Eddie Rodgers

What ever came of that broken heart that so many of us have come to know? That haunted us for years and just wouldn’t seem to let go. Like a shadow, it followed us, and like a nightmare it entered our head to a point where sleeping became a problem, and you would stay up all night in bed.

What came to this broken heart that love was newly defined, to something so opposite we didn’t want to let it enter our mind. Did it go away with the season, turn right around and come back for a new reason? Or did it go away today just to come back in the month of May? Did it leave our mind just to come back in another time, or did it go, to a place where we could neither imagine nor know? What came of this broken heart that I often called mine, I believe it was never broken it was just me being blind.
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I have come to a conclusion from the result of having my heart taken toyed with and tore. That to a pain unsettled and undying in me that I couldn't sit away to collect dust and ignore that thru the mist of pain joys of wonders to the tops of The Himalayas to the miles of The Great Wall Of China, or from the crushing waves of the sea, everybody yes every body whether it be you, her next to you, or even me, and we weren't sure and the pain came to be much more, has been hurt at least a time or two unfortunately before.

Like a shell upon a beach with waves and tides that build and roar, for once or twice it has been washed or thrust against the un grasping insensitive shore.
So once or twice ill be destined to be hurt a time or two more, there upon the shore exclaiming, crying out, and gasping, “I can take not a bit of pain more”.
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Traced foot prints have marked my journey through life in the beaches
running grains of sand, for roaring were the tides of memories holding the tales
of how I had come to be measured as a man.
From the fields of South Carolina to the more recent Florida lands, I
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Within my emotions I could have never imagined this slip and fall of the very break of loves passion that would never come again devastating as it turned away from all, of the very air my lungs would so crave to grip, or from the goblet of love that my hands would dip, and then lips take a sip.
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Come to me at your weakest when there seems to be not a bit more of energy that can be zapped, tore, or desecrated from your perished soul. When your knees and legs can no longer support the weight of the world as theybend from the burdens of others so therefore I can take you in with all of the sins that life has handed out and given to those of the weakened heart and clense my loves pain away.
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Hello there distant poet from far across the world, to the eyes of a standing man, to the heart and ears of a young beginning poet girl, to those that sit by the sea wishing they could catch and ride the waves, to a place they want to be, for this is their heart filled crave, to the pages of books and from inquisitive looks, to pictures in magazines, to the flickering images lit there upon your favored computer screen.

I ask, when your alone have you wondered of the works of one another that we shared, the thoughts we have compared and think what they truly mean, and the site of each others faces that so many times we have pictured in our minds and dreams, but have never really seen. Could we ask what to this world does our talent seem to bring, are we just substitutes in place of hearing angels here on earth sing, or is it the way that we express these thoughts and words what seem to be what wipes our minds clean, of the wasteful use, that burdens them of mental insanity abuse or is it here to be expressed by worse, because this talent that’s said to be a blessing in disguise is really a poisonous curse. Were we destined to know each other from the opening of our eyes at the first site of birth, or meant to only hear of each others thoughts and accomplishments as they came to everyone else here on the planet we call home but is known as earth.
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Do I weep, Do I weep of the visions that I do desperately seek, or do I weep from all the nightmares that come to me while I sleep.

Do I weep, Do I weep of all the things I cant do, or do I weep of the lies I have been told that wont ever come true.
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