Dream now my love as I never say these words to your ear as I am but a silent glimmer in this wanting figment.

 

Here is my loss, of giving my wanting love to dreams I can never have while restlessly trying to believe.

 

Forgive me now as shallow words of soothing living are heartfelt pains of never knowing.

 

I am gone before your arms can touch these dreams of forgotten memories.

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