Tag Archive | Writers Block

BOULEVARD OF BROKEN DREAMS

 

 

Another poetic duet with the wonderful Ms. Hasty Words.

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Branches, dry and brittle, snap beneath my feet
Stained circles of torched grass litter the ground
And the sun…
Well…
It strains to find purchase inside this compound

Oh it’s no paradise, perhaps more like paradise lost
But understand, my being here ain’t what it seems
I packed my bags…
Closed my eyes…
And took a walk on that Boulevard of Broken Dreams

By night the streets are filled with piercing screams
Fading by day into the crumbling brick of alley walls
And the echoes…
They linger…
As do the voices that laugh and jeer you when you fall

And their piercing eyes watch through windows tall
With such malevolence causing my soul to shiver
I move on…
Undeterred…
As a lone wave in the current of an endless river

This morning I walk alone through all the left over debris
At the items left behind from the nights previous dark
I look around…
And contemplate…
Leaving this city and the doped up remains of a junked up park

HASTYWORDS

IMG_0041

Written by James Sanders and HastyWords


Branches, dry and brittle, snap beneath my feet
Stained circles of torched grass litter the ground
And the sun…
Well…
It strains to find purchase inside this compound


Oh it’s no paradise, perhaps more like paradise lost
But understand, my being here ain’t what it seems
I packed my bags…
Closed my eyes…
And took a walk on that Boulevard of Broken Dreams

By night the streets are filled with piercing screams
Fading by day into the crumbling brick of alley walls
And the echoes…
They linger…
As do the voices that laugh and jeer you when you fall

And their piercing eyes watch through windows tall
With such malevolence causing my soul to shiver
I move on…
Undeterred…
As a lone wave in the current of an endless river

This morning I walk alone through all the left over debris
At the items…

View original post 25 more words

Child Of Loss

So I thank everyone for your patience with me throughout my month long hiatus. I’ve been working on a number of different projects throughout the past month. This piece is one of them. I truly had no idea where it was going, but that’s often the case with my writing. So please take a read and hopefully enjoy. And don’t hesitate to check out my other work and leave feedback. One luv – Jay

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Outside of the elaborate doors of a grand cathedral
A little boy sits on the second step,
He sits, clutching his knees to his chest,
As if he is holding the last breath that will ever enter his lungs

Though I’m not yet near him, I can see that he is crying
Two middle aged women exit the church and attempt to console him,
But his tears won’t stop
It’s like the whites of his eyes are the clouds above the amazon rainforest,
And Mother Nature neglected to change the season

I try not to stare, but still find my eyes locked onto this child’s pain
It feels as if he has cried a river filled with the tears of sorrow,
And my soul has become trapped in the currents of his pain
As I struggle within myself to regain control,
I am now closer, placing my hand on his small shoulder and I hear myself saying….
What’s wrong son?

He looks up at me, with an innocence in his eye that could break the will,
Of the harshest of oppressors in history
And with a tremble in his voice strong enough to register on the Richter scale,
He asks me, when do I get my turn to die?

In attempts to not show the level of concern evident within the depths of me,
I put on the face of a bold man, strong in the resolve of my self being
Sitting down at his side, I look into those eyes and I say to him,
Son, you’re young and have so much more life to live
Why would you cry for a chance to die?

He lifts up his head, points to the sky with his small finger shaking in a way
That makes it seem as if he is tracing the image of God himself in the clouds,
He says to me….they told me that my family went to Heaven,
And that God wanted them by his side,
But when I asked why he left me behind, they just said because it wasn’t my time.

As I search through the maze of thoughts within my mind,
I find that every path ends with another solution of nothing,
And as those same two ladies exit the church to retrieve the grieving boy,
I sit there, on those same cathedral stairs with my eyes still focused on the sky
Torn with the reality of knowing the undying pain inside this child’s mind

Wondering how anyone will ever respond to that question,
Created within the innocence and confusion that is now that boy’s life….
When is it my turn to die???

” Image Courtesy of Daniel Gies
https://www.flickr.com/photos/daniel_gies/6210256302/”

Shadow of Choice

A duet piece with Ms. C Burks from Journalistic Expressions. Check out her page and show her some support. Enjoy.

The saddest sound to hear is the cry of a broken heart
The saddest sight to see are the tears that follow
When no words can comfort the overwhelming despair
When there are no arms to run to for encouragement

When the wounds created from a single moment
Inflict the pain of a thousand lives worth of sorrows
And the only shoulder that exists for you to lean on
Is that of your very own broken shadow

And you have more questions than answers
Where the answers given are inadequate
And the direction you’re looking for isn’t available
Then you have to wonder what options you have left

You wonder how does one truly mend a broken heart
When that heart has actually been shattered
And all of its pieces have been scattered
Like fallen ashes on the road less travelled

Do you give up and give in, or get over it
Battle a faceless enemy with numerous tactics
Should you keep your head up and go forward
Ignoring the defeated voice you hear within

Or do you simply leave it all to the falsity of fate
And instead of overcoming the fear of making a choice
You close your eyes, lower your head
And proceed on as lost as a shadow in the dark

Because…..I Do

Someone asked me, why do you love her so much?
And at the time, I had this picture in my mind
Of quoting all of these poems that rhyme.
But for fear of running out of time, I
Simply responded by just saying, because I do

With a confused gaze they looked at me
As if I had just committed the highest level of love’s blasphemy,
As if the simplicity of my response made it only one of apathy
Therefore I very matter-of-factly explained my response

It’s like my heart will only beat, when my lungs can take in the air
That I am only able to receive whenever I am standing within her presence
You see, she gives me a reason to breathe

And when God created us, he made our souls on each side of a mirror,
So that whenever we met, there would be no mistaking
That we were perfectly made to reflect the greatness of each other,
Yes, we are soul mates.

Before her, I would often sit and wonder to myself,
Why anyone would find joy in losing control and falling into anything,
Especially love
But now that I am with her, I wake up every single day in Heaven,
And begin free falling in love with her over and over again,
Because I know that whenever the end of that day comes, she will catch me
And I will again be in Heaven preparing for my freefall all over again

I rejoice in the fact that I know that at any given moment,
I can truly say that I am more in love with her than I was even a minute ago,
And that on that day when we exchanged rings,
She became my forever and I her eternity, so understand
That when I answer your question in a way that seems minute to you,
Know that I answer it in the same way that I accepted the commitment
Under the eyes of the most high, by simply saying…..I do

Marionette

Behind the curtains that surround the stage,
Hidden within the depths of his memory, she
Holds her position, and with the greatest of precision
She begins to manipulate her living marionette,
With a hidden control of her strings that would make even Geppetto jealous,
Though, her strings are not wasted on mere physical extremities,
These invisible lines are attached to his mind,
Intertwined with the fibrous lines of his emotions,
Embedded deeper than any other puppeteer’s strings,
Into the essence of what makes him a living human being….
She manipulates his soul
While for the normal person the very act of hoping
And dreaming occurs naturally,
But the unfortunate truth embedded within his reality,
Is that the birth of every dream only leads to another emotional casualty
You see, like a normal man living by design, he
Sometimes allows his mind to open the doors to other living realities,
Like caring, nurturing and loving another woman unconditionally,
But every time he tries to step through that door, his emotions are pulled,
Pulled by that very string tied to the depths of his memory,
Cloaked in the evil that is their history,
It begins to force its way through,
And like the most potent of poisonous venoms it begins to,
Suck the very life from his dream, and regardless of anything
That he attempts to do, he succumbs.
And while the sulfurous sting of sadness fills his lungs, he
Regains control of the only thing he still holds of his own,
He pulls those tears from the backs of his eyes,
Guides them through the gaps of his puppeteer’s intertwined lines,
And only allows them to flow on the inside.
So the next time you question the pain in his eyes,
And he simply replies that a man never cries,
Realize the true reality of what it is that you are seeing.
That while you may choose to shed emotional tears,
He simply chooses to work between the puppeteer,
And is most likely internally bleeding.

Lost Love’s Letter

They say you should never wear your heart on your sleeves
And I realize that’s because it’s so much like suicide when you,
Present your love to someone and they cut it…
They cut it at its roots like an unwanted weed
In the personal garden of love that is their Eden

Which is why I’m surprised at how un-reluctantly, I
Gathered up the fullness of my heart and my being,
Wrapped it, and tied it with the ribbon of my everything,
Kissed it with the fragrance that is the very breath of my soul,
And presented it wholly and solely to you

Even though within the depths of my mind I knew,
That being in love with you is like reaching toward the Heavens,
Trying to wrap your hand around a trail of stardust
You close your hand tightly, refusing to open it again, because you know
There is nothing there but the emptiness of your own false hope

I initially felt this to be the rough draft of loves suicide,
But now, I simply consider it my thank you letter
And if you find comprehension to be difficult to grasp,
Than hopefully these words will better help you to understand
How I can openly speak of the emotional fault in my stars

You see, though my love for you was only but a first aid kit
Where pieces of my heart were only used as convenient bandages
And my loyalty only a light dosage of emotional pain relief
With the care package of me only to be used in times of temporary need,
For repairing the scars of those you’ve chosen to falsely love

I still give thanks to you for an introduction to unsatisfied longing,
And for utilizing protective gloves and dull blades
On those days that you chose to handle the fragile package of my heart
For I can now move on truly with faith in knowing,
That God has indeed given my life in love, a second chance

My Unborn Dreams

In the moment that I first met you, I didn’t know how to accept you
And though it may seem as if I in the past I have left you,
Let me assure you, that I could never forget you
For you were indeed the child of my dreams.

And when I speak of my dreams, I do so not figuratively
But rather quite literally, see I can remember you so vividly,
Before you became a concealed wound in the depths of my memory
You appeared to me, mixed in the imagery of a dream

Even before I cursed your mom for refusing me the opportunity,
And for depriving me of the chance to test my own false ability,
Before I had ever read the words that she had written upon that sheet
You came to me, and you said to me that I was not quite ready yet

Even though to myself I often selfishly cried, I
Denied my foolish pride, handcuffing it to the depths of my insides,
And while it fought me for position, at my hearts inner walls it pried
I convinced myself I wasn’t ready yet to teach a Prince to be a King

And so I lived on….

Committed to becoming someone that the world could depend on
Using the pain of a life never lived as a reason to become strong
But I was not yet prepared to relive the melody of that same sad song,
And at that moment I was reminded that true control was not my own

Because, just like your brother who had come and gone before you, you
Penetrated the sub reality of my dreams and your image came through
And I was forced to feel the fresh pain that comes along with reopened wounds,
Because at the moment I saw you, I was certain that I already knew you

As I awoke, I could feel your mother’s pain though she chose to never share it,
I was completely aware that my unborn Princess had arrived at Heaven’s gates
on the chariot of a miscarriage
And though she and I decided to move on, this pain I still chose to bare it
For I accepted that not being ready was sadly, a fault I’d claim as my own

And so I lived on….

Knowing that even though I may have concealed the scars for so long, I
Still ask God to help me maintain the façade of being so strong
Praying that one day it will become true strength and the façade will be gone,
But until the day I have grown strong enough to handle my own

Please, don’t allow me another opportunity to dream,
For again taking on the task of simply living on,
I just don’t think I’m quite ready.