john douglas porter @ blogspot
But who am I to decide what I can want
Who am I to decide what I need
Who am I to say that I deserve any of it
And who are they to say whether I deserve anything
Who are they to decide what I need
Who are they to say that I shall not want
What does it say about you when you won’t hear the words
What does one say when the speaker turns away
Where does one go to find the lost silent comfort
Who holds the power to lift a fallen star like me
You’ll need this map. Take the scenic highway out to Trembling Fern, then turn north on the dotted blue line. They don’t show this road on modern maps, but you can see it in satellite view. Go to the very end; then you’ll get out and take a dozen photos, none of which will be good. Believe me, it happens every time.
(2025-07-08)
Would that I were her pillow
to cradle that sacred head
and blot away her sorrow
in blesséd teardrops shed
(2025-07-07)
looking for a place to coagulate my mind
stir a steady precipitate,
form a sedimented state,
a firm cemented solid,
from elemental factors
mental extractions,
abstractions, distractions, excitations, ablations, ablutions, absolutions, dissolutions, dissipations, pollutions, collusions, illusions, diffusions, confusions
(2025-05-09)
"Go to your happy place!" they say
But my happy places all make me sad
Galleries of all I have lost
(2016-02-22)
"It's never too late to become who you were meant to be."
But my fear is that I already have.
(2016-02-22)
No matter how fast I drive,
I can't escape from the grief.
it flies beside me as I travel;
it lies beside me when I sleep.
Grief is but one of the company of phantoms that dog me.
Grief is a golem I conjure with my own hands —
hands of desire,
ego of expectation.
The dark highway before me
will be washed clean by the deluge of my tears,
and a dawn of understanding will break over me.
(2027-07-03)
