Poems
I am not a poet. As life has progressed writing poetry has become a channel for processing pain, struggle, and hope. I hope you can connect or find hope in some of them.
Sometime I feel
Sometime I feel sad
Sometimes I’m so sad it wakes me up at night.
Sometimes I think sad is the only thing I know how to feel.
Sometimes i worry that sad is all I have left to feel
Sometimes I’m pissed that I’m sad.
Sometimes I want to be held and told that my sadness is ok.
Sometimes I want to be a million miles away from everyone so I can be sad without guilt.
Sometimes I feel my sadness has ruined me.
Sometimes I feel so bad about my sadness that I feel like my heart may actually explode.
Sometimes I feel sad.
But is that ok?
But am I ok?
Is this it?
a morning fog
A damp quite
heavy
still
wet socks
you want warmth
and the joy of sunlight.
But the damp chill
morning suits you well.
It’s in the quiet stillness
that your mind reminds
you of your sorrow.
You grow to know it.
Through years, peaks
and valleys.
He is your companion
and you his purpose.
Untitled 2022
The heart is a liar you’re mind is a murderer
there is no pain there is no Hope you are only you
You toss and you turn
You search for salvation
Away from this thought
An escape from your demons
Your mind is a fire your thoughts are like gasoline
Burning your way out
This can’t be sustained
How long can you boil
Until you are empty
You sleep and repeat
And you fear the answer
We all sleep and repeat
And ignore the question.
You take the medicine
But there is no cure
It dulls the blade but it never leaves
Joy in Soil 6/6/22
There are many joys to be found in soil
And all it can bare.
Beyond the more obvious fruits the soil can bare.
The watering and tilling.
The knowing and cultivating.
But even beyond those physical experiences,
There is maybe a greater impact.
When one takes on the pleasure of gardening
They can not help but to slow.
To notice
Growth
To notice
Decay.
To see the seasons come and go.
And often to see a life come into being
Produce fruit
And pass away.
From the soil, to the soil.
Toil 2-5-22
Feelings of Sisyphus
Feelings of despair
I am the victim
I am the aggressor
I am the butcher
I am the hog
Paul hates what
He does, but he persists
I hate who I am
I must persist
When doubt meets toil
All is despair
All is doubt
All is toil
All is despair
We move forward
What is toil?
What is self pity?
We move forwardd.
Fall 1, 10/16/21
Windows open, bare feet
Enjoyably cool, everything slowing
Everything speeding, a settling
Into new chaos, will this bring
Rest? Will it bring sorrow?
Is there rest without sorrow?
All things change, all things stay.