If I spoke the language of the weather
I might have more to say
On the swirling, spinning something
Now abiding in my soul
As it stands, it might be better
To keep the forecasts off today
The wind’s a violent nothing
And I cannot find a lull.
"When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am…" –Maya Angelou
If I spoke the language of the weather
I might have more to say
On the swirling, spinning something
Now abiding in my soul
As it stands, it might be better
To keep the forecasts off today
The wind’s a violent nothing
And I cannot find a lull.
I should be drowned in rivers
Streams should flow of tears
But currents barely quiver
And I’ve looked away for years.
What lofty words were spoken!
What gentle grace, what vibrant scenes;
Yet if you read them closely,
They’re still veiling the same things.
I’ve watched you leave so often
My heart’s become like steel
Yet underneath, the wound still bleeds;
Some scars never heal.
I haven’t been myself lately
Just an echo of everybody else
I’m half convinced they half hate me
But it may just be they hate themselves
I’ve not been breathing well lately
I hold my breath like everybody else
Only half alive, and half crazy
Waiting for goodness or magic or elves
I’ve been thinking some of hell lately
It’s here with everybody else
The more I hear and the more I see
The deeper the dark inside of me delves
All I feel now is the lie
My heart is filled with falsity
Telling me I’m angry
Never telling why
Somewhere is the truth
Anger is convenient
Despair the main ingredient
Mixed with sadness and youth
But truth carries the pain
And knowing doesn’t save me
When I know I’m going crazy
Because how could this be sane
But if this is my deceit
Then I could use a little crazy
Because the only thing to save me
Is to not admit defeat.
July fourth
Watching fireworks
Each one, a family
Each one, a memory
Every one a possibility
Only, not for me
The people behind those lights
I will never meet
The moments that they make
Will never require me to be complete
And I’ve been told so many times
Not to make so much of little things
But it strikes me in its tragedy
And the tears take off with failing wings.
There was a moment I was visiting,
But only visiting was I;
‘Cause I only dare at quiziting
And the only true word is goodbye.
***
Don’t read too much into it,
It never does to try;
For who really understands it
Except for never I?
I see shadows of him everywhere,
And though they tell me that he’s just not there,
How can it be anyone but Arrogance
Who tells me I’m worth being here?
I see you tugging at the threads
And I laugh at my own pain;
Oh, my little fool…
You’ll understand when you’re insane.