2004: My Life In Poetry Form (Part 3) - Throwback Thursday

 

This is a recurring series featuring five poems all written within the same calendar year. They capture a sense of what my life and mind were like at a certain age and show the evolution of my life, mind, and writing style. We return to 2004. I was 26 years old. I had met one of the most important people and was in the midst of an important relationship in my life. It highly affected my writing.

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Raindrops

Staring out of my window, the raindrops changing shapes before my eyes.

I’d love to watch the sunrise, I’d love to see some blue skies, but I haven’t got past this rain-soaked window yet. Turning to my wall, headlights flash a tearful rain shadow. It could be the angels' tears for me; someday I will know. Sitting on the bed unmade, on the spot where last night I prayed. For a voice, a sign, a reason or rhyme, for some raindrops in my head to wash clean my mind. It’s silent in here now but for the rain, like pebbles tapping a prayer for me. Looking at the ceiling, through it up and away to where I know you are. The distance in miles and years doesn’t seem so far. I know you can hear my whispers through the falling stars. Staring out of my window, 

the rain rolling down reminds me of me. 

Soon those drops will dry, so in time, I hope, will mine.

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The Art of Losing

Tell me, my baby, where did you go?

I woke up this morning, and everything was gone.

It's so cold, the world is dark, without you in my arms.

Can I find you? Will you come back?

Everything is blue, 

from my eyes to the sky and every inch in between.

Inside I'm wasting away, crippled and broken-hearted; 

it could be my last day.

I'm tired from tears, weak from chasing answers, 

lost in all my fears.

Why can't I find you baby? You used to be everywhere.

There are no words I can say. Look into my heart, 

you'll find it all in there.

I love you so much it hurts, now the pain is all I have left of you.

If I could paint a picture of me without you, 

all I'd need is gray and blue.

Can you hear me calling you baby?

I went to bed last night, 

and your name was all the night could hear.

The sun rose black as coal, my mind is a winter storm, 

no one can find me.

Only you can save me from this lonely road I'm on.

You hold the sweetest verse to my most beautiful song.

I've lost my voice, I've only got one choice, to admit I was wrong.

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Under the Streetlight

Spinning slowly around.

Slow dancing with my baby under the streetlight shining down.

I can smell your sweet perfume when I close my eyes.

In my ear you sing a soft lullaby.

I could stay here forever, as long as we're together, I'll dance with you wherever, the streetlight is shining down.

Rest now, our dance floor is quiet.

Hold me tight and feel my heartbeat.

Never has my life felt this complete.

Here slow dancing with my baby on an empty street.

We don't know why, but here we are.

Weaving in and out of the headlights of passing cars.

Eye to eye and cheek to cheek, still a little too far.

No need to look up, I'm face to face with my own beautiful star.

I could stay here forever, and as long as we're together, I'll dance with you wherever the streetlights are shining down.

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Your Eyes

I’ve been thinking about you, all the time, and every day. Something you do to me makes it so I can’t turn away. I’ve been wondering could this thing so beautiful be true. It’s your eyes; I’m hypnotized. There’s magnificence I see in them exotic rains enhancing the flames. It’s your eyes. They’re shining peace through the storms. Those eyes and what they give, I want to see through them. I want to see how the world’s beauty looks, like the ocean waves melting away.

I’ve been seeing you, walking endlessly inside my mind. You’re just a daydream, but something remains. You’re playing me like a song I can’t stop. Should I turn this melody up? It’s ringing in my ears all night. Your voice keeps me hanging on, singing through the night until dawn. It’s your eyes. There’s a sensual mix of crazy and love. It’s your eyes. They’re the deep end of the ocean, they turn my stone to clay. Those eyes and how they make me feel, I want to see through them. I want to see how they separate you from the rest, how they capture hearts and minds.

All that is mystery is in your eyes. All that is heaven on earth, all that keeps me going. When I have no direction, it’s where I look. When I feel too cold to move, it’s where the warmth lies. They hold back the hurricane, but could bring the storm at any time. They hold back the river, but could flood my mind in a wink. They could break me, but they hold the strength to save this falling man. It’s your eyes, I’m speechless. It’s your eyes, it’s hopeless. It’s your eyes, nothing less. I want to see inside; I must confess. I want to see you through your eyes. I want to see me through your eyes.

I want to see through your eyes.

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Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #125: Class of 96, More Mall Dreams, Too Hot, etc.

1. It’s hard to believe that it’s been 30 years since I graduated from high school. At times, it feels like yesterday. That might be helped by the fact that I have the entire ceremony on video. I can see my old friends and classmates when we were all teenagers with our lives ahead of us. I can feel the promise of the years to come and not the weight of mistakes, missed opportunities, and ‘what ifs.’ I remember not realizing just how big a change was coming as I crossed the grassy field and took hold of my diploma. I think I was just itching to get out of the dress clothes on a warm late spring morning. Then again, way more often I feel like that day was a lifetime ago, and in many ways it was. I am now in my late 40s and most of the time feel as though I must have missed my exit on the highway we were all traveling. My mission now is to either find my way back to that missed exit or to keep going until I find something that makes the missed opportunities worth it. Yes, 30 years is a long time. I do know that I have many years left to fulfill the promise I saw lying ahead of me when I first held that high school diploma in my hand. Don’t get me wrong, I have seen a lot and done a lot in the last 30 years, but I feel it’s like comparing the sales of Michael Jackson’s Bad album to his Thriller album. Most musicians would kill to have an album sell like Bad, but only one in a million can sell like Thriller. Not sure if that makes sense to anyone but me.


2. I guess I shouldn’t expect too much from people. I put together four polls for my upcoming 250th podcast episode. I’m calling it Listener’s Choice because obviously, the people listening will choose what GenX nostalgia topics are on that particular show. I had people ‘liking’ the posts but not voting in the poll. How stupid is that? It takes literally the same time and effort to click one of the poll options as it does to ‘like’ it. I am grateful to the people who understood the assignment, and the podcast will be a good one. The others, though? It’s like they’re children getting mad at being asked (nicely) to do something to help out around the house. Don’t tell me to pick up my room, I’m going to make a bigger mess! Seriously, I was tempted to block everyone who liked the polls but didn’t vote, and I know because the polls show me each vote and by whom. But going back to the top, I guess I shouldn’t expect too much from people. That’s on me.

Coming soon!

3. It’s funny how a major anniversary or milestone can affect your mind. I mentioned the high school graduation anniversary. That same day was Monday Runday, which some of you might remember as the weekly meetup with my longtime friend and old classmate Mike. We run, or in my case, mostly walk, at a local track. I haven’t run much in the last few months as my left knee has decided to retire early. That changed this week. Perhaps I was inspired by the weather? No, it was the fear of being old. I decided to run more than I have in a while at the track. Now, granted, it was not much, but still good enough. Just the thought of it being 30 years since I finished high school was enough for me to need to prove to myself I wasn’t old yet. My body felt relatively good the next morning, so who knows, maybe I can slowly return to more running. Or I’ll end up crashing out the next time, and I’ll soon be walking with those Nordic walking poles.


4. My sister Ashley passed 14 years alcohol-free this week. If it sounds like a big number, that’s because it is. It was a hard road for her leading up to the choice to quit. There were times when it was really bad that some of us in the family thought the alcohol would be the end of her. But she defeated her demons and became stronger. She defeated her demons and became an inspiration to me. When my alcohol problem was out of control, I looked to her and thought if she could do it, so could I. For me, it will be 6 years without alcohol in September. There have been a few times when the alcohol nearly reentered my life, most specifically the death of my Uncle Eric. I remember that not only am I not drinking anymore for myself, but I am also doing it for Ashley because she impacted me greatly with her own battles. While I am speaking on deleting alcohol from lives, I want to mention another sister, Kate, who is rapidly approaching 300 days, and then a year, alcohol-free as well. Everyone’s journey and reason is their own, but I hope that Ashley and I helped to show her that it can be done. I am very proud of my sisters.


5. For the 3rd time in probably 6 weeks, I had a dream featuring me with a friend or family member hanging out at the mall. This time, I was with my oldest friend, Barry, just wandering the corridors and chatting. Why? Not why is Barry there. That makes sense because I haven’t seen him in a few years, and he has been a hugely important part of my life for 40 years. No, the question is why at the mall always? Am I supposed to go to the Cape Cod Mall and find some sort of answer to something? Do I miss being a semi-pro mall rat in the 1990s? Is it more about the people in these dreams and maybe needing to reach out to them more? I have no clue. Have any of you had a sort of recurring dream, or at least a recurring dream location? I have vivid dreams and lucid dreams, but they are rarely ever connected. I tend to have wild swings of plot lines of my dreams. Having hangouts at the mall come around 3 times in less than 2 months is weird. Especially specifically remembering them. I guess we’ll have to wait for the next episode of Dream Mall: The Series to find out what happens.

The mall of my dreams?

6. All it took was a few 85-degree and humid days for me to immediately begin dreaming of the fall. The irony is, it’s not even summer yet. The first day of summer is June 21st. The heat is one thing. I’m not a fan of the temperatures getting above 80, but you can cope when it’s not humid. That’s the thing that is the worst. The humidity just makes everything feel wet and soupy, which is uncomfortable during the day and just plain gross at night when you’re trying to sleep. I try to wait as long as I can to put in my air conditioner. I only have two windows where I live. Plugging one with a bulky a/c unit means that on days when the a/c isn’t needed, I don’t get any fresh air. This is another first-world problem since many people don’t even have the option of air conditioning. It is supposed to become nice and seasonable again in a few days. I’ll likely be able to hold out for a while longer but there’s only so many days when the ‘real feel’ is 100 that I can endure before the a/c goes in.


7. As luck would have it, a window fan I had for many years finally decided enough was enough. It died and left me roasting during the heat wave. I took a trip to the nearest Ocean State Job Lot to get a good, and cheap, replacement. This fan was a powerful window fan, and I was happy that it was relatively affordable at $40. I got home, and it was 85 and humid inside my apartment, so the fan was going to be a welcome addition. I put it in a window and turned it on, nothing. I was confused. I tried different outlets. I messed with the power switch. Still nothing. Now I was mad because even though the prices are pretty low at Job Lot, you still expect something to work when you get it home. I began getting the packaging together since I’d have to go back and get a replacement. I was angry and pouring sweat in the heat. Then I turned the ‘thermostat’ dial in the middle of the fan. Suddenly, both 9” fans sprang to life loudly and powerfully. It turns out the thermostat is really just an intensity dial for the fans. With it being turned all the way down, the fans wouldn’t move. Yes, I did feel pretty stupid. I will say this, though: better to feel stupid at home than to go back to Job Lot and have them find out I was returning a fan because I couldn’t figure out how to turn it on.


8. I have seen birds do some incredible stunt work when it comes to flying. The way they can change directions on a dime is pretty amazing. I see it a lot when they fly in front of vehicles, yet they can change directions to avoid getting hit. This week, I saw the ultimate in terms of bird acrobatics. I was behind an SUV when a bird came flying in from the left. I think it was a robin, or at least a bird of similar size. This bird flew in between the SUV’s driver’s side tires. You’d figure any animal that gets in between the tires of a moving vehicle is likely not going to survive. This bird not only flew between those tires, but it also managed to instantly cut a corner and fly out between the rear tires and off to safety. I have no clue how it survived. If they have a bird lottery, I hope that one went and bought a ticket because it had luck on its side. Who knows, though, maybe it used up all of its luck and immediately flew into a mailbox or something.


9. I canceled my subscription to a television show pitch website. I had written out a full treatment for a season of a show based on my experiences working in restaurants in the 1990s. I mentioned it many weeks ago in this blog. I’m not done pitching the show. I am just looking for alternatives that don’t cost me $39/mo. with no promises of any views on my work. I went and canceled the membership with a few days left on it. For some reason, a notification popped up saying that my membership would end on December 31, 1969. Yes, you read that right. Apparently, my subscription to that site somehow made its way onto Doc Brown’s DeLorean and was deposited in the past. Maybe that will be my next TV show pitch. I stumble upon a tear in the space/time continuum thanks to my subscription to some random pitch website. On a more serious note, what does that say about their website? If you cancel and it gives you a cancellation date over 50 years in the past, what other mistakes have they coded into that site? Maybe I got out just in the nick of time?

Soon to be delivering my cancellation notice.

10. Every now and then, the old me shows up in terms of exercise. I can’t run really much at all anymore. I have nagging joint pains creeping up more and more, so lifting is less fun. I do the best I can, but there are days when I feel like the best is behind me. This weekend I was feeling lazy. Oh, I spent hours writing, so I was productive, but I ate terribly for lunch and had no desire to do anything. Then the heat wave we have been having got to me. It was 85, and I was sweating. This irritated me. I decided if I was going to sweat, I could at least turn it into an exercise session. So out of nowhere, I got into workout gear and went out for a walk. Now, mind you, it was 3pm, 85 degrees, and I had eaten junk and been sitting around all day. My body survived almost 4 miles before it began to shut down. I would not be denied. I pushed through 5.3 miles, burning 715 calories, erasing the bad lunch, and coming in under my calorie limit on MyFitnessPal. It might not have been as dramatic as the Knicks 29 point comeback in Game 4 of the NBA Finals this week, but it was a nice come-from-behind win for the day. I hope that it turns into some momentum so I can start feeling like my younger self. I’d take even feeling like 42 at this point. Oh, and also congratulations to the New York Knicks on winning their first NBA championship in 53 years.

Help Bring The Cabin To Life!

Help me bring my first feature-length film to life!


The Cabin is a suspenseful psychological horror movie about a man who takes a vacation far from civilization, only to be confronted by a mysterious and dangerous creature. The film is a claustrophobic and suffocating tale of survival. The main character must decide between staying and facing an unknown entity, or attempting to escape and being at the mercy of the unforgiving elements.


My name is Christopher Setterlund. From the time I was a teenager in the 1990s, I wanted to work in film. As a 16-year-old, I spent all of my savings to purchase a camcorder from Sears. I used this to craft dozens of videos starring my friends and family. Here, now thirty years later, as I approach 50, I have the chance to make those long-lost dreams a reality.


With your help, we can fund the first attempt at a feature-length film. I will be producing my own original screenplay, The Cabin. I am partnering with the well-respected and prolific director of over one hundred films, Mark Polonia, who will be behind the camera for this project. Together with an amazing cast and crew, we are looking to create a truly terrifying horror film.


For The Cabin, we are seeking a budget of $4,000. This funding will be used for the following. The aforementioned cast and crew and their basic necessities. Securing filming locations in Pennsylvania. Props, equipment rentals, and post-production.



This project is proof that nobody’s dreams have an expiration date. Even if it has been many years, you can still chase your passions. I believe in the script. I believe in Mark as director. I believe in the talents of the cast and crew. However, we all need you and your generous donations, big or small, to help bring this project to life.

Please consider giving anything you can toward this project. If you believe in independent filmmaking. If you believe in chasing your dreams. If you believe in being a part of something artistic, unique, and authentic. You can help us. If you cannot donate, please consider sharing this campaign with anyone you believe it might resonate with.

The goal is to have The Cabin filmed in August 2026 with a tentative date for Blu-Ray release, streaming, and limited theatrical run in the fall of 2027.

On behalf of Mark Polonia and our cast and crew, we say thank you.

Since I roamed the halls at Dennis-Yarmouth High School on Cape Cod in the 1990s, my ultimate dream was to make films. Now I’m asking for your help to bring this one to the screen.

Let’s bring The Cabin to life together.


With deep gratitude,
Christopher Setterlund

2003: My Life In Poetry Form (Part 3) - Throwback Thursday

 

This is a recurring series featuring five poems all written within the same calendar year. They capture a sense of what my life and mind were like at a certain age and show the evolution of my life, mind, and writing style. We return to 2003. I was 25 years old. This was a time featuring a lot of soul-searching and trying to figure out what my path in life was supposed to be.

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Garden Road

I want to send you flowers for Valentine’s Day. Chocolate kisses and sweet candies with the loving words they say. We listen to the band’s rhythm while I pour out my heart into a wine glass. I want to fly and paint clouds with your name in the summer sky. I want to deliver you any wish you desire, deliver you wings if you wanted to go higher. Give you a rope to lasso the shimmering moon, or a net to swipe pearls from the sea. Or the simple pleasure of a walk in the park and a passing of a kiss between you and me. I want time to sleep while we lay in the grass, so close only between us does our breath pass. The birds could change tunes for a while and sing a lullaby for our mind’s to slip into. As we walk that rose-lined garden road we can grow together while our feelings never grow old.

I want to see emotions swell as I wrap my love around your finger. I want to hold tight to that moment, and when I am lonely, linger in its everlasting beauty. I have no petty promises, no shiny double-edged sword. There is no tarnishing of this unity, just an exchange of vows to make our love sacred. Infinitely we dance, eternally sharing one heart, each day a new chapter for us will start. I want a piece of you in me, for you I’ll give my all because a piece is too small. I want time to sleep, it has no purpose now because the race is over. I want to find love, and with it peace and strength. I’ll be where ever you want to be. I want to send you flowers for any day, no meaning or reason, it doesn’t have to be a special occasion anyway. I want to be in your arms today and stretch it into forever. In your heart I want to stay, and in your thoughts to dance and play. I want to have a love, another place to call home. I won’t let you down if you let me in.

I simply want to be with you.

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Some Kind Of Magic

You must have some kind of magic girl. You changed my life the moment you stepped into it. I was sad and lonely, the world so dirty and cruel. Are you real, sometimes I can not tell. To me it all seems so good, a dream I could wake from at any moment. It’s plain to see, you’re all I wanted and more finally happening to me. I think too much, how this luck fell to me. The answer is so simple running so deep. If I could let you in my mind I would tell you of your powers, I should. I’ll give you my heart without hesitation, my very soul without reservation, a fair trade for this beauty you rain down on me. You may not believe it, I’d gladly give more to receive it. I may sound like a fool. You must be some kind of magic girl, cause you’ve made me a fool for you.

You’ve brought the rains to the desert heat.

Brought the color to the black landscape.

Reminded me why I kept waiting so long.

Gave me the real emotions to put in a song.

Taken away the fear and left me nervous.

Shown me that tomorrow still has promise.

Made a believer out of someone once secluded.

Shone a warm light into the darkness I created.

Brought a smile, stay for a while.

Looking into the prettiest eyes, I fall into them a while.

It’s almost funny how fast you changed my outlook.

I guess the first instant of the first moment was all it took.

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Three Words

I have to say the words I’ve been too afraid to say. The ones that keep me awake at night, and consume me everyday. I have to say the words that mean so much to me, but nothing to you if you don’t hear them. The words that can change emotions in a single breath, held in high regard above all the rest. I have to say the words, but I’ve forgotten how to speak them.

I have to ask a question, a response to the words I’ll say. One whose answer can clear a stormy sky, and finally light my way. I have to ask a question that may surprise you, may entice you, may stop you in your tracks. It’s the question that sends the heart bouncing around the body there’s no way to relax. I have to ask a question, but I don’t know how to listen to the answer.

I have a confession to make, clearing up my feelings and leaving no mistake. My heart is here yours for the taking. I am only a peasant to the queen no need for waiting. I have a confession maybe it’s not a surprise. If you ever looked upon me once and seen what’s in my eyes. They see no one but you in crowds or alone, and your beauty remains long after you’re gone. I have a confession but need not say the words.

I have to say the words I’ve been dying for so long to say. The ones that can’t wait an instant for the chance that you get away. I have to say the words that are so loosely used but not by my lips. They are sacred and powerful enough to change hearts and lives. The words that can bring light where nothing else survives. I have to say the words and never second guess. It’s a love there inside them, and it’s for you that I confess.

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With The Seasons

Summer’s ending, some hearts breaking, some now mending.

All eyes fill with tears, some cry in sadness, some tears of joy.

I felt the pain those broken feel.

I feel the happiness now where some had said I was numb.

All people have an empty space inside, some can fill it, some fall in it.

My hole was where my heart lay, surrounded by ice and padlocked shut.

She was just a name, words without a face,

but by breath one in her presence my heart saw daylight.

Winter’s coming, some rest easy, some lost in the cold.

Where I am may become frozen for a time, I will be the melting point,

feeling a warmth like no other.

I long for the sunrise, I can face the rain, if on the other side is where she is.

All people know love when they find it, even if none can define it.

I wrote the book on loss, what was and what could never be, 

somehow it is now.

She could have been another page, a drop in the bucket, still she stays.

Summer’s gone, it will be dark soon, 

clouds or stars my eyes are lit by a face.

All of us get lost, we need to discover who we are.

I was inside myself, she gave me reason to step out.

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2002: My Life In Poetry Form (Part 3) - Throwback Thursday

 

This is a weekly recurring series featuring five poems all written within the same calendar year. They capture a sense of what my life and mind were like at a certain age and show the evolution of my life, mind, and writing style. We return to 2002. I was 24 years old. The Quarter-Life Crisis was hitting hard and left me in a period of depression and reflection.

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Getting There And Passing By

Don’t ask me where I am going. Don’t ask me where I’ve been. I’m always between getting there and passing by, so I’m not sure where I am. Don’t think me unkind if the words don’t come out right. If I don’t have that much to say, I’ll break the wall and flood the beds someday. Don’t ask “Where are you going?” when I have no plans to move at all. Don’t speak over my breathing, it might be all the sound you get.

Don’t ask me what I want. Don’t ask me of all I wanted to be. My wishes are ripening on the branches, just waiting to be harvested. Don’t think me unworthy of all your secrets and promises. If you tell me slowly, I’ll understand. I’ll place the image in the front of my mind. Don’t ask “What do you want?” unless silence and confusion are what you wish. Don’t look through my eyes, or think through my mind, unless you’re ready to never come back.

Don’t ask me where I am going when I’m really nowhere at all. Don’t ask me where I’ve been when all I see is highway scenery whipping by my frightened eyes. If you feel betrayed by your own senses, you can feel what I’ve said. If you feel bought and sold with a body so old, you understand all the pain. If you have a map to everywhere but your roots have you chained, you can hear my words in your mind. Don’t ask me where I am going, unless everyone else stops moving. Don’t ask me where I’ve been, unless you’ve been living side by side in my life. Don’t ask me where I am going, unless you plan on taking me there.

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Of Heroes Lost

Sleep. Rest now, my friend. The hero has run out of miracles. No one was there to save him. Tell me why, then tell me again. Why do simple dreams have complicated ends? If I asked, would you let me feel your pain? If it’s not too much, I’ll wear your shoes for a while. For so long, I wished I could thank you, but the words are here too late.

Fly. Show us how important you are by going away. The hero who runs out of miracles is a hero no more. Nobody cares when you’re face down on the floor. Nobody cares when you can’t help them anymore. It’s the circle of life to be built and torn down again. Show me how, then show me again. How to make the seas part and the river’s bend. If I asked, would you let me be a pawn in your game? For so long, I wished I could see through your eyes, but the light has grown dark all around you.

Now my hero sleeps. All the gold he had was not the wealth he wanted. Sometimes I wish I could have let him see. Sometimes I wish we could’ve taken off for the sky and let himself be. A little piece of my life. My hero’s taken a little piece of my life since he’s gone. It’s a time now where a hero is hard to find. It’s a time when it’s hard to find. It’s so hard to find, well, whatever, nevermind...

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One True Thing

I don’t know what you want, 

I don’t know what you’re looking for.

I don’t know if you’ve had enough 

or if you want some more.

It’s been a while since I’ve asked you, 

guess it’s time I ask again.

Will you allow me to be there for you 

and love you until the end?

Questions are questions, always there for you to ask. If there’s an answer, search for it, I’ll try. The past is a shadow soon to fade in the day with a love that brings tears to your eyes. If you’re weak, I will carry you and never let go; if you’re tired, fall asleep in my arms. If you cry, I will hold you, and the things that I’ve told you will remain true every day. And I’ll sing you off into the night.

I don’t know what you need, I don’t know what’s in store.

I don’t know if the road is tough 

or if we’re drifting away from shore.

It’s been a while since I’ve asked you, 

guess it’s time I ask again.

Will you allow me to love you 

and hold you forever, my best friend?

Soon we will grow with so much more that we know, there’s time, if you ask, I will wait.

I won’t stand in the shadows if the sky starts to fall, if it tumbles, we’ll be sheltered from it all. If you’re cold, I will warm you; if you’re frightened, find safety in my arms. If you cry, I will hold you, and the things that I’ve told you will remain true every day. And I’ll stay with you until everything is all right.

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Sleepwalking

Sleepwalking through my day. Closed my eyes until all the thoughts went away. Sleepwalking through my night. So thirsty, but I can’t drink the wine. Sleepwalking through time. Days, minutes, hours, now a state of mind long forgotten. Sleepwalking through my life. It’s amazing how far you can go when you don’t know where you’re going. You just keep on walking.

Sleepwalking while I’m awake. Reaching into the darkness, trying to touch whatever’s there. Sleepwalking a long stretch of highway. Between dusk and sunset, my footsteps fall. Sleepwalking a thousand miles. A year feels like a day, a day feels like a dream I just can’t shake. You just keep on walking.

Sleepwalking through my day. Opened my eyes until the light burned the tears away. Sleepwalking through my night. So thirsty from drinking the wine. Sleepwalking through time. What does time mean anyway? Sleepwalking through my life. It’s amazing where you end up when you don’t know where you’re going.

You just keep on walking.

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2001: My Life In Poetry Form(Part 3) - Throwback Thursday

 

This is a weekly recurring series featuring five poems all written within the same calendar year. They capture a sense of what my life and mind were like at a certain age and show the evolution of my life, mind, and writing style. We return to 2001. I was turning 23 years old. I had returned to Cape Cod to Las Vegas and was trying to process that chapter of my life.

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Element

For so long I thought life was over. That the only thing I had left was getting older. Now I can see the light, breaking through where the clouds once held me. I can see the light shining down into the dark shadows where I lived my life. Have you ever forgotten to stop the pain? Like a leaking faucet where the drain is clogged, eventually it will spill over. Would you forget love if it hurt you so? Could you see light through the heartache? Now I can see the light and I believe it’s here to stay.

My love is solid, crack it, but it will not break. My love is forever, I can’t imagine being without it. It’s always been there, I just couldn’t see, it’s everywhere around me. In my everyday, everything I do, it’s the love that remains true. You’re my angel for what you’ve shown, my savior for bringing me closer to myself. I love you for who you are. 

I love you for what you’ve given me.

Have you ever looked in the mirror so tired of what you see? How can you give love if you can’t find it in you? Do you wish for a well where love flows and runs through your fingers? Where is it supposed to be, this everywhere love? It’s the love that I’ve found, that I can never lose. It’s the love I have that always there. My everywhere love is the love inside of me.

You may not have the most beautiful love, you may not have the strongest. But it can be all the beauty and strength you need if you believe in it. When your life is beautiful then you’ll find it’s love that made it so.

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Miles From Twilight

Remember when we were young? So fresh in our minds it seems so long ago now. We thought we knew it all, who we were, where we were going, why we were here. All that was new has grown older, all the bright lights lost some luster. Now our everything feels much smaller, and we don’t fit the shoes we used to wear. The questions outnumber the answers, the clear messages are cluttered with hang-ups and wrong numbers. I’d give anything to feel that way again, surrounded by the future, surrounded by friends. Sometimes I feel surrounded by mirrors and I don’t want to look up. Time heals wounds by taking the memory, losing who we knew and forgetting who we used to be. I’m just a fragment of a young imagination, that piece still searching the night for a lingering sensation. The passion for life once ran like wine, my throat is dry and the river is gone. Even as our soul’s children become adults we can’t give in, every drop of youth we keep is another day in our lives. No matter what they say, the numbers don’t mean a thing, deep within no words can take away. We aren’t in the sunset, miles from twilight, this yellow colored road is not golden just long and winding. It’s in our minds and only we know for sure, numbers will pile up even if we think we’ve had enough. But if we fight maybe we can win. If we push hard enough we can reverse this aging world’s spin.

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Right Now

Who can say when the world will end? Who knows which tomorrow could be the last? Who can say when this life will end? Do we still believe there is a door to forever waiting? Do we still believe in a better place? Right now I feel alive inside. No matter how dark it gets, the sun will rise again. Right now I feel I’m coming back together. No matter how hard, nothing will tear me apart again.

Who wants to tell a child there’s no tomorrow? Who will save us from what we’ve become? Who is the maker, the one who chooses when this life ends? Do we still believe? I believe it all comes down to belief. Any minute it could rain a plague, our water could fill with the blood of anger’s rage. So many buttons, so many fingers, so many questions, so few answers.

I feel there’s a weight, or is it a hand pushing down? I feel like I should struggle, but I’m frozen by sight and sound. Our dreams are falling from the sky, our identity now craters of loss. But right now we feel alive inside. Like a thousand wild horses running across the countryside. Right now I feel we’ve come together, but if we’re pulled hard enough, will they tear us apart?

Who can say what the future holds? No eyes can see that far. Whose faith runs so deep that it’s drowned their heart? I believe we shall overcome. Right now is when we need each other most. Right now the colors have faded away. No matter how large the chasms built up before, we can bridge them by extending our hands. The beauty of love shall overcome the hate.

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When I Misplace Myself

I don’t feel like I’m here today, guess my mind stayed sleeping today. If you fall in I’ll just swim away, I have an unconditional apathy today. I can’t touch what I usually feel, I don’t grasp truth and I can’t sense real, a day’s intellect washed off by an ignorant year, I have honest wandering eyes today. I don’t wanna talk about it, there’s nothing I can say, to stop this raging emptiness at least not for today. My heart’s still in the right place, but beats under a cloak of disillusion, my fingertips so numb and cold, these eyes see the unchanged face.

I don’t feel so smart today, stupidity filling a naive mind you could say. I can’t reach out, but I can feel in, and reach right through to the back of my skin. I can’t express the feelings I have now, sort of here, sort of there, and nowhere in between. I’m watching life pass through a glass bottle’s walls. Where is it going, is it leaving me behind? I can’t say if I’ve let go, I think I’m still holding on. I can’t say if I can give it up, I think I’ve lost control. You speak, I can’t make out the sound, beg and cry for all my wasted time. I tell you that I’m all right, I don’t think you swallow my lies. My heart’s still in the right place, a bit more out of reach today. My memories so numb and cold, your eyes don’t see the same face. Someday under paint brushed skies with sunstroke eyes a crack in the armor will set me free, just wait and see. I can’t feel an end, could you pick up where my thoughts left off? I haven’t time to feel sorry, the monotony these feelings bring, like a skipping record, I need someone to move my arm, dust me off. Don’t cry for my desolation, I’m still holding on, just need to stay strong and wait for the break in the armor.

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2000: My Life In Poetry Form(Part 3) - Throwback Thursday

 

This is a weekly recurring series featuring five poems all written within the same calendar year. They capture a sense of what my life and mind were like at a certain age and show the evolution of my life, mind, and writing style. We are returning to 2000, a new century. I was deep in the Quarter-Life Crisis, turning 22 years old, and moving from Cape Cod to Las Vegas, looking for a new life.

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Almost Free

Feeling like a stranger, feeling like an outcast in my own home. The scenery, once so beautiful, now turns dark, gray, and cold. Looks like a place I know, but I sense that I don’t belong. Inside myself these visions collect, slowly I digest them and painfully it all makes sense. Nothing is the same though I haven’t changed. Seems everyone is moving on, everything is moving away and I don’t know how to make it come back. Thought they’d ask if I were scared, nothing was the sound, guess they’ve forgotten I’m here. Stopped for a moment in a room I once believed to be my own, the life I know is sealed and packed away, suppose they think I’m gone. Did I sell my soul by choosing this path, is this purgatory, have I committed an unforgivable sin? Setting free the expectations, letting go of my frustrations, opens doors to the dreams I have to live by. The price I pay for peeling myself off these walls is my not-so-subtle isolation, a banishment to rinse me from their minds. Do I not exist, is another readying to step into my world here? In between said and done lies a lucid time bomb, ticking, ready to scatter these pieces of life I’ve collected in every direction. I can see the end growing large, a shadow so dark it swallows what it overtakes. Slowly, things I’ve known fall, some fight, some jump in, I’ve no alternative but to seek shelter deep in my own skin. A stranger to everyone but myself, when a connection inside is clear there’s no need for codependency. This I see, that which once was real, I can erase from my slate, and fill it again new and far from here. Just sand running through the hourglass, so my chapter ends, there’s more to life than just one sad story, many more will be written, and soon enough my hourglass will turn over again.

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Desert Sky

You’re going fast, cause you’ve got somewhere to go. It won’t last, all you hold in your hand soon will pass. You’re catching up, but the scenery pulls further away. You’ve been stoned, but you’re only high in your imagination. Looking dumb, looking up to see what’s falling down on you. The waves of blinking lights hypnotize you into thinking everything’s all right. But in the day the lights fade and you’re feeling like a funeral parade. It’s sinking in, overheating from the cold air. The bluest eyes and clasping hands speak to whoever’s there. The desert sky doesn’t blink or wave it only hides the night. The desert sky gives you faith in your unborn wings and hope that you can fly. The desert sky will trade your gold for magic beans but there’s no rain for them to grow. The desert sky, oh my the desert sky will never cry.

You come back down when it’s convenient for you. The words are so false but you try to pain them true. Aiming so high but you’re digging for love with a plastic spoon. Riding the wind but time’s got you down on your knees. On the road but it feels like it’s on you, under your own feet and floating over your head. Sing notes with passing clouds, wondering how it got so loud. Cover your ears cause you fear what it’s saying. Washed clean by a rainbow’s tears, the uphill climb to regaining those years. The desert sky is what you’ve been missing. That cool breeze you’re kissing on that stretch of road you’re wishing. The desert sky won’t ever leave once you know its name. The desert sky breathes fire like a devil could it be they’re one and the same? The desert sky, oh my the desert sky will never cry.

If you couldn’t open your eyes what would you see? If you lived alone would you really be free? If you broke the chains would you still be a prisoner? If you had a million dollars, would you really be rich? If you had fame and fortune, would you truly be happy? If you lived forever, would you be forever young? Sometimes we think we need it all to survive when we need just enough. Just enough to survive under the desert sky.

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Rebirth of An Enigmatic Soul

I feel free, I feel alive, standing tall with arms outstretched and electricity flowing from my fingertips. I move like a cloud over the asphalt ground. The warm air smells fresh, I believe there’s a change coming on, now I can embrace its beautiful touch. A perfect balance of heaven and earth washes together, giving glimmers of hope to the saddest souls. It shows how high we can be lifted, the gift of witnessing how the world should always be. Life is now, love’s eternal light shining, this dream is real.

Only now is all peaceful and calm. The wind brushes by like an enigmatic soul, in a whisper tumbling over the shadowed green hills. It catches flight on wings of butterflies and carries them off across the newborn forest floor. Sun-ripened beauty fills each once lonely branch. I feel the hands caress my face and I’m flying. A rebirth of youth has occurred, I feel strong, I feel alive. Floating like a feather fallen from an angel’s wing, the centerpiece of an unreal scene. A painting only possible in the deepest undisturbed cleansing dreams.

Am I asleep? If so let me stay this way. If I’m awake can it always be like this? The peace outside builds inside my mind. The surreal clichés only used before in fiction, come to life around me and in my eyes. At least right now, if only momentarily, all my wildest dreams and fantasies are fulfilled.

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Sour Annie

Oh my dear Annie, you walk with a swagger, a cross between heaven and sin.

And when you speak, your tongue pierces me, a silver sword to my heart.

I can’t catch my breath, you’re above all the rest.

But you play with me like a ball of string. Unravel me for your pleasure, knot me up to keep me from slipping out of your hands.

Why are you so cruel, why is your heart cold?

Who makes your eyes shine, what makes you sing, where is the antidote for the sorrow you bring?

Well Annie, I’ve done all I can, now I’ve got to walk.

Sorry, sour Annie, girl, I was just trying to reach you...

Don’t put the blame on me, you’ve done all this before.

Don’t put the blame on me, I wanted to reach you but you pulled away.

I wanted once to look in your eyes and see straight into your mind.

I don’t think anyone can see that far in the darkness.

What’s that you say, wanting my help as the steel meshes in with your skin.

What’s that you want, a hand to hold, to bite off my fingers.

Sorry Annie, don’t wanna be you.

Sour Annie, wanna be in you.

Come on Annie, come on and punch a hole in the sky.

Tired of reaching, now gotta push you away.

Girl, I just wanted to reach you...

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1999: My Life In Poetry Form(Part 3) - Throwback Thursday

 

This is a weekly recurring series featuring 5 poems all written within the same calendar year. They capture a sense of what my life and my mind were like at a certain age. It will also show the evolution of my life, mind, and writing style. We return to 1999. I was still in college but was rapidly approaching the Quarter-Life Crisis turning 21 years old.

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Chips, Beer, and Boredom

Bored with life, nothing’s happening. Time is a mile-long journey per second, or so it seems. The silence of sound is deafening, but could it be any louder? It’s weird how the deadest of silence feels more intense than massive noise.

Bored with progress, everything is stalled. Need to kick start today, or get ahead on tomorrow. Bubbling under the lazy man’s face is the soul filled with lightning, flashing, and waiting for something to race. But in this dull and slow-paced world, it lay dormant; perhaps it will never reveal itself. A loud crash, not shaking me from this path I’m on. A compass with a predetermined destination can’t juggle fate, can’t change expectations.

Bored with it all, the cry of the feeble-minded. There’s always a way, just need to look with the mind, not just the eyes. Sinking in before it’s too late, color the air blind to avoid the realization of self-destruction. Thought the slate was cleaned for me, looks like I’ll have to do it myself. Being bored is bad for your health.

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I Fell

Once I fell in love, glasses and pigtails, all her world I felt in a hug. She a part-time interest with the miles to prove so. Spend 24/7 for 365 to get that one glimpse to keep me alive. The minutes we had together were minutes heaven sent. Months in between, I spent missing her, I thought was time well spent. But then I grew up. The letters and pictures that further disconnected her image from my mind couldn’t fill the hole. Didn’t want to hold on to hope, to hang on like a fool to the feelings for the sake of them. So I let go, and I moved on, to find out what lay up ahead.

Once I fell in love, bright eyes masking sunshine, blonde hair, couldn’t help but stare. She would stay a prisoner in my mind, with images emblazoned by the masses, it seemed to be the right time. Wanted so badly to be that guy, just a kid myself, to be him was not right. Shining armor with a backpack besides, guess when it’s perfection you’re thinking, the flaws are what decide. But then I wised up. Dreams of a place I’d never see weighed too heavy to stop from being free. Couldn’t stand the backward thoughts she felt, wouldn’t wait until she came around. Took me a while, but I walked on, left that door locked to keep the memories as just that, left ‘em all behind.

Once I fell in lust, thrown together oil and water, mix to fix and force the sense. Day after week after month spent trying to show false feelings and give in to lying. Saved her soul by being a hero, pedestal the excuse to stay near her. Made myself believe what wasn’t true, she was an option to being alone, just a time killer, only a space filler. But then I sobered up. Rays of light broken drunken spells, swallowed on mortality, grew the balls to let it fall away. I thought it was painful, a 180 to convince what was once unreachable, but I lived on. Hold was let go, mistakes and words unspoken, finally freedom welcomed me.

Once I fell in love, a seemingly untouchable goddess. She a ladder to heaven, blind eyes to my bruised senses. This love beat me into submission, her shake and twist led to heartfelt admissions. Sat and waited, empty bottle with a half-full glass. Sense from nonsense, knowledge from ignorance. Then I gathered up the words key to open my cell. So I marched on, up to her and revealed my identity, true expression, the lasting impression. Like a million pounds lifted, my feather in the wind floating body carried away with her response. I lived a hundred lifetimes for what I have right now, the time I fell in love with someone who loved me too.

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Recyclable Tupperware

She’s breakin’ up with me on my deathbed. Says time’s come to think about herself. It couldn’t wait another minute. She’s my savior, I’m her plague, and her loving pain’s pushed me to the limit.

She can’t cash in on a will I haven’t signed.

She can’t deny that her love for me has declined.

She wants me to climb her thorny vines.

She wants me to taste her rose garden.

But she won’t tell me that I’m okay.

She’s breakin’ up with me on my deathbed. Says we’ve grown apart in the last few hours. It couldn’t wait another minute. She’s my queen, I’m her pawn, and her hands are so gentle as she tears my heart out.

She melts my resolve with her eyes.

She leaves me stranded in a dream.

She’s chasing me down a dead-end street.

I stop to look behind and she runs away.

But she’ll chase again when I decide to run.

She’s breakin’ up with me on my deathbed. Says time’s come to move on. It couldn’t wait another minute. She’s my china, I’m her Tupperware, and she turns on the generator after pulling the plug, but she won’t tell me she loves me.

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Three Chord Romance

Tonight it feels like forever’s not long enough.

Tonight feels like I’ll never let go.

I believe in the fantasies and the words we dare not say.

Tonight is all rolled into one, dreams for which we pray.

You were there through this fantastic journey I made, you remained,

when the silence of the night crept in you stayed.

I believe I found it in your smile, brightly lit, asking me to stay a while.

I’d like to keep it simple right now, don’t want you to get the wrong idea,

but I’m not sure if I want the right one to slip out yet.

I got caught in the middle of confessions, deepest revelations,

the rest was swept away with the brush of your hair.

For now I’m stuck with half a thought that doesn’t make any sense.

You knowing the truth, the secret being out, 

would take the magic from my daydreams.

So many times I whispered your name into the trees and hoped it’d carry to you on the hint of a summer’s breeze.

If in our bliss the moon should fall, we’ll pick it back up,

put on a pedestal of stones thrown and collected.

Then we’ll lie in the shadows, a future of flowering meadows,

and let time drift by with the clouds.

Even when you have to go, the pain I feel helps my spirit grow,

cause if the first time never ends, how can the next time ever begin?

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Losing Your Spark

    I don’t know when it happens. I don’t know when the adventure of life slowly fades and is replaced by the repetitive and mundane. Over the last few years, I have slowly started feeling this way. I feel like my spark has faded and been lost.

    It is hard for me to tell if this is just a part of the ‘mid-life crisis’ that comes when you get deep into your 40s. Or perhaps this feeling of malaise and being lost has its roots in the series of unfortunate events that have dotted my last several years.

    When you lose a loved one, it changes you. When you lose several in rapid succession, it does irreparable damage. Your brain and heart don’t get a chance to process one loss, and another comes rushing in to knock you upside the head. And how do you process such losses when you feel like you have nobody to talk to about them?

    At this point in time, I feel like I have two types of people in my life. Ones who listen to me like they're listening to the ‘on hold’ music waiting for a real conversation to begin. Then there are the ones who simply cannot just listen. Any conversation devolves into a pissing contest over whose problems are worse. That usually ends with me deferring to them and just putting my problems, which we never come back to, on the back burner.

    But what of the spark? That zest for life, that yearning for the future. What happens to it? Some people seemingly never run out of fuel for that spark. Others, like me, are just staring at a cold fire pit, wondering where the lighter fluid is.



    When I was a teenager in the 1990s, the spark raged out of control. I was full of the angst that the Grunge movement and my own childhood had instilled in me. I was fighting for my future. I was working hard to do well in school so that I could have the future I wanted. I was planning on that future with friends, many of whom are still big parts of my life to this day. I was bound and determined to make it and filled with the energy to prove it. My apologies to 16-year-old me.

    When I was in my 20s in the 2000s, the spark was lit by an unending need for change. I did whatever I needed to do to find my path. If I had to leave a job that I felt was unfulfilling, I did it. If I had to move across the country a time or two, I packed my bags. I was lucky enough to find the love I had craved since I was a boy. I was also unfortunate enough to find that things like time and distance cannot always sustain love. Unflinching, I pressed on. I knew that each door that closed meant my future lay behind another one I had yet to find. I knew that risk-taking was the only way to truly change things. My apologies to 26-year-old me.

    When I was in my 30s in the 2010s, the spark engulfed me in the need for success and acceptance. The future I had dreamed of as a teenager felt like a raft attached to a slippery rope that I was slowly losing hold of. 

    What was success? What was love? The definitions changed with age. I wanted to be a published author, and that happened, now nine times over. Yet it didn’t lead to being a self-sustaining career. 

    I wanted to change day jobs so that I could at least feel fulfilled while waiting for my ship to come in. I did that, and yet my dissatisfaction only grew and festered. No matter the good that came to me, I was never fully happy. I was in the best shape of my life physically, but on the inside, I always felt not enough. I wanted to be as big as possible and yet still go as unnoticed as possible. That spark turned to an inward anger that burned me up and wore me out. My apologies to 36-year-old me.

    Now in my 40s in the 2020s, the spark lay dormant. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I am still bound and determined to find the path I am meant to be on. Now it is far quieter and reserved, and cautious. It feels as though those losses I've suffered, 6 people in 5 years, have snuffed the spark out.

    There is no more teenage angst, though I wish there were. 16-year-old me would have a thing or two to say about my current mindset. 

    There is no more taking risks like you’re trying on a new shirt. I now worry more about the potential problems than the potential rewards. Maybe that comes with age, but 26-year-old me would tell me much of what my life consists of now is due to the risks I took back then. 

    There is no more ‘me against the world’ level of needing to prove myself. Shouting from the rooftops about who I am sounds like more effort than it’s worth these days. 36-year-old me would likely ask, ‘What in the world was everything we did for then?’

    These days, I feel like I packed all of my hopes and dreams onto the back of a snail and am watching it try to cross a busy highway. All of the various incarnations of myself would likely be shaking their heads for different reasons. Yet inside, I am still all of those people. There are times when I feel myself slipping into those old mindsets. But I feel like the ‘older and wiser’ version of me overrules them all. It says ‘Why push a sled full of rocks uphill when you can sail down a lazy river if both routes lead to the same destination?’

    Maybe in my 50s in the 2030s, I’ll look back on this and laugh because I found my spark again. Maybe I’ll apologize to the current version of me for something I haven’t even done yet. The spark inside you isn’t something tangible. It is a feeling, a movement, a driving force meant to get you through the journey we call life. It is also something that, if not cultivated and nurtured, can be lost. I will keep on looking for mine, and if you are looking for yours, know that you’re not the only one.