“Painting on the Wall”, “This Haunted Night”, “Bitter Fruit”

“Painting On The Wall” by Trevor Witt

Surreal paint swirling on the wall,
Before my eyes, I watch you fall.
Drops of dye lying on the floor,
To another world, you are my door.
Portal into dimensions unreal,
My imagination you unseal.
Colors flowing like rivers,
Textured, layered like sediment,
You are the gateway.
You are my opened eyes.

“This Haunted Night” by Trevor Witt

There is no end to this sleepless night.
There is no predestined end to this flight.
This bird migrates far beyond the realm of comfort.
This creature travels secretly to evade the jurisdiction of the heart’s court.

Tales of magic carpets and beasts, princesses and pirates,
Tales of sorcerers and witches, castles and dungeons,
Tease the bird, luring it away from its flock, and into the night sky alone,
Until the bird has given up the day, and all the light it has ever known.

The night breathes life into mystery,
Rekindling days burned and lost to history.
The spells of ancient wizards come to life,
And the demons awake to sow strife.

Zombies and gargoyles wander through the town,
Ghosts and vampires seduce every mortal around.
This haunted night dulls my senses, yet pierces my heart.
My nerves are frayed, my eyes are fried, and I am whole.

“Bitter Fruit” by Trevor Witt

Why do you torture yourself with fantasies?
Why do you imagine yourself in paradise?
The illusion of a place without problems is the source of your torment.
How are you unable to see that your challenges are heaven sent?
In order to make you stronger,
In order to make you wiser,
Struggles have been given to you by G-d.
So take the time to understand your puzzles.
Take the time to enjoy the pain.
For it is the bitter that makes the sweet
Fruits a delight to eat.

“Oh My Beloved”, “You Are My Universe”, “Addicted To Her Smile”, “A Man Before Your Eyes”

“Oh My Beloved” by Trevor Witt

Oh my Beloved,
My only desire is for your happiness.
The world carries me through chaos and tranquility,
But my heart is always at peace when my mind pictures your smile.
Your smile is the light that guides my days,
And the darkness which enables me to recuperate during my nights.
Oh my Beloved,
I would trade the stars for a glimpse of your smile.
Each hour that I toil is an hour of effort dedicated to your joy,
For you are a gift to all those around you,
And every second you exist brings songs to my heart.
So I humbly attempt to honor you by giving you gifts.
I seek other things too –
But all that I seek is only to sustain me physically.
Your smile is spiritual sustenance,
Like music or prayer.
All I seek beyond my sustenance is sought so that I may give it all to you.
My Beloved,
Please accept my gifts,
Though they are not extravagant.
If you should reject them,
All my treasures would be trash.
And if you should ever decide you do not want more gifts,
That too I would reluctantly give.
I will give you all that I can,
As your happiness creates happiness for me.

“You Are My Universe” by Trevor Witt

You are my universe.
Your smile is my sun.
Your eyes are my moons.
Your skin…
But you are not mine.  Rather, I am a part of your universe.  I am a planet orbiting your smile, entranced by your eyes, and in love with your gravity.  Your existence draws me continuously towards you.

“Addicted To Her Smile” by Trevor Witt

Addicted to her smile.
There are other beautiful girls,
But my eyes are in denial.
She is the cutest by far,
With a smile that shines as bright as a star.

“A Man Before Your Eyes” by Trevor Witt

Doctor, lawyer, marine, hipster,
Cool cat, in a two piece suit,
Hobo, in torn jeans and a t-shirt.
Clean shaven,
With a scraggly beard,
Two men,
Stand before your eyes,
So different from one another.

One man in a U.S. Army uniform,
Another dressed in traditional Pashtun clothing,
Stand before your eyes,
So different from one another.

One man,
Naked,
Stands before your eyes,
Simply a man.

 

“A Star Is Born”, “Masks”, “Puppy Love”, “Sunset Greets All”, “

“A Star Is Born” by Trevor Witt

Tomorrow,
That golden promise,
The day the wishing-well will prove its worth.

Love,
That shiny, glowing orb,
Radiating warmth and filling your head with endorphins.

Time,
Like water slipping through our hands,
Renewing us as long as we live, though we cannot grasp it.

My dusty dreams drift through the ether of the infinite,
Until they coagulate and stop the bleeding of my faith,
When they gravitate towards one another,
Building success upon small success,
Pulling distance towards the center,
They create a larger being,
The dream becomes real,
And a star is born,
Radiating Love.

“Masks” by Trevor Witt

Frowns,
Grins,
Smirks,
Raised eyebrows,
Open mouth, wide eyed, stare.

Masks which we use to convey
Our joy, our sorrow, our pain, our disgust,
Our surprise, our boredom, our interest, our lust.
Masks which we use to share our feelings with others.
Masks which we use to hide our true fears from them.

Not separate from our being,
But part and parcel of our body,
Our masks become our selves.
So take care to smile every once in a while,
For it would be a shame to turn into your frown.

“Puppy Love” by Trevor Witt

I’m tired of playing the victim.
And I’m tired of being your fool.
Though the pickings are slim and life is grim,
I am tired of you being cruel.

It started several years ago,
When you knew you had my heart.
Now the time has come to let you go,
And get me a brand new start.

Now I ain’t waiting around no more,
While you flirt with other guys.
It hurt me more than you’ll ever know,
But now I see through your disguise.

Now I’ve got a new best friend,
A girl whose love will never end.
She kisses me every time I get home,
And cries whenever I leave her alone.

She loves when I pet her,
And begs me to to feed her.
She licks my face all the time,
God I am glad that this sweet, little puppy is mine.

“Sunset Greets All” by Trevor Witt

The sun rises slowly,
Over Tehran and Jerusalem the same.
The birds begin to chirp,
People rise from their slumbers.
Off to work, they go.

Flowers bloom quietly,
In the cracks of the sidewalk,
In the yards and the gardens,
In front of houses and behind them.

Roses, birds of paradise, tulips outside.
I keep my orchids indoors.

The Jacaranda tree witnesses people pass by.
The orange trees see hurried travelers scurry to their destinations.

The sun goes down,
After shining upon Russians and Ukrainians alike,
After warming the beaches and the deserts,
The mountains and the valleys.

Sunset greets all.

 

 

“Dull Days of Uncertainty”, “The Gritty Inch”, and “The Possible Dream”

“Dull Days of Uncertainty” by Trevor Witt
I came searching for answers.
I came searching for control.
But I only found uncertainty.
I only found risks.

I can not see too far ahead.
I can not see beyond the fog.
I can not see the sun before it rises.
A myriad of choices changes my course,
And I must choose how to correct,
And in which direction I would like to travel.

Many ups and many downs,
And many dull days,
Fill my journey.
Dull, dreary days.
But that is part of the journey.
Sometimes, completing the boring tasks is the adventure.

“The Gritty Inch” by Trevor Witt
The gritty inch.
The dirt underneath your fingernails,
Accumulates as you crawl towards your destination.

Your legs have given out.
Your stomach is cramping due to hunger.
But your mind is transfixed on pushing forward.

Just one more inch.
One more gritty, grimy, uncharted inch.
You have strayed off the beaten path, but you know the way forward.

The gritty inch.
The hardest part of the journey.
When your whole body aches and breathing is tiresome.

One deep breath after another,
One elbow in front of the other,
One muddy inch after another muddy inch.

Finally, you are home,
At the end of the path you have created,
Bruised and exhausted, bleeding and dehydrated.
You have traveled mile after mile, inch after gritty inch.

“The Possible Dream” by Trevor Witt
There is no option but success.
There is no dream but the dream that can be achieved.

There is no time for complacency.
There is no time for dilly dallying.

There are no obstacles, only disguised opportunities.
There are no opponents, just those traveling in a different direction with different stories.

You are the instrument of your success.
You are your own salvation.

Reach inward, reach deep.
Reach for the seeds of success.
Sow those seeds, and reap their rewards.

Toil, toil, toil, toil,
Strive for perfection,
Struggle to be your best self.
Then you will truly succeed at whatever you do.

“Poem Before Bed”, “How Democracy Dies”

“Poem Before Bed” by Trevor Witt

I wish I could just pour it out onto the page in one graceful, eloquent puddle of meaning.
I wish I could say exactly what I mean and not have to choose between words,
Rather letting them come to me, flowing like a river downstream,
Carrying pebbles of wisdom, and loving, nourishing words of water.
But sadly, my words do not flow like a rushing river.
They do not gently swim into my head and onto the page,
Like fish traveling with the current.

I wish I could just tear out my soul and put it on paper,
I wish I could read from my heart,
But I am left thinking, pausing, contemplating,
Every frus-tra-ting word,
Every simple thought,
Making it more complex than it needs to be,
Thinking about how everyone else will judge it,
Fearing what one person might say or think,
Because my judgments are not good enough,
My judgments carry no weight.
I am no success story.
I am no masters student.
I am no credentialed teacher.
I am just a guy, just twenty-six,
Working in a coffee shop,
Trying my best, just to get by.
I am no hero of an epic poem,
I am no wizard with the written word.
I am no silky, smooth poet,
Who lets his words drop heavy like bombs,
And yet gently like rain.

I am just a kid,
Who overthinks,
Every,
Little,
Thing.

So, now you know.
Now you know why I am quiet.
Now you know why I just can’t say everything I mean.
I prefer careful calculations,
Due to fear
Of being misunderstood,
And out of love,
For the slight nuances in meaning
Each word brings to the table.
I wish I could just spill my guts,
But it’s so juvenile,
So high school,
So over the top,
Even though, sometimes,
I feel that, if I don’t spill,
I will blow my top.

So I hope you understand,
That, as a man without a plan,
There is no way for me to command,
What I say now or what might come next,
I am not trying to write jibber jabber or a disclaimer,
But I just want you to do me this little favor.
Please, please, please don’t judge me by this one poem,
Because it is not my best, it is not my worst.
It was just something that I had to do,
To get off my chest,
So that I could rest.
And I couldn’t care less if it fails your test,
Because this one is for me.


“How Democracy Dies”
by Trevor Witt

Naval ships,
Like pieces on a chessboard,
Advance the objective,
To maintain power over the adversary.
Dueling claims in the South China Sea,
Buildup in the Persian Gulf,
Conflicts around the bend.

In Ukraine,
Corrupt presidents overthrown,
“Trouble makers” taking over buildings,
Troop amassing at the border,
Special forces clearing areas of protesters and “provocateurs”,
Terrorists – acting only in the interests of some opponent whose only motivation is to oppose,
And freedom fighters – acting only to defend their freedom from some enemy whose only motivation is to take away their freedom.

Governments and politicians –
Whose job descriptions include maintaining order –
Vie for the sacred title of the “strongest”,
Wrangle over media coverage offering different points of view,
Wrestle and jockey with each other for position,
As each one knows, only they can provide real security.
Each one comes up with innovative ideas for the defense of the homeland,
As the enemy constantly evolves, designing more complex threats to overcome better defenses.

“We will crush them!”
The leader vows.
“We will wipe them off the face of the earth!”
He says, to the thundering applause of the masses.

“They are threatening your brothers, your sisters, your sons, and your wives!”
Shouts the leader.
“They hate us and are threatening our way of life,
They want to take our land and our resources.
There is no room in their narrative for us.
They will take everything they can,
All we can do is kill them,
If only there was another way!
But there is not!
We are being forced to do this!
We must defend ourselves!”
Declares the leader self-righteously.
The crowd agrees.

No one dares question the leader.
They are in power and have access to secret information.
They know all the threats that we face and deal with challenges we can only dream of.
How can any logical person question a state apparatus which has millions of people behind it?

Does the individual think that he or she knows better than millions?

This is how democracy dies.