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The Rainstorm

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As I stood under your streetlight

Your pelting streams cut through the reflection

And burnt my eyes with imagination

For every ray of success

Was a puddle of failure

I can’t imagine holding the expectation of success

When disappointment has cut the deepest of scars

And I’ve touched them often

The buffet has fed the masses

When the belly has gone hungry

As the vision has heeded such beauty

The grief has caused me to succumb, and I let you go

The future will tell the tale and become the imagination of the next generation

of those who dream big and are willing to fail

Acceptance is the liberty of all possibility

I hold you up to the light and let you go with no expectations

As I stand in the rainstorm of life,

Failure is a beautiful gift and I thank you

The world is changed as a result

Carl Meadows

November 1, 2015

Looking for me

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In a sex induced culture and in a long term relationship it can feel at times like you are missing out. Particularly when you are questioning your beauty as you are getting older. This poem captures the essence of feeling confused and the possibilities that comes with a new way of “kicking the door down to finding yourself”.

Looking for me

So many images with faces like me,

How are they different; what makes them unique

I see them sitting with friends that they know,

Laughing and drinking with their arms all in tow

I want to be like them, whatever that is

I was like them once, and never let anyone in

I can’t imagine they want to spend time with me

Over forty and not twenty

Monogamous and hitched

In a culture of sex, what could be worse than this?

Where are my friends, I wonder, do I push the away

Do I fear them finding out I’m insecure and afraid

I’ll make sure I ‘m smiling or traveling in style

So a visual shell covers the insecurity for a while

I wonder if they notice the wrinkles on my face

The imperfect teeth or my imperfect ways

Am I even relevant with all the beautiful men?

It’s hard to feel like a 5 amongst such perfect 10’s

How can they look as good as they do

What haven’t I done to be a good as you?

I’ll have the best parties and invite everyone I know

Just to make me feel better, that I’m not all alone

I’ll facebook some photos to look really cool

I’ll crop them all up, so others will want to be like me too

As I look at my images it becomes clear to see

I am looking through a persona in order to find me

I wonder if they’d notice if I slipped away

Never to return, or grace the planet again

Would they send me a note, a tweet or a poke?

Would they cry at my funeral or to busy to go?

My perfect life is anything but,

As I struggle for acceptance like everyone else

All I want to be, is the man of me dreams

I’ll continue wondering if I’ll ever find me

Carl Meadows Jr.

September 12, 2010

The Promissed Land

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As a stood before you, I knew it was a long way to the promised land

I believe it existed, as I had seen it in my dreams so many times, like a kaleidoscope that suddenly stops moving; clarity

As I looked out to the flock, I knew there were so many hearts like mine and the power of feeling loved was deep

The sceptics were amongst us and the critics had yet to show their sharp and piercing teeth

The path to the place of solace and peace would be long and trying for even the toughest of man

The dust cut my skin like a plague of termites and the thirst of hunger and air was more than one could endure

The vision was clear and the purpose was solid; the cracks on my feet cut with each step

As the enduring ache ensued, I though of you and closed my eyes; I was pulled forward with the hope of tomorrow

As all the days before the many yesterday’s had left a trail of broken dreams

As I took the last step over the hill and saw the beauty of the promised land, I realized then, I had been here once before

Carl Meadows

August 9, 2015

Playground

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I believe in life, many of our adult struggles and pain come from the metaphor of the playground. This is a poem that captures that primal need to belong and the ache that ensues when we get left behind.

Playground

As I stood against the shimmering sky, I waited for you, as if you were the most important moment of my becoming

I waited in anticipation of the laughter and the belonging, that comes with a moment on the swings

The running around the bushes and the counting to ten, as everyone scatters and hides

The climbing of the poplars and the pretending that comes when you are standing on the top of the world, as the rooftops appear like doll houses

The feelings that come with belonging to something bigger than ourselves and the proud elation that happens as the stories of the playground make us worthy

As I sat on the tidder todder, it became apparent, that I was alone and there would be no saviour to elevate me. Emotions felt like a hundred arrows

Was the invitation to the playground a ploy to watch me sit at the brunt of giggles and sneers. Was I the only one who missed the joke?

I sat by myself for what felt like days, as the setting sun hit my brow and I knew it was time to pull myself from the aftermath of aloneness

I walked home with my empty handed memories, and I knew that the playground, would now be forever, an eternal ache as I walked home alone with a throat sore, from swallowing so many tears

I knew then, in the playground of life, I would never wait again

Carl meadows

July 15, 2015

The Last Page

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As I sat with the notes in front of me, I trembled to turn the last page

Knowing there was nowhere else to go, the ink would soon run it’s course

The fear of forgetting the past or at worst, forgiving the path travelled to arrive at tomorrow’s yesterday; I closed my eyes

As that single tear, cut a path down my war lines of wear and age, I realized the magnitude of moving forward

The final chapter would be closed forever; it will be for the rest of man to open her page long after my demise

I touched the ink to the page and the solemn tear dripped from my chin and I smiled, as I knew this time had arrived a long time ago

It was the waiting that caused me to ache, as I wrote the final word “goodbye” and closed the page for eternity, never to wonder again

Carl Meadows
July 10, 2015

Poem: The Space Between Us

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Sometimes in life, emotions and love sneak up on you and all of a sudden we are staring fear in the face. There are many cross roads in love, and all of a sudden we have to make heart wrenching decisions and sometimes we knew from the first kiss that love was doomed but we needed it in that moment.

The Space Between Us

Lying so close, I couldn’t tell whose heart was beating louder

Whiskers scraping the surface, feelings dredging the depths

You are my kryptonite, taking all my vulnerabilities I had left

Why was the untalking so intense, was the space between us so unfamiliar,

Did we want to say something but couldn’t, because emotions were foreign?

Was my embrace not big enough; is my love not recognizable, am I missing some obvious signs?

When I saw you the second time, a cavernous ravine opened up in front of me

Did I find my Holy Grail, or a wound from my past that couldn’t heal?

The stronger the love the deeper the hurt; were you and I meant to meet?

If we shouldn’t follow where the path may lead; what if we hold each other’s compass?

Are you the mirage I’ve been desperately searching for my whole life; like an insatiable thirst while lost at sea?

Or are you the balm to cover my wounds?

When you told me of another, my tears burned like acid rain

You saw my eyes well up, could you even care?

My father said, you feel to heal and tell to get well

Why do my feelings ache so much under your spell?

Is this the one lesson wise men need to learn; vulnerability as a right of passage to become the noble man, if so, please spare me the pain of it all

The space between us is tender, will you love me and let me be the man that I am

Or will you fear to love me and set me free?

If your ransom had a price, would you name it, so I could be part of your life?

As I dove inside you, I lost myself in passion,

I didn’t want to ever come up for air, as we shared each other’s breath

Do you truly care about me or am I just another man with space in between?

Will I be the man of your dreams, or an illusion you wish for, as you fall asleep?

The space between us is all that it is, as I look to the future and wonder what lives

As I look to you and hope to find me, I wonder if I am the one who will set you free?

I wonder if I am getting closer to you, even for a second, a minute, an hour or two

I wonder if you can be closer to me; you are the part of me I wish I didn’t need

If love is forever, your heart will always remember

Lying so close, I couldn’t tell whose heart was beating louder

Your breath, your tight hold, your deep kiss told me that I already knew.

Carl Meadows, June 24, 2013

Poem: Jumping on the Rocks

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Jumping on the rocks

Here’s a wee tale about me as a boy,

I dreamed of flying but my mother warned

That I would scrape my head or end up dead

But in the end, I played in puff the magic dragon instead

There came a time where I had to say good bye,

To friends I had, adventures I made;

off to a new journey in a land far away

My hands broke way, to the friends I had made

I dreamed real big as I left my spot,

Jumping and singing, of to the next rock

My hands broke way, to the friends I had made

But I looked to the next and I could see my dreams far away

As I jumped on the rocks, with my biological clock,

I could hear the ticking and my skin began shrinking

My dreams not far away, what could I say?

Jumping on the rocks, leaving the past

Creating space for tomorrows dreamers

Adding new rocks to the river

as I create a new path

As my hands break away, what can I say?

Goodbye is not forever, as time passes on the clock

I’ll be waiting to see you smiling

Jumping on the rocks

Carl Meadows, March 2009

Poem: The last note

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If you were saying goodbye to someone you loved deeply and knew it was possibly the last time you would see them in your lifetime, what would you say?

The Final Note

As I sat down to write a final note, I wondered what to say

Fearing each written line would pull me further away

Thinking if I wrote what I wanted to say, you would stay for eternity

My written thoughts would be prolonged till the ink disappeared

I stared across the landscape, my emotions felt heavy

The last leaf torn away, from the tangled branch to hang still and empty

The time of fullness had passed in all its glory

Does the word forever have any meaning?

Knowing my heart will always remember

Was it enough to sustain me?

Will the memory fill me with warmth, when I am feeling cold?

Is it the last time, the last tear, or the forever in that last kiss?

Did the words “I love you” ever make it to your soul?

The invisibleness of knowing what forever was

The touch of your skin, your smile, your love

As I turn the last page of the diary, it ends as it began,

With a simple “I love you”.

Carl Meadows

March 12, 2015

Poem: The illusion of masculinity

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The illusion of masculinity

Surfacing from the ashes, my stubble and mustache appeared

Once a secret only known to me, I could now become whole and complete as I showed my masculine prowess

Sculpted with muscles and a scent of musk, my hunger gripped me like a mirage; eating through the eyes of lust was an ultimate betrayal

The power I felt knowing I was wanted, superseded the wisdom it took to be a man

All I could do was imagine the possibility of shaking the male world into submission

The ultimate image of power and confidence a few feet in front of me

I reached into my leather sack and pulled out the most threatening weapon of all

I placed them on my feet and walked amongst the crowds

My masculinity caused a severe vulnerability amongst men

The heals would threaten the most iconic images of manhood

As I lifted my head amongst such fascination and distain, I rose above them all; I turned my head and walked into the future

The illusion of masculinity was left behind like shrapnel

I turned around and smirked as I became the most powerful of them all

My heals cut through the dirt like one thousand blades

I didn’t turn around, as there was only possibility in front of me

The liberation of all to see

The facades of men were left behind, as they consumed their time grooming what was only temporary

At the flick of a razors edge, would deflate the mightiest

The illusion of masculinity crumbled under my feet, as I stepped over each one of them

Carl Meadows

February 9, 2015

Poem: Mother

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Posted with permission.

As I prepare to give my mom her 7 year sobriety cake on Tuesday evening, I wanted to share one of my most personal poems. I asked my mom if I could share the poem I wrote her after her first year when she was presented with her medallion and she said yes.

Mother

As a little boy you held my hand

You protected me fiercely

You took a stand

As a sensitive child you wiped my face

From the tears of discrimination

That my spirit couldn’t face

You held me up for the world to see

Loving me as I was

You saw the beauty in me

Over the years, the spirit became poisoned

By the drink of choice

Despite the warning voices

My child inside wanted to curl up and die

As any evening with the drink

would be soon be filled with lies

I let down my mom

What a terrible son

Could you not see it coming?

Was the rant I kept running.

Not from a judgmental son

But from a place of missing my mom

As time whispered by

the tears wept dry

until the moment in time

when you were all alone

Bleeding, hurting, dying

Maybe not this time

The fall on your head

Was a gift you said

As you are standing here today with your cake, all but alone

It has finally occurred to me

My mom has come home

Carl Meadows

February 3, 2009