Hiding

You close your mind to what is happening around you,
Because if you allow yourself to come to awareness,
Allow reality to filter into your world,
You will have to confront yourself.

If you allow yourself to feel,
You might experience the pain, the horror, and the suffering
Of those around you;
Experience their agony of body and spirit.

Close off your awareness,
Your awareness of self,
So that you will never know
How monstrous you are.

Never realise that civilisation
Is the facade,
Hiding the black monster
In your heart.

And so you hide your fear
Behind this facade of indifference,
A monster disguised as
The perfect being.

11/21/02

Jeune Fils
life is; death is; and we're here, jeune fils,
they're gonna have to deal with us as we are
and the world as they know it will
undergo a radical transformation.
life hurts; sometimes, jeune fils,
life confuses,
and sometimes, it all comes back to the rab.
the rab that's always there,
even if you can't remember when you are,
the rab that's never the same as it was,
never the way you remember it.
so, cheri, make the best of it while we're here;
give 'em something to talk about.
they'll talk for years to come,
but live without thought for those future days.
because tomorrow, on helldeck, it may
never arrive, jeune fils,
and we know that;
that's why
Life is; Death is;
and we're here, so
deal with us as we are.

1-16-03
This was inspired by a book by C.J. Cherryh entitled Hellburner. The character speaking in the poem is Meg.

Frozen Memories

Hot salty tears are running down our cheeks,
each crystalline drop containing a memory of you.
If time would stand still, the memories would freeze,
captured forever, to be examined and cherished.

--Looking through faded black and white photos,
I see a side of you I have never seen before.
Here I see a father and his children, playing in the yard;
and there, all dressed up for Easter Sunday.
I see a young soldier smiling shyly for the camera,
handsome in his Army uniform.
I stare at these photos, these memories,
trying to piece together a life of which I was a part.

--Another frozen memory, and I see one of many weekends
spent here during my childhood, when, late on Saturday night,
We helped bring in groceries, and I was delighted that there was
a package of candy to please a young girl.
And the light reflects off another liquid memory,
showing Sunday dinner, and all the food you loved to cook.
The tears flow faster now than I can register the memories they
contain, but if time would only freeze,
I won't lose any of them.

--But time does not stand still; the world continues in its path,
carrying us with it, and the memories and tears escape my
desperate grasp.
Now, we cherish every precious drop we can catch,
savour it before it escapes, and know that somewhere,
these memories are shining like diamonds in the Light.
9/19/03
I wrote this poem for my grandfather's funeral earlier this year.

This poem was inspired by a book called The Goblin Mirror.

Mirror Image
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
which is the true image, of them all?
Two sides, one image;
which is real, and which the reflection?

Two sides of the same looking-glass,
but which is me and which is she?
We move together, and think together,
but am I real, or am I the imagined one?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
is there a true image, after all?

8/10/03