From Strength to Strength

I used to think,

The way to know you were strong was by never admitting that you were weak.

Then again, I saw weakness to embody a sort of insignificance.

As if weakness makes those who are stuck by it the lesser; not only is this wrong but it doesn’t make sense.


There are times when I’ve felt weaker than I ever thought was possible,

And it’s from these I find most often that I’ve gained strength.

That in my being weak,

I gained strength while remaining meek.

To boast of strength gained,

Ignoring the pain that brought it forth and discarding the weak,

Is proof only of the strength of your ego & witless speech.


I’m learning to be prepared rather than panicked,

Aware instead of anxious or agitated.

That’s not to say there has been only one day,

Where I proverbially stuck my finger in the electric socket akin to a baby.


This saying,

Both an encouragement and a longing.

For every time we’ve the strength for our eyes to open see,

A new day is dawning.

It won’t necessarily be what was planned or desired,

But it sure will be new.

Why fret,

Why have you cried?

For if every plan we conjured in our finite minds came to pass,

We may as well never go outside and this day be our last.

For we’d live in a world of chaos,

As supposedly picture perfect it’d all be,

How utterly crass.


For the decisions I’ve made, need to make, and have yet to make;

I hold them all equally.

Some I’m not happy about or proud of,

But I know that wisdom can’t be caught with a glove.

Wisdom can’t even be taught,

How do you think there ended up being so many ridiculous and ignorant teachers?


Thank you God, for my family and friends.

You continue to tie up my sanities loose ends.


“Goodbye” A Nomad’s most popular phrase

I have a hard time staying in one place,

I have an even harder time not being able to see the face.

The faces of those I care about,

The ones who make me want to have doubt.

Doubt in my hopes that are becoming reality,

A reality tangible while still being a mystery.


How do I honestly agree to a party,

Based around the fact I’m on the move again?

It’s not that I’m against change or want things to remain the same,

I’m just so sick of farewells & kitschy sayings.

“It’s not goodbye, its ‘I’ll see you later'”

If I have to hear this phrase again, I’ll want to puke both now and later.

Even worse, it won’t make the farewell any easier.


It’s not the possibility of whether I will or won’t see those I care for again,

That makes goodbye’s or farewells what I despise.

It’s, at least partly, the closure sought in it all is fickle.

Mostly though, it’s that a goodbye party could basically be quantified as a glorification of pain.

I say goodbye if I’m noticed to be leaving,

Not because I like it but out of respect.

And yet if I leave without a trace,

I don’t know completely certain,

But I’ve been told what follows is disgrace.


Lord, help me end this chapter right.

I want to start this next chapter remaining in the light.

I’m still not accustomed to it,

at least not as much as the gray or ‘mean reds’,

But I can’t be in the darkness anymore.

It can chase me,

that’s fine,

But I’m not going back willingly.

I’m fight ready.

A bit bruised, but ready.

“Couldn’t Buy Love if I wanted to”

Suffering is a friend,

Known only to the lonely.

But why is it that when the lonely want to change,

The suggested ways to go about it are only artificial?

Go out more, make new “friends”, try being more “social”.

Does being social really make someone any less lonely?

Maybe you know how to “work” a room,

It’s even possible that your charm brings anyone that crosses its path doom;

But when you lay awake in your filled yet empty bed,

Does the depth of loneliness felt both within & beyond yourself feel any less real?


As if escaping into some parallel existence,

Into a new storyline or a life of someone else would change things.

You tell yourself,

I’m just going to disappear.

Why worry about the consequences?

You already live the life of a prisoner,

Bound in your self-hatred & fear.

Preaching freedom from your pulpit built upon hate,

Falling in the quicksand you love to throw yourself into.

“Woe is me”, your favorite requiem-like plea.

As if dying is the only way you can be alive.


If you want to just to give up,


But, if you truly want change;

Wake up from your self-induced coma,

Open your eyes.


Self-hatred, among other mental tortures of one self, is an ugly mask that fits too easily onto a person. I continue to realize the depths I traveled to with this during my teen years. Every now and again, it tries to snatch me back into the sharp nailed clutches of its dirty hands; stringing me up like a one character puppet show. Makes for good writing material, but it’s no life worth living. The loose quote this piece is titled after is from a line in the movie, Sin City, by the character Marv when talking about himself in relation to women. As a sort of anti-hero, I see aspects of myself within this fictional character. A scarred, but good hearted fighter trying to grasp for light when he’s more accustomed to being in the dark. Maybe that’s only my perspective.


Walking down, Moving on, Looking up.

There are days and nights when it’s good to take a walk,

And then there are nights when you need a ride and don’t have one.

But then, there are times an unexpected friends calls;

Or even a new acquaintance offers you a way home.

The door of opportunity has opened.


For the first time in years, maybe the first time ever.

Doors keep opening,

And the doorway doesn’t feel like its made from sand.

I don’t just want to go through the door,

But I’m assured that it is the way best to go.


Not everything is exactly in place or figured out,

But I don’t even want that.

If the plan is completely smoothed out,

My life may as well be boxed in;

Leave some holes in the details,

Let there be surprises and get fresh air to breathe.


All we love we leave behind,

It’s for the best.

Pain is not a burden one must get try to be rid of,

But a teacher that is wise to give ear to & important to experience.

Of course, some pain is chosen.

These choices made are sometimes lessons best forgotten.

But,then again, self taught lessons are sometimes the key to a later success.


Ask for, & give, patience in time of transition & change.

If done for one day, considering change happens daily,

Is there any reason we should treat anyone including ourselves differently?

Patience isn’t possessed by only a select few,

But the number is few in those who choose to learn patience.


As you go on;

Walk straight on the path laid before you,

Hold your head high, not in pride but faith.

Keep your eyes focused,

With your mind clear & set on your purpose.