The Cutting Room Floor

The rolls took up half the room
Cartridges of my life in film
Overflowing from their bins
It was all important; it was my life

On screen it played out for me; my memories
But the theaters were always empty
No one to listen to my story
Even when the only cost was my dignity

When the patrons would decide to come
They walked out in disgust, grumbling
The papers call my film a failure
The fans wanted joy not tears
They wanted comedy not tragedy

I used to sit on the cutting room floor
Cutting, trying to edit this life
Take out the bad, exploit the good
I had a few good scraps, glimpses of hope
But the years became minutes
A film became a commercial

Sometimes I still try to revisit the cutting room floor
I desire to cut, to edit
Create something the fans will adore

You would probably like my film a lot more now
But you cannot have the good without the bad
Instead I will watch it in silence
With a VIP audience
Accepting my own life, unedited

Like a Brother

Long ago we met, informally,
But easily, like a brother, you became to me.
You made me laugh, made me feel protected,
I envied your ease of humor, your strength, your humanity.

I liked to watch the two of you, like little boys,
Joking, talking, whispering deep ideas.
We didn’t always understand each other’s hearts,
We certainly took it for granted,
And when the most important part came,
You left it, left us, storming out angrily.

Years of misunderstanding, assumptions,
This bred your need for anger.
You have a life, aside from us, a family.
We have a life aside from you, but you are still my family.

I think one day regret will enter both of your hearts;
I ache at knowing how heavy bitterness must weigh on you.
For I too have felt it; I am not stranger to regret.
Life is too short to harbor unsolved miseries.

What will it take to soften hearts, to act like adults,
Before the age of death is upon us.
Before we forget our memories, each other’s faces.
I hope I am wrong, and that you are completely happy.

For I have lost family, a brother, and peace,
I wish I could have fixed things, but it was not my place.
Ten years is a long time to hold my words,
But there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of it; you.

A Life Untitled

A life untitled,
A smoke screen to reality,
Rain water floods a broken heart,
Cleansing the pockets unseen.

To misery I am entitled,
Frothing, foaming, thirsty for it,
The bright lights I thought I’d seen,
Were falling stars, dying lights and dreams.

The hunger for perspective,
The need to cut out the dead tissue,
To feel, to breath, to know I’m alive.

The guilt and shame,
The pressure to be more than I was created for,
To perfect my every molecule,
To form a courteous and loving heart,
Out of this dying flesh.

Bitterness

I breathe deep the aroma of the azalea
The thought of a day with good company
This reward of family, friends, relationships
This peace is priceless

You cannot have my happiness, my joy
And I hurt for you as I know you have trapped yourself
You do not know forgiveness
You soak your soul in bitterness

I have made my mistakes, but I am forgiven
I will continue to have flaws, but I will overcome them
Your anger it sinks you
Leaves you breathless, lonely

If I could turn back time
I would have kept my words quiet
It pains me that you know these things that you shouldn’t
For I desire a life in secret, my pain is my own not yours to know
And yet, I broke that, I told you and now you own it

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust
Our broken relationship; I am giving up
So keep your doors closed and shades drawn
I will no longer bother to knock

A Place Called Home

(This is dedicated to my family)

This house we now call a home
You loved, you cherished, you built long ago
Your hands touched, every piece we now own
Your ideas have formed a place for our love

The grass in the yard, you carefully planted
The flowers that bloom in spring, you raised from a seed
The trees that go from green to naked
The wild animals that invade it

The swing on the porch, the one with paint peeling, with rust
She used to sing to me, swing with me, when we were young
Cigarette in hand, her laugh was a little raspy
But she was my favorite person, she loved me

I hope you look down, proud of our family
How I clung to your memory, your hard work on this home
I won’t forget where this came from, this land I inherit
I will take care of it, cherish it
This place we call home

Wonder

Not enough reasons to live
You only need one to die
We cannot say “I Love You” too much
And we never say it enough
It hurts so much to be alone
And it hurts even more to live for someone
When something is forever
And then ends before it’s over
It will make you wonder

Not enough colors to paint my picture
Because we have turned color into a liberal issue
We wonder why we cannot cure this world
We are the makers of our own disease
You have made a dream
And when it turns to dust before your eyes
It will make you wonder

When everyone is moving too fast
To realize their own mistakes
They are just repeating the past
It will make you wonder

The Flood

Lift my head toward the sky
On a hilltop
Rain fills my senses
Drowns my fears
Gives me answers
Washes away the years

The more I drink it in
The more I let it win
First it quenches my thirst
Then engulfs my soul
When I think I might burst
It continues to fill this hole

The flood has become a part of me
Controlling my every movement
This is how it was meant to be