A POEM: Rose Colored Goggles (for Joe B)

January 12, 2012

 

Rose Colored Goggles (for Joe B)

 

Speaks slowly as if expectations are for you to savor every word

When he’s not too busy exercising his inherent talent for listening

To the ranting, venting and complaining of others.

 

The secret mystic patiently awaits his turn to react and advise Wisely his positive spin on whatever it is

I am self absorbedly going on on on and on and on about persistently like an ADD child demanding attention

 

Intuition and listening are his gifts yet unrecognized because of his

ASSociations with the mentally challenged or selfish, self absorbed people in his life.

He has answers but has learned through the years to wait to share them

We are not always ready for the answers

 

As you get to know and love him you realize he is human too

Moody, judgmental and self righteous like the rest of the world

Showing this side to only the closest of allies

We and or I accept this for all he has endoured with our friendship

Through years upon years

 

Relationship dynamics change as with all intelligent free thinkers and sometimes we grow apart and then grow back together stronger

A selfless man in actions sets the example I strive for.

Well grounded yet spiritual, mystical, creative and verbally expressive.

 

I call this man

I repeat man

As my best friend

And a major contributor to society and God’s world.


A LOVE POEM and a HALF

July 7, 2011

Tattooed caring. Giving. Living.

 

Breathe life into me. Unconditional forgiveness and understanding  is her strength and weakness.

 

Long time. Long distance. Long time feelings touch me across the country.

 

Stare at me. Gaze at me. Take me.

 

Biological tests show that our feelings are fact not some made up fantasy. . .

 

Fantasy. For now dreams and careful promises.

 

Dreams are dreams for a reason. Dreams are forgotten or they blossom into a reality of tattooed green and hazel eyes connecting softly through the air.

 

Oh my muse. You amuse me with your laughter bb. Me too.

 

Oh my inspiration. My support.

 

My self absorbed needs crash with your caring and giving and I change. Change slowly.

 

I’d thank you if I wasn’t thinking about me doll.

 

Change slowly. Change from your influence.

 

I will thank you.

 

Thank you.

 

It must be something.

 


Friends

October 21, 2010

Friends. Friends. What are they good for? Absolutely nothing. I’m exaggerating but very few people stay in each other’s lives forever unless they are related and even relatives can disappear. People come and they go in our lives like our housing, clothes, cars and jobs. Everyone changes and can grow away or towards other people. Grow out of jobs, houses, clothes and cars. The loss of these things by choice or by circumstance. Why am I talking about this?

 

I’ve just been reflecting on old friends that have either come back in my life or come to my mind. Old girlfriends and even a wife have been going through my dreams. It seems that everything and everybody in my life have become distant memories that harbor no strong emotion or difference. I’m sure that they’ve had their place and served their purpose in my existence. I wonder why I once held these things in such high regard. No. I wonder even more as to why I don’t care as much anymore.

 

I’ve been told that it’s part of growing up. Or is it part of growing old? None of my current friends really care about me. I really don’t care about them. These seem like harsh statements but they’re true. I care about people at times to a certain extent. I pray for the people in and out of my life past and present. I care on one level but I don’t on another level. When I see or talk to some friends I have a good time but its not like it used to be. We all leave each other and go back to own self absorbed worlds.

 

I ran into an old friend the other night and he went right into busting my balls the way he used to. I was hurt. It put my view of friendships in perspective. I don’t want to be friends with an asshole who puts me down. I got back in touch with another friend a few weeks ago when his sister died. We both changed and got along really well.  He has a full life now so we won’t be seeing much of each other. Other friends I’ve let go of in the past because they weren’t growing but going backwards. I like to think that I am growing but it’s at a much slower rate the past few years.

 

I have family members of my natural mother’s side that have cut me off and want nothing to do with me because of my past interests in subversive arts and serial killers etc. I’ve made many attempts to get in touch and no response. It’s on them. People are people. People come and go including family. Family isn’t always blood. My adopted family accepts me as I am and including my eccentricities. I still wonder if anyone really cares or if I care for them. I appreciate them.

 

Love, lust, and crushes all come and go too. How many times have you said, “This is it. I’m in love. This is the one for me”? I’ve said it to myself countless times. Sometimes these thoughts lead to relationships that last years then they go. I could write on and on about the “what is love” question. This is about friends. Friends.

 

I’ve learned through the years that you have to be a friend to have a friend and I haven’t put out that much so it makes sense. I don’t think anyone cares because I don’t care. I’m not bitter or resentful I believe people are in their own worlds and the people in their world are just people in their world. I have my world too. You are just another person in my world. Sure I can name special things about people. I’ve been supportive to others and I’ve had other’s support, I do it because it’s the human thing to do. The right thing. I just can’t say I care much right now.

 

I’m numb to strong feelings about anyone right now and it’s ok. This will change with the next romance or the next close friend I bond with. I know that future relationships will most likely end. People, places and things come and go. Friends. Friends.

 

It would be easier if I re-define what a friend is. I’m not sure I ever defined it to begin with.

Then again, I’ve been told, “it’s not about me.”

 

Want to be my friend?


Do You Love Me? Really Love Me?

September 5, 2010

Do you ever wonder what your “image” is t other people? I do. Do you ever wonder how they perceive you? I do. I’ve spent a good part of my life figuring out how to get people to like me or love me. It worked. They at least appeared to like me. Not always n the ways I wanted them to. I hit a point a while ago where I stopped caring. Not entirely, but enough to focus on my dreams and loves.

People tend to have an image of themselves that they present and another side to them that they don’t present to others. They way they talk about themselves and dress and walk and even look at you is one side but is it really who they are and how they feel about themselves? It is really easy these days to create an image of yourself with the internet using social networking sites, webs sites and blogging sites. You can take your time in choosing what photographs you want to present, what you say, and who you associate with. So, I wonder sometimes what my image is to others: people that know me personally and people that only see what I present on the internet.

I’ve tried to maintain a high level of honesty when writing or speaking with others while still trying to get them to like me. Now I just try and be true to myself and honest when I write. Sometimes I censor myself so I don’t offend anyone but most of the time I let people see the real Rich and what’s really going on.

I’m not ashamed of my defects of character, my emotional problems, my sexuality, my spirituality or even the way I look. Of course I get down on myself sometimes and feel good about myself other times. That’s human. Don’t you do the same thing?

I’ve done some weird, strange, perverted and even self-destructive things in the past and I am not ashamed. Maybe I get embarrassed sometimes about my actions or thoughts but never ashamed. I’ve come to grips that I am what am. Still there’s a lingering curiosity as to what you think about me, honestly.

What do you think of me? What is my “image” to you? Do you love me? Really love me? I love you.


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