Author: Nick

Patroclus

Island child, you cry,
Life-despised, but Fate
Has a cheek softer 
To offer your state.

Raw and flawed, its law
Does slaughter us all
In the end, but grants
Glances ere we fall.

Alas, castaway,
The mast passes on.
The blank horizon
Reminds you what's gone.

Yet a treasure more
Precious invests life,
One you've never seen,
The meaning for strife.

Nothing such as him
Came under your view,
And never has he
Seen glee but in you.

Your own loneliness
No one showed akin
To, his aloofness
The same proof within.

Island abiding
In your sigh; inside
His ear or his heart
Something starts to guide.

You hoped to be close,
But no one approached.
He wasn't enthused
Until you were broached.

His aim was to play
The same game as you
When he saw the face
That paced his heart's cue.

Your deep, sleepless eyes
Leap from their rich seats.
He sees what could grow
From their woe as sweet.

The mystery's thrill
Stills your breath but throws
Your heart into throbs:
He thinks of us—those?

Can you see his need?
Why me? you ponder,
Until the doubts fly
While you both wander.

The forest's courses
You'll tour together;
On roots in the shade
You'll lay at leisure.

The trees' canopy
Reaches down, as leaves
Land within your lap;
Both laugh, both believe.

The classroom after
Hours when Math was done,
He and his guitar
Charming you with strum;

And his royal voice
Rejoicing in song
Is this prince's soul
You hold in your palm.

On the beach where each
Of you fell speechless
Seeing your bodies'
Hypnotic features.

The moon's rays breaking
On waves and on spray,
Each of his contours,
Conjures sparks of gray.

Lain on silver sands,
His pale muscles swell;
And his waist, so slim,
Casts a perfect spell.

For his part, his heart
Starts at your soft, dark
Eyes. Beneath the bright,
Starry night they spark.

Side by side from now
On, at night in bed,
Lying with his face 
Placed right by your head;

At dawn when his yawns
Sing songs while you rise,
He proves with his touch
So much of your eyes.

Blue

I swoon for beauty
So truly human,
The face of a boy
With joy illumined.

Yearning turned away.
My burden, my curse
Lifted as his lips
Slipped into my verse.

Embrace, erase time
Debased. Grace, the theme
Down at our feet, tame
Living as a team.

My truth is in blue,
A youth from an isle.
There, within his eyes,
I finally smile.

I find it hard to believe

I find it hard to believe that it's me,
Progressing with empty steps in this way;
And yet when it changes, no one can say.

Be it family or society,
My costs are for someone else to defray.
To be sure I'm the lesser moiety
Progressing with empty steps in this way.

A mystery moment I hope to see:
Elusive success of my own to pay,
And an opportunity that I may.
I find it hard to believe that it's me,
Progressing with empty steps in this way;
And yet when it changes, no one can say.

Culpable

I said I'd be culpable
For ruining your evening
Bemoaning my multiple
Bites, instead I'd be leaving.

Rather than to aggravate
You, I went to get relief 
From a cream to acclimate.
Then my mistake was belief.

I thought I could reappear
And share the backyard again.
I was acting cavalier,
Yet the moment would descend.

I truly am gullible;
They bit me and you, enraged,
Stormed off as I, the un-sage,
I said I'd be culpable.

My sheer house

My sheer house is miniscule,
But here and now a lyric
Could take sublime molecules,
Make time's victory pyrrhic.

I give you this offering:
How I lived, a wish afloat
On songs of hope, softening
The wrongs which our scopes promote.

My dream to be feminine,
To see myself seem pretty,
A princess with eminence;
Pinced instead: what a pity.

I grew into depression,
My true self refused, repressed.
Desire became obsession;
To my shame I was possessed.

My own eating disorder
Bound up a need for starving,
Alcohol, and discordant,
Maladaptive wrist carving.

Death was posing constantly,
Its threshold closing around
Each moment of wantingly
Reaching, alone and unfound.

But I'm alive, shockingly,
I survived at rock bottom.
He found me worth pocketing,
Crowned my cursed head with autumn.

Before I was untethered,
Poured my puzzled blood weeping;
When he brought us together,
He bent thoughts that lie creeping.

A half-dozen medicines,
A path that wasn't direct
At last mounted reticence,
Perhaps found something correct.

We shacked up through manifold
Setbacks, yet we grew happy
Trusting plucky animals,
Our muscovy ducks' flapping.

There's still the same confusion.
Will you blame that I re-slept
My years' yearning delusion?
I've merely learned to accept.

I've lost and gained employment,
I've tossed the rains from islands 
To focus love's enjoyment;
A voice spoke above violence.

I'll never be omniscient;
So I must weather demons,
Though I fear I'm deficient.
I know my sincere reasons.

I'm not very capable
But caught a merry lifeline.
If even I'm shapeable,
Could seasons prime our lifetimes?

To mention that important
Question: what matters really?
Is self-knowledge supporting
My shelf of solid feeling?

Am I truly self-aware,
Can I duly note defects
In myself that interfere
With my health's tender reflex?

Have I built my quality
Which sadness wilted above;
Deeply lies my policy:
To keep those I call beloved.

Peace

Peace is knowing unease
Recedes; and woe, once the wave
Which swallowed old continents,
Shall fall for the bold and brave.

Strength is trust in loving's
Length, justice, and equipoise.
Ridges rise as miracles
Bridge islands and wrecks rejoice.

Virtue waits in patience,
Hurts abate and sorrows cease.
Souls of mercy float, finding
Mirth extolled by prophet peace.

Our Best Friends

Percy and Franklin,
I still think about you two.
May we meet again.
Talk to me Norman.
Any whisper you breathe
Makes my soul lighter.

Oh my darling George,
I'll never forget seeing
You in the preserve
Next door, (far from home to me.)
You came back with love's ascent.
Steve, what a blessing
To see you running to me
With warmest welcome.
Little striped ducky,
What is your name I wonder,
Our friend Zebra's child.
Zebra moved along
With a few of her ducklings;
We'll always love her.
Wonderful Helmet,
You most amazing mother,
Your little white head 
Reminds me of the Mama's 
Before who mothered our friends.
Edgar's soft whirring,
A duckling nipping the air:
Little things they do
That remind me of Granite.
How he loved his blueberries.

In our world gone mad

In our world gone mad,
We have the thief in the night
Out in broad daylight
While we buy and sell, stealing
Away from calm and from sense.

There once was a man
From an island, it doesn't 
Matter which. This tongue 
Is the sole silhouette Time
Bequeathed to him for his trip.

The name of the place
From twenty-five years ago;
A memory's lane;
Psychoactivity's seeds
Referenced throughout childhood, why?