rain

There’s something broken in me
Something small that hurts large
It barely takes a breath to knock me to my knees

I am broken.

It’s a hurt, a pain, and years of memories. 
The difference between “i love you” and “I’m in love with you”
has little to no meaning.

Love doesn’t matter. Love was meaningless.
all that remains is all that breaks
my heart. my soul. my life…

I hate this brokeness…caused by love…caused by your rejection. 

So i look back. to go back. to see the path and repair what remains
yet back looks black and
back is black and white

i can see clearly now
picture perfect rain is falling down
i look back and see nothing
i look forward but am blind
rain is the only direction i see

down.

rain

I got a voucher

I boarded the plane with a child
in my seat so I offer to exchange
window for middle
I’m a father myself, you know.

What do I care? It’s 2 hours to LAX
the attendant offers me the isle at 23c

but it’s closer to my boss and
i want a triple vodka and no worries as
that’s the best for drinking
too much, with out care

they say it’s suicidal to drink yourself to death
but i’m dying anyway

someday I’ll kick this habit
someday I’ll acknowledge my reality
and will never deny myself a drink again

for now though I’ll squeeze in
tucked between two strangers waiting
until my drunk arrives.

It’s just a carpet convention after all.

I got a voucher

Waves

i sense a distance growing between us
as the waves of childish passion recede
we are still standing on the shore
together
and healing

it feels appropriate to move to the side
giving each other space
to grow. hurt. heal.

and the great things about waves
they always return
and we will still be standing
healthier. peaceful.

alone or together. in strength

Waves

J Wept.

Jesus wept.

Short, to the point. Perhaps poetic…perhaps…
Mostly for the Jesus part and less about the weeping.

Johnpaul wept.

See…not that interesting. Here the tears overshadow the man.
And no one is turning the page.

Jesus probably did a lot of things (assuming he did any at all)
But, “Jesus threw a blanket on the back of a donkey, got a boost from Thomas, hopped up, and rode off into the sunset” is far to mouthy. Even if he was weeping the entire time.

Jesus hopped.

That’s how I would tell the story if I were a first century writer pretending to know him.
“Keep it vague”, I would say to myself, “let the reader decide why”. But I don’t know him.
And won’t pretend as such.

J Wept.