Life with depression...

Dawn
Dark and dreary

A lonely road

Sometimes a ray of sunshine

Sometimes a quiet meadow

But always
Another storm

Another hill

Another night
Then
Another dawn

Dark and dreary

A lonely road

A Lonely Road  © 2018 Joseph Weilenbeck

In Just a Moment

Author's note: I wrote this as a song several years ago when, in the middle of the night, I was caused to consider that my life could possibly end in a very short time. My thoughts turned to God. The words and melody came to me quickly and completely in those uncertain moments. The crisis passed, and I wrote them down immediately.

       In Just a Moment
            by Joseph Weilenbeck

Maybe just a moment –
    I feel the end is drawing near.
Maybe just a moment –
    Is that death’s footsteps that I hear?
Maybe just a moment –
    My feeble eyes will lose their sight.
Maybe just a moment –
    My day on earth will turn to night.

But I’m not afraid,
    Though my life’s end I now can see.
I’m not afraid.
    I hear my Savior calling me.
I’m not afraid,
    Though all on earth will be my loss.
I’m not afraid.
    Soon, Jordan’s waters I will cross.

In just a moment –
    I’ll come into the Promised Land.
In just a moment –
    I’ll feel my Savior take my hand.
In just a moment –   
    I’ll know the fullness of His grace.
In just a moment –
    I’ll see the glory on His face.

But I’m not afraid,
    For Jesus died for all my sins.
I’m not afraid.
    The gates will open.  I’ll go in.
I’m not afraid.
    My destiny is not the grave.
I’m not afraid.
    By my Lord’s blood, I have been saved.
   
Then every moment –
    I’ll know joy beyond compare.
Every moment –
    With my Savior, I’ll be there.
Every moment –   
    Only glory will I see.
Every moment –
    In that bright mansion made for me.

But I’m not afraid,
    Though I now take my final breath.
I’m not afraid.
    I go to life, and not to death!
I’m not afraid.
    Unbounded grace I have been shown.
I’m not afraid.
    I am finally going home.

In just a moment.

            * * *

Joseph Weilenbeck 2013

Morning TV Talk

Current hot topics
For mindless myopics
"What everyone's talking about!"
Continual blather
For all who will gather
To join in the crowd's empty shout.

Pure vapid drivel
For vain heads that swivel
At the sight of "the star of the day".
Meaningless bleating
From tongues like drums beating
But managing nothing to say.

Smiling flatliners
Who major in minors
Who would cringe at the thought of a thought.
Useless buffoons
Who all sing the same tunes
Through a hole in the face that they bought.

Self-proclaimed hotties
Who worship their bodies
Who, if they could think, would think we'd do the same
Never-used minds
Speak as from their behinds
And, if we listen, then we are to blame.

And worse, we may become the same.

Joseph Weilenbeck 2007 
Written in 2007 after watching a mind-numbing 20 minutes of morning TV talk shows.

I cut myself...

I cut myself
   and yes I bleed.
But I know it's not
   a lasting deed.
The flesh will heal
   and the pain will steal
   away.

Not so with
   cutting words I hear.
My mind they burn...
   my heart they sear.
They bring their pain
   and then remain
   to stay.

So I see myself
   through darkened eyes.
Shades of truth...
   tints of lies...
All the same,
   inside they came
   to me.

Now time passes
   but yet they thrive.
And in quiet moments
   come alive.
I hear them call,
   and then they're all
   I see.

Seems kind words live,
   but silently.
While the harshest
   cry out endlessly.
First, lying in wait,
   then screaming in hate
   they come.

So, I cut myself
   and yes I bleed.
But there is a point
   to my pointless deed.
Before they take me
   I just want to make me
   numb.

Joseph Weilenbeck 2017
In empathy for all who have been hurt and scarred so deeply by the hateful words of others.

Seems the memories...

Seems the memories
now come, then flee
and disappear
behind the walls
of age and time
and my troubled mind,
no more to hear me when I call.

They show their face
then leave a space,
a void to last
forevermore.
Taking one more part
of my breaking heart,
they turn away
and close the door.

Time now lost,
its drawers all tossed
from searching for
what might remain
of distant places
and forgotten faces,
all washed away
with yesterday's rain.

My book of dreams
and plans and schemes,
it seems is nowhere
to be found.
In the fading light
of the coming night,
it's buried deep
in covered ground.

Joseph Weilenbeck 11/17/2017

This Morning’s Sun Need Ne’er Have Shown

Why do you lie beside me still

    And stir not least upon my touch?
Do you lack strength, or maybe will,
    My trembling hand to even clutch?

Does morning hold no promise bright
    To coax your sleeping eyes awake?
Will they not lift but ever slight,
    In pity, my worst fears to take?

Why do your lips now grow so cold,
    Though bathing in the sun’s warm glow?
Is there not another kiss they hold?
    Nor one more smile for them to show?

Does your heart not have another beat,
    That I could feel upon my own?
If not, ‘tis all of my defeat.
    This morning’s sun need ne’er have shown.

Joseph Weilenbeck December, 1998 
Written in sympathy for a friend - whose husband unexpectedly passed away in their bed one morning

We drive by the flowers...

We drive by the flowers

    Looking through glass,
Missing the essence
    Of all that we pass.

We see only colors
    With no shape or line,
Their beauty and meaning
    Lost to our minds.

O Breath!

O Breath! Why do you despise me so?
That when I bid you come,
You defiantly go

And when, though reluctant, you enter in
You stubbornly refuse
To go out again

Both coming and going, you dig in your heels
And smile at the weakness
You make me feel

O Breath! I beg you, put your fight to rest
And come and go gently
To and from my chest

Joseph Weilenbeck 04/12/2018
On my struggle with COPD

No one to tell me why...

I now lie beneath freshly turned ground
And with eyes sealed shut, I look around
I see the earthworm pass me by
So I ask, but he cannot tell me why

With ears rendered deaf, over the din
Of my now silent voice crying out from within,
I hear a chorus of sprouts as they search for the sky
So I ask, but they cannot tell me why

No one knew why...

I once wrote a song...

    No one knew why
I once wrote a poem...
    No one knew why
I once painted a picture...
    No one knew why
I once shared my dreams...
    No one knew why
I once spoke of great ideas...
    No one knew why
I once lived...
    No one knew why

A poet's words...

A poet's words

scrawled in fading ink

on yellowing pages

Consigned

to an unmarked grave

and forgotten

Guarded by darkness

erased by time

touching no one

Joseph Weilenbeck  04/11/2018

If you have to ask...

Why does the artist
paint
what no one will see?
And, why does the poet
write
what no one will read?
Why does the musician
compose
what no one will hear?
And, why does the singer
sing
what reaches no other ear?
Why does each one
labor
for what others deem naught?
Why not just do what those others,
think
that he ought?

Why? O why? O why? O why?
Don't you know that it's just
that he must,
    lest he die?
But, if you do have to ask,
you may never know why.

Joseph Weilenbeck 2018

No Better Place

---

The Testimony of One Who Found Himself in . . .


No Better Place
By Joseph Weilenbeck

If only I could tell you. If only I had heard.
If only I had believed. If only . . .

The light and the voices in the room at last gave way to darkness and silence.  All pain, all feeling, ceased.  All sensation faded.  Only a vague notion of movement remained, though neither vision nor feeling survived to give credence to that notion. 

Thoughts of peace began to replace the pain and anxiety that had finally released their hold upon me.  And with those thoughts, came memories.  Memories of comfort felt in my mother’s arms, of reassurance heard in my father’s voice, of tenderness shared in my wife’s loving touch, and of joy celebrated in play with my daughter.

On and on and on...

I get up each morning

    and put on a smile.
I tell myself one more time,
    "Just pretend for a while."
I share a quick laugh
    with everybody I see.
And try to hide inside
    the pain that's crushing me.

Sometimes I make it,
    but sometimes I fall.
Sometimes I just wish
    they could see through it all.
But, no matter the facts,
    I keep up the act.
'Cause if I let go,
    I fear I'll never come back.

And so...

I take my show on the road,
    I drag it mile after mile.
I hold my head up
    and force smile after smile.
I say all the things
    that I'm expected to say.
If I can keep up the lie,
    maybe I'll last one more day.

And I keep hoping that I
    can bring this play to an end.
But I can't find the script
    to tell me how and when.
And I can't find the lines
    that I once knew were true.
Can't even say if this play
    will close before I do.

So, I keep up the act.
    I don't know how to turn back.
I Keep going on
    and on and on.
And I stay with the play
    day after day.
On and on
    and on and on and on.

Joseph Weilenbeck 10/15/2017

Karen's Eyes

Karen Carpenter (Photo Origin Unknown)

Karen's eyes
won't let me go.
So long closed.
So long still.
But still
they haunt me.

I see her eyes.
I see their light.
I see their darkness.
Beautiful eyes,
but sad.
Eyes that gave,
but could not receive.

I see the tears
we never saw.
I hear them fall
when I hear her song.
Each word...
each note...
looking for hope
while carried on a tear.

Eyes that I never knew
now touch my soul.
Tears that I never saw
now wash my heart...
then find their way
to my own eyes.

And as I listen
I see
Karen's eyes.
So long closed.
So long still.
And still
they haunt me.
Karen's eyes
won't let me go.

 Joseph Weilenbeck
~ after the anniversary of her death - February 4, 2017 ~