Loss,
I have experienced loss at a personal level of which,
only my soul,
my broken heart,
and my mind can
comprehend.

"Personally" is the key word here.

Everyone has experienced "loss" and everyone deals with loss in their own unique way.

Some may think to themselves;
ha, you don't know what loss is until ..... fill in the blank.

Well guess what?
You're not me and I am not you.

Another part of my life that absolutely traumatized me was my divorce to my first wife of which I did not seek.

I lost more than her, more than family....
I lost my very first 2 children that were essentially babies.

I know what some of you may be thinking;
but no one died David.

But that's where you're wrong!

A huge part of me DIED that day and left me
bitter,
confused,
lost,
in pain,
angry,
and dead to a high degree.

Those 2 babies were my world.
They were my
4 seasons of life.
They were my very reason for life.
And that was stolen away from my heart and my soul.
Which....left a huge part of me dead.

Today?

Well.....

today I am still dead but I just hide my death better.

I am forever misunderstood and I have learned to be okay with that.

Give me two shots
of that
heart break
*****

She just called
to tell me that
her and me
are through

Looks like...

Another week of
suffering from
the brown bottle flu

My life can not
be sober if I
can't have
you.

The doctor said;

6 months to live

It might has well have been tomorrow

Like the innocence of a child,

I just write.

Happiness is only created when one's self is oblivious to the world.

"Synergy"

The synergy of life and death often destroys my soul's calmness of being.

Mind you, factually,
it is not my own death,
nor my own mortality that stirs
bewilderment and melancholy within me.

It is the road ****,
the spider on your wall.

The baby bird that has fallen from its nest.

The ant in the path of your rapid gait on the sidewalk.

The meat that I selfishly indulge upon.

The innocent murdered,
aborted children.

The sea life that mysteriously washes up upon our shores.

My dilemma?

I genuinely take it personal that I can not save any and all.

Is this a Jesus Christ complex?

I'm not sure what it is!

What I know is that every day of my existence,  
I torture my own soul for not comforting a dying soul.

This IS a genuine emotion that lives within this man's soul.

I mean, I am so[ooooooo] flawed and imperfect - a natural born sinner.

But alas,
I am the soul that only wants to share smiles, hugs and my unconditional love with those that not tread upon evil.

I stand and kneeling confused, in front of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ with all due respect about the synergy of life and death.

I say that I am tired of torturing myself over this part of life that I absorb ever so deeply every waking moment of my life but....

if tomorrow is given?
Tomorrow I shall take and live.

Albeit wounded,  yes!

But perhaps like these words, Jesus wants me here to move friend or foe.

"EoP"

Life's skies
are
never lost
upon
an
admirer's eyes.

I admit it.

I'm not like the others.

And that's not just okay but;

it's fxxking beautiful!

I write most times just to,
allow myself
outside of
myself

if i blindfolded you-

spun you around-

left you waiting for my voice's whispered command-

if i suddenly kissed you-

would you know that those are my lips?

something tells me that you would-

you often dined upon my lips

unstable as water

as deep as the mariana trench

as stunning as an oceanside summer's sunset
when she pampers herself

she's the pill that i should never take

It was there,
now it's gone.
History destroyed
even the newest of dawns.

I live....yes,
sadly I just live.
Tough way to live when there is so much more to give.

Work to provide...
most days is just such a lonely ride.

Shower and eat,
can't wait to fall asleep.

Hoping soon to be dust,
in Heaven or bust.

Some people care when a poet dies,

visible by the moisture running from their eyes.

a poem is a conscience,

a report card,

a confession.

today my words turned the sun to clouds then into rain,

words at times that seem to ease the pain.

how can i taste what i’m mourning when sorrows door opens without warning?

when soon everything will be salt from the sea,

and riding the waves of eternity are me.

Many people see
stars in the night sky.

while i see only a
graveyard,

and candles
still aflame on the graves,

even though they are
long extinguished by the angels.

When i told her that i wanted my last breath to be in full view of her stand alone beauty,

she smiled and
then began singing a hit song of yore by "the police" to me;

every move you make,

every step you take,

every breath that you take,

i'll be watching you.

At school cafeteria tables

-social gatherings

-marital couplings.

one's skin color

-ethnicity

-tribal belonging.

we;

regretfully segregate ourselves
out of pure
habit and
comfortability.

audacity and irony
overflows in well versed,
pre rehearsed
denials of
racism.

so i ask;

if we aren't,

why do we not
individually be the breaker of tribal or racial chains?

diversity had long ago peaked my humans are humans interest.

i see no color nor
tribal lines that offend me.

i only see someone that is just like me outwardly and 'hopefully'
just as beautiful inside.

For granted..
the first breath as your soul awakens.

for granted..
youth, childhood,days we cannot recapture.

for granted..
the act of kindness you neglect to acknowledge.

for granted..
your family, your friends in times of need.

for granted..
the smile you wish that you had repaid.

for granted..
a birds serenade at the crack of dawn.

for granted..
Mommy's and Daddy's , their unconditional love.

for granted..
not saying goodbye when you had the chance.

I see many portraits in my visions.
portraits of black sheep in division.

portraits of eyes so deep,
a portrait for ones soul to keep.

portraits of two hearts collided,
a portrait of a life divided.

portraits of wise men citing verse,
a portrait of sage ending in curse.

portraits of shadows with knives,
a portrait of the horned ones as they connive.

portraits of footprints imprinted in the sand,
a portrait of those footprints washed free of this land.

portraits of life and blackness of dieing,
a portrait of some innocence, then crying.

portraits of smiles not to be trusted,
a portrait of a chain all weathered and rusted.

i have many portraits my collection has grew,
a portrait of my life and a visionary portrait of you.

awakened by the soft murmur.
beauty gradually unfolding.

old gothic buildings, staring like steal and concrete giants.

the harbor bustling against the azure.

i've always enjoyed walking town alone.
a recluse with poems in pocket- some better than others.

sparrows fluttering about the mist.
the old age reincarnated.

miles of coastline...
one of the 7 wonders.

seagull cries echoing through wooden foundations.

i'd like to press my heart against the scenery -
so that i might implant my soul within this naturalistic view.

after walking for hours, i decided to grab a seat on a small bench.

i stared off into the blue and white foamy nothingness.

there must have been hundreds of people that walked past me.

oh!
how badly i'd like to spark up a conversation,
but no one sees me.
except of course,
the sea.