I dream that I am awake
talking to you
when I wake
alone
see the dormant
phone
it’s as if falling
from a great height
and the big black crow
out the window
he yells “fool”
but I know better
very soon now
the phone rings
(D James)
Category Archives: literature
true love tales #5
sometimes it is silent
and sometimes it is loud
sometimes we think it
needs attention
sometimes we want
more
sometimes we give it
and sometimes we take
but really
all it
needs
is to be
(D James)
how do you do that?
this thing
that runs through my heart
like a freight train
knocks me down
and lifts me up
at the same time
brings me joy
and reminds me
to stay open
be vulnerable
this thing
unnameable
random
vast
deep
it knows no bounds
reaches deep inside
blows me away
scatters the pieces
to the darkest edges
of the universe
and somehow
makes me whole
again
how do you do that?
(D James)
until the dawn
it is the nights
that are most difficult
waiting
wanting
for the morning
that brings your voice
it is the nights
that are long
sleepless
restless​
hoping for a world
where 1+1=1
it is the nights
it is the nights
it is the nights
when darkness
grips my heart
renders me incapable
until the dawn
returns you to me
d. james
just once I’d like to find what I came here for…
forgetting that thing
I was going to check
wandering around the web
lost in its tangential branches
late night
grows later
as internet minutes
never correspond to clock time
eyes close
a finger rests
on a repeating key
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
(D James)
Up All Night Waiting For Something That Never Comes
it’s not that I can’t sleep
it’s that I don’t want to
an old habit
one that’s returned
with age
like a child
overtired
afraid I might
miss something
the city at rest
a cloud moving across the night sky
a song on the radio
or mother’s return
I stay up
waiting for the sun
waiting for something
to happen
until I’m too tired
to be tired
then I’ll go to sleep
(D. James)
the mouse runs on the wheel going forward and getting nowhere
must do
must always do
be doing
or be dead
action
moves the world
no time for anything
other than the doing
the being
is busy
busy
being busy
with all the doing
rushing
to the end
gold watch
and a monthly check
then a trip to eternity
never wondering
until it’s too late
where all this busy business
really gets us
(D James)
the all of everything and nothing
freed from the bondage
of thought
if only in the moment
it takes to breathe out
we are whole
and left at one
with all
(D James)
How To Explain Nothing And Everything All At Once
it’s become apparent
that my beliefs
belong to others
every thought
each action
triggered
by a past experience
something I’ve read
heard
or seen
there is nothing original
in being a non-conformist
for even that now
is simply conforming to non-conformity
this too does not originate
from me but from another
so perhaps it is not
in ideas
or language
that we are unique
it must be
in that other place
beyond words
beyond the edge of our skin
out in the far reaches
where what’s in the skull
is quiet for a moment
where we connect
with all that is
all that ever was
or ever will be
with the all of all
(D James)
Here In The Shadows
there are things I’ve done
that I would never tell
things I’ve said
I want to unsay
things I’ve seen
that do not disappear
by closing my eyes
thoughts
that cannot be unthought
rationalized
justified
explained away
apparently
you know what
I mean
because here
in the shadows
they say everyone
is hiding something
(D James)
Standing Still As The Breeze Moves The Sky
watching the light change
from red to black
focused on the petty pace
of meaningless
routine
thoughts dissolve
as they move
like radio signals
to the vast reaches
of the universe
and suddenly my worries
seem as nothing
against the majestic backdrop
the city in twilight
from a rooftop
(D James)
If It All Works Out In The End, Isn’t It All Working Out Now?
had a dream
that it all worked out
all of it
money
happiness
life
had a reality
that it all worked out
all of it
then I woke
into a place
where none of it matters
and realized my search
was complete
and so am I
(D James)
In The Quiet Beyond The Edge Of The Universe
my hand cut the sky
making the rain fall
my eyes saw the deepening darkness
which stopped my heart
pretending to be something
made of stronger stuff
waiting out the storm
I travelled a hundred hundred miles
in just under a thousand years
and ended up where I began
forsaken
forgiven
forever
in the quiet
(D James)
Wish I Was Here With You
wishing for another time
wanting to be here with you
or at least be here at all
wishing for another place
where I could say
that which cannot
which will not
be expressed
wishing like wanting
like trying to wash away
years of shame and neglect
with a cup of cold dishwater
then finally
knowing wishing doesn’t make it so
I see there is work to be done
(D James)
I May Be At This Awhile
I had a feeling
of wanting to move
to run
to shout at the ground
that would not move
it did not answer
looked up at the stars
and explained to them
what I was after
they did not respond
went to the roof
and shook my fist
at the night sky
screamed until my voice
fell to the sidewalk
the universe
did not care
I sat down
closed my eyes
and was silent
vowing to stay
until the senseless
makes sense
until the feeling to run
out of my own skin
subsides
I am silent
still
(D James)
knight-error
feeling like it’s been amateur hour for far too long
feeling like this is all going to end
looking like the futile quest of some tattooed old man
chasing dreams on the back of a motorcycle named Rocinante
then again…
what’s wrong with that
(D James)
The Question Is: Do You Want To Go Forward Or Backward? (The Choice Is Yours)
asking why
leads backwards
as in “why did you do that?”
why asks for excuses
reasons
justification of the past
asking what
looks forward
as in “what will you do with that?”
what asks to create
is curious
and wants nothing more
than for something to be expressed
(D James)
final destination
assumptions made
plans set
though no one
told you
the day arrives
car all packed
you ride off
not knowing
where you’re going
the road stretches on
for years
stopping occasionally
in one town or the other
you sometimes wonder
how you will know
when you’ve arrived
(D. James)
waiting out winter
once more
the low sky fills
with gray tones
the trees seem
as dead spiders
and all waits
the coming storm
the last of winter
holding fast
the past week’s
glimpse of spring
caressed our spirits
so we’ll make use of
today
finding the summer
in our hearts
for it is not yet
outside the window
(D. James)
just like the movies
every movie
ends the same
fade to black
roll credits
people file out
of the theater
thinking about
the experience
every life
ends the same
fade to black
roll credits
people file out
of the funeral home
thinking about
the experience
what matters
are the memories
of the life lived
(D James)
learning to ride a bicycle
a man lay in bed
last days
he knows
dying from the struggle
to live
the nurse
does what she can
to make it easier
through the morphine
induced fog
a moment of clarity
he says
“I never learned
to ride a bike”
too late now
she knows
too late now
(D James)
suite for frustration in D minor
stuck
in a one horse town
that is the dark matter
of the mind
worrying the night
like an old string of beads
cold wind
blows darkness around
til the dawn
which
brings no warmth
or understanding
just another prelude
to another night
and on and on
until the ride stops
(D James)
morning luck
long shadows
rush around
in straight lines
bundled against
the early morning sun
that gives off light
but little heat
another day
for the many lucky enough
to have made it through the night
yet who among us
thinks of the new day that way
before the first cup of coffee
if at all
(D. James)
buddha quiet
in the moment
before dawn
the space
between notes
like slipping through the silence
holding onto that split second
of after this heartbeat ends
and the next begins
(D. James)
certainty
a state of being
closed off to other
possible outcomes
a place of right
might
fight
where trouble lurks
and there is no soul
a safe place
where one finds
simplistic comfort
only in its opposite
is there any hope
or chance of stumbling
upon the world as it is
and not as we want it to be
(D James)
disposable poetry 