As I Lie Awake (Poetry)



Eagerly waiting on what dreams

Waits for me on this…
Cool and collected mid-summer nigh’.
To welcome my request into fantasy
Crickets whistle slowly fades,
I am delivered into a refreshing ride.
As I lie awake,
Hypnosis transfers my surreal mind,
Touches my emotions, as I fall asleep.
I’m battling between two comas,
Two separate lives.
In confusion, new scenery comes to life.
I am aware,
But my other life remains in control.
I allow it like a child lost in a book.
Are dreams just pure fantasies?
Or reality waiting
For the time to be revealed for a purpose.
Taking notes on each episode,
For each season.
To the illusion of what’s to hold.
2014©H.M. Gautsch

Post Traumatic Stress (Poetry)

I stand in front of you on this stage with a smiling mask.
But give me a minute or two to unmask and ask,
What do you really know about post-traumatic stress?

Day in day out weight is oppressed in the hearts and chests.
Very little does one see his/her life as a personal success.
For adrenaline, many involve a life that becomes transgress.
Through time natural facial expressions and habitats change.
Insomnia becomes normal, even the bags under the eyes become rearrange.
Our moods are irritable, anxious, and estranged.
Nightmares, flashbacks, and reminders limits activities,
Fireworks are always ruining summer festivities.
Very rare can one ever overcome this particular sensitivity.
Frustrations and sympathy grows for the high number of suicides,
There are more of us alive than those who gave up on their lives.
The ones who are still breathing, still feel invisible to the world.
Many try to use humor and sex to cover up the actual feelings.
Instead of opening up, solitude is actual a comfort to hide the dealings,
Of strangers and family who fears the lack of knowledge and adaptations.
Truth, there is the misconception of medications, very rare do they improve,
Drugs and alcohol are the first things those who only want self-help turn too.
Natural healing & therapy is best suited for those who are desperate to move on,
We may look strong on the outside due to the imprinted war face,
Nobody ever takes the consideration, deep down fragile as a pencil case.
Doesn’t mean the survivors are more dangerous than a terrorist.
When it comes to the survivors of post-traumatic stress,
Majority find exceptions in the imperfections, a new strength.
That is the most important factor in an unfamiliar multitude force.
2014©H.M. Gautsch

"Fallen Angel" Part One (Short Story)

Lust. Love. Ares. Aphrodite.

There’s a fallen angel residing on this Earth’s dirt. Humanity who is blinded by the naked eye will not be able to discover such beauty that hides behind broken wings, shattered horns, in the world of grey. She’s not like the rest of the crowd, she adds her own color to this world. She dares to paint with purples, greens, and yellows, instead of such boredom of black and white. She dares to go against the crowd, no matter the force against her.

This fallen angel also will imprint her presence with her smiles. Smiles you can’t erase from your memory bank. In ways she has imprinted herself into your heart; but don’t be fooled.

Don’t be fooled on this fallen angel, who has no name, by her kindness and make it more than what it is. Don’t be fooled by her silence and make it what it isn’t. She fights her own demons within her heart, mind and soul. She’s fallen from corruption in her heart.

Everyday, the fallen angel questions if she is whether related to the Goddess of Despair, Eris, or in relations of the Goddess of Love, Aphrodite. She prays daily that the heart of Aphrodite remains close to her as loyalties of Ares and Hades are determined to torture her own pretty, little heart.

It’s an everyday battle, an everyday chaos in her heart, but at the end of the day, she continues to paint her visionary world in that heart, along with her own mind and soul. The primer paint continues to be love to balance the fixture from the rest of the chaos.

Someday the ying to her yang will reveal himself. Not to take over the creation of this art of love, but to add his own colors to it. His unconditional love will endure, even while in the shadows of Hades whelms.

In return, her angelic aura transforms to its rightful stage, as it reflects the sun. He will also have the ability to reform her horns into a halo crown that sits perfectly on top of her head and help strengthen her weathered wings, so she returns to the crystal blue skies once more to return to her cloud of calling.

All in results of the power of true unconditional love and the presence of her soul mate’s patient eyes, as she returns the same patience and virtue of morality and ethics.

(To Be Continued…)

©H.M. Gautsch

Won’t Knock Me Down (Poetry)


Say anything you want,
Not even sticks and stones can slow me down.
I’ll keep moving forward,
Even with broken bones.
Keep doubting my struggles and my progression.
It’ll only motivate me, fuel me,
Until more opportunities opens the windows and doors.
I haven’t made it to the top yet,
So I got to keep climbing these steps.
One by one, got to keep that in mind.
Until I see the sun shine through me and reveals my golden heart.
Keep the eyes on the prize.
These artificial lights and imprisoned fort,
Will no longer subdue me.
I formed freedom to roam the seven seas with this mentality.
Survival of the fittest is this,
This movement doesn’t include an elevator or an escalator.
If you are expecting a free ride,
You can just jump off,
This movement is a latter, not a slide.
Mama said, “Life won’t always be fair.”
So I got to keep God in my prayers.
You won’t knock me down, for I am David, and hatred is Goliath.
I will conquer, before I drown on strange tides of words.
You won’t knock me down,
I’ve become my own pilot,
Flying above the clouds in the skies, the stars are my compass.
Words spill out of my wounds,
Like a raging white river, the letters flow.
Turning negatives into positives with the pen I have surfaced.
You don’t like what you see?
Not my problem, only your insecurities.
2014 © H.M. Gautsch

Dear Dad, Part II (Poetry)


Dear Dad;
I want to thank you for my green eyes,
and this head of hair, but rumor has it, not my height.
Unfortunately that is the only thanks I can give you,
Regardless if you know if I even exist or not.
Unfortunately I can’t keep up with the truth anymore,
No matter how hard I have fought.
If you know of me,
I just want you to know I don’t care like I did before.
If you want to get to know me.
That be great, but I am not holding my breath for another day.
Closure for me doesn’t have to be a happy ever after.

I wouldn’t be surprised if you were an asshole,
From the stories I’ve been told.
I was only four years-old!
You walked out after two weeks of barely knowing me,

How you must’ve been disappointed.
Must have been hell since I never saw a day of child-support.
You wouldn’t know of the fantasies and dreams I would turn to,
when it comes to reality, I thwart.
If I could choose my own father, I would.
Erase the two current candidates if I could.
I barely know who you are or what you even look like,
Other than you having the same green eyes.

Do you even know how hard it is to try and figure on my own…
How a man should properly treat a woman?
Trials and errors are a repeat in my heart,
As it continues to wear thin on my part,
Regardless of the numerous pick-up lines and flirts.
In a world where the tables keep being turned.
I could blame my mom for the sperm donors,
But at the end of the day, I also inherited from her,
Finding the good in everything and everyone that came along,
No matter what may come, with or without closure.
It is just too bad you could never be my father.

2014©H.M. Gautsch