Desire

Desire.

You bite and scream at me.

You tantalize me

in these later years.

 

I want what I don’t have

but yet don’t take what I want.

How that was so not the case

when young and

foolish?

 

Then,

you were a prey

to be caught and to become

all mine.

Like a hawk

circling high over head.

I saw you

and had

to have you.

 

You didn’t stand a chance.

 

Now, things are wrong and right.

That dividing line

stops me there.

Dead in my tracks.

Or perhaps it is my own belief

that I am not worthy to

be the idol

of anyone’s

longing.

 

Desire you are a trick

and an

absolute

fool.

 

You take me down paths

that are not mine to trod.

You lead me to believe

that there are possibilities

when none truly exist.

 

When none materialized.

Just figments of an old imagination.

Left to rot.

Doors that open to nowhere.

 

Desire.

I hate you and I love you.

Just as if you were the

thing

I coveted.

 

Desire.

Stop your push and

your pull.

Let me alone

in my own

misery of

forever

longing.

 

Stop your trickery.

It is all over.

 

 

A woman driven by a desire that fueled her soul….from long ago.  Who is she?

 

When I think about Chicago…

When I think about Chicago…

I think of you.

Wandering slowly

along the streets

memories following me

around

each

corner

in every

crevice.

 

When I think about Chicago…

I think of you.

I can’t escape.

It has been so long

since I have seen you

but yet

here it feels like

a yesterday

that I can’t have

anymore.

 

When I think about Chicago…

I think of you.

Loneliness overwhelms

me

even as I

walk in

a throng

of people

full of chatter

and

laughter

leaving me

silently replaying

a life

long ago

as if it were

a

silent movie

on a big screen.

 

When I think about Chicago…

I think of you.

How enamored you

were

with

such a

vibrant,

full of life,

attractive

young women

adoringly

loving

you.

 

When I think about Chicago…

I think of you.

Only you.

 

I wonder if today

you would

still love me

like you did then?

Would you still

find me

vivacious

and full of life

now when none of that is left?

 

When I think about Chicago

I think of you.

I wonder if our love

would have been

so perfectly imperfect

now when nothing seems right anymore?

 

When I think about Chicago…

I think of you.

I wonder if you would

still look at me

the way you did then?

Would you still want to hold me

like you did before?

Would you still reach for my hand

and

and never let it go

now when my youngness is gone

and my beauty

has faded?

 

When I think of Chicago…

I think of you.

Of our past.

And, of

our future

that never came.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My deepest longing

What I really long for…

is to be touched as I was once touched

with adoration

and desire

and

passion

like a slow burning

ember in a fire

left to die.

 

What I really long for is…

to be celebrated

and honored

and

cherished

by a knowing glance

and piercing eyes

all the days of my life.

 

What I really long for is

a time

when I felt

free

to explore

to just be

living life with pure abandon

releasing myself

from the frantic pace

of a life

lived without purpose

with a drive to accumulate

and amass

what cannot

be kept.

 

What I really long for is…

to feel the pain

that sears my heart

like a knife cuts

through a

luscious piece

of fruit

to its deepest core

dividing it

in half

releasing its precious

juices.

 

What I really long for is

to travel to the heart

of it it all

to immerse myself

in a land

where

intersections cross

divides

and divides

create

intersections

and where

I am a bystander

roaming

amongst

the carnage.

 

What I really long for is…

to heal the wounds

in a world

where hatred runs

rampant

and

goodness

is hidden

beneath an exterior of greed

and ideology

and

ego.

 

What I really long for is…

to find the purpose

hidden behind

a false

exterior

living deep

within the interior

enrapturing a shuttered heart

encapsulating

a longing soul

calling

desperately

to be recognized.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wake up.

Wake up.

 

Wake up.

To a world that is

crumbling all around

us

in untruths

and manipulation

in the name

of

power

and greed

and fame.

 

Wake up.

To an earth that

is crying out

in

injustice

to the hurt

that it

ensures

everywhere

and in

everyplace.

 

Wake up.

To the hate and divisions

that exist

because of

deeply-rooted

beliefs

that fester

under the wounds

left

scabbed over.

 

Wake up.

To what is beautiful

all around

that goes

unnoticed as we

silently walk by

in our hurried

rush.

 

Wake up.

To the ancient call

that we fail to hear

that

cries out from

deep inside

of a well

that reaches

all the

way to the soul.

 

Wake up.

We are hurting.

 

Wake up.

We are harming.

 

Wake up.

We are dying.

 

Wake up.

It is my deepest hope

It is my deepest hope…

that someday, peace will reign

and violence will

no longer exist

in a world

divide by theology and

ideology.

 

It is my deepest hope…

that an earth full of calamity

will revolve

around a loving

sun

and a

caring moon.

 

It is my deepest hope…

that all those in pain

will see the light

of the bright sunshine

on a

long summer

day

rather than

the darkness

of a pale

cold

moon

on a bitter

winters night.

 

It is my deepest hope…

that once there

was fear

there is now courage

for all those

who cannot find the

words

and the

voice

to speak their

truth.

 

It is my deepest hope…

that one day too

I will find my own

in the dark forest

of which

I have inhabited

in the recesses

of a captive

mind

on a vast planet

in an infinite

cosmos

breathing

one breath

at a time.

 

I return to the deepest of sources

I return to the deepest of sources

when my soul

cries out in remorse

for all that it longs

for

but cannot

find.

 

I return to the deepest of sources

when my pain

has taken a

hold

and embolized

me in fear

leaving me

captive.

 

I return to the deepest of sources

when the anger

can no

longer remain

inside

without

poisoning my

veins.

 

I return to the deepest of sources

when I cannot

cry

any more

tears

of grief

and

sadness

like a river

run

dry.

 

I return to the deepest of sources

when the love I thought

I had

is now

gone

and

in its

place

only rests

nothing.

 

I return to the deepest of sources

to find

you

silently waiting,

silently watching,

silently wanting.

 

 

No more.

No more

do I worry about what you think.

I know that what I think is

more powerful

than what

you say.

 

No more

do I let you use words against me.

For I know that

those words

are meaningless

from the mouth

from which them come

 

No more

do I believe what you say about me.

For what you say about me

is just

your projection

of you

onto me.

 

No more

do I let you touch me.

For when you touched me

it

was full of fury and venom

and

represented

years of

hate

far beyond my lifetime.

 

No more.

No more.

No more.

 

The illusion

of my own

wrongdoing

was cast upon me

like a net

that I take

no more.

 

Inspired by this song…