Peter

The yellowed dust touched my eyes
as you leapt into the night.
Through tinselled stars that blurred my vision,
I watched you beam with delight.

Towards a neverland adventure!

I swiftly shuttered both eyes

to think of birds in every color

sequined in orange fireflies. 

You were my refuge from the days

spent grinning boredom out-of-sight

because my life paled like your shadow

against the glow of a nightlight.

Now time takes time advancing 

in its crocodilian pace.

Why’d you gun it, fully knowing

death’s at the end of this race?

The yellowed dust forged into memory

that night you leapt into the night.

Though tinselled stars had blurred my vision,

I saw you take your last flight.

You took your courage to the threshold

past my bedroom window sill.

Because “this world will never want us”

and you’ve had your fill.

You’ve run from every place convinced

you were born to chase each thrill.

Or were you just afraid of growing up? 

Well indeed, you never will.

 

_______________________________

a reimagining of my favorite novel. 

“to die would be an awfully big adventure” -- Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie

Ode to Dad

So the song is finally over

as its final chord is played.

This duet’s come to its full closure

abruptly as the outro’s fade.

Couldn’t we add just one more verse?

A longer bridge than what you made?

Because stepping off from song to silence 

isn’t a fair trade.

And maybe I could stand the silence

but a choir of voices in my head

remind me how you’re gone forever

and I'm here trapped with them instead.

Though I don’t know where you are

or where, someday, I could be

I’m thankful knowing who I am

is because of you and me.

I’m thankful I could sing your words

now that you’re gone without a trace.

One day i’ll sing those tear-soaked memories...

and feel a smile bloom on my face. 

Game Over

Is it worse to lose
or know you failed to win? 
To be faced with defeat
or see your look of chagrin?
To feel the emptiness swell
in that hollow within,
knowing you'd stared straight at that hole
and still fallen right in.

Cloaked

I found myself outside the gates,
with just my name to call my own.
Clung to the warmth that tried to leave me

with a shapeless thing I’d sewn. 

I found, with each new structured cut,

a safety in this second skin!

I feel I'd bleed out, left without it,

I wouldn’t know where to begin.

     The cloak that hides this face

     Is a shield upon my back.

     I can stand out or blend in, 

     concealing what I sorely lack.

     It’s the brightly colored plume

     that draws the eyes across the room.

    And unlike Eden’s flowers, 

    my crimson roses stay in bloom. 

It’s an ancient incantation: 

to conjure bull from hairless ape.

A gentle blush won’t light a carnal fire

the way it’s stoked by a red cape.

It’s an all-out revelation

fenced in silken barricade:

A mask reveals the heart’s true face

dressed-naked in a masquerade.

     The cloak that hides this face

     Is a shield upon my back

     hiding all my ragged edges

     while I patch up the cracks.

     It’s the brightly colored plume

     that draws the eyes across the room.

    A church bell rung to mute 

    A lifetime played out-of-tune.

I’ve travelled far beyond the garden

armed with but a match-sized lance. 

to thus create, in my own image,

a life where I stand a chance.

It’s a psychedelic magic,

this thread that weaves through all my tales!

With each tapestry I hoist, 

I catch the wind in my sails.

Narscissus Smiles

Sitting at the water’s edge 

I’m agonizing.

He’s mesmerizing

effortlessly floating at the top.

Peering deep into those eyes:

they’re hypnotizing.

I’m nearly drowning

trying hard to make these voices stop.

Is this love or is this jealousy?

Seeing him makes me desire what I could never be.

I lie to myself, say I’ll stay for a while,

as I pass the endless hours with a stranger’s smile.

Trying hard to get ahead,

the game’s exhausting.

They keep us playing

long enough to learn things can get worse.

Existence is a fatal cut.

There’s no denying:

everyone’s dying. 

No prizes go to those who finish first.

Is this love? such endless agony.

Seeing him I understand what I could never be.

I lie to myself, say I’ll stay for a while,

then pass the hours basking in a stranger’s smile.

I don’t recognize his all-too-familiar face 

nor his unfamiliar smile,

but it’s the first time someone’s looked at me

and made me feel worthwhile.

I don’t need to hear he’ll love me, 

(words don't carry any power).

But I mirror his smile to hide, how inside,

I'm just wilting like a flower.

-------------------

Notes:

• Obsession, fandom and loneliness as the face of narcissism. 
• A narcissist not as someone who loves himself, but someone who loathes himself so much that he creates a persona he wishes he were, but barely recognizes
• original Narcissus myth (Ovid): Narcissus sees his reflection  for the first time in the water (not knowing at all that that was him)

Totem Piles (version 2)

Building one thing then another

in tidy lines and piles they sit.

Constructing roads and high skyscrapers

to engineer the perfect fit.

Forever chasing that horizon

while reaching for a distant star.

So starved to find some foreign landscape

never content with where we are. 

Falling forward as propelled

by the trajectory of cupid’s hit.

Collecting coins and random tokens

to gauge each gain and deficit.

Falling forward towards another step,

these exploits fill a barren map.

Yet we’re no closer to the finish:

just cursed to run another lap. 

Though could this be the truest fortune?

Death leaves man’s bounty when he’s done.

Not comprehending, as they bribe him

for one more dance around the sun...

Totem Piles

Building one thing then another

in tidy lines and piles they sit:

by making roads and high skyscrapers

we've engineered "the perfect fit".

Forever chasing that horizon

while reaching for a distant star,

starved to find some foreign landscape

never content with where we are. 

Falling forward, to follow through

the blind trajectory of cupid’s hit.

Collecting coins and random tokens to gauge each gain and deficit. Falling forward towards another step,

these exploits fill a barren map.

Yet we’re no closer to the finish:

just cursed to run another lap.