In Memories You Live

Once upon a day I lived, but now only memories and air

Question to exist, and left upon a forgotten chair

I fall victim; the very hostage to a fate that isn't fair


Into the graveyard of memories, where beautiful things fade and die

and behind the dying oak tree, somewhere is you and I

Beside us inscribed on the tomb is where our promises lie.

Eternal here, is the flowers born from the days

Where I thought it was forever and wasn't just a phase

Years long gone, but your spirit forever stays


Under the moon lays the possibilities of love

But in a tree, lies a poor and injured dove

Blind to see the world, and the beautiful stars above

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Within My Own

A being sewn with fine broken lace and without any eyes

Worn and torn, thus broken and weathered by years of many lies

Clings onto the forgotten but once noticed shelf just once more

Before the time comes to be shattered by the reality and the floor


I dare not speak of the past and the tunes played

But to mention the emotions that filled up this now empty room ,and warmed the hearts of many, once important but now meaningless

Comes now the cold and wicked air of the fallen and betrayed


She begs me now not to go back,

But I must travel the past once more

The confidence was there but now today I lack

because I fail to recognize when to shut the door


What was now alive is long gone, and dead

As we sing for another day, while someone else loses their head

The unspeakable and unmentionable becomes now our vision

We ignore and feign ignorance to proceed with our own decision


Greed is right behind my shoulders

I say that I must not become like the rest of the world

I try to kill the dark behind me but wait another day once more

I ripped the happiest moments from the book of memories

to hold it dearly, but it blocks my path today as huge boulders


As you try to lock the door

Something whispers faintly but ever so determined to your ear

"Do not dare forget, but do not be sore."

"The present dies, but a future born does not represent fear"

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A Breeze of Memory

A graveyard of dead trees

Fallen leaves of vast red and orange seas

Squirrels scurry before winter strikes

As children play while others pass on bikes


harmony of the trees an the wind come together and sing

As a bird chirps then stops to clean it's wing

Children shrieking and screaming as they play

Angry armies of cars roar past, then fly away


Memories start of when I was a kid

Only broken away by time an what it did

Sitting still only in question

Of who I am and to what is my impression


I laughed . . . I played here

I was happy unknown of fear

But then reality again breaks memory's connection

Only to be lost again, still unknown of my reflection


Author's Notes/Comments: 

annnd, here you have yet another class assignment that I did way back.


A Thousand Paper Chains


Respire into peace,

And hear the rain,

Ebony touching open sky,

Smells of ashes

From the hanging tree,

The softness of rose petals

Etched upon weathered memories

Like yesterdays, the gifts you left.


Release the link 

With the same humble stature

That glided his well worn quill

Into the deepest parts of every heart

It touched, 

Because even hatred 

Knows the truth that lay

Written upon the hides of slaves.


Close the tired eyes

That envisioned the death

Of a dream and made it real,

That shunned the sneers

And humbly wiped away

The putrid smell

Of anglo-saxon spit 

From cheeks of color.


Write loudly and proudly,

And rejoice in the death 

Of a dream become reality,

Break through the pain,

Feel the rain,

Listen..hear the gasping breath 

Of the multitudes rejoice

For a thousand paper chains.




Author's Notes/Comments: 

Amiri Baraka


From the first time I laid eyes on them I’ve loved the paintings of Monet.

I love the subjects, love the impressions and the way the colors interplay.


I’ve also loved da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, I like to linger with her awhile

And enjoy the details of that landscape and the elusiveness of her smile.


I think memory is like these paintings for when a moment does unveil

It’s brushed upon our mind’s canvas, like a da Vinci, in detail.


Yet over time our memories seems to blend a little everyday

Until, when we grow older, we remember in Monet.


The last three days I’ve dipped into my memory, it felt great to be among

The memories of our children when life was simpler and they were young.


But as I discussed these poems with Deborah, although she didn’t want to berate

She informed me my memory was lacking...that I didn’t have my facts straight.


What building were Bryan and I in at Florida State? My memory is insecure.

Did we drink Gatorade, I think it was Gatorade but I do not know for sure.


Was Rit dye the kind that Ali used?  At one time I’m sure I knew.

And was it Ali or her friend Chrissy whose hair was colored blue?


Was it Ryan’s baseball card or hot wheels collection... Hmmm toy cars or baseball stats,

You think I would remember a small detail like that!


Luckily with Deborah’s help, like two birds of a feather

We sorted through our memories and pieced the facts together.


Initially I remembered those moments as they did first appear

But slowly as time intervened the details became less clear.


As I look back I shouldn’t be surprised at how these memories converge

Why da Vinci memories tend to fade and Monet’s tend to emerge.


Perhaps the moments of our life are meant, as we live our days,

To dissolve into an impression, to fade into a haze.


Perhaps it is this blending that makes these memories last

And we are left to find small details in our impressions of the past.


Perhaps we are meant to look back and smile at the impressions that we see


For is that not the nature of art...and the beauty of memory.

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Asshole Smite

Sad smiles and long nights,

No more calls, no more fights.

Walked out the door and turned off the lights.

Sit in silence and recall your bites--

I'm never right.

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Growing Up

Reminiscing about the past,

How it tends to last,

The memories of our days,

Spent living them away.

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comfortably nestled in between two rocks 


above the stillness overlooking the small village


flattened black tar rooftops


steep cobblestone paved streets


winding around the southern tip of the mountain


a bicycle ride away


too far to touch the bitter memories


my gaze is locked into a numbing trance


time stands still



12:49 AM 7/6/2013 ©




Author's Notes/Comments: 



dry and parched, the love we had,


deep in my memory,


i wander through mirages,


like this photo of you and me,


and though it's badly weathered ,


donned with cracks, it's fading shade,


the sweetness lingers deep within,


about the love we made,


my fist is clenched, the beads of sweat,


fragmented, splintered glass,


forever leaving one concern,


"Why can't i throw it in the trash?"





1:37 AM 6/23/2013  ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

old useless photos. 

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