The title of this post is a reference to the fact that I have been very introverted and almost hermit-esque in my artistic and personal life. I haven't blogged on any matter, myself or otherwise, and I haven't written much poetry that is worth a second look to speak of in quite some time. But tonight, something stirred inside of me. A feeling I haven't known in some time. The stirring I speak of is the want/need/hope/excitement/fear/joy in sharing life with you, my dear friends. Here is a song for you. I hope you listen to it before continuing on with this post; I want you to hear it. How have you been?
Doesn't that make you smile?
I hope it does.
A few years back I wrote a series of poems entitled "He Is Disconnect". It was my first and only serial work that I have "finished". I "finished" it in the way that it was a series detailing one year in my life, written at the rate of one poem each month, each titled "He Is Disconnect, He Is Disconnect Pt. II, etc" each with a subtitle aside from the first and the last which are more or less untitled pieces, in that regard. "He Is Disconnect" as an official body of work, was done after the 12th installment had been written. But every now and then I write a piece that I know deep down is part of the "He Is Disconnect" world, it's cannon, if I may be so bold as to proclaim it such. It's a set of feelings and a particular expression of myself that is unlike the rest of my body of work. To me, "He Is Disconnect" is almost a nom de plume, an alter-ego. It's the poet in me personified. It's disjointed, yet organized. It aims to reach out and become a part of the reader. "He Is Disconnect" comments on the darkest truths we may know, but it does so in a way that invokes beauty within tragedy--a possibility for recognition, and a realization that there is no love without hatred, no joy without fear, no you without me, or me with out you. The following poem is of this ilk, and I look forward to hearing what it means to you as I explore what it means to me, as well.
A Reflection (The Sky in the Sea)
Mistakes have been made and I'm afraid
I've no explanation. I hoed my row
and as you may know, I'm reaping what I have sown.
Here once again territory all too familiar.
Like "Ground Hog's Day" I continue to play
The same tragic lines repeatedly over.
I call this house a home,
but only when I'm alone--
There is a certain emptiness in family.
I call your heart a home,
but only when we're alone--
Together we see the world more clearly.
I could draw maps of this town in my sleep;
I know the crevices in the roads,
and each crack in street
without ever looking down at my feet.
It gets to where I don't want to walk, at all.
I used to call out to the objects of my desire;
now I sit and wait for them to call out to me.
I used to call on Jesus about most anything,
but now I don't pick up the phone
When he or his friends begin to ring.
I got scared and slowed down
when I should have kept on going;
It's just so easy fall back
on the old ways we know well.
All these symbiotic cycles have
become my makeshift friends,
I feel that I've become a hollow shell,
oh can't you tell?
Can't you tell I've fallen
in the deepest hole I ever dug?
So as I wander homeless,
Godless,and painfully aware
of all the nooks and crannies
in our broken small town way of life--
I beg a little patience while I try to acclimate
To a world I thought I understood,
but I was wrong.
Can you find it in yourself to not hate me
for the faults you've got on loan
and the shortcomings you own?
Could you find it in your heart
to admit you are quite like me?
A reflection in a separate pond
of the same sky in the sea.
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