“To the End of Love”

The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do was let you go

No sacrifice has ever compared to that

But it’s odd that I’ve never dreamt of you

If I had, it would probably kill me

And maybe that’s why I haven’t

It’s bad enough that you’ve become a waking nightmare

And it’s bad enough that every waking thought is spent on you

Especially now that you’ve long since forgotten about me

But what’s worse is that I still care

I still love you as much today as I ever have before

But why, I don’t know

You told me you were crazy when we first met

And I accepted that fact

Hell, I even embraced it

But “crazy” doesn’t explain what you did to us

And that, as an explanation, I cannot accept

It doesn’t excuse not knowing right from wrong

And it doesn’t justify the means to an end

All I know of you now is your cruelty

The cruelty of speaking on that which you know nothing about

The belief that you are someone else, and I am no one at all

The lies that you told yourself to help you sleep at night

And all of this, and nothing else, could make you put things right between us

You’ve reached into my soul and touched my heart

Because I was fool enough to open myself to you

And whatever you had on your fingers left a stain that cannot be removed

But for the briefest time, we felt like two hearts beating as one

A merging of one soul in two earthly forms

And your heart was a place that I called home

But only when there was room enough

And you may not want me in your life now

But you’re still very much a part of mine

And I cannot pretend that we are strangers

Not when you were all too real to me

But we do give birth to our own impunity

Particularly in times of disparity

And hesitation is often so abundant in love

And so much more could’ve been

If you were only honest with yourself

— David Allen



Your voice is failing

Your voice was too loud

Your voice is white noise in a colorless crowd

They used to look up to you

Now your standards are too high

Your illusion of power was all but a lie

Your open invitation and your lukewarm reception

Were all so insulting and full of deception

We saw straight through your mask of a smile

It was only you who was in denial

We followed your words, your wisdom and advice

We watched you fall victim of your own device

Now your reign of power has overrun 

It’s your reign of terror that has begun

— David Allen 

“An Old Flame To Be”

What I wouldn’t give to stop my heart

…from loving you

As easily as you can me

I sometimes long to be so cold

How blissful it must be

But I have a wound that will not heal

And you, a heart that cannot feel

But must I wait for a grave to sit upon

In the midst of this life that should’ve be ours?

Or should I wait until the next time

Before you decide that I am yours?

I won’t forget you in this life

And I won’t neglect you in the next

I’ve known you since an age ago

…And maybe quite a few before

But if in this life I need to perch,

Upon your resting place

…Then so be it

If only just to speak to you

In this life, or the next

While two hearts that belong together

Still endure the test

Of our time that could still exist

…Well then, so be it

I’ll continue to read to you, as I’ve done before

And all of my god-awful words will pour

…Down through your soil

To warm your unaffected heart

To keep your grave from getting cold

To keep you warm at night

Long after you have gone

And to keep you satisfied, when no one else would

And to hold you so tight, when no one else could

And I’ll finish everything that we began

And remember a time when you trusted me enough

To offer me that dance, on a whim of mutual trust

When I was just your man

And all you had was lust

And whether I be your fire

And whether you are my kindling,

This life has played out before

And you were always mine to consume

As if you were Joan of Arc

And I was just that little spark

I would still be a glimmer in your eye

And we would always complete one another

And maybe once upon another time

You would still be mine

If my flames don’t scar you too badly

…in this life

And if my passion doesn’t enrage you such

…in this life, or the next

Perhaps you’ll give me your hand again

And not snuff out my love so fast

And hold on to me

As I’ve held on to you

For we should hold on to our love

As you’ve held on to your past

—David Allen

“The Tiniest Slice Can Cut Just as Deep”

To be with you was proof that there is Heaven on Earth.

And there is truly a Hell in knowing that it can be taken away.

For the briefest of times, it was bliss to know and understand this.

And now you’re just a tiny slice of divinity that I miss.

—David Allen

“Raise Me Up”

Poppa, where are you now?

You should see the boy you left behind

You’re the only person I could’ve turned to

You should’ve been the friend I needed now

Poppa, did you find your way?

Could you have taken your son with you?

Is there any room where you are? 

Will they run a tab for a schlub like me?

Poppa, are they charging rent?

Do they still take MasterCard?

Brother, can you spare a halo?

Is my money any good there?

Poppa, are you happy where you are?

Do your favorite bands still play?

Is Hendrix still a nut?

Is Morrison still as high as fuck?

Are they all playing together now?

Poppa, is faith a real currency?

Are they taking Agnostics?

Do they still have MTv?

Is it even what it used to be?

Poppa, is it bright where you are?

Are you looking down on me?

Can you see what I’ve become?

Have you seen what I can be?

Poppa, do you think they’ll drop the bomb?

Do you even see the latest news?

Our leaders have lost their minds

But I guess you’d know this anyway

Poppa, where does your faith lie now?

We’re taught to believe that alcohol is okay

But weed is the Devil’s work

What do you believe?

What have you seen?

Dear old Dad,

What have we become?

— David Allen

“Without Further Ado”

Prologue: What I’ve posted below is one of several unpublished poems that I’ve written about someone whom I briefly dated in 2015. This particular poem was written about a half a year ago, at a time when I still had tears to shed over her. Shortly after I wrote it, however, it became painfully clear to me that my love for her was never reciprocated, nor could it ever be. And it was at that moment that my healing process finally began. I suppose it’s never too late to accept a loss and move on. But there will always be a part of me that still loves her, as well as certain memories that she can never destroy (no matter how hard she tries).

I’m glad I kept all of the writings that I’ve accumulated over these past two years. They were painful memories, and still are. But they are mine, and that’s the one thing she can never take away from me. I learned this valuable lesson a few years ago while watching a documentary about one of my favorite poets/songwriters, Leonard Cohen. It was in this documentary that Bono, singer of U2, had said — and I’m quoting this only from memory — “There are probably things that Leonard discarded in the trash that would humble another writer.” Truer words have never been uttered, and it taught me to never throw out things that I’ve written or felt, even if those feelings no longer exist.

Well, there are so many things that I’ve written about this particular person over the past two years — some of which were published, while others were not — some of which were written purely out of love, while others were written out of anger. But I’m glad I’ve saved them all. What I wouldn’t give to be able to sift through Leonard’s trash. And what I wouldn’t give to be able to sort things out with the greatest love of my life, even though she treated our relationship like trash. So, “without further ado,” here are the last words of love I had written about someone whom I meant absolutely nothing to.

“Without Further Ado”

Nothing seems real since you’re gone

And my flesh feels like a blank canvas

But I no longer bleed red

I only spill black and blue

And only for you

So, accept me as I was

Or take me as I am

But take me, for I am yours

And always was

And forever shall be

Devoted to you

— David Allen

“Winter’s Elegy”

Wild bull thistle puncture my dreams

As the whip-poor-will wake me with song

There’s a sweetness on the air, even in sorrow

And it’s carried on our backs like a broken tune

Telephone poles are slick with morning ice

And the lines are adorned with fallen seed pod

They dangle like musical notes on a musical bar

Swaying in tune as Old Man Winter composes again

An overture for the ears of another season

A symphony on the wind of change

Soft sleet on a tin roof begins the percussion

While the bravest of birds flap their wings against the chill

Raising the rhythm and setting the tempo

Starts anew, a lullaby for an icy world

As a blanket of white is unfurled

— David Allen