It’s like I’m trying to reach you

But same time I can’t seem to

Get it out and get straight through

What I need and want to tell boo

My feelings you heard before

My expressions I expressed

But no matter what though

Actions speak louder than words I know

More I think of them

More I think over them and about them

It’s much more what I want to let out

I’m losing count I can’t count them

It’s like I know you then I don’t

When I want to get that point

Seems like I wont

But I will in due time I know

We are getting there slow but in time it’s much more

The type of relationship I am aiming to

I want to work out well with me and you

Everything to be real and true

Just the truth and no drama and games with you boo

See only two has had you in love

Hun Love you twice

And I felt, and I feel for a third one

But just give me time and opportunity

I believe actions will speak louder than words

Is it wrong for a man to cry?

Does he suffer pain as well?

And like any other, one day die

Cry a little or a few

Everyone does, even all of us and you

Put away the shame, and just try for a change

You cry as well, and men do the same

Express the emotion

Whatever tears flow

Feelings are very much truthful

Just allow it to show, when you do so

Still the same man after you cry

Let them all run freely

Then quickly they’ll dry

Smile through your tears and reveal what’s inside

Instead of trying to hide

Let out what’s behind

And you’ll be surprised what you find

There’s nothing for a man to realize

Anyone may, and everyone can

Remember all of us do, even I

Echoes from childhood memories,

warn of dangerous nights,

down to my land of no lights.

Carrying throughout my years,

with only faded reasons why.

Following deep into my middle season,

versions I once had to silence forgotten fears.

Creating a new value,

I'm to learn somewhere here.

Finding value in discovering how to fully embrace,

Where a reliable, unforgettable love would shine through

Recovering from those hateful thoughts,

Always being found, just beneath an unnerving reality,

Those lifecycles playing out in those unheard cries,

A girls dreams to escape the evil moments over and over,

her reality hits, knowing to never hold such peace.

Her heartbroken, forgotten, young life, forever to reside within...

‘THE SOUNDS OF SILENCE ’

I was alone

when I went searching

   for your face

in all the crowded bars

where love hides out

under an assumed name.

There were many other faces

decorated with whiskey smiles

   and anxious lips

ready to whisper

anything I wanted to hear

but never telling me

what I really

   needed to know.

Why do those faces

always look so desirable

   at night

and so terribly lonely

when the morning sun

invades my one-room world

and splashes across

   the tumbled bed?

I didn't know your name

   then

or even what you looked like.

But I recognized you

by the sadness

in your eyes.

   Or was it

the reflection

of my own

lonely stare?

(Excerpt from the “Sadness of Happy Times” by Lou Duro: www.louduro.com)

Wearily, she watches you trek to the door,

Your luggage a battle in your hands,

The nurturing mother is eager to help

But knows she must resist.

Before her, a man towers her over,

She is shaded by his spotlight,

But she still sees her little boy

And it kills her to say goodbye.

Her world was created around you,

She remembers little else,

And when you’re gone, what is left

But a barren house of memories?

Still, your path is one that you must create

And that you must travel alone,

Though she’d give up her life to tag along

She can only wave goodbye.

She worries about the job she’s done,

If she has raised you well,

And given you the courage and strength

To prevail in a world so cruel.

“I’ll be home soon,” you reassure,

You’ll be missing home, as well,

And when you return a better man,

Outside the window, a wicked wind moans,

The havoc-striken forest has toppled,

And though the storm has won its battle,

Its perseverance refuses to recede.

Awestruck, I stare and I am reminded,

Its ferocity demanding to have its way,

It offers the answer that I’ve waited for,

Of the delicate rose and mighty wind, which am I?

The rose, so immaculate in its elegance,

And always so dainty and frail,

It lends itself to be vulnerable, exposed

Acquiescent of nature’s abuse.

But, oh, that mighty, powerful wind,

Consenting to only reverence,

Yet, still, it calms to a soothing breeze,

Defiant only when it is provoked.

The wind, yes, I profoundly recognize,

Vividly, it stirs within me,

Forced from the calm to its vicious howl

Lullabies chirped by sparrows a grin

from the green within the trees,

songs of elation, for Winter has gone,

as they sway in the gentle breeze.

The sky’s light invites me into its warmth,

dancing gracefully on my face,

the aroma of grass so freshly cut,

a brand new season’s embrace.

Cheers of a crowd at the baseball field,

franks on the barbecue,

and folks joined as one, at the picnic tables,

after the game is through.

The envious cold has bid farewell

and the earth is now revived,

all are out with smiles abound,

for at last, Spring has arrived.

One nation under God, indivisible,

And yet we stand divided,

The course on which we have embraced

Is destined for the mountains.

And still those mountains blind us,

As statuesque as they stand,

We cannot see beyond the plain

That is simpler for us to travel.

And when comes a day they come to view,

Forcing us a new path,

A new revelation with them brings

But it, then, shall be too late.

Together, yes, we could have climbed,

Strong and united as one,

But divided, it only conquers us

And the battle has been lost.

On the other side, a reward awaits

As the stripes and stars still wave,

Those mountains offered a pathway to glory

That we were too stubborn to take.

If only we could have seen

But we, instead, were weakened,

The plain eventually finds its end

And the mountains are all that remain.

But for the courageous, our mighty reward

That we can never touch,

For it is only now that we realize

That the united are who will survive.

Salt-scented breezes caress my skin beneath a blanket of blue

As we glide across a rippling glass;

My reflection dances in the liquid mirror

As if to entertain my soul.

An ebony sky intrudes, replacing a fallen sun,

Fury will join in the night;

Roaring rumbles penetrate the silent air

In the electric darkness.

Swept up in a moistened and bitter wind,

Violent waves toss us forcefully about

As the depth swallows our bow,

It descends into ruffled black.

Under the flashing sky we leap, one by one,

Into an unknown world of erratic cold,

Blinded in the night, abandoned and forced to ride the ocean tide,

Monstrosity fights our search for blessed earth.

A fearful struggle of determination, softened by a song on my father’s tongue,

Prayers into the lightning stricken Heavens,

Wrestling with weary bones and trembling muscles,

And suddenly, we are spit out by the sea with a kiss of freedom.

I’m still choking on my own blood.
As it slowly fills my lungs.
I am drowning inside myself
The blood is mine; 
the air is gone,
Now so am I.

After death, there’s nothing more than the same familiar space; still empty.
Waiting for the thoughts you brought to fill it,
Infinite & Eternal in each and every direction;.
Both up and down and beyond before.
Encircled by the horizon,
Stretched over these frozen markers in time.

This emptiness where your consciousness doesn't so much as ‘go’ 
as recollect that it's always been here.
can’t you see through this persistent dream?
there is no afterlife because nothing, 
not even memory, is ever destroyed.
just transformed.

into waves, 
into higher frequencies,
into states your mind no longer fathoms.
so you leave your mind behind.

crystal
liquid,
gas,
plasma.
your mind is the fifth state of matter.

None of us gets paroled
From the prison cells we lock ourselves into.
So that we all can fit together inside
These jigsaw lives that we lead.
.

Which  of course, eventually all blow apart.

We are merely the fragments of ourselves awaiting reassembly.

Each moment of thought is but a tiny drop of time.
Each piece fits the next piece.

Although we may try to avoid,
The murmurs of our own thoughts.
It is our hearts that yawn and awaken slowly
From their long winter night’s sleep.

You and I are mere mortals,
Who dreamt of a life without end.

And this is the story we tell ourselves.

Whilst slinking back to our cells.