Tag Archives: despair

Loveless

I searched and searched – never found it there …
Hiding ‘midst my drowning loneliness – despair –
believing not my heart – more that somewhere
lived a part of my soul less burdened – less aware.

And lo – never finding itself within –
lurking deeply – hidden – like sin –
announcing only loves’ absence begins
to darken my souls’ longing – tip to brim.

She filled my empty space a moment or two –
until realizing it wasn’t true – her love –
or attempt to feign that which can not –
nor may ever be manufactured by whim.

Love is like a rose – nature’s surprise –
Which either is – or isn’t.
Pity we who can only see –
but never smell it’s truest beauty –

Or to bloody ourselves upon it’s stem
while others drink its petals’ dew…
If only I could have found that for you….
My dear lost darling, love is but a ruse.

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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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Now I Lay Me Down

Ebenezer saw his own grave –
placid yellow hues against
the pointing finger of faceless
hood.  Stretched stone of soft marble
that would run smooth after
centuries storm, anonymous grave
melting into the abyss of earth,
alone, nothingness, forever.
Fools be gone, and what butcher’s
prized goose is valued more than
serenity, chains and all – only
to sink us deeper into bliss.
World be gone.  Tiny Tim better off.
The chains are what hold us here.

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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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My White Pages

Here my tiny being lays within the whiteness of
this page.  I tried using my fork to tiddle-wink
the words onto it – to tattoo them like a tiny
tear drop on a felon’s face.  Failure, again,
my face cries and the whiteness glows on it –
ghostly face white with nothing to say.  Words
tiddle-winked completely over – or – failed
to tiddle at all.  Or should it be winked?
Should I know – with no words to show – at all?
My blank face and blank mind – so much less
than those others, who speak, and write – and never
leave white glowing trails from empty words
behind them.  My glowing trails are blank spaces.
“Answer me, boy, answer me!”  I don’t and I can’t
and I won’t!  The words are gone – and I can’t
squeeze them out of a turnip.  Perhaps if I
could boggle the words across the page and –
some might melt into it, saturating it through,
leaking into pages beneath.  There’s always
pages beneath, pages hiding and waiting to
prove me blank, just waiting there, waiting
to strike when my aloneness is multiplying
numbers, like Yahtzee scores, always counting
words that aren’t ever there – not to me, but
it’s only a game, they  say, they say – But
I say it is only a long, desperate, awkward
pause that shakes my soul beyond these bones –
and they say “Spit it out boy!  Are you just
dumb? or Stupid”  —  haha – laughter laughter.
I’ll take my words, my turnip and felon tear and
climb down the hole – my away place – and hide.
Some day my page will flower like a turnip patch.
And my glowing spaces will be them – trailing
behind in dirty glowing spaces.  And the spotted
baby deer will fill his tum with my
colorful memories……  my some day page.

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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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