Taking Stock...The Things That Matter Most: Hello...My Name Is Kevin...And I'm An Addict

Taking Stock...The Things That Matter Most: Hello...My Name Is Kevin...And I'm An Addict: I want to turn my eyes from you To be able to put you away Leave you as if i’d never met you I need to quit you cold turkey You are my a...

Hello...My Name Is Kevin...And I'm An Addict

I want to turn my eyes from you
To be able to put you away
Leave you as if i’d never met you
I need to quit you cold turkey
You are my addiction
 Something I can’t let go
 Or get outta my head
 I can’t stop loving you
 Even though you destroy me
 Breaking me into millions of pieces
 Each and every time I see you
 The only way I can survive
 Is if you stay the fuck away
 Or I die
 Please love me enough to leave
 © 2011 Kevin Stock

Kevin's Interview...Part One

When did you first start writing poetry and what got you started?

      To be honest, I don't remember exactly when I started writing poetry. I do know that I was still in grade school though...as I have hand written poems from back then. I must say, my handwriting was terrible! But at least they're hand written, I can't tell you the last time I actually wrote anything by hand that was of length. All computerized now! I pretty much kept every single poem I wrote from back then, all the way through about 1995 or so I'd say. I have them all in a file, in my desk...waiting. I say waiting because most are not done, nor anywhere near what I'd be willing to publish. They are first drafts, raw, ideas really more than poetry. To steal a quote, "Poetry is never finished, just abandoned"!! So, needless to say I've been writing rhymes for many years, 30+ I'd guestimate.


     My answer to the second part of this question is essentially the same as the first. I truly do not know what caused me to start writing poetry nor why! If I had to guess I would say it was a school assignment. I remember several english assignments regarding poetry back then. I don't think they teach poetry much anymore, and if so, what a shame. My children have not done a single poetry assignment that I'm aware of. I know that I started really writing poetry with a purpose when I was in high school. I got in to it on my own, but was bolstered from the reactions the girlfriends in my life at the time gave me. They seemed to really like it, so of course, I liked it even more. Sorta like the guy who picks up a guitar to get the ladies. I was kind of a big deal to steal another saying! The older I got, the more I grew to love writing on it's merit and not any other selfish reasons. I hope I bring something to the craft. I hope I honor the long line of those who forged the path I now follow!

Darkness

Darkness
Death...permeates
Evil lurks...underneath
Just below the surface...and waits
Ready to strike and inflict...suffering
Then slink back into the...shadows
There lurking...evermore
The only...clue
Darkness
© 2011 Kevin Stock

Kevin Stock

Kevin
Father, Son, Husband, Friend
Brother of Karla
Lover of Jamie, America, and Family
Who feels Love, Sorrow, and Joy
Who fears Emptiness, Bridges and Loss
Who would like to see Jesus, Aliens and Heaven
Resident of Blackstone, Virginia
Stock

© 2011 Kevin Stock

Cobalt Controversy

Colors arrive with pageantry

On canvas represents artistry

But outside make up existence

Although can become meandering

Literally murmured of course

The controversy with cerulean hues

© 2011 Kevin Stock

IT

IT stares at me

Through the darkness

I can hear IT's heavy breathing

From somewhere...over there

The fog envelopes

Death permeates the air

I can feel IT on my skin

Here...there...everywhere

Blood red eyes

Watching over me

I can see them looming larger

But run...I don't dare

I close my eyes

And my heart beats no more

As I sense IT's teeth

Enter my soul

© 2011 Kevin Stock

*Tribute to Stephen King*

With Crackers

Sit down...have a bowl

Poetry Soup, for your soul

Yummy...swallowed whole

© 2011 Kevin Stock

Small Town Boy...

     I grew up in a small town called The Village Of Woodson...that's right...Village. There were only 300 hard working, honest, home-spun souls that lived in Woodson back then. I think there might be a few more now, but not sure. Woodson sits pretty much smack-dab in the south central part of Illinois. That's Ill-in-oye, not the ever so popular Ill-in-oise. We had a livestock sale-barn, a grain elevator (corn and soybeans), US Post Office, 4 churches and (of course) a bar. Even the smallest towns have bars. What we didn't have was a gas station, grocery store, or stop lights. Not a single one. Life was Mayberry simple. We fit that mold in Woodson where everyone knew everyone, everyone helped everyone, and everyone waved to everyone no matter what. A small version of Mayberry minus the sheriff and deputy. No need for those back then.


     It was a different time back then and our idealic Village was in a time capsule. There was no crime, not a soul locked a door. Not to their car, truck, their sheds or their houses. We were never indoors unless we were asleep, in school, eating (we had family meals back then and there was NO breaking that rule), or sick. My curfew was the moonbeams' glow or my Mom yelling to get home. If I was too far away to hear the message from my Mom was passed through the town by others yelling. Caddy-corner from my house was the town park. Don't get the wrong idea...it was small with not much in the way of equipment. That suited me just fine though...my friends and I made use of the lack of "stuff" to incorporate wiffle and baseball fields. The basketball court was fine, as long as we provided the nets and the upkeep. We also fashioned our own tennis court on that asphalt as well. Resourceful. Needless to say we loved our sports and the whole town of boys my age or thereabouts would come together at every opportunity to play whatever sport was in season. We played every day...all day. For football we played in a lot next to the Baptist church so we wouldn't accidentally be "tackled" by a merry-go-round or the monkey bars.

     I didn't realize it back then, but The Village of Woodson was the perfect place to grow up. By the time I was 18 I just wanted to get out of there, I wanted to see the world. I felt trapped and confined. Little did I know how free I was in that small town? I miss it now. I do not wish to go back, only to hold onto the memories I have, and the smiles those memories still bring. Other than a trip to see relatives in Arkansas and a canoe trip to neighboring Missouri, I never got more than probably 100 miles away from home in my 18 years there...Yet after seeing more of the world than most ever get the pleasure to; mostly, my fondest memories are of The Village.

     To be continued....

Teardrops On A Rose

Absence pains the Heart
Teardrops on a rose glisten
Until you return

© 2011 Kevin Stock

**New and one my very few Haiku**

Merry Christmas Miracle

It was Christmas Eve in my hometown

And the streets were white with snow

A peaceful feeling filled the air

Beneath a lone streetlight's glow



I ambled slowly down a dimly lit street

And breathed in the crisp night air

I greeted the other passers-by

Who also walked with me there



"Merry Christmas!" "Same to you!"

Exchanged throughout my walk

But never once was anyone

Inclined to stop and talk



At midnight I heard church bells

They were chiming "Silent Night"

While Christmas lights lit each house

All along the streets of snowy white



At first I heard him softly

As if from far, far away

Then it swelled and resonated

From down a dark alleyway



A voice as pure as an Angel's

As aged and as sweet as time

Resounding as if from Heaven

Along with the chorus of the chimes



At first I thought it was a radio

The voice so strong and clear

I couldn't believe this voice I heard

Was so beautiful, full of Christmas cheer



Then I saw him in the dark

A very tall and slender frame

Poised with peaceful reverence

He finished the song, this man with no name



He saw me standing...staring

So he stepped into the light

His clothes were torn and dirty

Yet his smile was full and bright



The man said "my name is Joseph

Would you like a piece of my bread?”

“It’s all I have to offer you tonight”

This man named Joseph said



He reached inside his tattered coat

Pulled out a wrinkled paper sack

And after taking out a slice

He smiled shyly and then put it back



I said “thank you sir, but I can’t take that

You must need that bread to live”

Joseph said “ you need not worry son

All I have, I will gladly give”



“Just the same, please keep it sir

I ate just a short while ago”

Joseph replied “Okay then mister”

And sat down on a blanket of snow



He took a healthy bite of his bread

Looked up and smiled at me

His manner far more cheerful

Than his circumstances could possibly be



I asked him “Do you live here

In this dirty, dark alleyway?”

He smiled again and nodded

“I do sir, at least for today”



I looked at him without pity and said

“There’s a shelter on the other end of town

I’ll try to help you find it

If you don’t know your way around”



Joseph nodded knowingly

Took another bite of bread

And I knew just what was coming

When I saw him nod his head



Joseph told me he had been there

Earlier that Christmas Eve day

They gave him a Christmas meal

Then sent him along the way



I shook my head a grimaced

I couldn’t believe my ears

How could they send this homeless man

Into the dark, cold night out here



I looked down at Joseph

He was beaming at me still

Determined that his circumstance

Would never degrade his will



He told me “please don’t worry sir

I’ve survived out here for years

I don’t want any sympathy

I don’t want any tears”



I pulled my hand out of my glove

I offered it to him

Joseph reached up to shake it

And smiled at me again



I said “I have some extra room

At my apartment on the floor

It’s really sort of comfortable

I’ve slept on it before”



“I’ll throw a couple blankets down

To make a warm and comfy bed

I’ve also got some pillows

On which to lay your head”



Joseph didn’t answer me

But tears came to his eyes

I could tell he never expected

Such a generous, thoughtful surprise



He said “you shouldn’t feel like this

Is something that you must do

It’s really quite a risk sir

Taking a stranger back home with you”’



I smiled right back at Joseph

Like he smiled at me before

I said “my name is Kevin sir…

…And we’re not strangers anymore”



Then I helped Joseph to his feet

We walked back to my place

And I knew I’d done a very nice thing

Just by the look on Joseph’s face



When we arrived I showed him in

Then offered him some warm food

Joseph kindly turned me down

Exactly as I knew he would



I told Joseph, “Joseph help yourself

Make this your home tonight

Please don’t be shy…I promise you

Everything is going to be alright”



Joseph looked right through me

I felt a peace I’d never known

He said “God bless you Kevin

For the kindness you have shown”



“Sometimes the world gets crazy

And it’s people crazy too

I believe what we really need

Are more good souls like you”



With that he smiled and said “goodnight”

Laid down on his makeshift bed

I fell asleep Christmas Eve night

Thinking about the words my friend Joseph said



When morning came I awoke

Slipped out my bedroom door

Went to wake Joseph up

From his bed upon my floor



But when I walked into the room

Joseph was nowhere to be found

There was just a note where he slept

Laying neatly on the ground



I felt a horrible sadness

A tear came to my eye

I wished Joseph hadn’t gone

Without saying goodbye



I picked up the note from off the floor

And sat down in a chair

I read the note in disbelief

Because of what was written there



“Thank You Kevin for the gift

You gave to me Christmas Eve night

These days not many people

Have the strength to do what’s right



“I still have hope for mankind

When I meet someone like you

And a treasure awaits in Heaven

For the good things that you do”



My hands began to tremble

As I continued to read the note

My life was changed that moment

By the words that Joseph wrote



“I was born on a day you now celebrate as Christmas

Over two millennium ago

My Father gave me to you

So that all mankind would know”



“That Love for one another

Is a gift without a price

Thank you for your kindness Kevin”

It was signed…



Your Savior…

Jesus Christ



© 2011 Kevin Stock

Beautiful Firefly

She sparkles in the night

Twinkles like a star

Lights up the darkest skies

No matter how dark they are



If you can only imagine

A Beauty that's so rare

Eyes that shine incredibly bright

And skin so soft and fair



She enlightens my entire life

Means everything to me

And if you were to know her

I know just what you'd see



A lighthouse beacon shining

Blinding light through the sky

Like my Guardian Angel

She's my Beautiful Firefly



Even when I was a child

I would always search and try

To capture one in my hand

My Beautiful Firefly



© 2011 Kevin Stock

Diary Of A Dream...

One page at a time
Written in my mind
What I would call...
...My Diary Of A Dream

It's funny probing
Poking around the mind
Trying with difficulty
To recall the details

Each day I file away
Another page of memories
The details...a bit sketchy
And grow more so with time

My Diary Of A Dream
Written with invisible ink
Easy to erase
Easy to forget...

© 2011 Kevin Stock

Dandelion Seed

She stands lost in a thought
A tiny finger to her lips
Head slightly tilted to one side
Appearing too old for her age
Well, too old for me anyway

Certainly she's only three
How could she be any more
Yet...she is more, so much more
At different times she is more
But, at night, she is three

When I read her "Goodnight Moon"
And she's as Snug as a Bug
After the Prayers are said
When her nightly movie has begun
Then...then she's three

Most days...through my eyes
She's growing like a dandelion
She's a dandelion seed
Being blown away with the breeze
Blown out of my life, in to hers

She stands with her hands on her hips now
Wearing Levi jeans and painted toes
Fascinated by color and texture
Playing the guitar...not really knowing how
And time seems to pass me by

Won't be long and she'll be too old
Too old for my Heart to take
Off in this frightful world
Spreading her wings to fly away
But at night she'll still be three...to me

So you must go my Angel
I've got you protected in my Heart
During your quietest moments remember
Daddy will always be there with you
And at night you'll still be three

Dandelion seed on the breeze
Flying through eternity
It's the cycle of life you see
Yet in my Dreams you're still three
And you're here with me

© 2011 Kevin Stock

** Significant in the fact it's the first new work of poetry from me in probably 4+ years!! This was written for my daughter Kensleigh (Kensie) who is growing up way to fast for Daddy. It's different because I know she's my last child and my Heart is struggling to hold on tight and not let go. My Heart WILL NOT let go even though the rest of me one day must. **

Holding You Up

I was going through old photographs

For the first time in years

It's amazing the memories they still hold

All the smiles, all the tears



Then I came across this one

Of a baby girl and little boy

I was holding you up with my hand

As you played with a brand new toy



It was the first time of many

That special Christmas morn'

I protected my little sis

And a brothers Love was born



Although we're no longer together

My Love for you does not lack

And I hope you can still feel

My hand upon your back



I'll always be there to protect you

No matter how near or how far

Always behind you, holding you up

With you wherever you are

© 2011 Kevin Stock

The picture that inspired the poem...

Who Is This Kevin Guy Anyway??

OK, so I'm getting out there and being seen now. Apprehensive at first, understandable, but doing well so far. No major issues other than a few individuals who believe writing poetry is not suited for "manly" men. In other words, repressed individuals with little depth and even less worthiness. For the most part though the response has been VERY positive, especially from true friends and my family...of course. By definition they are obligated to "like" my art...aren't they?? Now I've put my works out there for public display before, and always with glorious results and critique. Just never in such a personal forum, where people know who stoxback (my online identity) is. Not only can they now see who I am and what I do...I am asking them to "come check me out".

Then there comes the blogging. Not putting my poetry on a blogging site, actually blogging ideas, and opinions and eventually life experiences (when I am comfortable enough). THAT'S another ball of wax entirely. Where did this come from? Never had an interest before this site, before this phase of my life. Then it dawned on me this morning. RIEHLIFE and the questions that will most assuredly come with. Being a guest blogger brought about insecurities I did not know I had. Never was an issue before, never had to write my life’s story or answer questions about my poetry. I just posted under stoxback, got much praise and accolades then slithered back into my life without others knowing any different. Now others will want to know who I am, where I'm from, when did you know you were a poet, how did you start, what is your..."process"? That's what I'm finding more difficult that more I dig into creating my bio, I DO NOT KNOW the answers to most of those questions!!! Yikes!!! I never had to know so I don't. Well, now I do need to know. There will be some soul searching over the next few days to few weeks so that I may discover who this Kevin Stock fellow really is. I think I've found the forum for this discovery. Writing isn't all that bad, although it's not as satisfying as my poetry! I hope to find myself on this blog over the course of time, come see who I am!


One HUGE benefit from all this pain...I wrote my first poetry in over 4 years yesterday. It's called "Dandelion Seed". Tell me if my blogging is working!

GERONIMOooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!

Now I'm sure this is NOT going to end well. Me writing something other than a work of poetry feels foreign, and I am ill at ease to say the least. "Geronimo" shouted at the top of my lungs keeps roaming through my mind for some reason! Janean...I'm sure you're to blame for that. I have heard this is just a natural progression of things by many others, none of whom are here with me tonight whispering words of wisdom as my fingers hunt and peck at the keys.

I figure the easiest way to ease into this blogging "thingy" is to jump into my real passion...my poetry. I will, over the course of time, delve into many numbers of questions as to my writing, my poems, and my unwillingness turned willingness to post. Hopefully I will get into my youth some, my Grandma's Farm, Becoming a Sailor and seeing the world, my triumphs and tribulations - all of which make me...well me!

I don't know how this will play out, but I hope you will join me for the ride. I appreciate all positive critiques and feedback. I will need the shoves and encouragement. Don't let me NOT jump from a perfectly good plane yelling "Geronimo" as I go!

Cellophane Soul

She seemed somewhat sad
So she slid
Semi-comatose...

...Cellophane Soul screams
Saran-wrapped
Such subtle sorrow

Semi-transparent
Sweet, still sleep
She succumbs slowly

Sad Cellophane Soul
Silently she screams
Suddenly strangled

Suicide succeeds
Suffering
Cellophane Soul soars

© 2011 Kevin Stock

You Fill The Void

You fill the void

Of countless nights starving

In search of the liquid life

That pours so freely from your veins



Why do you crave

The pain of my mark

That brings you back to me

When you know I do not care...can not care



You fill the void

During the dead of night

Hidden by the shadows

Where rats dare not follow



Do you not know

Who or what I am

As I slowly consume your life

Or is it you who does not care...can not care



You fill the void

Until you become the dust

That blows through the endless nights

And carries me to another soul

© 2011 Kevin Stock

Ever Present Memories

The leaves were golden...brown and brittle

Rustling as the autumn breeze blew

Do I miss it, yes, a little

As my fondness, it there grew



The suns warm rays glanced off the water

Of the pond at the foot of the hill

Each summers day grew hotter

Yes...I miss it still



The Love that filled the Sunday air

Simple, heartfelt and true

A Grandmother's Love, something so rare

And time...it but flew



The visits these days, too short I'm afraid

I can never recapture childhood innocence

But the memories I carry will never fade

No matter the moment, the motive, or absence



One day my spirit, it will return

And I will never leave there again

It is where I will one day adjourn

Forever and ever...Amen

© 2011 Kevin Stock

NightwisH

Inspired by the band "NightwisH" and the cover of an EP record. So many shades of silver created a haunting feeling that never let go of my mind.

 

My eyes close and I NightwisH
Sliding into another moment and place
Condemned to my universe of charade
Illusions of you govern my repose

And you posture steadfast...gazing
Your long, silken, glacier white hair
Besets your Angelic crystallized face
Save your eyes...which are bound by onyx

Pupils shaded a dappled, arctic ocean hue
Fervent and enticing, digging into me
Lips slightly parted in pale pink persuasion
I am overwhelmed with insistent anxiety

Fusing into the surrounding snow
All things appear a silvern haunt of gray
A steel shaded tunic frames your outline
Shrouded about your featured soul...taut

Heeding wings now outspread to eternity
Nearer to me than heretofore, I ponder
Feet not impinging the Iced Earth below
The pallid blue eyes of you penetrate my heart

Striving to glance away...to capture my breath
I cannot evade your gaze, your elegance
Embracing my crown into your depths
My vital force fills with abysmal hunger

A new day breaks, to thaw the minds frost
My snowy Angel evanesces into rainbow disguise
I suspire until the eventide envelopes the sun
The moons fire glistens into another NightwisH

© 2011 Kevin Stock

It's All About The Eyes

It's all about the eyes
And all that hides behind
All the secrets left untold
All the treasures I will find

It's all about the eyes
What others didn't see
All the beauty to behold
All the longing to be free

It's all about the eyes
And all they have to give
All the passion and the pain
All the willingness to live

It's all about the eyes
What they have to say
All the ways they make me feel
Every second of every day

It's all about the eyes
The way they look at me
The Love that they express
To my Heart they hold the key

© 2011 Kevin Stock