The Mind of Rueberry

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” If while I was here I tarried among the wild lilies, take no pause over it. For it was only because I found myself overwhelmed by their fragrance, being it was the first time for me." (rueberry)

"Solace"

I had loved her enough.
My selfless gift, perhaps.
But it was not enough.
Not for her.
Not for the wounds and
the scars that, though she
desperately tried, bled too
much.
Hurt too much.
Love does not always have
her way.
Sometimes we only die, ever
so slowly.
And we kill, leave as rancid
vapors, the very breath we
find that once thought fondly
it could heal us and still survive.
I had loved her enough.
Just enough -
My selfless gift, perhaps.

by: rueberry

"Faith"

"Consider just for a moment that - there is a God.
Really think about it.
Changes everything, doesn’t it?
All the comfortable places simply disappear, cause there’s nowhere to go.
Nowhere to deny intellect and reason of that invisible someone, always but a finger’s tip away, yet, disturbing in His ability to reach down deep - into that place where we all ask “what do I know?”
Where, in dying to our misunderstanding, we become truly alive for the very first time.
Maybe that’s what it’s all about.
The not knowing.
About - “what do I know?”
From what I can tell, it’s there we all find God.
In that place where everything we thought we knew is stripped away, and all that remains is us - so small, and empty,
so all alone, looking up at the sky in wonder, hearing the sound of our own heartbeat say:
“I want to believe.”
“I so desperately want to know.”“

by: rueberry

"After Rain"

The wet of the grass.
Fragrant smells of after
rain.
A chorus of sounds by
invisible creatures hidden
from sight, as the moon
struggles to whisk away
a cloud.
And the wind ever so gentle,
now, whispers her secrets
to kindred souls able to hear.
Melancholy wanes, and
spirits begin anew hoping
in the dark.
And boy kisses girl.
T’is a temperamental summer’s
night,
Yet -
cautious in its ways, less
the storms return, and the moon
having so earnestly toiled promised
in vain

by: rueberry

"The Call"

I must have held the phone a while.
I couldn’t get over what you must
have thought would be your “famous
last words.”
Darling, you don’t know me,
and I’m not sure that you ever did.
Did you know that there was a time
I looked up into the starry night and
said ” yeah, I wanna go there one day?”
Or that my first love broke my heart
in the sweetest of ways? That she gave
me a candle then blew me a kiss? That
she said the candle would light my way,
and the kiss was her way of giving back
my love so I could share it again someday?
Did you know I’ve died a thousand times
before you, been reborn, and died again?
When were you in the gilded cage? When
strangers cheered my name?
Which face that slept next to me, in the cold
of every helpless night, had your name as she held
me in her arms?
Where were you when I pissed myself? Laid
in bed for days trying to stay away from
the needle’s prick? When nothing stayed in me,
and nothing stayed down,
and my chin and shirt and pant and floor held the taste
and stench of a sickness I won’t soon forget?
Where were you?
When I smiled again for the first time in years?
When I felt alive and virile and strong?!
When were you?
When I became a man for the first time as a man?
When I found myself and finally knew the value
of my name?
Where were you right now - when you hung up
the phone?
Because darling, if you were talking to me, you
should’ve saved yourself the dime.
You don’t know me.
Not when it took me those many years
to figure it all out.

by: rueberry

"…anyway, I was sitting on a bridge smoking my last smoke, not really aware of how cold or hot I might have been. Just sitting there. Under the stars. And I began to hum a song. Cause it was dark. Cause I was alone. Just a boy of, maybe, fourteen. What a day. What a day, indeed. I may have been a child, but damn I felt so alive! After I hit the water. After I nearly drowned. When in a moment I realized life was every bit worth the fighting for."

(rueberry)

…so I left her on the side of the road. Right where I found her. On her way to where the wind blows, and having no way to get there on her own.

—rueberry

"Pieces"

"I stopped by, today. I thought
you and I might have ourselves
a chat…or a talk.
Something.
Yet, when I got here, all I found
were ghosts.
Pictures in my mind’s eye of screams
and banged up walls - purple and blue,
on my body.
You in a corner, eyes wild as all shit,
blaming me -
Not even caring that I’ve got blood
falling from my chin.
And not once did you notice the tears that
got harder and harder for me to find each
time you did that.
I’d like to say that you were around, but
no - not here.
Not today.
Just the stench and filth of a wasted love
and wasted years.
Maybe next time you’ll be - around,
but somehow I doubt that.

You never were before.”

by:rueberry

"Love"

It takes a little time to let go
of a broken heart.
The tears that you cry bring
healing in the end.
One day hope comes alive,
and heartache you’ll soon
forget.
So weep until then, struggle
to deal with the pain.
I know, love is a friend.
She can hurt you sometimes
with her way, but, then again,
she’ll always come back running
with her arms wide open, and
faithful with her kisses trying so
hard to wipe every tear drop she
may have caused you - away.

by:rueberry

"Counting Unicorns"

Ever not know how you feel?
I do.
And I’m not exactly sure it’s
such a bad thing, just an “I’m
searching” kinda thing.
A looking without really knowing
what there is to find, kinda thing.
It’s late now, and maybe this is
just me hearing some echo of what
could’ve been or should’ve been.
That fear in the dark that, sometimes,
is the only recognizable feeling there
is for a while.
And that’s okay.
It has to be.
Sometimes a little faith is all we get,
and I get that.
I don’t know, it’s late.
Maybe, you do.
Know - that is.
Maybe - wherever you are;
Whatever place, it’s a little late there,
and like me, you just want to believe
a little bit more than you don’t want
to believe.

by:rueberry

"A Mindful Melancholy"

I sit silently upon my bed
of indecision.
My eloquent not knowing
that holds me near.
How do I dream of escape.
A pleasant fantasy to keep me sane;
a respite - of sweet denial.
Silently I sit, within my cage.
Bittersweet, this need I stay.
Yet, for now, have it not
would I - any other way.

by:rueberry

"For Crying Out Loud"

Been around too many faces,
in my time.
Had myself a way don’t think
I’ve ever recognized.
Fell in love one sunny day, but
storm clouds came and chased
my dreams away.
This life sometimes feels
like a dying.
No need to walk away.
Tomorrow’s another day
to take a trip through this
dream some call reality.
For crying out loud, cursing
the day away makes no sense,
I’ll just bow my head, and with all
my heart sincerely pray.

For crying out loud, what a day!
This by and by seems to be,
life is, the life we say.

"The Trip Of A Lifetime"

Its been a long road,
from there to here.
Certainly, there have
been bumps along
the way, but it would
be wrong to say we
haven’t had our share
of smooth riding, too.
And, I admit, there have
been times we’ve gotten
lost, really lost!
The kind of lost that makes
you wonder if taking the
ride, in the first place,
was even worth it.
But - somehow, we got
found.
And, like most such things,
it wasn’t long before all the
stress and the not knowing, not
having all the hope of getting
there, was soon forgotten.
And, we began to - believe,
again.
Also, like on any long trip, we
had to endure lots of boredom.
The kind that gets to you, down
deep, in your bones, makes you
so agitated you want to strangle
each other.
Thank God for radios.
Its been a long road, from there
to here, cost us far more than
we anticipated, forced us to make
sacrifices that were painful, but
we did what we had to do.
Not like we had much choice.
At least, not any good ones.
So we held our noses, tried to
ignore the stench, and kept on
keeping on.
Life makes you do that, sometimes.
I wish I could tell you that when we
finally arrived things were okay, that
after a short rest , and a bath, some
decent food in us, we were able to
relax - and smile, for having made
it after our long journey together, but
long trips such as our’s are far from
fairy tales.
We just stayed the course, until we
got to where we were going.
We - got there.
Most don’t, for whatever reasons.
No, we’re just here now - here.
Every now and again we look at
each other, not look look - but look.
And we smile.
We were never the kind of people who
thought we were something special or,
that, the sun and moon took note of us.
We’re just average, regular folk - unassuming,
and not much to bother taking a second look at.
We just met, kinda decided we were each not that
bad, and threw caution to the wind, took a chance,
so to speak.
We took a long ride, and, well, here we
are.
We look at each other, now and again.
Not look look, but look.
…And we smile.

rueberry

The Knot

Bit by bit, in time and length
of days; a chip here, and a
dent there.
My how do we try!
Still, we know better.
Not that.
To break the chains, break the
bindings, that keep us both from
coming apart.
No, not us.
We’re just too damn ornery!
I seriously doubt that either one
of us would let the other off the hook
that easily.
Maybe, that’s just love.
True love.
Honest love.
Hating someone so much for being,
too much, like we are, that, there is no
way in the world we would think to
live without them.
No one ever said taking a good, hard,
look in the mirror was easy, but it does
tend to reveal our true characters.
Especially, when it speaks…in that
tone.
That mirror of our’s.
The one that is in many ways all too, appallingly so,
our familiar, reminding us we are not all that, yet, sticks
around anyway.

rueberry

Bent To Broken

Tiny fingers clinching palms.
Breathing’s. 
Labored sounds of horror, and
might, and rage.
Lasts gasps.
Fade to black, then -
Nothingness. 
Only whispered sobbing’s.
Forever afraid.
Tomorrow never came.
Not for the lost who’s dreams
and fantasies hold their pain.
The bent and broken, who silently weep, and rage within.

rueberry

A Father’s Heart

My heart.
My daughter; I have always
loved you, and always I do.
Though times, and change,
and mysteries strange may
find occasion they beset us,
t’is but minor a thing to this
father’s soul.
Blood of my blood, flesh of
mine, you are my darling.
My Best Gift.

by:rueberry