Broken things

I find
That my heart craves
To nurture this one
And that one

To help them
Find their way home
In the dark and stormy days
And thundering nights

I seem to gravitate
Towards birds
With broken wings
Hoping to nurture them to flight

Doctor
Craftsman
Call me whatever
I do not claim to know

But this one thing
Broken things
Hold a certain allure
That the strong do not

Is it a flaw
Sometimes I think so
For time and again
My reward has been pain

Do I do this
To buy allegiance
Because I cannot get it
By any other means

Do I do this
Because
My compulsive nature
Bids me act

Is it
Compassion
Or is it strategy
I ask time and again

Or is it because
I am myself
A broken thing
Seeking mending.

Travels and travails

I was born here
And have lived here
All of my days
Good and not so good

I have always been here
Except for days
And nights
When I travelled

Taking trips
Into wild lands far from here
If only in my mind
Far away from the travails of my anguished soul

To places fairer
Than the dreariness
My eyes and heart
Have come to know too well

In my travels
I am a citizen
Of distant lands
Far away from my travails

Far away
From the uncommon bustle of this African city
In a country of ridiculous parallels
Poverty and wealth and like oddities

To places where
I can sit
And listen to the conversation
Of the waves at the beach

Radiant sunshine
And endless stretches of sand
Gay laughter echoing in my ears
As I lie all but naked as a new born babe

Reality returns noisily, harsh in comparison
I was born and bred here
But many days
I travel far from my troubles and travails.

Howling at the moon

Late at night
When I try to sleep
I hear it
Eerily piercing through the night’s silence

In that sound
I hear
Bottled-up raw anguish
Struggling to find expression

Something died
Or someone
Whatever it was
Somebody is in pain

I can hear it
The whimpers
The cries of helplessness
Of a lost soul

Alone it is
That creature
In the cold, dark night
When all else have the comfort of company

Love
Warms the hearts
And the beds
Of all but this one

Who has done this terrible thing
To rob me
And all that can hear
Of their night’s rest

Was it a child
Or a mate
That was lost
I wonder

I arise restlessly
To peer through
The windows of my home
To catch a glimpse of this lonesome mourner

I strain my eyes to see
As they adjusted to the darkness outside
And I find
That the lonesome mourner is me.

Hurting, lonely heart

It hurts
Can nobody see this
Or they do not wish to
Still my heart bleeds
And would not be comforted

For it sleeps alone
And arises alone
And it is not good
That this man be alone
But he is

Perhaps always will be
And so there is grief
For the pain
Of the years past
And those still to come

Of sleeping alone
Rising alone
Bleeding alone
Hurting alone
Perhaps dying alone.

Hollow heart

Speak to me
And I hear your words
Echo
In my eyes
And in my heart

There’s nothing there
In my heart
No one lives there
Not anymore
Not for a while

This heart is hollow
No one to follow
No one to make it
Sound out the drums
As it quickens

It was not always so
It did not always
Feel so empty
Pain filled it
And drove away all else

The hope is that someday
Somehow
Someone
Somewhere
Will make my heart less hollow.

Give me yesterday

Give me the look in your eyes
Give me your arms around me
Give me the smile on your face
Yesterday

Yesterday was good
Yesterday was great
Yesterday was perfect
Because yesterday you were here with me

Today
I am away
Away from the look that was in your eyes
Yesterday

Today
I am away
Away from your arms that were around me
Yesterday

Today
I am away
Away from the smile that was on your face
Yesterday

Yesterday was perfect
Because you were in it
Today is this way
Because you are away

What will tomorrow hold
Who knows
I know yesterday
I know today

Give me yesterday
And make it tomorrow
Just as long as I find you again
In that day

And I will have again
The look in your eyes
Your smile and your arms around me
And no longer will I ask for yesterday.

Confessions of a relic

Of an age long past
When men spoke what they meant
Truth is old-fashioned now
The speakers of it even more so

Of a time and place
That exists no more
Or perhaps never did
You call me a relic

For words spoken are empty
Professions of affection are just that
Professions
Nothing more

But there was a time
And a place
When and where
We dared to bare our souls

In that time
And at that place
I told you eternally
I love you

Time and place cannot change those words
For they were frozen forever
In that time and place
That exists no more, perhaps never did.