It is quiet now. Then again, of course it is –
quiet, I mean
The sun is up. It’s Sunday.
I can see the sunlight passing through the trees
and everything else is silent, like it’s supposed to be
I suppose . . .
What I do now and what I say here,
of course, I hope this is something
that we can keep here,
just between us – but,
here’s the trip –
There’s no retrieval
once the words escape.
There’s no going back
or covering up
once we uncover out true form
So – then dare I say anything
then let me say it
because above all:
This is the bravest dare I’ve ever taken
It is morning in my world and yet
I have no idea where you are,
how close, how far,
and in the same respect,
you are no farther from me
than my beliefs, which tell me you are right here
with me
(As always)
I keep you here, close to me because what else would I have,
if not the belief that there’s something out there,
bigger than you and I, and bigger than all of us;
and, what else would I have
if I didn’t have a belief that at some point,
the door’s going to open, and there it is –
everything we’ve ever asked for.
It is important to me that I embrace these moments of silence.
Yes . . .
It is important that I visualize this,
at least to some degree so that when I find myself tired
or out of strength, something in me has at least a spark
to keep the fire going.
Of course,
I call this You.
It is true though, the way we are
and the way we look at the world,
the way we relate to things or better yet,
the way we perceive or internalize things
has the ability to shift our souls
towards an object of freedom
or bondage – depending upon the mood
It is true that the concepts of the mind
are and can be a challenge,
especially to me; especially when I think too much
and, especially
when my thoughts lead me astray,
which tends to happen often
or frequently.
I think too much, or at least,
so I am told, which is exactly why
I needed a place
a room
a spot where I could come in
and be myself.
Also,
it is equally true that a word
can change the way our day proceeds.
It is true that a touch
can make all the difference in the world
or the gentleness of a hand
and how its simple warmth
can remedy the worst types of pain –
I needed a place, a room, or a spot
where I can keep these things
in case of emergency
I have shared this place with you for a reason.
I have built this and framed this room
with the expectation that somehow;
this little spot is safe and strong enough
to act as a vessel
that can take us from here
to any port in the universe
or to anywhere we choose to go.
This little spot of mine is untouchable
and impenetrable.
Nothing can come in here, unless invited.
No one can enter, unless we open the door.
Not even sunlight can pass through
without our say so, but,
at the same time;
I have built this room to be as bright as day,
or like an open field,
or as dreamy as the beach
or like the one
behind the buildings at 100 Lincoln Road.
Or adversely, I built this place
to be as dim as candlelit room, just for some romance
or, we can make it like outer space,
where nothing glimmers except the stars,
or in the moments of need
I have built this place to be without light,
sealed, almost as if to begin in a vacuum
so that the seed of light can give birth
to take root
or like the regenesis of life,
cuddled in the palm of the hand,
about to burst from the seen
and blossom into life.
This here is my workshop
and where I come to build these ideas
to make my way.
Other than that –
I don’t have any wealth to speak of.
I have no gifts. I have no exceptional talents.
I have nothing beyond me, as I am.
I have this little space; however.
I have this little spot which I have been building
for a long time
In fact, I have been building this place
since what seems to be my birth,
in which case; as of this date –
up until now, it has taken me 18,498 days
to complete this message to you.
I hope that you get this
I hope that this reaches you well
and now that it has
(or if it has)
I hope that you can see
what’s taken me a lifetime
to create. . .
None of this was easy because,
along the way
I have fallen. I learned to stand.
I have forgotten what I know
and re-educated myself
on more occasions than I can count.
I have scarred and healed
and grown and thus; at times
I have reverted back to a smaller size.
I have become more than I’ve ever believed
and yet, there’s so much that I’ve missed.
And, admittedly, there are times
when I believe that I should be more
There are so many times when of course,
I wish I could go back
to relive the moment
or rethink my choice
and turn left instead of right.
But –
I know this is beyond me
or
maybe this is just behind me
Either way
none of this is within my control
anymore.
I am flesh and blood, breath and bone.
In relation to the universe, I am not even a hatchling and yet,
in the mind of a child,
I am old and getting older but yet,
I am a spirit in search of the youthfulness
that evades the mind of the young
And why I say this is not
because youth is wasted on the young but more,
I say this because when I was young,
my unawareness was enough
to make so that I was unable to see
how moments have value
or how time can slip by; and,
while I’m here, and now that I still have some strength left,
I suppose my reason for showing you this place
is because as long as I can still stand and walk
and as long as I still have the ability to breathe
and my heart can still beat – then let me start here.
Let me build this vessel of mine.
This here’s my ghost ship
Let me allow this place to grow like a picture, or,
like I explained in my very first poem –
if I close my eyes,
I can see you in my dreams
and behind the movie screens of my eyelids.
I say this because of this were a picture:
then this is what I would want you to see
There are different parts here.
I have a section in this room; and what I mean is,
I have a small place where I keep a child,
which is namely me
the boy I was, and, in this galley, or perhaps in the midship
I allow him to be the boy I wished I could’ve been.
He is safe to play but more;
I show this to you
because I have nothing more vulnerable
than this version of me.
This is my most vulnerable version of self.
See me?
There I am, small, young,
sitting cross legged on the floor,
playing with a toy.
And safe
I show this to you
because this is the truest version of me as well
I show this to you
because this is where the first theft took place;
this is when the touch took hold
and, this where the innocence was lost;
where the intrusion came in, and, yet
I show this to you because I keep the boy here,
safely,
so he can play and no one can ever hurt him
or take his toys away again.
Not on my watch . . .
When I started this project, which was long ago,
and when I decided to make this so-called room of mine;
I knew there would have to be different compartments
where I could place different versions of myself.
Up there, in the corner shelf – do you see?
I keep my old records there
and remember the times
when I would lock myself away from the world
and close the door.
I’d wire music to the speakers
and turn the volume loud enough
to drown the voices
and let my soul go free.
In some cases, this is where my rebellions took place.
In other cases, this is where I would practice my speeches
and stand in front of mirrors
to role-play my decisions
about how I planned to get up
and walk away.
If you look over there, I have a few cases of my resentments
and to its left, I have a few boxes of shame.
But, on the opposite side is a shelf of my hopes and dreams.
This is where my pillows of thoughts take flight
and where my aspirations
lead me up, up and away,
far beyond the sky.
Over here, where I sit;
this is my captain’s chair. This is where I steer from.
I built this room to act as my pilothouse
to contain everything about me;
and when I say everything; I mean absolutely everything
from my heart to my flaws, from my soul,
to my fears, and from my darkest secrets
to my brightest dreams
I have pictures here,
which date back to my earliest memory.
I have sections and chapters and reports that detail who I am,
who I was, and if the stars align,
I hope this all leads me to who I hope to be.
Over there – see it?
That’s my box of little trinkets
and tiny memories. And over there
are my pictures and cutouts from magazines
and clippings from the news
that neither my Old Man nor my Mother
were alive or here to see.
I hope to show them this
someday
Over there, I have a list of broken hearts.
I have study of mistakes and over there,
I have a few chapters on my ideas of love and lust
and oh, over there
in that corner, just above the photograph of my faceless dream
There’s a list of times when I swore
I felt like feeling nothing
but yet, I always felt something –
even when I felt nothing
there was always something
I have a list of impending dooms.
I have a list of things I wanted but yet;
for some reason, I never took the step
or made my way to the stage to perform.
And, ever here – this is me,
with no protection, no decoration, no disguises
and with no ego, no excuses,
no rationalized ideas and with all my heart
I am the boy, the man, the person the human,
the soul and the proprietor of this vessel
which I call my ship
in search for the perfect shore.
This is everything I have –
That’s why I built this room.
Because where else could I put these things?
And, who else would want to see them?
Or, who else would care?
So, I’ve built this place
and decorated everything to my standards.
But over there –
see?
That’s a seat, made for two
I hope you like it
because it’s all I’ve got
Nothing else
nothing more
just me –
The Written Addiction 