Abstract Thoughts

The hardest thing to do is love someone who has wronged you especially when that somebody is yourself. Have you ever done anything mean to yourself? Well its very important to look inside yourself and find that loving part of you. Thats the part that you must take good care of and never be mean to. Because thats the part that allows you to love your neighbor. And your neighbor is anyone you happen to be with at any time of your life. Respecting and loving your neighbor can give everybody a good feeling. *Mr Rodgers*

"Ice Age 3 had no right to introduce this song to a 6 year old, and here we are." Alone Again (Naturally) In a little while from now If I'm not feeling any less sour I promise myself to treat myself And visit a nearby tower And climbing to the top Will throw myself off In an effort to Make it clear to whoever Wants to know what it's like when you're shattered Left standing in the lurch at a church Were people saying, My God, that's tough She stood him up No point in us remaining We may as well go home As I did on my own Alone again, naturally To think that only yesterday I was cheerful, bright and gay Looking forward to who wouldn't do The role I was about to play But as if to knock me down Reality came around And without so much as a mere touch Cut me into little pieces Leaving me to doubt Talk about, God in His mercy Oh, if he really does exist Why did he desert me In my hour of need I truly am indeed Alone again, naturally It seems to me that There are more hearts broken in the world That can't be mended Left unattended What do we do What do we do Alone again, naturally Looking back over the years And whatever else that appears I remember I cried when my father died Never wishing to hide the tears And at sixty-five years old My mother, God rest her soul Couldn't understand why the only man She had ever loved had been taken Leaving her to start With a heart so badly broken Despite encouragement from me No words were ever spoken And when she passed away I cried and cried all day Alone again, naturally Alone again, naturally *O Sullivan and Raymond*

My Thoughts: things i already know I've noticed how I sometimes enjoy talking about myself, almost as if I'm lost in my own world. But honestly, isn't that a bit self-centered? Could I share something important that no one knows yet? It's almost as though I'm ignoring my own thoughts. You know, something strange happens. I'm often the one advising others on what's best for them, but I tend to forget about myself. I seem to have this knack for seeing potential in others, but when it comes to me, that ability seems to vanish. It feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable to put myself first, even though I understand it's something I need to work on. It's curious how I seem to enjoy it when people notice my weaknesses. What's driving this need for attention? Not everyone needs to hear every detail of my life story. Perhaps instead of just talking about things, I could try taking action once in a while. Honestly, dealing with my current behavior is a challenge. I act in a somewhat childish and unserious manner that can be quite irritating. I project an image of being supportive and justice-oriented, but let's be real – I often involve myself in others' problems to avoid my own. I'm good at being empathetic and a good listener for others, but when it comes to me, it's like I don't really care. I rarely stand up for myself, try to understand my emotions, or listen when I'm upset. It's as if only others' sadness grabs my attention. I'm tired of consistently being at the bottom of my own priority list. Treating myself as well as I treat others is why I'm choosing to distance myself. Maybe when I'm not around, I'll start seeing my problems as significant. I hold onto dreams of a close friendship in the future, but honestly, it seems like wishful thinking. My concern for myself doesn't seem to match the concern I have for others. I often have thoughts about myself, but I keep them locked away. The gap between what I think and what I say is incredibly frustrating, especially considering how well I understand my own mind. I've tried being gentle and tough, I've asked and even begged myself. But every time I've attempted to guide myself, I've brushed it off. I can't help but wonder if my current demeanor can truly work in the real world. *efx*

and finally I discovered real feelings of others, unheralded, like lately, like this morning, as I was leaving, for the track, i saw my wife in bed, just the shape of her head there (not forgetting centuries of the living and the dead and the dying, the pyramids, Mozart dead but his music still there in the room, weeds growing, the earth turning, the tote board waiting for me) I saw the shape of my wife's head, she so still, I ached for her life, just being there under the covers. I kissed her in the forehead, got down the stairway, got outside, got into my marvelous car, fixed the seatbelt, backed out the drive. Feeling warm to the fingertips, down to my foot on the gas pedal, I entered the world once more, drove down the hill past the houses full and empty of people, I saw the mailman, honked, he waved back at me.

Either peace or happiness, Let it enfold you When I was a young man I felt these things were dumb, unsophisticated. I had bad blood, a twisted mind, a precarious upbringing. I was hard as granite, I leered at the sun. I trusted no man and especially no woman. I was living a hell in small rooms, I broke things, smashed things, walked through glass, cursed. I challenged everything, was continually being evicted, jailed, in and out of fights, in and out of my mind. women were something to screw and rail at, I had no male friends, I changed jobs and cities, I hated holidays, babies, history, newspapers, museums, grandmothers, marriage, movies, spiders, garbage men, English accents, spain, france ,italy, walnuts and the color orange. algebra angered me, opera sickened me, charlie chaplin was a fake and flowers were for pansies. peace and happiness to me were signs of inferiority, tenants of the weak and addled mind. but as I went on with my alley fights, my suicidal years, my passage through any number of women-it gradually began to occur to me that I wasn't different from the others, I was the same, they were all fulsome with hatred, glossed over with petty grievances, the men I fought in alleys had hearts of stone. everybody was nudging, inching, cheating for some insignificant advantage, the lie was the weapon and the plot was empty, darkness was the dictator. cautiously, I allowed myself to feel good at times. I found moments of peace in cheap rooms just staring at the knobs of some dresser or listening to the rain in the dark. the less I needed the better I felt. maybe the other life had worn me down. I no longer found glamour in topping somebody in conversation. or in mounting the body of some poor drunken female whose life had slipped away into sorrow. I could never accept life as it was, i could never gobble down all its poisons but there were parts, tenuous magic parts open for the asking. I re formulated I don't know when, date, time, all that but the change occurred. something in me relaxed, smoothed out. i no longer had to prove that I was a man, I didn't have to prove anything. I began to see things: coffee cups lined up behind a counter in a cafe. or a dog walking along a sidewalk. or the way the mouse on my dresser top stopped there with its body, its ears, its nose, it was fixed, a bit of life caught within itself and its eyes looked at me and they were beautiful. then- it was gone. I began to feel good, I began to feel good in the worst situations and there were plenty of those. like say, the boss behind his desk, he is going to have to fire me. I've missed too many days. he is dressed in a suit, necktie, glasses, he says, 'I am going to have to let you go ' 'it's all right' I tell him. He must do what he must do, he has a wife, a house, children, expenses, most probably a girlfriend. I am sorry for him he is caught. I walk onto the blazing sunshine. the whole day is mine temporarily, anyhow. (the whole world is at the throat of the world, everybody feels angry, short-changed, cheated, everybody is despondent, disillusioned) I welcomed shots of peace, tattered shards of happiness. I embraced that stuff like the hottest number, like high heels, breasts, singing, the works. (don't get me wrong, there is such a thing as cockeyed optimism that overlooks all basic problems just for the sake of itself- this is a shield and a sickness.) The knife got near my throat again, I almost turned on the gas again but when the good moments arrived again I didn't fight them off like an alley adversary. I let them take me, I luxuriated in them, I made them welcome home. I even looked into the mirror once having thought myself to be ugly, I now liked what I saw, almost handsome, yes, a bit ripped and ragged, scares, lumps, odd turns, but all in all, not too bad, almost handsome, better at least than some of those movie star faces like the cheeks of a baby's butt.

"Content Warning for 'Let It Enfold You' by Charles Bukowski: This raw poem discusses personal struggles, including violence, negative attitudes, and dark emotions. Reader discretion is advised due to explicit language and intense themes."

...but then..why...

Out of reach If the world was ending tomorrow, I would wish to spend every second in your arms, from sunrise to sundown underneath the horizon. Soaking in the warmth of your love, I would find my peace. But there is this truth that drives a wedge between us. I am afraid I will never be enough. I am a sunflower and you the sun. I am like the sea and you the moon. Forever out of reach, as you enter a room, my eyes follow you without my permission, like the sunflower follows the sun. My love for you grows stronger like tidal waves on a full moon. You are my sun and moon forever beyond my reach. I am still unworthy. But if the world was ending and the stars were falling, as the sky breaks and starts to fall, I would start climbing the broken pieces, rearrange our constellation so that the starts would write our names right next to eachother. And for a brief moment it would all seem like it was meant to be. *efx*

Somewhere, something waits for me. My heart aches for it every day. My brain is scrambled, My soul searches without rest. I don't know what it looks like or how to find it. I only know this: when I do find it, I will be whole. *efx*

... and just maybe change is not that bad after all. *efx*

My modern art funeral Create a pen with a trigger and watch me blow my brains out. Maybe after watching my scattered brain. The ink and blood trickling down the wall. Some will be moved, some surprised. Only a few will dare to read, connect the dots. You see, only the ink understands my deepest desired. In the aftermath of things, if I have a funeral. Bury me naked into the soil. Instead of a headstone, take a piece from the wall I died against, frame it like a painting. If anyone wishes to speak above my grave, let them, i only it to be their truth. I have lived a life of lies, and I want to cross the bridge an honest man. Give all that I have to my siblings and let them do as they see fit. For all that wish to remember me, find all the words I have written and gift it to them. There, they will find my unapologetic feelings and thoughts. And maybe they will find the same ink from my grave stone within the pages. *efx*

Husk I'm trying to get up It must be confusing cause you see me standing up As the ground where I stand starts breaking apart, The earth swallows me whole. Am trying to crawl out of the ground, It must be confusing cause you see me standing up What is left in front of you is a husk A shadow, a whisper of who I am supposed to be. Caught in quicksand within an hourglass, The more I fight, the deeper I sink. If I wait and do nothing, I'm buried even more. Caught in such contraption, I try to escape. From underneath, I put the strings and like a puppet the husk moves. Looking for eyes that see the truth, not tricked by the hallow back holes, shoulders strong enough to break the hour glass, A heart kind enough to throw me a rope and save me. I wonder if what is left standing is strong enough to save me. *efx*

A river flows, lost and unsure, Till it dries up, sadness pure. I've been running, hiding away, But darkness engulfs, no light to sway. If I can't stand myself, who'll care? In this world so vast, feeling despair. It's hard to find what's wrong, to understand, Alone amidst billions, reaching with empty hand. In this big sea of people, I'm adrift, Yearning for solace, but the rift persists. Can't connect, can't share my heart's ache, Sleepless nights, friendship at stake. Hoping to find a friend, within me, Sadness lingers, no solace to see. River stops, hope fades away, Empty and sad, I continue to sway. In this sad tale, no relief in sight, Burdened with sadness, day and night. Lost in depths, seeking a friend so kind, Within myself, to find peace at last. *efx*

Please give me strength when I am weak, Fill me with courage, when i am afraid. Help me speak truth, let my words be sincere, Guide me, let your intentions be my intentions. When I am lost, show me the way, Light my path, with your wisdom and grace. Turn my eyes to goodness, away from the wrong, Focus my sight on righteousness and hold me tight, let me not fall. Open my ears to the truth, to what is pure and clear, Protect me from the lies that I might hear. Lead me back to you if I go astray, Renew my spirit, Shepherd, hear me as I pray.