There is an Un rest in my soul that no amount of creativity seems to quiet
Its like a wind tunnel that never stops howling
An empty chamber
Sometimes its the Magic of the Flute
Sometimes a Gun Shot hole in the Heart
A 1,000 untold stories line its walls
Like hundreds of different furry animals
Each one hungry for its unique food
Each one liking to be pet its own way
A complex network of distinctive individual personalities somehow merging into my soul
Caught between todays waves and the shores of yesterday
A chimpanzee drinking a coconut down the coastline
Crying
Born with the Wisdom of Man
With out the ability to Express It!

One of the most precious gifts life has to offer is being seen. Holding space for someone or having space held for you. To travel into areas of the soul not touched often. However in order to witness and hold space for someone that takes more then book smarts. It takes knowledge of self, more so then you like the color blue or pink. Wisdom is the difference that separates the stupidity of trying to force your opinion into someone else's being. Strength in holding a mystical wall and being present to gods grace. The breaking down and rebuilding of another's insides, or the revealing and unmasking of our beautiful imperfections.
(C) Jack Roman

I am afraid of the vulnerability in my heart.
The pit of despair
Puzzle pieces that never seem to fit
A depth of sensitivity
Tennis balls being thrown into a wood chipper
Gun shots thru the heart
With out the mercy of death
Walls protect and walls isolate
Sometimes walls keep us sane
I don't have any answers, just more questions

There are many forms of loss
Certainly losing blood or kin among the highest
One must not underestimate the creeping and crippling losses that lay in the shadows
Promises
Friendships
Words spoken and not meant
These over time can wear away the strongest metals
Like a drop of water constantly dripping
Cutting in ways not noticed
Until ones foundation is weakened
Dying a death of a thousand cuts
Each one insignificant
No greater sorrow then the loss of magic in ones heart

Trying to build a home with an action
Taking a picture
Creating something artful
Writing a poem
Actions
Trying to create paths
For the Lava pouring out my chest
Blood dripping down my cheeks
Unrest inside seeking places and people to curl up with
A home or homes
There are many sub levels
Few ears are keen to tune in
Moisture builds
A glistening tear filled with silence
Empty swings
A deserted tree house
And a Lonely Dragon named Puff

I am irregularly shaped
You wont find a template
I’ll yell and howl at night just cuz I can
Long Hair
A breeze to caress it
Untamed Fire with a Lazer core
Rough around the Edges with Crystal Awareness
Crazy with a Zen garden
A Brute with a Stream of Elegance
Castles with Pools of Pudding
Meaning in a Pointless Forrest
A Dandelion in a field
Floating on a River of Lava
In a Race Car driving thru Space
While playing a melody on a flute
Do you hear the Cars Engine?
Do you hear the music?
A Rare few see my Heart
And know I am ME!

Pushing crumbs together
A lame attempt to make a pie
A couple of potential moments
Placing a few feel good bricks together
Creating a stair way out of a haunted pit
I thought the ground was solid
I thought the words were true
Crumbling under the weight of my dreams & desires
Cursing the Alluring Light
A mirage in the Desert of darkness
Choking on tears that never run
Falling deeper into the pit
Showered in a sea of broken bricks
Empty promises
I have built those stairs countless times before.
Allow my vision to be blocked
A coffin to rest in

At the end of the day what's left
A bottle of alcohol to squeeze a drop  of hope
In the morning a cup of coffee
Maybe find some heart to get up
Put one foot in front of the other
Looking back across the sands
Witnessing a long trail
A single set of prints
Designs drawn in the sand
The setting sun creating a friend to speak with
Darkness comes
Squeeze the sweat from my shirt
An ounce of water
Another step towards emptiness

(c) Jack Roman

Knocking on loves door
Who is there to answer
A phone ringing in the distance
An un answered call
Extending a hand for a handshake
To be met by space
Empty air
A hand closes anticipating a meeting
All that is left is a fist
To beat the walls
To shake at the heavens
Waving hands in the air
Attempting to feel space
If I wave fast enough I can almost "feel" something
If I try hard enough
Won't I be seen
Won't I be met
Can space be hugged?

All the world is the stage
Yet I often feel like a stage hand
Sweeping the floors
Setting lights & sound
Making it pretty for someone else's performance
Standing side stage
Watching the actors interact
Listening to the crowds applause
When the sun goes down the show is over
I gently pull the curtains closed
Admiring the beauty of a theater that doesn't speak my language