Erosion

Friends live like changing seasons

emotions show from hot to cold

and with each turn of the tides

no one knows what’s truly hidden inside.

Friends die like changing seasons

from hot to cold their bodies go

that’s how one knows the love was shallow

and all that was – was truly hallow.

No one would ever really say so.

Just float lies like ice cold snow,

Till hearts thawed and softened,

springing fourth flowers forgotten.

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Cold Echo’s

I dread the silent echo’s of mourned pains,

reverberating against the cool winds of fall.

I walk alone under early, inky black sky’s

breathing heavily – the smell of earthly decay.

The time has come to labor toward happiness

for a dreary, dark season looms.

Who can beat the devil when  frozen cold?

Death may become intoxicating but I’ve found a way

of escaping. Maybe not just yet,

but when the time is right, I’ll lead – be the light

and remember what it meant to truly fight –

if only I did not dread the silent echo’s of mourned pains,

reverberating against the cool winds of fall.

quick post

I feel this urgency to continue to push against the darkness. It rises up in chaos and fury.  Still the things I run from are clinging to my back.  Continue to try to reach out to those who’ve been left standing on the other side of a burnt bridge.

Continuously wonder why we chase after empty, hallow loves and lusts. Still hungry and only getting angrier.

We saw the monster yesterday – the mask of the man melted away, revealing the truth.

The only way to kill these kinds of monsters is to starve them. We must stop feeding them.

Running out of time again… push forward

A little bit of remorse

Well, school started today for those heading back to Grant Macewan. Congratulations to all who made it through the first year and onto the second. I wish I could be there with you. More than anything right now, thats what my heart wishes for, and for that matter, misses.  Evidently, even by writing about it first, its just there, top of my mind, in my thoughts – has me feeling a tad bit remorseful.

My actions last year were poor. Wasn’t quite sure at what point I started playing games, but I seemed to be the only one who lost in the end. Most definitely uncool.  I still feel apologetic, but have already said my sorry’s. Those who have wanted to remain my friends have made an evident show of this, and not surprisingly… they are all males – perhaps saying something.

In any event… I have vowed to go back to Grant Macewan as I will one day have, a writing degree. After I initially did this, I thought – hell, why not masters? Go to London, pursue that dream. I still remember the remark my prof made, that I could possibly be a teacher if I pursued it.

That is a dream indeed – a dream and a half – and I’d be starting about four years late(r) than most. Still, it is my passion and my dream all the same, and not taking any steps toward it, leaves me unsatisfied, yearning to be learning. heh.

I look around, see my peers flying on ahead. I see those who got an early start and how far they’ve gone – and I’m envious. I’d love to be right, next to them, moving forward. But here I am, sidelined, wishing those who can go forward, good luck and that they do well. And every time I do, a tinge of remorse for not having done better last year.

Oh well. That was then. Here I am today. I’ve learned. We take that, re-apply it, and try again. Ill never have anyone say, I didn’t try, and try again.

but for some trees to grow, to stand out from the forest, they must grow, apart  from the thick of the rest

Weighed and Ranked

Theaters – The foreground of life / sometimes

Creates strife – rife rationalities clash / War

with words and not fists – to be heard

but I fear all I hear -from you my peer –

is  scrabble babble / you plotting desperately

To solve a puzzle / muzzled words/ Mushes them  like curds

turn sour, our thoughts / our argument/ a war fought

You underestimate me and still refuse to be nothing

but pretentious, sickening, festering infectious with ill

thought truths/ thats why in the end- you’ll lose.

Virtuous Love

Waking from dreams to another day, it’s dull,
And I’m distant in lands of thought.
Flickering from the night are visions of your beautiful face.
A sense of something missing, something lost – lingers.
Time seems to have slipped away again.
And once again I am lost and yearning to be close to you.

I want to know what it’s like to be with you.
To be the one privileged to walk by your side,
To know the tender touch of your delicate hands,
To feel your sweet and passionate embrace.

I desire to make such thoughts a wondering no more.
But how to cross that fragile line that separates two souls.
Do I dare spit out all my nonsense as if to have it make sense?
No bother, for sifting my words reveals nothing,
But poor excuses for opportunities missed.

And what of my words that have gone before?
Charming trespasses – if nothing more than mere words.
I still hope to prove that they were not empty.
For you truly are the one that has captured my heart,
And I feel there is none other worth pursuing.
But I am struggling to scale a wall of fear built of what ifs’.

I’ve never before been faced with such feelings,
Completely overwhelmed with fear and paralyzed in my mistakes.
I’m always ignoring the unction to let loose my lips,
And simply say what it is I feel for you.

To me you seem so pure and beautiful,
I can think of countless reasons why you’d look right through me.
Yet still this urging in me, that I can no longer ignore,
Provoking me to cross the line – to simply say
I love you.

An overwhelming statement to receive and to even state;
I wonder if I even understand the depths of what I’m saying.
Can I communicate that clearly without being overpowering?
How do I explain that I love you in the purest ways?

I admire your gentleness and look up to your strength.
Your spirit is vastly beautiful and I love your personality
Your smile alone lights my face,
Never mind the affects of how pretty you are.
I am in awe of you.

And thus why I must chase, ‘till I cannot anymore,
The dream, the possibility, the small chance,
That I could be the one to be with you;
Hoping to know what it’s like to not just love,
But to be in love with you

Ron Bergquist
June 5th 2009

Honest Declaration

Secular voices booming,
deafening me with ill wisdom
To say what is and what is not,
what is right or wrong.
To be swayed by the majority
the popular vote of reason.
To be logical and full of sense,
to me, makes no sense;
A frustrating barrier
that defies the programming of my essence.

I want to live free,
in my thoughts, in my speech
To let loose the simplicities of truth
spoken from my heart.
Though always struggling
with the complexity there-in.
Wondering if a mere mortal man
can be trusted for his word.

And I, no great counsel,
for no greater fool, do I truly know
than I,
This is to say I know my mistakes;
To point out the flaws of another is simply hypocritical.
I humbly accept that,
Yes, I am a fool, though one that is
Trying his hardest to overcome odds beset in motion by fate.

For in that, ones fate,
is defined by his past.
And my past,
a vast array troublesome times
Sometimes dictates that my actions contradict my thoughts,
My heart, the very core of who I am,
of who I was meant to be
And thus an illogical equation of actions,
Equaling the man I have come to be.
For in me one will find the contradiction
of habit and addiction,
Fighting furiously against
the possibility of a man with a destiny.

For all my smoothed tongued words, I’d speak
Convince the masses
I was a better man than the average.
But would be found a liar,
and a hypocrite
And thus you will find in me,
a testament to darker days lived.
The honesty of a mere man,
Simply spelling out,
the condition of the human heart,
The struggles faced.

And in the end knowing
the struggle of good and evil,
If I have done wrong, I’ll give
No excuses for mistakes made,
no cop-outs for opportunities missed,
For in the end all I will hear
Is the deafening silence,
assuring me that my mistakes
are no-ones by my own.

Ron Bergquist
June 6th 2009