The moon Queen

They say, she left her heart open, in the rain…

Every Tuesday

She would pick her flowers

And write her songs

No one knows much about her

What she really thought

How she felt about things

They only remember her sadness and her tragedy

I like to think

I know what she felt,

Some nights

At 3am

I can hear her playing the piano

Its music fills the halls upstairs

Some nights

When the moon is full

And melancholy

You can see her window open

Her wide, deep, dark eyes

And her blue dress

Sometimes it’s white

But she’s only there for a minute

And then she’s gone

You might see her at the top of the stairs

Or entering someone’s room

Trying to find something she’s left behind

I’ve seen some of her paintings

Some of her sketches

And heard her songs

I think I know what it must have felt like

To be filled so full

And not know

How to express it

To feel so alone

Like an outsider

Maybe she’s still trying to work it out….

They say

You feel the fear

And the terror

If you see her face though

The pain of dying

The air turns cold

I don’t believe it

I think you see the emptiness inside of yourself

No one knows what really happened to her

Her letters

Still show up under my door

That’s when I find her paintings

Inside empty rooms

Sometimes they’re in the park

I’ve seen her walking

When the moon is full

And the fog is down,

I don’t know why she talks to me

Maybe it’s because we are both alone

Filled with things to say

And unsure of how to say them

Maybe it never goes away

Maybe it doesn’t ever let go,

Maybe we just keep on trying

Even after we’re gone….

I don’t know her name

I only call her the moon queen….

The Life of Job

New rebel

Old devil

Wake to the news

All of my people look the same

We are all

just badly dressed

Sara is still depressed

Johnny’s at the bar again

Talkin’ about the government

Saw you online again

Spreadin’ your intelligence

What’s anybody got to say?

We just sound the same

Isn’t it a cryin’ shame

We all got caught in the pouring rain

Jessie’s got her pregnant

Can’t even pay rent

We all know better

We’re all living well

Until we miss a pay check

Then we’re all screwed to hell

Oh well…

Aaron’s in the bathroom

PTSD

How long was the war again?

Did it ever really end?

Who can tell

The weather man shot that cloud to hell

When he took the draft away

Now there’s no overcast

And they killed the war machine

Or did it just switch garage again

keep working on the change

Staying off the chain gang

They’ll overlook the needle

And throw you away for a leaf

Even if you get free, you’ll never pay the fees

Look out soul

What’s happened to rockin’ roll…

Forget about the cards you’re dealt

There’s no guarantee

Keep your head down

Even when you have a good hand

We all know someone who lost his house back then

History makes a repeat

We’ll all skip a beat

We don’t work like we used to

What on earth will they ever do

Storm’s on the horizon

How’re you gonna make it?

What if you create it…

Letters to a Nurse #20

All of her hair, it’s always been red and her lips, they’ve always been red. Her temper, her passion, has always been red. Her fists have always been made.

And I’m lost, when she lets her hair down. When our eyes meet, it feels just like coming home. Touch for touch, a new star being born,

Meet me in the night, morning comes too early, we haven’t got time to wait, we can walk through the fire, I feel like I’m forgetting parts of you my lips need to touch.

Will another year pass? How many hours are in a day? Everything burns blue when she is away…and it rains every day.

Everything in this house burns red when she is near.

-regardingsamuel.com

Bleeding Ink #1,233

(image source unknown)

“Please keep writing. I like your penmanship and your poetry. Your words are beautiful.” She said.

She lived on the other side of the world. A place I had only heard of from people who had heard from someone who had heard…

Out here, we want to feel strongly about things that we borrowed.

Religions.

We like what they give us. But – we don’t live in their houses…

We’ve never seen their shadows or their demons. We seperated ourselves from them with a body of water. And declared them our own.

She was a writer

She wrote about her questions and how she watched classmates disappear. Never knowing if they were alive. Growing up surrounded by fighting and being told they had to choose. Between fighting or an education.

She wrote about love

And growing

I felt so entirely separated from these things…

Time has a way of slowing us down

Graying hair

And speeding up…

Someone said the world would be better without a Jew

And someone else was crying because they read an article saying Maya Angelou died today…

I didn’t have the heart to tell them, she passed away in Twenty Fourteen…

I was standing outside a grocery store. When a girl wearing a Dupatta walked out. And a man turned and said “what the?? I don’t want to get blown up.”

A few days later , I was talking to an older man when he saw a couple walk by. A white girl and a black man. He erupted. “That’s unnatural. The animal kingdom doesn’t even mix species. It’s a sin. And disgusting.”

Time passes

But

It was just yesterday

Wasn’t it…

We borrow things.

We make them our own.

Without understanding the depth of what we’ve taken.

“Keep Writing please. I love your words.”

She was muslim.

sometimes I look for her and wonder where she went

How she is

If she, herself, continued writing…

If she kept her faith

And if I even kept mine…

Bleeding Ink #1206

Three hundred thousand miles

And the meter runs …

Dust on your shoes

The dreams

Inside

You’re building –

The weight

You carry –

This old house

Gets so worn down

It’s morning

&

You feel

You’re already

Out of time –

Feel the weight on your

Shoulders

Feel the darkness cloud the sky

A hundred days of rain

And it’s alright –

-regardingsamuel.com

Image origin unknown

Bleeding Ink #1,180

There in the Christmas lights

Under that cold night

He understood

How rare a thing

like Love was .

He understood,

How brief

Life truly was…

Maybe it was as fast as an autumn in Alabama

And maybe most people’s lives were like a leaf in the wind

There and then cast away somewhere

Who knows where?

Unnoticed

And

Yet most people

It seemed

Lived a quiet torture

A held breath

And they carried so much weight

Like someone

Who really wanted a cigarette after sex

And another who couldn’t even remember much less care

When the last time

They didn’t sleep alone was

People seemed to live

And

Vanish

And get replaced

By another body –

And he understood

How rare

It was –

To be happy

And to be healthy

And

In love

-regardingsamuel.com

Real 

Tell me what you love 

What makes you laugh 

So hard you cry 

What is your favorite song? 

The one you dance to 

Until you can’t breathe?

What’s your favorite book?

The one you write in the margins of?

What’s your favorite dream?

What’s your favorite shoes 

Or

The tie 

You wore 

The night you 

Fell in love 

We’ve spent enough time 

Talking about what we hate 

The injustice 

May be real 

But don’t forget to live and love 

Because death is very real 

We are never really born 

We just slowly start to die 

Don’t just fill your life 

Like empty space 

With packing peanuts 

For the ride 

Please dance 

And laugh 

Until you cry 

And make some mistakes 

Please remember 

You only live once 

There’s so much 

Room for love 

Quiet all those thoughts 

Scream until you hear it 

Write it out 

Throw the paint against the wall 

Feel 

the heartbeats 

In this space 

What do you love 

What do you love 

What do you love 

You are love 

You are worthy 

Of this life 

You are magic 

You are real  

 (image source unknown)