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what the grave digger did to me   
03:28pm 26/08/2008
  dig deep in loamy soil under a tree
and lay a feasting table for the worms.
concern you' not with what became of me.
suffice to say i passed on my own terms.
i hope your hands are gentle, but alas,
i'll not be given to sensation more.
i'll drop into the hole cut in the grass,
not quite as mindful as i was before.
and my decay will fertilize the earth,
provide a bed for things to thrive and grow,
and in a sense it will be my rebirth
excepting where my soul will likely go.
and when i've gone to the place i came from,
i'll become part of the continuum.		  
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what the tree tapper did to me...   
11:38pm 21/05/2008
  undaunted do i stand and face the snow,
still, naked, frigid, silent, and alone.
when will the winter end, i do not know,
and yield to springtime's pregnant warming drone.
here at the end of winter's bitter chill.
you tap my soul as our two bodies meet
so deftly with my essence you distill
and translate me to something rather sweet.
lost here where these two seasons intersect
and where our limbs begin to intertwine,
you've drawn from me what i could least expect,
a pleasure i can't claim as wholly mine.
as winter breathes her last and desp'rate sigh,
you tap into my long, enraptured cry.		  
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what the hunter did to me...   
11:31pm 21/05/2008
  my limbs atrophied, become obsolete.
in paralyzed fear, i pause on my trail.
shall i stay forclemecy to entreat?
and what if my plea for mercy should fail?
i begin, again, my desp'rate escape.
i know i am in earnest being track'd.
i ignore each laceration, each scrape.
more bait for each predator i attract.
my wits are about me, though barely there
i just want to flee and scamper away
i dodge every shot, avoid every snare.
how did i become this pathetic prey?
perhaps it was your clever advances
befuddled my brain and ruined my chances.		  
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what the skydiver did to me...   
11:26pm 21/05/2008
  despondent, grief-stricken, full of remorse,
these feelings pervade my ev'ry being.
yet i persist on this destructive course,
blinded to all by my way of seeing.
riddled with lies, to my own self untrue,
I try to avoid all understanding.
For comfort and peace, i look now to you
to break my fall and cushion my landing.
it's your fault, you've brought me to such great heights,
through cunning, cajoling, and through deceit.
and though i've enjoyed incredible sights,
now i've stepped into blank sky with both feet.
as i plummet to earth, all points seem moot,
except this; are you still my parachute?		  
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what the molecular biologist did to me...   
11:14pm 08/10/2007
  without a prayer or any sense of hope,
without a single spiritual guide,
i squirm beneath your bright, invasive scope
in shame and misery, no place to hide.
you scrutinize each molecule and cell,
intrusive, with a lack of empathy,
disregarding my own personal hell,
you're blind to all but that which you study.
can i be more than your experiment?
he is the fool who is only rational.
it leaves one with a sense of discontent,
when he is in denial of his soul.
emotion's joy, and what joy can you find,
when reason trumps emotion in the mind?		  
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what the scientist did to me...   
08:39pm 17/01/2007
  if i by some sweet circumstance of sleep
do see your face and in it take delight,
and let it cause my heart to somehow leap,
as in my sleep my mind doth take its flight,
would you afford me this small luxury?
that i may savour this slight whim of chance.
that i, in sleep, may spend this night with thee,
forgetting that it is mere happenstance,
and upon waking i will only know
the gentle whisper of your lover's voice.
i see you. my heart races. yours goes slow.
i must suppress the pain by my own choice.
never to reveal my hopeless vision,
is my punishment and my decision.		  
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what the minstrel did to me...   
09:54pm 22/03/2006
  to be in perfect harmony with you
impossible! impossible, i say!
and 'tis no less implausible to do.
it seems my song does not sound right that way.
i weep alone, at night, melodic'ly
to soft, sweet dirges only i can hear
and sound each note in time methodic'ly
with my heartbeat whenever you are near.
soft rustle of the sheets beneath your weight
like delicate notes, pianissimo.
a symphony of sounds we consecrrate,
collision of our bodies, crescendo.
yet somewhere in that moment does afford
a jarring note that brings me this discord.		  
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what the navigator did to me...   
12:56am 27/07/2005
  strike out on a path for a course unknown.
creative force and will that is unbound.
consumed was I by the thought of alone.
that I scarce realized the companion found.
his mind holds a passion found, too, in me.
that echoes in beauty of words’ embrace.
and gives me a hope for humanity.
that there should be patience for all our race.
though many shall scoff at what we create,
and some remain ignorant of it all,
there are those like minds that commiserate,
that may rescue the rest from their own fall.
in truth, though outnumber’d we still hold sway
that art of words won’t have its dying day.		  
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what the bokur did to me...   
12:56am 27/07/2005
  the night is blackest when one’s all alone
as darkness overtakes tormented souls.
in desperation I cannot condone,
i am in search of the one who consoles.
but there’s never any absolution.
for sins that linger in idiot hearts.
and shall I succumb to your pollution?
shall I criticize your crazy, dark arts?
your voice cripples all of my defenses.
and can break down my will to resist you.
you’re in past, present, and future tenses.
the author of this life, do what you’ll do.
you’ll write upon me in the words of your mind,
a tabula rasa on me you’ll find.		  
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what the dreamer did to me...   
12:44am 27/07/2005
  as often I have pondered things like this.
to lose myself in fonder thoughts of you,
and yet I feel that things may be amiss.
man, you do not know what it is you do.
and for this it seems nights I cannot rest.
as thoughts of you appear to plague my dreams,
and I can but issue this one request.
you don’t tear my soul’s fabric at its seams.
if this is love, it unsettles my soul,
and it leaves me at something of a loss.
yet your presence leaves me closer to whole
on rare occasions when our paths do cross.
so much confusion in such a short time,
worthy sacrifice for feeling sublime.		  
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what the jester did to me...   
12:44am 27/07/2005
  indelicate words, yet delicate touch,
you contradict that which you seem to be.
say you nothing but communicate much.
left at a loss for what it is i see.
as indecisive as the blowing wind
sometime you are as cold and unkind
and as a butterfly you have me pinned
into your collection, i'm intertwined.
you're a prophet of doom, and at your height
vertigo sets in as i must look down.
to see where i've been, to fall where i might
choose the sad wise one or the blissful clown.
they will both do their damage to my soul
and leave in its place a huge gaping hole.		  
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what the novelist did to me...   
12:41am 27/07/2005
  i am the story, all that's fit to tell.
i lie in quiet corners of your mind.
i am neither your heaven nor your hell.
merely a subtle secret that you find.
i am the embodiment of all fears
and a source of great joy and contentment.
i am the product of sweat and of tears
sometime evil sometime benevolent
all this to you, but not yours, not at all
i stand in faith and fidelity
like pride that cometh before the great fall
i on the precipice will give freely
i'll give in to passion or e'en to lust
if you, in turn, prove worthy of my trust.		  
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what the storyteller did to me...   
12:39am 27/07/2005
  this is the tale of certain kindness
brought forth by tragedy, sorrow, and woe
the ties that do always seem to bind us
that which both of us intimately know.
our paths in a moment of weakness cross'd
and in a moment of faith we both leapt
and found our passions were all tempest toss'd
by secret desires that both of us kept.
and as frivolous as these words may seem
as bound by these childish notions of love
as burdened by this impossible dream
and all of the heartaches and pain thereof
perhaps i can find a way to believe
and faith in the male species i'll retrieve		  
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what the martyr did to me...   
12:37am 27/07/2005
  can faith be restored to this sad schizm?
with woe elemental and pain divine
shall i adopt bizarre atheism
in regards to your love that once was mine?
Of trust, not worthy and love? you do jest
your notion twisted, and it did impair.
pressed like a witch with stones upon my chest,
you add more weight to what's already there.
i could ignore your infidelities
abuse of the one thing i held so dear
accepting your desperate apologies
endeared to a face that's stained with false tear
but to find and dear are other crosses
and thus shall i leave and cut my losses.		  
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what the alchemist did to me...   
06:57pm 17/11/2004
  i am broken down and elemental,
each part of me seen in isolation.
energy kinetic and potential
scrutiniz'd in hope of permutation.
attempts are made to coax and to flatter,
to bring forth even a miniscule change,
to transfigure or conjure dark matter,
or some matamorphosis new and strange.
but stubbornly, i persist in my form,
unwilling and unable to alter
though i am still faithful, gentle, and warm,
inevitably, attentions falter.
i know not where the idea was bred,
that you'd somehow render gold from my lead.		  
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what the seismologist did to me...   
06:43pm 17/11/2004
  a rift discover'd 'twixt thought and feeling.
determin'd to measure each tiny shake,
he faithfully observ'd 'stead of healing.
in attempt to predict the next big quake.
my thought moved violently, plate tectonic,
against feelings, emotionally ill.
in a moment bitterly ironic,
my reaction shook his resolve and will.
alone and quaking, i desp'rately sobb'd.
my world shatter'd in this intense release.
left feeling as though my core had been robb'd.
aftershock'd catharsis with no surcease.
he fled; no remorse nor reason spoken.
and left me disillusioned and broken.		  
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what the carpenter did to me...   
06:06pm 17/11/2004
  with tender care to my delicate frame
i was then reconstructed, piece by piece.
each chamber vacant and without a name.
i waited for the hammering to cease.
"then this is my heart," was my only thought,
as the workamn stood, surveying the view.
and he marveled at the structure he'd wrought.
he was awestruck at what his hands could do.
and i drummed my fingers, rather annoyed.
"there's something not right," i said with dismay.
what looked like a heart was an empty void.
"i'm crushed, and i know not what to say."
for all of his work, abundant and rife,
the tradesman failed to bring my heart to life.		  
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what the composer did to me...   
06:00pm 17/11/2004
  i am brought to life through delicate touch,
which resonates in my internal strings,
and then my voice escapes from my throat's clutch,
a tentative moan to his train'd ear sings.
he inscribes a symphony on my back.
with his tactile grace and his adroit skill.
i'm so finely tuned, no sensations lack,
as i'm deftly strummed to his ev'ry will.
i sing his praises in my choral odes.
he chooses the rhythm in which i'm played,
'til passion consumes and tune erodes
to a cacaphony of cries i've made.
and somewhere in discordant moans is found
the most beautifully orchestrated sound.		  
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what the convict did to me...   
08:44pm 12/11/2004
  as i'm freed from the earthly ball and chain,
i'm sent to the court of a higher law.
freed from my sorrow, my guilt, and my pain,
but forc'd to reconcile with my ev'ry flaw.
and death, i think, is an eternity
that is spent in ceaseless introspection
of ev'ry deed in forc'd sincerity
examined in detail; each small section.
without prejudice, made to really view
what has been, the butterfly effect
no way to escape, no way to undo,
see what was accomplished, and what was wreck'd.
by this view i choose the path i must take.
forever to spend with the choices i make.		  
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what the optimist did to me...   
08:40pm 12/11/2004
  i know the best is ever yet to come.
and yet, is destin'd never to arrive.
waiting patiently until hope is numb.
'til i am broken, no will to survive.
a fatal squeeze on my poor beating heart.
of wondering what i have left undone.
and from what i will now have to depart.
into whose arms i can longer run.
and such is my faith in my tragedy.
that i am destin'd to be a martyr.
that i run forth to danger blindly.
to pain, an instigator, a starter.
what better fate than to hope for my pain.
as it leads me to go gently insane.		  
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