Lionfish Pictures – Blog

Someone once told me,
Actions speak louder than words.

I paid him no attention
As he walked away.
I realized his actions
Had nothing to say.

Now mine scream loudly,
Like an unheard fallen tree.
I’m waiting for a witness,
To take note of me.

I’m vying for attention,
On life’s crowded stage.
It’s almost the last act,
And I’ve yet to be paid.

I stare out at the vacancies.
And I’m forced to wonder:

Am I condemned or condoned?
Is there a marquee?
Am I tortured or tolerated?
Will an usher come for me?

And then I remember
The wise words I was shown.

Following his example,
I gather my things.
I’ve always been curious,
Who’s waiting in the wings?

lonesome conversations
bring mental chaos
to inspired revelations
elevating me to a dais
where I reign supreme
in my empire of emptiness
where the heart beats pristine
as the singular sound of loneliness

in spite of the seer
contradicting her prophecy
the line breaks here
where the forecast’s cacophony
was but half right
in enlightening me
to the suffering of twilight

closing my eyes
remembering what’s lost
in my head churn the lies
that with mutual consent
we entered into a binding contract
one which wasn’t to relent

but both of our actions
challenge the words
mine reducing reality to fractions
the difference between life and death unheard
now we shall be forever apart
as powdered white scissors
have severed our paper thin hearts

The flood
Brought forth
In love’s demise
Etched a cavern
A vascular excise.

Agonizing gorging
An irreverent foreman,
Directing construction,
Erecting a marvel,
Of spiritual suction.

An empty chamber.
A gaping hole.
My private Tora Bora.
A cavern,
In my soul.

Impossible to reverse,
What’s carved by sorrow,
The cave of Adullam,
A grandiose monument,
To my ultimate flaw.

The calcite edifice,
Carved with despair,
Cannot be untilled,
Remaining forever,
Nagging to be filled.

Misguided efforts,
The job undone,
Materials the issue,
Leaving the task,
deficient and askew.

Winter’s frost,
Fills the void.
For a time,
Until Spring’s thaw,
ends the sublime.

Soon again,
The echo roars,
In my nascent cavity,
Alerting me to
My useless depravity.