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)

"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

Sometimes nightmares happen when we’re
wide awake, and other times dreams can be
something so simple, like having a good day.
And then there are those peculiar times: Times
we find ourselves chasing the surreal.

—rueberry

"Wish"

I’ve loved you since always,
and loved you this far
I’ve given you all that I can
Between sunny days and laughter,
Big smiles,
Rainbow shades of romance
Under dark clouds so frightful
bringing tears to my eyes,
and gremlin faced friends trading
truths for a lie
Whispers tell secrets as loud as they can,
but sometimes they’re too hard to hear
Still nothing ever changes but the setting
of the sun, as daytime turns slowly to night
Hold me, please, kindly
Breathe gently then sigh
Think of me as you close your eyes
Sleep ever so peaceful, my love and
my friend
Keep me in your heart for tonight

Pretty Pictures

A moment’s stroll through a bygone yesterday.
My oh my, how pretty the sky, and tall, tall, trees,
and flowers painted yellow, and red, and purplish
blue!
Sounds of whispers, and roars, and echo’s, dancing
upon the night time breeze; oh, what a lovely mess!
Such a fuss!
Strange how lovers tend to stray?
Heartbeats come and go, beating so very fast,
until one day, in a blink, were once so alive!
There’s a catch no one ever tells, never
out loud.
Not even to themselves.
Tomorrows most always have their way, and, that, changes everything.

by: rueberry

"After Hours"

Castaway thoughts bring far away
fits and giggles to mind.
How bittersweet now, but not then.
A funny thing, these boyhood visitations.
If only again, but that idea is ill-suited
for a man.
One such as I, aged, but not dead yet, certainly.
And, so, go away my long ago yesterday.
For this day has not been fully spent, and tomorrow
makes such sweet promises it has, yet, to keep.

rueberry

"Atrophy"

I sat quietly in my faded denim atrophy.
Too hard to move?
I admit it.
But that’s not all there is, you see.
Long, long, ago I had been a happy bloke.
Alive and virile - hungry!
Funny - all that.
I missed the crowds, and how they roared,
how they chanted.
Yes, it’s been hard, but you have to move,
even when it hurts.
Not moving means your dead.

rueberry