Skip to main content

Dying Star

I held you close and I held you tight. I felt your trembling body rock mine roughly as you wept your beautiful heart out recanting the ills of your past. A failed boyfriend, an attempted rape, the shame you felt. I assured you you were okay, that you werent broken or misaligned, your soul not tarnished or tattered. You were so gorgeous, and you knew it, adding arrogance to your potent charisma. But your unneeded, unfounded, baseless shame caused you to act loudly and judge broadly. You insulated yourself from fear, doubt and loneliness by sheer force of will. My captivating girl.

My grin broadened involuntarily as I beheld the magnificent flower opening and unfolding before me. Your girlish giggling, high-pitched and carefree, drove my heart to soliloquy, echoing my own innocence and naivete. Before seduction, before pickup, before the Ars Amorata. When I simply was and could be, and my fingers gracing those of a amazing girl provided all the profundity I needed to prove that God does exist. You poured your desire for more, your ambivalence towards the future, and your eclectic passions into my chalice of enrapturement. I drank deeply, fitfully, and willingly. Two bodies became one, dancing to the pulsating rhythm of syncopated heartbeats, and although my place will always be to stand guard, Id never felt safer than when your hair filled my nostrils, your head weighing heavily and lovingly on my chest.

Distance destroys, perforating the strongest, sturdiest sails and suffocating all that wishes to blossom and breathe. I watched you disappear, my light fading and leaving me to be smothered by an uncertain fog. Our courtship was a whirlwind, chaotic and incredible in its terror and ferocity. If we meet someday anong the remains, who knows, we could try again. Or we may nod and smile knowingly, thanking each other for the gift of compassion and understanding. The seashells we collected still make random appearances, neglecting to disappear completely. I can still hear the call of the ocean, the rolling of waves, and the beating heart of adventure when I press it to my ear. Now youre a dying star in the distance, guiding me to help me avoid tenuous seas and embrace the brief lulls in the chaotic oceans of life. But your absence caused the other stars hiding in the dark around you to reveal themselves. Theyre beckoning, and what kind of Sailor would I be if I didn't heed their call?

Popular posts from this blog

Rosary

Rosary The time has come for honesty/ I admit I suck at boxing these/ Fighters, they're lunging, robbing me/ Of a dream that kept me up and walking free/ When my life wasn't mine, I'd thrust and pocket these/ Experiences, my trust was not the thing/ Reciprocated but my love was stalking me/ All around the world, but the lottery/ Came and went and I was stuck with all the beat/ Tickets, so I burned them and the rush it halted weak-/ Minded busted fallen dreams/ I clutched my balls and screamed/ I'm not done, don't walk on me/ As the exposure seeped/ In my bones as sleep/ Came over me/ It became my rosary/ I was quoting reams/ Of poetry/ When on the lowest brink/ I chose to keep/ Fighting and swinging, yet closure seemed/ So far away, but I rode the steep/ Waves of my internal roving needs/ The crones and leech-/   -es began to notice me/ So I'd throw a weak/ Punch and found a skull/ In my hand to hold/ Powerful/ Strength that wasn't there before, I was astoun

A Drunkard's Lament

              Alcohol/ Is a battle fought/ With madness wrought/ From the sadness caught/ Between a man that calms/ His hands and thoughts/ With poison that wraps its claws/ Around his watch/ Makes time pass and stop/ Whenever he slams a shot/ I have forgot-/ -ten the chasms walked/ Barefoot and half distraught/ When I've drowned in bot-/ -tles of the brownest rot-/ -gut liquor, that the damned can flaunt/ Prancing, dropped/ By the rancid vom-/ -it that crams and falls/ From the mouth of all/ The manic lost/ Ones that choose to pad their traum-/ -as with Jack and vod-/ -ka, Schnapps and all-/ -the traps of karma/ Let's get plastered, crawl the/ Line, disasters wobbling/ Pants are starting/ To tear, we're panting, heart is/ Racing, death a tragic pardon/ From the crimes of a master wrong one/ The fortune amassed is startling/ Fan your pockets/ For the change that's always last for varmints/ Alas, unvarnished/ Regrets are magic, popping/ Up wherever you're lashed and

Curtailed Dreams: Fuck The Coronavirus

Curtailed Dreams: Fuck The Coronavirus When I was in the Navy, particularly my last 2 years, all I dreamed about was boxing when I got out. At sea in 2014, out on a workup, in the process of getting ready to deploy, I was on the night shift.  When on the water, you endure what's termed Port and Starboard Watch, which is essentially a novelty nautical name for twin 12 hour shifts. One ran from 0800-2000, while the other, obviously, went from 2000-0800.  Since I'm nocturnal by nature, I quickly volunteered for the latter, and got it. I remember it had amused me because I'd done everything in my power to get San Diego, CA as my first duty station, only to end up exiled to Norfolk, VA, yet I'd secured my spot on the night shift in such short order.  When my happiness was involved, I was ignored, but when my labor was needed, I was prioritized.  It was around 3 in the morning and I had just finished my workout. Obviously I dont remember the exact contents of it, but I'm