Sadness walks a tightrope –
Less than the depths of sorrow,
Greater than the pangs of conscience.

Sadness falls as tears –
Filling the reservoir of pain,
Releasing the overflow of emotion.

Sadness calls.
Sadness overwhelms.
Sadness dies
And gives way to haunting memories.

Sadness lies down with strangers –
It fills the lungs of communities,
In it’s breath is a whisper of redemption.

Sadness silently laments.
Sadness screams for salvation.
Sadness haunts
The integrity of fading memories.

© 2011 Wasted Space Publishing

A restlessness that won’t go away.
A yearning that gnaws on the inside,
Never letting go of its penetrating grip.

Would a different set of circumstances
Make for so much better of a life?
Would a different set of choices
Help alleviate this inner strife?

Different circumstances
Only offer the chance to change my life.
Different choices
Only provide the chance to kill this inner strife.

But I must change the circumstances.
I must make the choices.
It’s my life.
In the balance is my fate.
And given new choices,
Would I be willing to take the chances?

© 2010 Wasted Space Publishing

I don’t know anyone who ever tells the truth.
There’s always something concealed beneath the surface.
Even honest men still tell lies.
Deceit enters everybody’s life.

It’s the duplicity of man that hides the higher order.
It’s the con man in every soul that thwarts a perfect world.

I don’t think it’s so hard to tell the truth until I try.
There’s always something you can tell one but not the other guy.
Still, even deceitful men try to tell the truth in part.
We all seem to know the truth is a good place to start.

But it’s the duplicity of man that conceals the higher being.
It’s the swindler in every soul that craves nothing but the winning.

So I live in the guise of straightforwardness,
And I hide behind the masque of truthfulness.
Because honesty is honored by all and achieved by none,
And we try to make our comrades believe we’re the one.

But the duplicity of man can not be overcome.
It can’t even be controlled.
It’s part of a world tainted by sin.
And so we spin
Into oblivion
Lost.

© 2010 Wasted Space Publishing

Caught

whileing away another day,
along with so many days before.
Wasted, woeful dismay,
me and the days before

gone in a mirage
of things I did and things I didn’t.
Reflections of azure,
beautiful but emptied

hazy horizons in the distance,
distinct up close but forever gone.
Irretrievable chances,
washed by the wind along

into defeated time.
into surrendering youth.
Dreams fulfillment lost.

© 2010 Wasted Space Publishing

Coming down like a forty day flood,
depression’s bile is in my blood.
Hammering on my soul like thunder.
Ripping through my mind like lightning
with no sign of clear skies.

Fighting the feeling is useless,
for the storm moves on relentless.
I’m a drowning man going under.
I’m a shipwrecked soul surviving
with no glimpse of the golden shore.

But before I sink into the sea of sorrow,
I see the sun seeking my soul.
It’s distant warmth melts the horror
and depression begins to go.

The skies are clear as my soul ascends,
and my sanguine self is whole again.
Pounding through me like perfect pleasure.
Rising over fresh fields on new wings
with no portent of impending time.

© 2010 Wasted Space Publishing

Breath deep.
Wait for inner peace.
Untie the knots.
Forget about it.

It’s just a small part of your small life.
It may seem like an eternity to overcome,
but it’s just a blink of the eye.

Be calm.
Wait for the chaos to pass.
Relieve the pain.
It’ll be gone soon enough.

It’s just a short time in your short life.
It may seem like the pain will never end,
but then it’s gone with a sigh.

It’s hard.
Emotions are topsy turvy.
Stay on an even keel.
It’ll pass like all change.

It’s just a single episode in a vast panorama.
It may seem like the end of your world,
but it’s just a change in the way things seem to be.

© 2010 Wasted Space Publishing

Sometimes I can just put it out of my mind.
It drops away like the final leaf on a naked tree
leaving me ready to stand against the winter.

A brief coldness that passes like a sharp wind,
and I realize it’s better to bloom than worry
since within I know I love her.

Regardless of what I think has happened,
it’s better to make a fool of myself in private
than to boyishly act unsure.

Because I know where my suspicions begin.
They are born in the marrow of my psyche
where I cannot hide from what I know I would do.

So my emotions hide in the ground,
waiting for the winter wind to pass by
and giving me time to face what I fear.

© 2010 Wasted Space Publishing

rising out of the sky
through puffs of cotton clouds
are the aspirations of a soaring soul.

undaunted by the pull of earth
into the weightlessness of silent space
where physical constraints no longer take their toll

on a life released.

once burning in a bitter fire
with vision blurred by smoke and flame
is the sightless depression of a sunken soul.

set free now by a fearsome flood
as it washes away hazy perceptions
and no longer lets the elements take their toll

on a life released.

© 2010 Wasted Space Publishing

what’s going to happen to me?
today.
tomorrow.
in all my possible futures.

what has already happened to me?
yesterday.
the day before.
in all my muddled past.

is it a loose association
or a concrete path?
is my future predestined
or determined by my past?

what’s happening to me now?
a creation of the future.
a re-creation of the past
in an endless cycle of death.

or is each day a bright new child
to be nurtured for its possibilities?

© 2010 Wasted Space Publishing

God is there,
living and breathing with your every breath.

in the mind of man He dwells.
in the vastness of the universe His seat of power.
in the complexity of nature a delicate touch of His hand.

God is here,
waiting for you with undiminished hope.

with longing for communion with your mind.
with mercy offering you the vastness of His power.
with joy presenting the intricate work of His hand.

God is everywhere,
accepting those that seek him.

you must go to Him with an open mind.
you must let His power wash over your soul.
you must see in everything the elaborate work of His hand.

for without his sublime light there is only darkness.

© 2010 Wasted Space Publishing