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Showing posts from May 3, 2018

Your Orange Individuality is Conformity aka This is the Day Steve Jobs Died

His orange tie and tanned suit glowed visibly in the lighted lounge. He was reading a tablet of Apple, while anticipating his business associates approach. So keen was his concentration, he only noticed my approach for a mere moment, then buried his face back into whatever he was doing. We sat like this for some time. Me writing.      Him reading. A figure made its way across the open air, it resounded, “Do you need someone show you how to work that?” to which the orangish stranger laughed and stood up to shake hands. They discussed lunch plans, of which way they should go. One replied the name of a restaurant – I forget the name - forgive me. They picked up their tools and walked off in to the distance. I will never see or hear of them again. -           MR, 10/6/11

You Remembered

“You remembered!” I witfully exclaimed with glee, You should have seen the way she looked at me – Never has more scorn been known Than from this woman’s heart of stone. Those eyes, they blazed, with evil they burned, And with that voice, so pure, so stern, “Of course I remember… I would not forget,” spoken to me in the most reserved way yet. I sat in confusion, derided in shame, And thought in silence, “My tongue needs to tame.” All along, I knew as I sat, She never did understand what I was getting at.                 -MR

Willfully Conclude

Willfully conclude These dreams of mine Do elude And admonish now In another life filled with strife. Beckon me To eternal bliss Happenstance To reminisce On times now past But no longer here, Realizing now My Greatest fear. -           MR, 7/20/09


How my spirit is roused By the burgeoning of cause; All of me rises For the need of another. I seek to fully give Every inch of my being To accomplishing the daunting Task at hand. It is in my soul, This desperation, This overwhelming quest to assist; But to whom I would aid, No need is required; I ask, why? Why? 1/7/07

Where Does Time Go?

Where does time go – Seems like just yesterday I was a little boy. So easily confused And innocent of it all. Now I care, care too much About where this world is heading. I sometimes wish, In my nostalgic times That I could whisk away And return to my days When all that mattered Were the elusive and cunning weeds Strangling and battling against The majestic oaks of our forest. My brother and I would spend hours Exploring, Battling, Winning the hearts and minds Of soulless creatures and inanimate Beings. But longing does not produce- Just today a friend is engaged To a woman who is sweet and kind. I am happy I am sad For the seasons of life Begin to fade – From the beautiful springtime Pleasantry To the midday sun of summer. Soon, all too soon, fall will Bless me with its presence. Then comes winter, the still sound Of dead wind and cold. It is not here yet, but I fear, Is coming all too soon. -           MR,

What Will Come?

Orchestrated dreams of mythic reality Forlorned a vision of dire probability That in the hour of despair and mire A wanton soul should rise ever higher. Seeing ambition for all its mediocre resolve Grabs hold of the brevity too brief to care And positions the lucrative shamble called opportunity Making it the stuff of legend. But in the horrific time of resounding judgments And cascading templates of bitter clones One polyphonic Kryptonic Mezmeronic Inefficient Seer of the future Holds hands with destiny And manifests a logic Unseen and misunderstood In this present Age of reason. -           MR, 7/14/09

What the Moon Says to the Sun

Darkened womb you cannot see the world in front, what now must be; All you know is brevity and life gone much too soon. Open wide and stem the tide A God’s sick will you must abide sleep so sweetly but do not hide from sun’s rays off the smiling moon. Though the path you walk is ever still, know that I will love you still even though it is not your will to grace us with your presence. I’m a broke, stricken kind of man locked in something I do not understand seeking some grand master plan albeit rush and pretense. What can I write to effect grace what can I do to save face what kind of life can I place if I couldn’t be there for you. No, I’d like to imagine you in heaven playing now, as we would have been to see us grow into strong men shining like he moon’s rays on the sun. But alas my pain is unheeded even more, your love is needed but it’s a stranger, forever depleted No matter how or whom I love. -           MR, 10/4/11

What is Dream?

A fork in the road exists, The constant decision persists; To which end do I travel – Right or left? One way is doom, The other – perhaps gloom, Or maybe joy, peace, Or immeasurable love. If I decide now, I question how Or when I would return to the place Of beginning advance. A long lost chance Of traveling mans’ romance; The time to choose is certainly now. I go I know This place This face I’ve seen Before. 7/7/08, MR

Want & Will

I began to run Emboldened by the call Swept away in a zealous passion. Around me there existed Only want and will; My eyes focused on a finish line I did not see. I ran and I ran Towards a destination unknown Distracted by nothing; awestruck. But I could not ignore My own lonesome on this path- Though I ran focused with something It was not someone. So I slowed, looked around To appease my growing want. In that moment My eyes were closed to the race, Opened to another And dead to self. When I again looked toward the finish line I did not see, I could no longer see. -           4/18/08, MRamey

Voluntary Rhythms

An involuntary movement of muscle Resuscitates my death And pushes me forward, Even against my will. Should I long to hold my breath And venture into deep sleep, My flesh should overcome me With mundane commands And contingencies eternally in the making. Though my chest rises and caves, With each resounding breath Taken for granted is that very breath; That air, That freedom, That life. All taken for granted voluntarily. -           7/16/09, MR

Variability Of Numerous Session

Variability of numerous session Proliferating in conscious reason Attempt to Question And Answer. What do they ask? I have not heard. What is the answer? They will not tell. Maybe if I give them Time Will we know soon enough. -           MR, 08/22/2009

Two Unfamiliar Faces

Two unfamiliar faces I looked and they looked back Something curious I said laid in between us But here, not there I consciously understood that reason makes no sense while madness was true Therefore, something not heard something never seen can become, ever so briefly, a plank in one’s eye drawn from this space to that never knowing, never ceasing to comprehend the celestial spheres above.

True Love

Take these hands That tremble with fear – Absolve the hesitation Held so near. Exasperate this soul With a love so true And in this moment, Open me up to you. 11/13/08, MR


A decadent tribute to a smile so sweet – Your graciousness knows no bounds, Your beauty is only matched by the stars above. This world bellows and behests your attention And greets you in the morning with sentiment so sweet, And endeavors to gain your favors by any means. No matter your darkness, they are your guiding light. No matter your need, they are you willing providers. Ask them to what ends they would travel And your answer may be – Tomorrow.   - MR, 4/4/07

Tolerating a Current Condition

Proverbial wisdom is lost in the mass, Through individual ambition and time gone past, The echoed voice of a resounding few Drowns out wisdom and veils what is true. The select still lead and blindly we follow; From out their shadowed hand, what is given we swallow, Even though we may know, our eyes plainly see – We sacrifice our souls just to be “free.”             - MR

To Write

I have told many friends from the heart, my one hope in life is this: to become a writer and daily impart, the sagacious notions of contemplative bliss. To write to them who I do not know, The words crafted by life and thought, Expressing the deepening depths of soul, And telling of dreams I have sought.      

Tis the Season For Rain, Not Snow

Tis the season for rain not snow And yet upon my crest Do silken pedals fall off the whitest tree And land upon my breast. The forceful wind Does beckon now and demands it to be so That upon this humbled, grateful heart Lands the flower’s snow. -           5/31/09, MR

Time for a Change

Looking above, I can see only ceiling And florescent lights, And a large duct for AC. The white array of tiles is coated With water damage and my dust and The dust of those come before. I would be claustrophobic in this place Constricted by the hand of the living grey walls; Completely they engulf me on any side. But I remind myself that there is life Beyond- Life beyond this chair, these walls, this place.   I remind myself of these dreams of mine And how they still exist; The flame may be dulled but it is still Alive. I talked with a woman. She is courteous and kind and oh so wise. I told her of the pursuit of something different. ‘What do you have lined up?’ was her question. ‘Nothing.’ I said.   ‘Time to move on.’ ‘I have been here 27 years,’   My heart stopped as I realized she has worked longer than I have breathed, her final words before we parted ways, ‘I am so sick of it all.   I am just so sick of it.’   -           MR, 7/

Three P.M.

Three p.m., lying still-wake in my bed The dust particles dance before me In the light of the muted sun Like tiny fireflies, glowing, flashing, Conducting a masterful symphony Just for me. There is no sound to the orchestra Only stillness and sight, But the wondrous, peaceful tranquility Reminds me of what is true, good, And right.   11/1/2009, MR

This Soul Is Inclined

This soul is inclined To debauchery And raises itself To hell so known. But all at once A light is seen And a glimpse Of heaven now. So goes this journey Through earth, Heaven and hell, In a short existence A time well spent. -5/19/07, MR

This Place

I know this place of comfort not change here the unanticipated is rather strange. What is best is the foreseen but this contentment is not all it may seem. Constant change though appearing something bad signifies the moments of the most growth I’ve ever had as well as challenged many wrong beliefs and brought my self-esteem much needed relief. even though this place seems truly protected, it leaves a life simply neglected. -           9/12/11, MR

This Mind

This mind, I find, is exasperated, manipulated, by two recurring thoughts; One, I see, is accepting me, for all of who I am. Two, I know, brings me low, admitting there is an error of self. Regarded here, I begin to fear, that the person I know is flawed; This being, this heart, is good and true, my intentions are of the utmost good; But where I fall is when I stall, and cease to react to the longings of the heart. Forced now again, to where I’ve been, perpetuating a myth that isn’t me; At that time, I come to find, to accept, that there must be another way. The truth I have, the lie I see, bearing down in front of me. The challenge now, is accepting how I can lead this life once more. 11/14/08, MR

Thirteen Days

Brimming disregard of reality has me existing in fantasy, a fantasy of my own making, want and will. I do not want to be here in this place. Where do you want to be, it asks. Wherever there is peace. And where do you think that is, it asks. I do not know for I have not found it yet. Trust your heart and mind, it asks. Not yet… well, partially.   Sometimes.   Almost never though. It has no response. I ponder the meaning while it reflects.   There is no meaning. Although I believe this at heart, I will never mention it to them.   For they would not understand. They would call me a negative minded individual, bent only on his own hatred. No, I might say, I am merely a realist being real. Have you found it yet, it asks. What. The meaning of it all, it asks. Not quite yet.   I’ve hardly any time to think, any time to reflect. Isn’t that the point, it asks. What. Time, it asks. I do not understand.   I cannot comprehend.   What do you mean. Silence. It does not ans

Things are Changing

So many things are changing It is different every day. The things I thought I knew for sure Quickly pass away. The dreams of mine still burn As they did so long ago But already twenty six years have passed, I ask - where did my life go? Have I lived, with brevity’s breath, An existence honorable and proud? Or do my days hold a shame, Veiled in darkened shroud? To those who may wonder What kind of man I must be, I’ve tried so hard, so consciously To make the most of me. Imperfections of an imperfect man Cling to this wearied soul – Of what I ask forgiveness You will never know. But in my wanting wearied state I cling to this one dream; That though I turn and envision nothing, Things are not what they seem. -           MR, 9/28/10


They’re never what they seem, these dreams of mine; Flightless fantasy gives way to the harsh truth That what I seek, what they seek, Can never be joined as one, For our goals are not the same. What I envision, my true calling for life, Is quickly washed away by the multitudes grown cold, By life in all its sorrows, Each day growing more so. I cannot case off my shoulders The burdens to another That I am meant to bear. This is life, to accept or reject, To grab hold or let go, To live or die; To which end will I go? 7/13/08 - MR

The Worst Thing

The worst thing is when you realize that you are where you wanted to be but then realize that it is not where you see yourself at all. Many years, many struggles, much pain gone by to reach this destination when the destination is not truly you. The journey has created you, has maintained your vigilance in the face of apathetic lust of power - Sure, you have a good amount of time left on this earth relative to your lifespan; though in the spectrum of human existence, you’re fucked. But, honestly, we’re all down that same path where one day leads to next; one death leads to a birth, one life leads to a death, the cycle will continue on even when you are not here.   Take comfort in that, for that is a peaceful truth, one that can take all y our pent up frustrations, fears, and guilt and acquiesce it to the brevity of each one’s existence rendering it meaningless in the scheme of things. One day we’ll all meet our maker, but if you can read this, just not yet. -     

The Unsteady

I find it strange It’s time for change The only constant has been every two years. Of what I ask a daunting task to apprehend courage and conquer living fears. Realizing that on my epithet it will read, “He was never content Here.” MR 1/22/10  

The Only Characteristic of A Soul

The only characteristic of a soul Is a truth that is found in its torment. For the only instance of realism Is found in its most hated moment. And in that moment of adjudication Lies evils so great. And good so small. But what is unseen by others And what is fully known by him Is that in that time, And in that place, Is the only pure semblance of faith found.

The Madness

Dispassionate chords of lost souls know When the sweltering sound of faith and love play, The ears are dull, The eyes are blind, To the sweet, symphonic sound of life found. And the directionless still want of direction; And the blind, sight and the deaf, sound; But none will be given him Lest he losses himself In the growing call of a sane madness. 7/10/08 - MR

The Lonely Sole

Watch and wait I claim to say Just stop and see Another day When justice prevails When mercy shows When this love will conquer Nobody knows. But do I, In my simple ways Know about That time. And I’ll keep walking. -           9/8/08 MR

The Ledge

In front of me, my eyes gaze, gaze into the insurmountable horizon. The rising sun, cascading its rays over the barren lands makes a beautiful sight. Though the surroundings are serene, I am wondering now, how far I will Go Despite the dire cliff ahead. “Warning!” the sign screams in font so thick and bold that one cannot miss it. Reading, I am still pushed forward. “Danger Ahead!” “Sheer Rockface!   Immediate Death!” I know, I know, is all I can mutter.   Legs carrying me forth against a will; Mind and soul resist but the reality of physicality controls now. “Go, The ledge is calling us,” my brain whispers. Walking, conscious of the written cues before me, not caring in physical regard I walk I strut I lie I hide I creep I crawl I obey I question I calm I pride fully, manly, observantly, logically, opaquely Go to The Ledge. -12/2/09, MR

The Hour

Remember the cost Another one lost Imbued with honor Or need. Till tomorrow Beget fate’s power Manifest destiny’s Willing seed. Memory past Dreams do last Conscious reality Haunts me. Beckoning call Of a conscious fall Rise of grace To an unknown face Marks the will Of all. -           7/16/09, MR

The Freedom From Certainty

A destined fate To which I struggle Has wavered my passions And bent a resolve. But the flame of hope, Existing somewhere deep in this heart Will not allow itself to be extinguished Less I lose myself In the tragic path Of certainty.   11/14/08, MR

The Escape into Reality

I hear her call From beyond the truth; Her burning eyes Of frightful youth. She laughs, she sings, So strong, so gay; Not a care or worry should come her way. In that moment And in that time, I am reminded of what once was mine. What I knew then And what I still know Is that the Body Can betray the Soul. 6/25/08, MR

The Cryptic Illusion

The Cryptic Illusion Of so many words past Deride a delusion Of fate at last. Too many times have I seen Sorrow mesmerized Behind those eyes, That heart, That soul, Longing for so much more. Drown me in hate Or love Whatever you prefer. Absolve me from reason while I am on this path. The mystery once solved Still remains Under the slew of a Thousand beckoning masses And dwindled consciousness Of proles gone apathetic. For a dreamer’s reality Is a realist’s dream And though I see truth, It is never as it may seem. -           MR, 08/22/2009

The Cry of The Atoning (Prayer)

Death has such a sordid grip over vice, inevitable slip Contemplating life effect Conscious now of the neglect. Struggling does seem absurd When one struggles against one’s word The strongest chains are of the mind That cut at soul and long to bind. Flesh now sold to a god Wanton need, measured odd This place exists between Where reality fades and dream is seen. In this time and in this heart What better place than now to start To battle against flesh and bone Soulful will, I do atone.   -11/30/09, MR

Subtle Face

Smiling with a subtle face consciously I ignore wondering where is my place wanting, needing ever more. A simple hi resonates somewhere far between but an unfriendly scowl is all I have ever seen. So the hate is bottled up and swells the coming tide I know now I am not enough my addiction, I now abide. -           MR, 2/22/11

Some People Accept

Some people accept The destined fate; Of my will, I contemplate – What is my love, That thing I do? That can leave me peace And joy too? What is this thing, So needed, so bare, That in its arms I will grow unaware, Of the brevity, The shortness of life, The certainty of death, The want for love, The need for meaning? What is this thing? I pray to find; Perhaps I will accept Those sands of time. - 9/8/08 MR

So Many Names

So many names As I scroll through the page But I cannot stop To glance at one. They pass by my eye With no memory to recall Of the beautiful words Penned for me.

So It Is

All around me I see Absurd civility Regarding life and want. There are those who have And those who have not A middle ground soon to be. An interesting caper With unnamed suspects Though everyone knows The end to this mess. I wish to do something But I do nothing For abbreviated freedoms Seek to control and enslave me Through a utopian compassion Of a thousand generations; This time we will surely get it right. Ignore the mistakes of the past You ignorant bastard And come into the unknown With me and my gods. We know what it best for you We will give you what is best for you You will swallow the pill Either way.   Comply And it will be well with you, Disobey and it will still be. This has been centuries in the making The suffering of so many Dependent upon so few We command our power On the backs of the proles. They need us They feed us Our growing power Each decade in the making As the ambitious are cast aside

Silhouetted figure

Silhouetted figure I must surmise these feelings are stronger then both of us realize. Yearning mechanism continues in regard bring me to a want and can make this very hard. Graceful composure I subtly smile as you walk past- I murmur to myself, “My angel has arrived, at long last.” -           MR, 10/10/11


At the very last semblance of reason I awake from a fantasy, if only for a few moments. Drearily I rise up and move all of me in some direction- up, sideways, forward, but not down. Madness resonates in this place and at once I’m wrought with pain and confusion. I know what I know and nothing more. I can only see a few yards in front of me- My gaze is hazy as though my vision is blurred and mirages surround me as on a sweltering summer day. Even now, in relative coolness my mouth is dry thinking of the heat. I’d take the journey time and again- ready, willing and able to lose myself and more to start again from the beginning. I climb but without purpose- walk without direction- run, but I know not what for. -    MR, 3/27/12

Rogue Mind

Rogue mind Come to find All along Weakened strong. Baffled by The wandering eye Guessing when I must defend. It comes too quick Subconscious pick Of a lie Long to try. Brief excursion Hated diversion Escaping stress Takes all my best. Wondering how I must bow Again and again To the old friend, But enemy too Wish I knew How long this guest Must behest And consider welcomed His presence? -           MR, 7/15/09

Return of A Prodigy

Sitting, waiting, hoping, praying, asking Now the time has come. Reflect on the journey; The thousand steps begin with only one. Walking now, Fearful of a past Etched so deep in the heart. Remember the pain Remember the glory Take another step – it hurts- Then another… Then another… Getting easier, but still a long way to go. Never forget the reason, Never forget the why- This is your time, This is the Return. -        MR 9/23/10


Egregious notions I cannot withhold what are they thinking I ask myself. But my skills of prophecy leave me wanting of answers neither does God himself reveal in firey columns. So I’m left to myself wondering along Believing that just one semblance will bring about the peace I need. For many hours, days, or months I am cured, I am happy; but a simple no can bring me to my knees. Why do I grant power to the powerless? Why do I succumb to a whim of some strange outlier? Why must my absolution be bent by another’s resolve when it matters not in the least what they care? I’m mesmerized by misunderstanding I’m taken aback by some riddle I cannot solve; I’ve prayed for wisdom and guidance many times I’ve thought my life led in a different path. but a simple day, the mere challenging of a F.E.A.R complicates months of faith and years of honesty all because one child says “I don’t want to play.” WHY DO I CARE?

Red black, Red Black

She hides in the shadows so no one can see the rise and fall of mediocrity. She is dressed in the latest fashion- all the men want her- but that is all they want. Taking three dollars from her purse to pay the bus fare, she chews her gum, up down, up down, up down - her mouth moves in repetitive fashion just like her life. She dresses up so beautifully to ignore any advance and to prioritize her own priority. -           MR, 10/11/11


Questions, only Questions, linger in this mind. A peace I once knew, I will never come to find. Its transparent figure of an eluding dream, Blinds my eye to reality, Only to what will seem.   Advancement, only advancement, of an uncertain cause. Living life in the now, holding my joy on pause. Overwhelmed by a moment now forever gone, What can I possibly do To make brevity last long?   7/7/08, MR

Photogenic Face

Photogenic face But not here She mutters to me Over there I see something else that grabs my attention and circumvents my will It leads and attracts and welcomes with its warmed presence and radiant glow shining forth in the midday but darkened sky The clouds are rolling in She ecstatically bellows from forth her petite lungs a storm is brewing in the east. -11/25/09, MR

Petite Form

Petite form, subtle confidence you cross your legs; my heart is stopped. Challenge a premonition not yet fully conceived but written in stone because it has come before. Wonderful smile and beautiful voice the yearning in my heart cannot quiet. But the fear is more apparent my mind more powerful than these evolving emotions can ever be. I miss something everything the slightest touch the welcoming eyes letting me know “You are the One.” Intimacy is a foreigner a welcomed guest who does not travel my way. At a distance I am comforted- the stranger I am. Don’t ever stop being love and warmth and passion. One day I hope to join you in commitment that lasts longer than fleeting moments. ETERNAL IMMORTAL NEVER PERISHING CONSTANT LOVE. -           MR, 2/18/11

Perspective From A Lounged Position

In not so long, I will be gone. Why then is my survival instinct so strong? Perspectively, if the earth is infinity My time is surely the blink of the eye. Yet upon reflection, I use protection to keep my vulgarities from the pack for the lone wolf rarely survives the season or so the story goes, But who knows, I mean for sure? F.E.A.R. is the mechanism by which I justify my bubble avoid any ‘trouble’ and live and die in sequence passed down from generation to generation - learned as well as genetic not to mention the frenetic pace we all race when we finally realize our own demise. But the ignorant are king for they laugh and play and sing Mostly unaware of anything- or maybe they are aware but choose not to care which if you ask me is true bliss and right. For F.E.A.R. is fright and through brevity seems infinite it is finite to the sum of zero or as near zero as mathematically plausible. I am here yes, but I’m actually already gone; not that this is wrong

Passionate Spirits Lay Long In Regress

Passionate spirits lay long in regress Advocating mercy, desire to confess Their consumptuous souls to thy God above And abandon thy lusts to thy one true love. Despite the grace befallen their crowns Wanting consciouses grow dim, And thy pure eyes are directed earthbound Towards seeds now full grown. The withered stem of redemption Is noticeable once more When stresses and desires of the heart Replace what is before. But upon failure’s gaze A condemnation so fierce, The perfectionism of a human soul Is understood as imperfect. Once more they are reminded That grace is given Because thy eyes do stray; Once more are they reminded Of a love that no man deserves, But by grace, is true. -5/31/09, MR


Orangish hue I carry you over my fixed shoulder I lug- your ample weight speaks of fate I long to run but must walk. What more can be fit in dulled wit I’d gamble for more hours in a day but alas I’m struck, out of luck and wonder how I became this way. Count the pounds, lost once found I long to beat this beastly ghast; the solution is absolution acknowledging this moment will not last. So it is, day by day, I seek out a new way and shed myself along the path. -           MR, 10/10/11