Now, as I settle down to write

The world retired for the night

My only comfort just might be

The fact that nothing’s promised me…

Just as that slumber slowly creeping

The world outside content with sleeping

 I find that we were wasting time

How long a day? How short Life’s chime?

 The question posed… no answer yet

While every day I can’t forget

That this was never mines to keep

The Unborn, joys… I smile, then weep.

 Not weeping for those Winters spent

Nor sighing for those Summers leant

No tears for Autumn’s fading smile

The Unborn tears condemned a child.

To others just a clump of clay

Her mothers’ fate I dare not say

Betrayed the only chance we had

“The Unborn” sorrows drive us mad.

 So, as I posture spine and pen

Afraid to look too deep within

For there I might just clearly see

The Unborn child may better be.

 Be better not to ever cry

I hope it’s better when we die

I know it’s better there than here

The Unborn’s fate remains unclear.

 For six days may have been too much

For her to feel a mother’s touch

Who took no time to nurture, care

My Unborn dreams, out there somewhere.

Out there amid the stars and fear

Out there where Winters never near

Out there, how lonely empty space

Where all these memories have no face.

 Now seven years have cured the  strain

Upon my heart, but not the pain

That still, until this very day

Confines my mind to Shades of Gray.

 Shades of gray where gray cell dwell

Gray cells casting mental spells

Spells that cushion falls from Grace

Into the arms of pain and waste.

Now, these I may not ever know

If she would like the rain or snow

If seizures pass from Dad to daughter

 My Unborn tears fill every quarter.

Now in the arms of sadness pending

No sight of comforts coming, mending

I can’t be fair to Pat nor me

Our Unborn child will never be.

 She’ll never know her mother’s smile

She’ll never be “Our Darling Child”

She’ll never help me build that place

My Unborn still my source of Grace.

 “Sweet dreams my child,” I’ll never say

“Let’s go outside a while to play”

“We’ll just let Mommy sleep a while,

This time is ours to laugh and smile.”

 No time to waste on pain and sorrow

My winter coming soon, tomorrow

Returning joy upon my face

In death, my daughter’s smile I’ll trace.

And if she wonders “How is this?”

I’ll smile and give her such a kiss

That to her heart my love would rush

And even angels then would blush.

 For now, my only comfort mending

My will to fight the teardrops pending

  Between her mothers’ heart and mine

 An Unborn baby girl, so fine.

 “I love you, Dad,” her eyes would say

And filled with moisture, mine would pray

Let not the pains that here reside

Ever touch my Baby’s side.

 Now all the world’s too small for me

To try to hide, to there feel free

Without that nameless piece of love

Unborn, reborn, with God above.

Why question why I chose the name

All answers come back quite the same

The Unborn marks what follows me

This child, my child I did not see.

 And why on earth cremate my heart

Then take the ash and then depart

To leave me here in bitter pain

With no defense against the rain.

Posted in Death, Life, Love, Pain, Sorrow | Leave a comment


Hope’s a deadly menace                In the arms of silly men        Some people try to fool us      And so we just pretend

But hope without faith is useless  And love without pain is empty This life we live is fruitless   When liars think to gain

So wait and I’ll wait with you   But this you need to know       THE truth was clearly shown me Before you decided to go

No longer can my heart hold out No long sleepless nights in doubt No longer needs to question, fight.                                                  My soul knows what is right

It’s right it’s better to never love

Than love a selfish fool

It’s right to look down not above

When trying to cross a pool

(still working on this one)

Posted in Love, Person Growth | Leave a comment

Watch “Zelda Fest” on YouTube

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

My LoGo

Posted in Death, Hatred, Joy, Life, Love, Nature, Pain, Psychology, Self | Leave a comment


The recollections of the poet

  One might question the utility of writing a book about a BOOK that has been long since lost? “Boy, the more things change the more they stay the same.”  How true, my friend. These are the words of EAndino2, my seemingly lifelong friend. She further states that…  “It seems as though you are not in any position to be giving anyone’s life a push as of late.”  Correct, again, Evie.

“You need to push yourself out of your legal and mental situations.”  She goes on to instruct and scold me : “I’m just surprised that you were not arrested when you went downtown to take pictures the other day (with your luck) lol.

I am sorry to hear that your collection of works was totally deleted. I know that was devastating. I just hope you still have most of the hard copy in which you transferred into the computer. If you have that you can always start again because you’ll have something to work off of.  Was this computer assigned to you? I can’t see why someone would feel they had the liberty to delete something that was not assigned to them.

I hope that wherever it is that you are living these days that you are comfortable there and are able to settle down there for a long time instead of always trying to find a place which you can call home. It’s going to start getting cold soon and hopefully you have a stable home.

Being that you are so unhappy with your life right now I was thinking that perhaps you can find something (constructive) that you like to do. A hobby of some kind which does not cost too much money or no money at all. If so maybe you should focus on doing whatever interests you so this way you don’t have too much time on your hands to focus on being lonely, empty and so sad so often. I wish I could give you suggestions but I don’t know of anything you like besides computers.

I know that for me what I did was focus more on finding a way to make any kind of money and ended up at the supermarket. The pay sucks but it helps a little. Although my financial situation is suffering I’ve also decided that I needed to keep a clear head so I have not gotten high in a long time. It has been almost two years now and trust me it helps me with my depression. I DO get depressed but it doesn’t seem as bad as it did when I was getting high. Now, if only I could stop smoking these damn cigarettes, that would be beautiful.

Anyway Walter, hang in there and keep your head up. The word out there is that God does not give you anything you can’t handle. I am really starting to believe that. Sometimes it’s a challenge to live by those words but I always tell myself that things could be much worst. So I must count my blessings every day whether I feel blessed or not because deep down inside I know I am. And as long as you wake up to live another day you are too. So smile…it’s good for the soul.”

What sparked this train of thought in her was that on Sun, Nov 20, 2011 at 7:46 PM, I wrote:

Hi, Evie. It is always good to hear from you. I have a lot of legal this and that’s’ going on, but I really only do it because otherwise my life is quite empty and meaningless. Did I tell you that someone named Henry, at the Goodwill building deleted my entire collection of works? I stored them in the network because my flash drive (was) lost.

It hurt me to the core of me soul; that was the only copy of all me writings… over 30 years of my life, my memories, my… my… my… gone in a push of a “Del” key. I have not been the same since.

Well, my friend, if things do not change much for you by the start of the New Year, I will have to step in and give your life a little push.

As for that awful job thing, Century 21 is hiring, but you have to apply online.  Did I mention that I am officially retired at the age 52? How does it feel? Lonely, empty, and sad most of the time. I was in the City today taking pictures of the sights and protesters down on Wall Street.

Then I went to the South Street Sea Port and stared out the water… I smiled, as I thought of you, Bernard, Eddie, all of the good people who gave good meaning and feelings to my life.  So, as your friend, don’t be proud and tell me what I can do to help.  I really would like it if we could do lunch or something in a few weeks. Let me know. Peace! And stay in touch.

After receiving her last e-mail, I responded:

Hi, Evie.  Yes, the more things change the more they stay the same. It is not that I am trying to give your life a push. I am just being a friend; which means, your life, your condition, your happiness matters to me.

The legal aspect of my life is actually a plus when you think it through. It seems that I just keep landing on my feet whenever there is what initially seems like a problem.  I’m not surprised that I was not arrested; after all, with my luck, taking pictures helped me blend into the mix. As for my mental situations, I will just keep quiet on that.  Sometimes, it hurts to be alive… but (not) all of the time.

My collection of works was totally deleted. It was and still is devastating. I have no hard copies that I know of. That is what hurts the most. It felt like the death of child or someone who made your life complete. Henry[1], the man who did it, did so out of (vindictiveness)[2]. The director gave me access to the organization’s network so that I could write programs for each unit. That was his job, but I did it faster and the other unit-heads would ask me, not him, to update their boards. He claimed it was mistake.  I cannot start again because I have nothing to work off of. All of the computers were assigned to me. (Only meaning, it did not matter which computer I used.)

I am not unhappy with my life all of the time. I have something (constructive) that I like to do. I don’t think (of) it is a hobby of sorts ; but, it does not cost too much money.  Yes, you are so correct. I should focus on doing things that interest me.  That would be anything dealing with computers and playing chess… oh, oh, and my PlayStation2.

Thanks, Evie, and you hang in there and keep your head up, also.

Peace… Always your friend, WalterT.

And now, straight to the task at hand…

[1] The names “ Zore” and Henry are synonymous with all that is evil and vile.

[2]  Originally “spite”

Posted in Friendship, Life, Self, Suffering | 1 Comment
















The recollections of A poet

 In the beginning there was one massive book called “DEATH BY MADNESS.”  It consisted of 25 different, but not so independent, PARTs; a total of 5959 pages, by design. One piece, “ONCE MORE BY DEATH,” an epopee, had over 700 pages and took more 6 years to write. As one might surmise, it was the heart and soul of all of “Walter Latif’s” labors.  There is no way that work can be restored in its original form. This is an earnest, and sometimes frustrating, attempt to restore some of what was lost.    


 These days the remnants of the past

Come rushing back sometimes so fast

They make no sense as axons touch

And stimulate my brain too much

How many times was sleep discarded

My mighty mind wane weak, retarded

As shadows past me in the night

My fists are clinched my eye shut tight

Behold, my heart’s an open door

My eyes see things not seen before

My feet quite nimble useless still

Against convulsions’ greater will

 The past the captain, the vessel me

Collecting Yesterday’s debris

No use the prayer that this should end

The first of Nightmares sure begin:


Part one

  The onset outset upset clapping

Winds outside sent shutters flapping

Against some mortal morbid pine

Embracing thoughts, some hers, some mine

And who was she to warrant mention

To grasp my empty full attention

To take away my peaceful dreams

Replacing them with hellish screams

It’s not just memories merging mental

But more the chaos converging central

Systems spinning, spike, then peak

There’s no control when Nightmares shriek

With no more means to think, remember

My gray cells flicker out like ember

And leave behind a tattered shell

That grasps at shadows, shapes from hell:

Part two

Not once but twice my dreams erect

A monument I can’t protect

When all my thoughts have been erased

The second nightmare fingers trace

 Nestled in some heartless Winter

Refusing sacred gifts I sent her

A demon commanding greater bliss

Than all those summers’ childish twists

 The ones that filled a heart with laughter

That end with happily ever after

That helped us make it through the storm

Security blankets, that kept us warm

For winters never seemed to care

If Life was just or just unfair

Unfold, the tales tell nothing more

Than why my dreams are Nightmares sure:

Part three

Embrace the feel of slumber moving

Within some space where nothing’s proven

Except those twilights lonely spent

Inhaling Slumber’s solemn scent

My youth once gave those specters meaning

That danced across Mom’s mantle streaming

Back then I just could not believe

The monsters were but wind and leaves

Fear gave my heart a healthy cleaning

Across the sky came dawn and meaning

Removing twilight’s malicious dew

With strength to face each day anew

Of course on looking minds contrived

They wondered “Is he still alive?”

When all around them nothing’s said

The voice of Winter filled my head

Four days passing sometimes more

Three the specters, one named Zore

Twice I’ve seen them in my youth

One dream closer to the truth:

Part four

 Unsure, but then, like spirit-dancing

Age old friends came eager prancing

Chancing that, like once before,

Adventures might let them explore

All those lands and places yonder

Where wisdom took no time to ponder

The kiss of Death… left nothing more

Behold! The birth of Nightmares, sure:

Part five

At first my lips would quiver gentle

Then fingers trek through vectors mental

Where lived that phantom, “Yesterday”

Infesting, besting, matters-gray

In truth, the truth proved nothing less

Like all those sins that priests confess

My heart lay prostrate begging, please

But there’s no comfort, peace, no ease

Slow, my mind fought dendrites scourging

Misfiring axon’s senseless surging

“Be still!”  This child could not comply

While feathers float and siblings spry

Most eager they stood looking on

While seizures crippled, senses gone

Behold, the elders potions, brew

“Don’t beat me Mom,” she never knew

She never knew, they never told her

A burden now I still can’t shoulder

We only do what we think best

Accept the good and damn the rest

 So full of life they never noted

And paid no mind to verses quoted

They simply looked on asking why

“My son, my child, with demons lie?”

And in that trance transcending time

As steeple bells through cortex chime

Behold the hour cast and set

I’m filled with questions, fears and fret:

Part six

So marked the ebb of vicious dreaming

Where wicked waves of nightmares streaming

Retraced the teardrops formed in haste

Reflections of some unknown place

Where here and there are quite the same

Where specters form to souls reclaim

Where only misty mental merging

Explained the cost of neurons splurging

Behold that realm where all is black

Where blank slates following each attack

Without a warning, least more a hint

Dreams form without my mind’s consent

 I’m not awake “He might be sleeping”

Aware of nothing… something… creeping

The truth at that point mattered not

When dreams and nightmares merge and plot;

The outset onset slumber, fighting

A stupor freezing limbs, then citing

Quoting verses etched in stone

“Once More By Death,” we’re all alone:

Part seven

    In years to come, when men lay cold

Perhaps our stories then shall be told

Perhaps this life meant something more

Just what, right now, I’m not quite sure

Regrets and obstacles I’ve embraced

I search for words I can’t replace

Adjusting ink for shadows spun

Rewriting verses like this one:

Part eight

Once upon a long time fading

Within my chamber heat degrading

I felt the need for something more

Than creeping chills that touched my core

As I rose to dash the ember

Slow, my pace by stiffened members

Intention… “Lumber, I need some more”

Retraced I steps I took before…

Before the onset of this madness

Before her death and utter sadness

Before I knew what sorrow meant

My life those days spent well content

Although I fed the hungry fire

And added to my night’s attire

It seemed the flames produced no heat

Behold my soul was incomplete

An eerie feel of unknown substance

Eyes scanning rooms for evil presence

But Shadows know where best to hide

In darkened corners where fears reside

  An awkward glance to check, remember

My hopes from June ‘til late September

My life then more consumed by fear

Than all these sounds and sights unclear

 For flames will issue better heat

When stoked about with pokers weak

Her gentle touch from memories fade

And thoughts of love no more parade

My mantle measured passing time

With all those trinkets thereon combined

Reflections vague my tortured mind

Those trophies won; an ancient find

Expose an eremite, not quite me

Reflections vague, the things they see

The only joy to realize

Are Broken Hearts and Butterflies

Still, as I tilled that restless fire

With thoughts that I should soon retire

For this day nearly meets her end

Quite swift the next dream did begin:

Part nine

What tiny tinkling chimes now capture

Our full attention, don’t mention rapture

Perhaps, the throngs of Winter’s touch

 Death’s songs… Collections far too much

For I can’t focus mental hearing

Can’t glance beyond this forest’s clearing

And what I thought might be a door

Just clumps of redwood, nothing more…

Nothing more than shadows riding

Nothing more than children hiding

Behind some stumps that clump us all

Where dreams abating… Nightmares fall

Where nothing more or less I see

Than dreams compressing…  Reality!

Is just too hard to comprehend

It’s just as well as I pretend

There’s something more than hopeless dreaming

Than twisted faces and endless screaming

“How sweet,” the panging breaths that soar

Embrace the birth of Nightmares sure!

Whose sounds were clearly tender tapping

Against that door where she laid napping

Within my mind… that lonely place

Where Nightmares crush what once was grace

For now my memories dwindling, fade

A lifelong effort ditched, betrayed

By things so foul and names I’d curse

With every line, in every verse

But verses written cannot cure

Infected hearts are never pure

As hopes fade gently into the night

Perhaps next dream I’ll get it right:

Part ten

 Behold!  My tale of epic scale

Of mental ships that once sat sail

That ventured to exotic lands

“Destroyed…” By malice, spiteful hands

Now Nightmares sponsor hate not fear

And subjects feed on shameless jeer

My life’s disastrous I cannot sleep

I once knew laughter… these days I weep

I lay in wait on Hell or Death

To stifle claim my sleeping breath

To take back where ancient winds

Where all things started find violent ends:

Part eleven

One time I knew what madness meant

When into slumber with slow descent

Some demon stifling my will to scream

Before I knew it was a dream

His red eyes flickering, feel the wind

His arms like tentacles wide, extend

An endless line of conquered souls

Climbed snaky hills with crimson folds

“Come forth my child the time is now

The gates are opened but for a while

Your dreams are anchored, so touch this orb

  Embrace this realm and be absorbed

How many million dreams have past

How many Dreamers We’ve crushed and dashed

Who dare to venture, enter here

The likes of man shall once more fear”

And as he spoke my essence sighed

How many years I’ve tried and tried

To end this reign of pain I knew

And cross from gray to something blue:

 Part twelve

 “What’s lost can never be reclaimed

I know your Sorrows all by name

Because in dreams you brought us near

We love the taste of senseless fear”

It seems we all are blessed with demons

Who lay in wait with wicked scheming

Whose only purpose point perhaps

To cause our hopes to fold, collapse

My search is difference only by this

My harshest sorrows gave both us bliss

This master, mentor, knew quite well

“The death of dreams gives birth to Hell”

Now as some hoard stood listening on

With eager eyes and souls far gone

Behold the crimson king of fear

“My Children, listen. Hear me clear

This bastard slaps us in the face

This scourge, this man-thing now lay waste

He cannot, shall not leave nor wake

The things we touch he cannot take

Our task has met us here this day

And this man’s soul is ours to prey

As lord of Darkness, this I command

Let not this human leave this land

For ours has been a sacred trust

Into the Land of Dreams, those thrust

They’re ours to conquer as they sleep

As slowly into Nightmares seep

For him the hour has finally dawned

Released our hounds and evil spawn

Consume all dreams dreamt during sleep

Let not the price he pays be cheap:”

Part thirteen

Now in the distance my soul stood shaking

I heard a voice, “You’re not mistaken

‘Tis true this monster means to kill

As many minds as lose their will”

But why? We never meant to tread

 We thought all dreams were in our head

Relating dreams to death was just

A cliché gathering conscious dust

“A cliché you say are you now mad?

Behold the hoard that gathered glad

Content no more with just your dreams

Pollute they cosmic sacred streams”

I learnt a thing they never knew

That with each dream that might break through

This Land of Dreams could not deplete

The better things in Life we meet

 The realm of dreams it seems give life

Though sometimes dreams may sponsor strife

For men weren’t only meant to dream

But question what things also seem

For questions lead to answers then

Depletion of dreams powers when

Men stop believing, giving rise

To empty visions, sightless eyes

 To fill my life with revolting fear

They take away what’s close and dear

To drive to madness by any means

“Stop touching Hope with hands unclean:”

Part fourteen

  How long the thread of time through space?

How many children Fate lays waste?

It’s not the answers that I seek

Just strength where once I was quite weak

How much more pain must I embrace?

My offspring del-ed, without a trace

My life’s ambition no longer clear

How many failures brought me here?

Perhaps the thoughts that teach them take

Perhaps both brains by badness break

Left brain right brain which one knew

The things I dreamt were never true:

Part fifteen

Perhaps it’s true, the more things change

The more they stay within some range

Where only angry thoughts and Spite

Determine what is wrong and right


It’s not that I was trying to

Teach her life things mine never knew

It’s just that well, see, in the end

My child that died, my only friend


Perhaps this life began to seem

Conditioned by an endless dream

That fashioned what I thought was real

From brutal pain and things I’d feel

If happiness matters much to me

Although it’s sometimes hard to see

Let sleeping eyes embrace the night

With no regard for wrong or right


All aspects actually are a plus

“So think them through with care,” I must

It seems I’m landing on my feet

With every peril grave I meet

 I’m not depressed, though often sad

Reflecting on the things we had

Arresting every urge to cry

With my luck, anguish shall not die

       While mental situations touch

That precipice, I see so much

Those lonely empty arms of Fate

Still stand alone in dreams they wait

For that day when beneath my feet

As peace of mind my tears replete

When quiet terrors that taunt and grieve

My plight, a sight I can’t believe

 It hurts so much to be alive

While shadows dance I lose the drive

To move away, she’s not my friend

But “All Things End Where They Begin:”

 Part sixteen

My children there lay dead, depleted

My lifelong work now deeds deleted

Dark devastation debases me more

Than unclean lips I’ve kissed before

I have no means to conjure, rise

Up from the ashes, ancient eyes

While more than just my sadden face

Is twisted, tattered, laid to waste

 I’ll tell you what once scared me more

Than all the wrath of Nightmares sure

A truth this father could not face

My only angel’s fall from grace

My daughter’s death could never give

This parent reasons more to live

The same in death, her life complete

Brought cold mortality to my feet

And even now my fingers shake

My Butterfly, my heart still quakes

My eyes are filled with bitter tears

I love you more with passing years:

 Part seventeen

Beyond this place, that land of dreams

Where things are not quite what they seem

I find no comfort any more

In mounting pains and Nightmares sure

For in this place I‘ve come to find

The things Peace brings, Pain leaves behind

So teach me, reach me, day or night

“All that you do, don’t do from spite.”

“Creation gave us paths to follow”

Doctors serve me pills to swallow

“Failures form,” but I know now

No wisdom’s gained… “From hate, my Child”

“For he who thinks his job is done

By moving fast and missing none

Has missed the essence of this sphere

Where mishaps make the Way quite clear”

“For pain is passed from us to them

Updates may forecast futures grim

They claim there can be no mistake”

Don’t blame me for the hearts they break

We cannot start your heart again

That charge was never given men

I live where nothing’s simple, clear

“Where brave men cannot hide their fears”

Now I crave nothing by design

The less I seek, the more I find

That all this life assigned to me

Were Children never meant to be


The only means of comfort here

Resides within some passage clear

That thrives inside my aching head…

“She’s only sleeping,”

No!   She’s  quite dead

I will not settle, meddle, merge

 Until I find some place to purge

  I cannot call this life complete

While crimson tears fall at my feet

They touch the ground and sprout anew

One horrid nightmare, sometimes two

To chase me, catch me, hold me still

Like Winter’s deadly freezing chill

 I cannot seek out comfort, shelter

While in my chest the achings smelter

While Yesterday cries out in vain

“Please find the cause of father’s pain!”

 It seems I may be able to

Get closer to the ones I knew

But then I find it just a loan

From dreams un-dreamt… and thoughts unknown

If I could pass Death’s credit check

My score secure about my neck

Perhaps Tomorrow I might defeat

Those crimson chains that bind my feet

“It is not ours,” I hear them say

“Your tortured soul place on display

For all those wanton dreams you knew

Were never ours to misconstrue”

“To lead you on was not our plan

We never claimed to understand

We only showed you what might be

You made the choice to never see”

I gazed upon this life now fading

Across a field of amber shading

Wading thoughts moved waves of pain

Across that formless field, my brain

I met some creatures in my dreams

The things they show aren’t what they seem

The past, the now, the future all

“Please leave a message; perhaps we’ll call”

“Perhaps we’ll show you things to come

We can’t show all but can show some

Interpret nightmares as you may

But what they mean we’ll never say”

From these I gained the will to write

They showed me how “Through others’ plight”

I’d find the source of all this pain

But gain no comfort for my brain

No comfort in the act of writing

No breaks in all the mental fighting

No reasons making madness clear

Just vague expressions in my ear:

 Part eighteen

With that began an endless trek

Misfortunes bound about my neck

The time was nineteen eighty three

The place, some prison near a sea

The truth don’t substitute with lies

Destitution was not her only prize

The judgment set and met with shame

A place where numbers replaced names

Along a lonely strip of road

A mental womb embraced her load

Her birth cord chains that linked and bound

As senseless sounds of Silence crowned

Outside the night air cold and black

Inside no hope of coming back

Is this my fate to smolder swell

What’s real I can no longer tell

Behold the Dawn, then breaking day

This nightmare, dream; I cannot say

“Your next stop Hell,” the whispers croon

My prayer that someone wake me soon:

 Part nineteen

How clear those walls that kept me in

Made from mortar, minds, and men

A chilling shade of hopeless gray

Suppressing Night, arresting Day

 Each brick a teardrop frozen still

Each razor-wire meant to kill

Not flesh, but any mental scheme

That would allow a heart to dream

But dreams you cannot keep at bay

yet Hope’s a deadly game to play

When nothing more than senseless pain’s

A truth that needs not be explained

No help behind those metal arms

Encaging dreams with twisted charms

That taught us it’s not safe to sleep

Until the “night-sticks” past us creep

What took them months, took me a day

As visions came through seizures’ fray

That I might find through torment’s touch

That Wisdom hurts us just as much

Just as much as empty arms

Just as much as misplaced charms

Just as much as sleepless nights

As metal sinks and papered lights

Still, there within the arms of grief

Embracing aches with no relief

I learned to live on counted breaths

A pardon spewed…  “Once More By Death:”

Part twenty

I thought the points were lessons learned

That sacrifice was meant to burn

Upon that shrine we knew as life

The truth, no proof… just pointless strife

A tale of wails became my toil

And writing formed my daily spoil

 In ignorance all my efforts died

My pension just the tears I cried

Behold once more the breaking day

The next dream surely on its way

With nightmares chasing catching swift

My soul a weight I cannot lift

For lost in time with time to burn

I wrote down everything I’d learn

To teach me, reach me, keep me sane

Redemption mocked by social bane

So welcome to my welfare state

Where sixteen years proved much too late

It’s not that much to ask them why

Did all my children have to die?

Now as to Wisdom’s lessons taught

Too high the price or so I thought

For systems gave me cause to live

“And vengeance?” Never mines to give

My life unhappy all the time

My wife to be I could not find

Except in dreams that came and went

One day in prison, a lifetime spent:

Part twenty-one

It’s said that we have souls that flow

 To someplace… “Where?” I still don’t know

My mind once travelled to “Nevermore”

‘Twas there I found those Nightmares sure

While other things for which men strive

Within the span of dreams contrived

Yield something more than empty space

Yes, countless truths we dare not face

 This life’s a hobby, a game of sort

That lesser minds confined, contort

The cost too much for gilded pens

The loss to steep, so we pretend

That cells are suite, and guards are men

Sent to protect, to serve, defend

The yard’s a ponderosa, “Mine!”

We get to keep the lies we grind

And who’s correct: the fool or sage?

While both lay focus on this page

Where things of interest fade to gray

While back and forth through time I play:

 Part twenty-two

At first I thought what prison meant

Could be explained through packages sent

And measured best by things amassed

Like commissary and pardons past

But each night, late night there I lay

With pen in hand and much to say

Creating worlds of peace and bliss

For any place was better this

For some the prison’s bars are cold

For others youth transforms to old

Between the twain let anguish teach

No one’s to blame for morals breached

For Downstate, Upstate, this state’s grace

Are social norms that gates replace

That fences keep at conscious bay

What razor wires gash and fray

 To them those people gazing in

On faces humbled frail and thin

It makes no sense the tears we cry

When all humanity pass us by

And then, when anger takes her grip

When rage and turmoil force us slip

Into that place where nothing’s sought

Except what pains we can then wrought

“How dare they?” then the cultured cry

“We’re not to blame.” “Then who?” we sigh

Yes some sit worthy while others be

In need of mercy, “Why can’t you see?”

That men may murder mob or maim

Possess what they should never claim

Invade what’s private to other men

Accosting rules that will not bend

That does not mean condemn them all

That does not mean you shall not fall

That should no leave no hope ion sight

Behold how Nightmares gain their might

By chess games played with human flesh

On boards of razor wire meshed

Asylums feeding corporate towns

They loved our pain with vicious frowns:

    Part twenty-three

Behold that supra just a dream?

Perhaps but things aren’t what they seem

I kept on searching for that sound

In dreams and Slumber’s lost and found

“How dare you educate a fool?

Let riots take them back to school

Let heartaches be the bread they eat

Remove their shoes expose their feet”

Yet through it all the voices came

And fingers pointing showing blame

A subtle silent sinking sound

A downward spiral round and round

They never knew those Nightmares waned

Were old not new inside my brain

And all they did was fuel the fire

And force my ignorance to swift retire

 Another move to seal my fate

Approaching freedom, open gates

Just six more years and then we’ll see

What prisons breed, once we are free!

Once we rejoin that greater good

And wake from dreams like sleepers should

Once we reclaim what prisons took

We’ll fish for men with guilt for hooks

 I Until that day my children formed

First one, then ten, and then the swarm

A lifetime leaking from my pen

My life composed, exposed, therein

For every line’s a lesson learned

Some came free, the rest I earned

Reciprocity knocking at my door

I’m brought to life by Death once more

I’m brought to face the truth and weep

What seemed so real was formed in sleep

Another antiquated act renewed

Another Nightmare vain pursued

Another greater lesser state

Another lie I can’t debate

For Nightmares may not tell the truth

But how they stifle mental youth:

 Part twenty-four

  Now just like Cosmic games of chess

Ten years, one year, five at best

Our children they lay cold, at our feet

They said, “Her life was incomplete”

A life I never got to know

Still in these aching eyes yet show

And in my heart she still inspire

This poet, Life shall not retire

It does not starve but feeds the fire

That burns so hot within

And what end do I aspire

Life’s lessons shared with men

Now fifty years have gone and went

Within four days, a lifetime spent

With nothing gained, save this my friend

Yes, “All Things End Where They Begin:”

Part twenty-five

 With days where remnants of the past

Come rushing back now just as fast

Still makes no sense as dendrites touch

And stimulate my brain too much

And still my sleep’s a deed discarded

My mighty mind’s a child, retarded

For shadows passing in the night

Find clinching fists and eyes shut tight

Behold, I still stand at that open door

I’m still shown things not seen before

Yet in the end I must confess

Convulsions these days visit less

 The past’s still captain, the vessel me

Collect we Yesterday’s debris

And all those prayers beseeching end

The last of Nightmares sure descend.

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Come close we’ll usher in the truth

No bedtime byline for saintly youth

No whelm of religious sweet crusades

An ode to death is all we bade

No jostling political banners burned

No tasty propaganda here to learn

No one eyed one legged pirates’ tale

An ode to death is all we inhale

These are the days that are no more

These are the times not accounted for

These are the songs that make men cry

Such as the hour that solders die

These are the heroines, the heroes, that

Arm chair commandoes and army brats

Eye witness blind men with first hand reports

Chasing demons and catching the wind for sport

These are the men who never die

These are the warriors who never cry

These are the voices you never hear

Homecomings wrapped in awesome fear

These are the whispers that form the wind

Hideous grins within social trends

That tell of a life that never was

Of all those who died just because

Just because there was no food

No loving parents just violent broods

No way to the top of corporate capers

An ode to death, we cannot escape her

How many “Here lies” etched in stone

How many baby solders dare we clone

How many exits can we find

An ode to the dead we leave behind

This life, my life, here and now

No recourse for this lonely child

Who never grew up, who never lived

Who never found the time to give

Whose essence a piteous placid grin

Whose love for women turned to men

Whose very eager efforts excrete

Some odious fluid both bitter and sweet

Give thanks to the Lord of this house

The question answered, “Are you man or mouse?”

With nothing greater to reach out for

An ode to death, and nothing more

Beware of the children to follow suite

Beware of the saints in hot pursuit

Be careful to think before you speak

This man’s wisdom’s now frail and weak

His judgment no longer a thing of praise

His vision escapes him for pressing haze

His voice no one cares to hear or heed

An ode to death is all we breed

So take the short form now in hand

And answer all question that there abound

Make sure that you leave no boxes blank

An ode to death with none to thank

For as we lay here dead and dying

As we wonder who is lying

As these people we used to know

Into that good night swiftly go

There is no cause to now pursue

There’s nothing noble left to do

There’s no one here to love or hate

An ode to death, on death we wait

We wait for things to better get

We wait on strangers our fathers met

We wait, but really what’s the point

Just shadows, whispers, and aching joints

Just memories forgotten for many years

Just children chasing what parents fear

Just anger anguish and absent minds

An ode to death is all we find

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