Life is, as is Time

The time goes down

The age goes up
Neither to be stopped
Yearnings to be found
Plans to be made
What is it missing
The timeline of life
Time never ends yet always begins
No time is wasted in life, only choices made
Why regret
Why stress
When the decision is life
Every instantaneous still of life's path is beautiful in itself 
For life is not determined in our decisions, life is lived
Lived between
Lived before 
Lived after
Lived through
Life is simple
Why consider life to be past, present or future
Life is not but what it is
The course of our adventure in the limited perpetualance of time
Life is relationships
Life is mistakes
Life is accomplishments
Life is pain
Life is sorrow
Life is all that can be
Ones purpose is to be their life
To see all that there is to see
In every image
In every heart 
In life
While our limited, enigmatically wondrous gift of life is given to us
We must
Author's Notes/Comments: 

First draft

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2013 Thru These Old Eyes

Thru These Old Eyes

Rob Boyte

December 8, 2013


Thru these old eyes

Looking at you

So young and fresh

I forget my own age.

Forget wrinkled loose skin

And thin grey hair.


Thru these old eyes

I see only your youth,

Your smooth supple skin

Over firm strong muscles

Thick hair on your head

And a hairless chest.

White teeth as your lips part

In a disarming smile

And the sparkle in your own

Young eyes.


Thru these old eyes

Looking at you

I see the beauty that was

And long to touch it anew.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Again, just feelings expressed as poetic prose, my being enamored of young men.

(The last stanza rhymed accidentally)

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I Wish I Could Stop Myself From Getting Any older

I wish I just could

Stop myself from

Getting any older.


Remeber when my dad

Would push me off 

So I could ride

My bike.


Or when my mom

Would show me

How to read on those 

Warm summer nights


And all the roads

We traveled down

To see the things

I dreamed about


Oh I wish just could

Stop myself from

Getting any older.


One day I could find a

Love and we could

Start it over


And maybe we could

See are selves

When we were that much young.


And I know just can't

Stop myself from

Getting any older


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Growing Up

Reminiscing about the past,

How it tends to last,

The memories of our days,

Spent living them away.

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I'm not to young





Love, people say I’m too young to know what it is

I say it doesn’t matter your age it matters the person and that person is you

I love you through the storms and droughts

I love you when you don’t and when you do

I love you when we argue when we agree

Even if I am 70 years old or just 5

No matter what we go through no matter what I do

I love you,



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The City

As you glide through.
Alone; You're suffocating. 
Drowning in this sea of chaos.
Reach out to them-
Your Audience?
Feelings of unimaginable lost-
From people you don't even know.
Scream- Your lungs are golden harps.
Stroke the roots of trees-
Your burgundy DNA-carries on.
But, this is your dilemma.
I hope it makes you tremor.
For your words go unspoken.
Unheard to the masses.

And when your world turns to black,
From everything you lack.
Just quote to them from books you read-
How to think and how to be.
For you're safe.
In these age stained pages.
These wood creaking closets
Cradle your precious scapegoats. 
You exhale with every turned page.
Keeps you from stalking the studded streets.
Visible by flickering lights.

You lie awake for years-
So synthetic.
Your eyes scream for something-
More epic.
All your fears are multiplied.
But your life becomes more defined-
At the age of twenty-nine.
So sleep.
Continue to sweep these New York streets.
Your city. Your nightmare. 

Flames Of Youth

Stacking splinters in the skin, 

Pervasive shards to chase the heart,


While vinyl drips into the air

Warren Zevon

Werewolves in the night

Animalistic pleasures

poured thick with the poison

We are fallen gods,

ancestors of Prometheus rediscovering fire

just to set the city ablaze

Acoustic tunes strum the shadows,

forcing the flickering souls to dance

And the fire burns

Red, White and Young

In spite of the ageing darkness




Author's Notes/Comments: 


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A Fight For August

Short Stories

My hands have a bluish tint to them thanks to the cold and I can barely feel the homemade cigarette between my fingers. Laurie is lying next to me on the large, scratchy blanket slowly puffing on hers. She learned to make them with tea from a Youtube video. They’re not half bad but she looks better smoking them than I do.

   I turn over onto my back and rest my face against her shoulder.

     “Ya know, this would be a very movie-like situation if we weren’t turning into giant icicles,” I say as I stare at the quivering stars.

   Laurie laughs too loud and covers her mouth. We both quickly look over at her house to make sure no one woke up.

“Jordan, look it’s a shooting star.” She points to the sky, her cig leaving behind twirly trails of smoke.

I grab her freezing hand in mine and smile. I close my eyes and take a deep breath of icy air.

     “What did you wish for?” I ask her. I hold my cigarette between my forefinger and my thumb.

     “That we won’t get caught.”

     “What? Smoking or running away?” I turn to face her.

     “Running away,” she says. “Have you figured out where you want to go? We can’t stay in one spot, but we’ll still go to L.A.”

I roll over onto my stomach and pick at a splinter in my thumb.

     “I’ve been thinking, and I don’t think we should go through with it. It’s not worth the punishment. I mean, our parents would never trust us again. It wouldn’t be a big deal if we were gonna run away for forever, but we’re coming back. And I’m sure they’d find us anyway.”

I don’t look at Laurie as she sits up and stares at me.

     “Jordan, you can’t be serious. I need this. We need this,” she says. She cranes her neck to try and get me to look at her.

I don’t.

     “Fine. I’ll go alone.”

Is she serious, right now? I can’t believe her. Always the drama queen.

I don’t say a word but breathe in the bitter smoke from my cig and blow it out through my teeth.

     “Well, some friend you are. I guess I see your true colors now. I thought you cared, Jordan. I guess I was wrong.” She tucks her legs up to her chin and places her crossed arms on top of them.

I roll my eyes underneath my fringe.

     “I do care, Laurie. It’s just that I’m not willing to risk my freedom for temporary freedom. And what would we even be able to do? We’re 15 not 21.”

     “That’s why we’ll bring Devon. He’s 20.”

     “He won’t come. And, dude, that might be illegal. He could get in trouble for running away with a couple of minors.” I stand up and stomp on the butt of my cigarette with my boot. “And since he won’t come we can’t go because he’s the one that drives.”

    “I’ll be able to drive in a few months, legally that is.”

     “Then fine. Go alone. Suit yourself.” I stand up and adjust my cookie monster beanie that I borrowed from Laurie’s younger brother. “Life isn’t as bad as you think, ya know? All you can do is create great moments like these ones and make sure reality’s not allowed in for a little while. I hope you have fun. See you in the morning.” I lean down and kiss her head.

I climb down the ladder and smile at her.

She doesn’t smile back.

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I cannot remember a time when my youth was untouched by the waves of reality.

I cannot recall ever playing in the sand building monuments of splendor.

But most of all, I do not remember any kiss on the forehead or bedtime story.

Although there are somethings I do remember, I remember them everyday.

I remember my mother being torn from my grasp and I cannot convey my agony.

I remember my father murdering my childhood joys.

There is one last thing I cannot remember. Perhaps it has yet to happen.

Or perhaps it is within me now.



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