PHILOSOPHY OF HAPPINESS

 

 A THEORETICAL AND PRACTICAL EXAMINATION BY MARTIN JANELLO

dreams of all kinds

fade without fail

but poems of you stay

etched in the walls

of my mind’s halls

 

 

 

he keeps cooking dinners

he won’t eat

as if they could make her

come back and stay home

 

 

 

her life had flat-lined

with startling blips

recalling her potentials

 

 

 

why do i so vividly recall the luck

of inconsequential moments

when we turned beside

that eighteen wheel truck

 

 

 

you think

the indians we killed

did not have little girls

waiting for daddy to come home

 

 

 

most people i knew

did not die from old age

they simply got tired

of senseless living

 

 

 

you did not mind

to follow the band

our castle was marked

by a two person tent

one month that touring summer

 

i did not find

you were for rent

including your heart

and your morals were bent

till i caught you with our drummer

 

can’t say i don’t miss you

not only as muse

the times when i kissed you

were worth the abuse

but i lost my best friends

to living the blues

 

 

 

night sweat fueled fires

in marish locked spires

from which they try rise

in the mornings

evil won’t let them peacefully rest

 

 

 

faded photographs of us

that cannot be retaken

 

 

 

not enough booze in the cabinet

to make her go on and finally forget

she’ll carry these wounds

of lost love around bleeding

smearing her life till she’s dead

 

 

 

we’re only as good

as the last thing we stated

no one remembers beyond

 

 

 

back road mountain pass we passed

embalmed in clouds

primordially muffled

our universe focused

trajectories suspended

you did not want to stay

 

 

 

how do you love a heart

bruised to its core

that mistrusts its own hurtful beating

 

 

 

it’s late at night

and she won’t let him

change history

even going forward

 

 

 

she called boys hey

until deciding

if it made sense

remembering their name

 

 

 

he wants to return

to when he was feeling

emotions recounted now

for the first time

 

 

 

you have me return to a lost october

the city was stage to our play

then you wrapped your angel’s wings

in a pullover

and left me bereft of more lines to say

 

 

 

when people die

we recite some phrases

and wonder if their voice

should have been recorded

 

 

 

holiday moon

hollow promises

gone too soon

 

 

 

sunlight through

the back of her ear

made me remember

how she was dear

color of rosy piglet

 

 

 

comet coursing

to never return

she took a shine at me

on her way to burn

 

 

 

scraping on bones

their ancestors left

unable to forget them

 

 

 

she could not evoke

the ardors stirred then

except for faintly

the hearsay of them

 

 

 

when i was small

i thought spring blooms

were for my birthday

and thanked them all

 

 

 

he recalled youth’s mornings

of fresh baked bread

enjoying it buttered

fore health warnings’ dread

 

 

 

mostly she told me

she was just tired

warding off worries

without reward

 

 

 

i recall a city

you’ve never been to

but i roamed its streets

forlorn looking for you

 

 

 

as you stepped out of bed this morn

and walked in horizontal light

you carried the glow of a saintly form

an image exposing still in my mind

 

 

 

it was a time

when words meant more

when people gave theirs

or cursed another’s fortune

when one could not say

i love you and not mean it

 

 

 

knowing you were

trusting you are

wishing you’ll always be there

 

 

 

impressions of life kept creeping back

as waiting halls in temporary stations

or trains with uncertain destinations

 

 

 

she hated him deadly

with silent passion

for stirring up memories

of her frustrations

he knew but suspected

love still had a chance

 

 

 

how quietly you come and go

dead figment

of my heart’s encrusted routine

 

 

 

crestfallen to me

was the tritest cliché

till you made me suffer its meaning

 

 

 

i often think back to autumn days

when our love’s spring was found

nature’s alive now

in unnerving praise

loud consolations abound

 

 

 

i know that i should write her now

and yet forgot what to say about how

it got so complicated

 

 

 

after a while his memory merged

with lies he reread in mail

details slowly replaced by myth

shelved love preserves going stale

 

 

 

she took him on a rousing flight

through fragrant soft-petaled trees

dropping him suddenly yet in spite

he’s reminiscing the breeze

 

 

 

she remembered

once being unguarded

toward feelings that then

crashed like breakers on her

 

 

 

inconsolable or demure

running from shadows

or hiding in them

light is the only cure

 

 

 

chivalry loyalty trust and grace

have become superseded ways

under the rigors of profit

leaving us poorer of it

 

 

 

she jeers at me

i’ve seen you before

as if i had ruined her vision

 

 

 

tries not thinking

of life with him

she can’t help feeling

still happening

in parallel dimensions

 

 

 

you spurned me before

and i understand

i don’t fit the life you’re leading

still i’ll ask your hand

every then once more

cause you’re still the door

on which my heart keeps beating

 

 

 

do you miss life as a real person

cleansed by harmonious nature

 

 

 

she knows she shouldn’t

but always revisits

the remnants of love’s disasters

 

© 2013-2017 BY MARTIN JANELLO

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