Rage and anger boils within,
Want to scream, want to shout,
Like shadow boxing,
The adversary is there, but doesn't fight back.
Loss and Grief coalesce as one,
Like flint and steel struck together,
Over light kindling and dry brush,
that builds into a raging inferno.
How to live, how to stand,
And face what has been said,
Face the turmoil inside,
When the battlefield is empty except for you.
To Stand and scream at the sky,
This is not what I was meant to be,
This is not what I should have become,
Because I was meant to be on the side of angels.
I am left battered in this suit of armor,
The Battle lost, the combatants moved on,
Before I was given opportunity,
To Fight, and prove my chivalry.
And so I stand alone and tormented,
Knowing what I am, and what I am not,
The things I have done, and those I have not,
But with no battle to fight to prove either.
How long will I stand against the storm,
And Await the combat, which may never come,
To just stand and let the burning inside,
Keep me warm through the long night.
QRT
January 10, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Hope
It's her voice on the line,
It's the good morning message,
Little things, that equal,
Something sweet, something pure.
Its the understanding the heartbreak,
And the longing left to linger,
An ear for the complaints,
And a shoulder for the tears.
So long it has been since I felt like myself,
So long I have been what others needed me to be,
And now it's like being reborn,
To the man I could have been.
There is hope neath the pain,
In her voice, in her eyes,
There is strength that remains,
When all else is stripped away.
I cannot say where my road will lead,
Though history tells me I will take the hard one,
But hope springs like flowers along my path,
And her voice urges me on though my soul is weary.
Quincy Tatum
January 1, 2012
It's the good morning message,
Little things, that equal,
Something sweet, something pure.
Its the understanding the heartbreak,
And the longing left to linger,
An ear for the complaints,
And a shoulder for the tears.
So long it has been since I felt like myself,
So long I have been what others needed me to be,
And now it's like being reborn,
To the man I could have been.
There is hope neath the pain,
In her voice, in her eyes,
There is strength that remains,
When all else is stripped away.
I cannot say where my road will lead,
Though history tells me I will take the hard one,
But hope springs like flowers along my path,
And her voice urges me on though my soul is weary.
Quincy Tatum
January 1, 2012
Saturday, December 31, 2011
From Beginning to End
Beginnings are easy to remember,
A look, a touch, a voice in the darkness,
The Moment you know,
And the Moment you act.
Beginnings are like turning on a light,
Inside your soul, inside your mind,
When you know that all before,
Was nothing compared to the moment you're in.
Endings are different,
Because they don't really exist,
We speak of them and determine their moment,
But it's a fools errand.
There is no ending to your story,
Happily ever after,
Or Tragedy eternal,
There is only time, which continues to pass.
There is only that feeling you can't shake off,
That where you are, you don't belong,
And as you wrack your brain,
There is nowhere you can imagine where you will.
You could be surrounded by loved ones,
And feel all alone,
You could stand beneath the stars above,
And only feel empty to your core.
There are no endings in life,
Only beginnings which are a flash of light,
That leaves a burn that never succumbs,
But aches forevermore.
I know not what lies beyond these moments,
Where we breathe in and out,
And go about our duties,
To life, to others, to time which has no foreseeable ending.
But what I know is that in the beginning there is light,
And understanding, and a feeling of belonging,
But the merciful ending never comes,
You simply look back, and see the tracks you have left which will be with you forever.
You pause and wait to see if it dissipates,
But it never does, it is with you always,
So you face ahead, take the next step,
And wait to begin again.
Quincy R Tatum
December 31, 2011
A look, a touch, a voice in the darkness,
The Moment you know,
And the Moment you act.
Beginnings are like turning on a light,
Inside your soul, inside your mind,
When you know that all before,
Was nothing compared to the moment you're in.
Endings are different,
Because they don't really exist,
We speak of them and determine their moment,
But it's a fools errand.
There is no ending to your story,
Happily ever after,
Or Tragedy eternal,
There is only time, which continues to pass.
There is only that feeling you can't shake off,
That where you are, you don't belong,
And as you wrack your brain,
There is nowhere you can imagine where you will.
You could be surrounded by loved ones,
And feel all alone,
You could stand beneath the stars above,
And only feel empty to your core.
There are no endings in life,
Only beginnings which are a flash of light,
That leaves a burn that never succumbs,
But aches forevermore.
I know not what lies beyond these moments,
Where we breathe in and out,
And go about our duties,
To life, to others, to time which has no foreseeable ending.
But what I know is that in the beginning there is light,
And understanding, and a feeling of belonging,
But the merciful ending never comes,
You simply look back, and see the tracks you have left which will be with you forever.
You pause and wait to see if it dissipates,
But it never does, it is with you always,
So you face ahead, take the next step,
And wait to begin again.
Quincy R Tatum
December 31, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
The 30 Inch Step
The 30 Inch Step
That is how I was trained,
left, right, left, right,
left, right, left.
And roll from the heal precisely,
To the toe,
So to be so silent,
That the even wind doesn't hear you coming.
So why do my feet feel so heavy,
On this Winters Eve,
Why does this stride so ingrained,
Seem futile in the gathering dusk.
Perhaps because I am no longer what I was,
When I was trained to march like a ghost,
Perhaps because though my boots are light,
My legs are heavy, like my soul.
Once upon a time when I spoke
I spoke from my heart,
And Once upon a time I did what was right,
Because it was as inseparable from me as my own soul.
But that seems long ago, and far away,
In my memory of myself,
And now those attributes seem to mean nothing,
And all the world is suspicious of such things.
The dusk is gathering outside,
And one thing has not changed,
I still walk as a ghost,
And I have remembered who I once was.
And so now I am caught,
In the space between being that ghost,
And being the man that I should have been
Before I became the man that I have lived as in the recent past.
I am caught because I cannot shake off the ghost,
And I cannot deny the speaking from the heart,
And I cannot deny the man who existed long ago is still here,
From before he became the 30 inch step.
Quincy R Tatum
December 28, 2011
That is how I was trained,
left, right, left, right,
left, right, left.
And roll from the heal precisely,
To the toe,
So to be so silent,
That the even wind doesn't hear you coming.
So why do my feet feel so heavy,
On this Winters Eve,
Why does this stride so ingrained,
Seem futile in the gathering dusk.
Perhaps because I am no longer what I was,
When I was trained to march like a ghost,
Perhaps because though my boots are light,
My legs are heavy, like my soul.
Once upon a time when I spoke
I spoke from my heart,
And Once upon a time I did what was right,
Because it was as inseparable from me as my own soul.
But that seems long ago, and far away,
In my memory of myself,
And now those attributes seem to mean nothing,
And all the world is suspicious of such things.
The dusk is gathering outside,
And one thing has not changed,
I still walk as a ghost,
And I have remembered who I once was.
And so now I am caught,
In the space between being that ghost,
And being the man that I should have been
Before I became the man that I have lived as in the recent past.
I am caught because I cannot shake off the ghost,
And I cannot deny the speaking from the heart,
And I cannot deny the man who existed long ago is still here,
From before he became the 30 inch step.
Quincy R Tatum
December 28, 2011
The Adventure
all my life is an adventure,
i go from one to the next,
sometimes intentionally,
sometimes inadvertantly.
i find myself now on a new adventure,
fighting the urge to turn to the last page of the
novel,
to see the ending be it happily ever after,
or broken hearted tragedy
who would have guessed that this adventure would be to find the person i truly am.
and that finding myself would mean finding someone else
so i am taking this new adventure,
perhaps my most important, most crucial
to my happiness and well being,
and to the life i dream of having
and so i sholder my load,
and march unto the breach,
but with hope and joy,
in this worn heart of mine.
i go from one to the next,
sometimes intentionally,
sometimes inadvertantly.
i find myself now on a new adventure,
fighting the urge to turn to the last page of the
novel,
to see the ending be it happily ever after,
or broken hearted tragedy
who would have guessed that this adventure would be to find the person i truly am.
and that finding myself would mean finding someone else
so i am taking this new adventure,
perhaps my most important, most crucial
to my happiness and well being,
and to the life i dream of having
and so i sholder my load,
and march unto the breach,
but with hope and joy,
in this worn heart of mine.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Revelations Path
I know where I have been,
And I know the things I have been witness to,
And I know what I am,
And what I am not.
And the path that leads through the dark and untrodden way,
Is the one I have always taken,
For better or worse
Not conciously knowing where it will lead.
Long ago I loved another,
Only for who they were,
Nothing More,
Nothing Less.
And I was loved in return,
Only for who I was,
Nothing More,
Nothing Less.
And as time passed,
And I found love in the arms of others,
There was something different,
Something that didn't match that early love.
Was it those whom I loved,
Who Loved me in Return,
Or was it me,
Had I changed with all that I had seeen and done?
The path seemed to become more difficult to navigate,
The tress closed in above,
The underbrush became tangled,
And fraught with thorns.
But Every now and again,
There would be a break in the trees,
And sunlight would bathe me,
In warmth and hope.
And one day I came clear of the forest path,
And I looked out and saw all the world before me,
But I was still cloaked in Darkness,
And the path split as it crossed the hills and valleys before me.
And one path was rocky and treacherous,
And the other was well worn and would have been easy to traverse,
And being what I am I took the treacherous path,
Though it was sure to present challenges.
So I took the treacherous path, and I often lose my footing,
I often tumble and do myself harm,
But I always regain my feet,
And march on as I always have.
And so this is the path you will find me on,
For Better or Worse,
And I know that along that path somewhere,
Is the someone who understands and will walk it with me.
QRT
December 23, 2011
And I know the things I have been witness to,
And I know what I am,
And what I am not.
And the path that leads through the dark and untrodden way,
Is the one I have always taken,
For better or worse
Not conciously knowing where it will lead.
Long ago I loved another,
Only for who they were,
Nothing More,
Nothing Less.
And I was loved in return,
Only for who I was,
Nothing More,
Nothing Less.
And as time passed,
And I found love in the arms of others,
There was something different,
Something that didn't match that early love.
Was it those whom I loved,
Who Loved me in Return,
Or was it me,
Had I changed with all that I had seeen and done?
The path seemed to become more difficult to navigate,
The tress closed in above,
The underbrush became tangled,
And fraught with thorns.
But Every now and again,
There would be a break in the trees,
And sunlight would bathe me,
In warmth and hope.
And one day I came clear of the forest path,
And I looked out and saw all the world before me,
But I was still cloaked in Darkness,
And the path split as it crossed the hills and valleys before me.
And one path was rocky and treacherous,
And the other was well worn and would have been easy to traverse,
And being what I am I took the treacherous path,
Though it was sure to present challenges.
So I took the treacherous path, and I often lose my footing,
I often tumble and do myself harm,
But I always regain my feet,
And march on as I always have.
And so this is the path you will find me on,
For Better or Worse,
And I know that along that path somewhere,
Is the someone who understands and will walk it with me.
QRT
December 23, 2011
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Solstice
The flame from my lighter is a hot wind in my face,
I take a long drag and let it go,
It is cold here, but not as cold as Korea in '97,
But cold biting through my thin night clothes.
I stare up past the skeletal limbs of the trees ,
Into a darkness filled with stars,
Stars you don't see in town,
They are reserved for the places that are dark themselves.
I wonder to myself,
What am I doing here really,
Just getting along, surviving day by day,
While out there the true me awaits rediscovery.
With Every drag on my cigarette,
I ponder whether to put it out,
And retreat back to the warmth of my quarters,
But I stay because to feel the cold outside is better than feeling nothing at all inside.
I have stopped trying to see the future,
And though I am always 3 moves ahead,
This Chess Game is already Checkmated,
Against me, I can feel it.
What brings us to these moments,
Love lost, greif, the ticking of a clock that isn't really there,
I stand and find myself as empty as I have been for years,
On a cold solstice night all alone.
Quincy R Tatum
December 22, 2011
I take a long drag and let it go,
It is cold here, but not as cold as Korea in '97,
But cold biting through my thin night clothes.
I stare up past the skeletal limbs of the trees ,
Into a darkness filled with stars,
Stars you don't see in town,
They are reserved for the places that are dark themselves.
I wonder to myself,
What am I doing here really,
Just getting along, surviving day by day,
While out there the true me awaits rediscovery.
With Every drag on my cigarette,
I ponder whether to put it out,
And retreat back to the warmth of my quarters,
But I stay because to feel the cold outside is better than feeling nothing at all inside.
I have stopped trying to see the future,
And though I am always 3 moves ahead,
This Chess Game is already Checkmated,
Against me, I can feel it.
What brings us to these moments,
Love lost, greif, the ticking of a clock that isn't really there,
I stand and find myself as empty as I have been for years,
On a cold solstice night all alone.
Quincy R Tatum
December 22, 2011
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