To Live Is To Write

To live is to write,

And to write is to relive what marks your life,

And what mark our lives– often times– are what kill us inside, and so,

To live is to write,

And to die inside,

Again and again.

 

To live is to write,

And to write is to unearth the dead in your memories,

And what made you bury them in your thoughts, and so,

To live is to write,

And to exhume what’s buried,

Again and again.

 

To live is to write,

And to write is to show what you desire to hide,

And why you’d wound yourself ’til the truth bleeds out, and so,

To live is to write,

And to bleed through words,

Again and again.

 

To live is to write,

And to write is to live beyond the skies and seas,

And to weave through thoughts and words, and so,

To live is to write,

And to wander the realms across what’s real and what’s not,

Again and again.

 

To live is to write,

And to write is to speak of truths through lies,

And why the unwritten must be read, and so,

To live is to write,

And to speak through the unheard,

Again and again.

 

To live is to write,

And to write is to shape your thoughts into words,

And why one fails to do so in one work alone, and so,

To live is to write,

And to write– is to write,

Again and again.

I Would No Longer Write

I would no longer write

For what good does it do

If it kills those long dead,

And plead the love that’s come and gone.

 

I would no longer write

For what good does it do

If it makes me long for tragedies,

To write about what pinches the heart.

 

I would no longer write

For what good does it do

If it fills my eyes and stains my clothes

With blood and tears in endless streams.

 

I would no longer write

But I know it’s a lie,

For as long as the earth is moving,

So does my pen in writing.

That One Word

It’s hidden behind the careful lines–

That one word that’s never written here.

It’s laced between the thoughts that curl like vines,

That one mysterious word we often hear.

 

It’s the core of it all–

That one word we’ve all written of.

It’s the cause, the means, the end, of each rise and fall,

That one elusive word we suffer for.

 

It’s what makes us move (or stop)–

That one word we wake up for,

It’s what makes us soar (or drop),

That one word we hope is waiting behind each door.

 

It’s what makes the world stare, or leap, or weep–

That one word that makes all things make sense.

It’s what we look for up above or down deep,

That one coveted word felt through its absence.

Song II

I let the melodies speak for me,

Give it my heart, my soul– everything it could carry.

I let the words flow right past me

Afraid that if I listen and take it to the heart,

I’d hear the truth I refuse to see.

 

I let the voices weep for me

Not with words, but with the shouts and sighs, unmasked and free.

I let the notes, faltering, sail through me,

Afraid that if I remember and let it come to mind,

I’d see the truth I refuse to find.

This, In Lieu Of My Candor

Let me talk to you:

With words, my own writ of truth

Indelible–

As your name in my mind.

 

Let this speak for me:

Of the things I’d never dare say,

Last night, and today, and perhaps tomorrow morning,

And on days and days on end

 

Let my poems speak to you:

Of the times I think of you–

Only when you weren’t in front of me.

That, and your smile that called for poetry.

 

Let this mark this night:

Of the solitude except for the memory of you

And how I pretend to talk things through-

This is what your absences do.

 

Let this settle in your mind,

As well as the words I left behind.

Like the little girl and her clever bread crumbs,

These words and more for your beautiful mind.

Song

I’d write them straight out of my mind,

In careless loops of letters on any paper I could find.

Like a barren land at the first drop of rain,

Like drowsy eyes at the first kick of caffeine.

 

I’d stare at the lines ’til they start to dance,

Figure out the patterns of their trance.

Like a little child learning his first steps,

Like any brave soul exploring unknown depths.

 

I’d play the tune and sing along,

In endless loops ’til nothing’s wrong.

Like a broken record going back to where it started,

Like the hearts of those left behind by their dear departed.

 

And when everything’s said and done,

I’d bid them goodbye and begone.

Pretend I didn’t see the light they bring,

Pretend I didn’t mean the words I sing.