let me in to cast a mold of your heart
catch my spark so a reaction can start
magnetized I'm pulled inside of your earth
tight I clasp the artifacts of your birth
more I learn and more theories I acquire
more I yearn and more flame I require
red and hot your secrets glow deep within
let me enshrine all your virtue and sin
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
See Boy Fall
The Boy walks
The Boy walks down the street
The Boy, barely a man, walks down the foggy street
I watch
I watch the young man
I watch the young man move like a blur
His feet glide
His feet don't touch the ground
His feet move so fast they don't even touch the ground
I want him
I want him to see me
I want him to see my goodness
He sees nothing
He sees nothing in my direction
He sees nothing but the road ahead
I call
I call out to him
I call out to him over and over and over
He does not hear
He does not hear my cries
He does not hear my deafening cries
I run
I run hard after him
I run hard after him until my legs ache and collapse beneath me
He speeds
He speeds toward the future
He speeds through the fog toward his bright and promising future
I want him
I want him to fall
I want him to fall so I can catch him
The Boy walks down the street
The Boy, barely a man, walks down the foggy street
I watch
I watch the young man
I watch the young man move like a blur
His feet glide
His feet don't touch the ground
His feet move so fast they don't even touch the ground
I want him
I want him to see me
I want him to see my goodness
He sees nothing
He sees nothing in my direction
He sees nothing but the road ahead
I call
I call out to him
I call out to him over and over and over
He does not hear
He does not hear my cries
He does not hear my deafening cries
I run
I run hard after him
I run hard after him until my legs ache and collapse beneath me
He speeds
He speeds toward the future
He speeds through the fog toward his bright and promising future
I want him
I want him to fall
I want him to fall so I can catch him
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
9
new consciousness is a BEEP BEEP
traffic jam
red lights and red lines
flickering and laser beaming
anywhere but up
town is in flames
toy engines too loud to buy
so play in-store/on-shelf/in-plastic
push five buttons all at once
'til she boils
no ICEE for you just
hole-drilled paddle stings
bees in your Big Red
SURPRISE!
why didn't you look, you dumb fuck?
I'm sorry you're hurting
I just don't feel it.
back on asphalt
with quivering guts
de/acceleration nauseation
the ding ding trigger
signals more turning
and churning
merry-go-round my ass
I don't wanna go home
but I don't wanna be here.
traffic jam
red lights and red lines
flickering and laser beaming
anywhere but up
town is in flames
toy engines too loud to buy
so play in-store/on-shelf/in-plastic
push five buttons all at once
'til she boils
no ICEE for you just
hole-drilled paddle stings
bees in your Big Red
SURPRISE!
why didn't you look, you dumb fuck?
I'm sorry you're hurting
I just don't feel it.
back on asphalt
with quivering guts
de/acceleration nauseation
the ding ding trigger
signals more turning
and churning
merry-go-round my ass
I don't wanna go home
but I don't wanna be here.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Strait-Swift-McGraw
Ain't it funny
How a little bit of livin'
Can change the meanin' of a song,
Or shine a little right
On what you thought was wrong?
Ain't it somethin'--
When you're off the beaten path
And you feel you don't belong
Strangers can become your friends
And move you right along!
Take a little moment
To look inside your big ol' heart.
Guaranteed, it won't be long
Until you sing the worldddddddd
(dramatic pause)
A brand new livin' song.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Mmmilk
breathing on the other end
the gun's by the bed
bullets have potential
unknown, unseen, unwanted
unique like me
Ding a Ling
I'm asleep
but answer anyway
thrashing in the sheets
draining away the next day
half in half out
of a nightmare
the one where you don't care
about me after all
then when sunlight cuts me
I realize, now I'm dreaming
basil, rosemary
you smell like excitement
my heart sinks and jumps and flutters and stops and starts and squeezes and punches and strangles
palms to trapezius
fingers in ribs
dripping with exotic flavors
like cats love milk
because they're not allowed to have it
the gun's by the bed
bullets have potential
unknown, unseen, unwanted
unique like me
Ding a Ling
I'm asleep
but answer anyway
thrashing in the sheets
draining away the next day
half in half out
of a nightmare
the one where you don't care
about me after all
then when sunlight cuts me
I realize, now I'm dreaming
basil, rosemary
you smell like excitement
my heart sinks and jumps and flutters and stops and starts and squeezes and punches and strangles
palms to trapezius
fingers in ribs
dripping with exotic flavors
like cats love milk
because they're not allowed to have it
Invitation to Follow
Arched back in the front with a porcelain white dazzle
Crisp cotton waving like surrender
Five rows removed
Mocha lace and satin brew
An invitation to paint the town a risky shade of red
Any time, any place, for chrissakes,
But not now and not here
Is reality, __ fear(s)
Crisp cotton waving like surrender
Five rows removed
Mocha lace and satin brew
An invitation to paint the town a risky shade of red
Any time, any place, for chrissakes,
But not now and not here
Is reality, __ fear(s)
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Goodbye Again, Sun
Sometimes I feel out of touch with nature.
Suburban Sunset
I'm boxed in.
Three walls (so cliche) block the sun
Tumbleweed flyers beg us not to litter
Drivers-by with handheld devices
Distract themselves from the marshmallow clouds.
One-legged birds refuse to fly and get fatter
And fatter and fatter.
X-ray Granny turns trash into treasure
And Poi Boy hula hoops the Zen Buddhist way.
I drag my hand through the sand for a feeling;
It's all stale and rust and rubble from the past,
Once new and exciting to someone
Who no longer is here and no one remembers.
Cue the crickets and the Vitamin C lights
That stain the trees and filter my dreams 'til morning.
Suburban Sunset
I'm boxed in.
Three walls (so cliche) block the sun
Tumbleweed flyers beg us not to litter
Drivers-by with handheld devices
Distract themselves from the marshmallow clouds.
One-legged birds refuse to fly and get fatter
And fatter and fatter.
X-ray Granny turns trash into treasure
And Poi Boy hula hoops the Zen Buddhist way.
I drag my hand through the sand for a feeling;
It's all stale and rust and rubble from the past,
Once new and exciting to someone
Who no longer is here and no one remembers.
Cue the crickets and the Vitamin C lights
That stain the trees and filter my dreams 'til morning.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
More Return of Saturn
Shedding
So many friendships I have left to die
Like injured birds never again to fly
With tattered wings and hardened, hollow eyes.
Too little too late, I now realize.
Lying in bed I see death's frightful face
And its image can never be erased.
For it's the only sure event to come
And I fear to return to where I'm from:
To silence, to void, and to nothingness;
A reminder I have one chance at this.
So I have shed the things that weigh on me,
Surrounded myself with things of beauty,
I've tightened my fists and straightened my spine
And created a world I can call mine.
So many friendships I have left to die
Like injured birds never again to fly
With tattered wings and hardened, hollow eyes.
Too little too late, I now realize.
Lying in bed I see death's frightful face
And its image can never be erased.
For it's the only sure event to come
And I fear to return to where I'm from:
To silence, to void, and to nothingness;
A reminder I have one chance at this.
So I have shed the things that weigh on me,
Surrounded myself with things of beauty,
I've tightened my fists and straightened my spine
And created a world I can call mine.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Happiness Is?
Happy People
Mama's buying baby clothes for nobody again.
Hasn't been the same since all her babies left the den.
Set the table, say a prayer, and let the dreams begin.
She's all a buzz 'cause all it does is let the sadness in.
Oh, we're happy people,
Mmm, until the wind blows.
Father's Day, let's celebrate, we'll gather at the farm.
Watermelon sweet and red is rolling down your arm.
Fifty years he fought to keep the family free from harm.
He's looking blue but you refuse to let him lose his charm.
Oh, we're happy people,
Mmm, until the wind blows.
Baby bird is taking off, she's learning how to fly.
She lands upon a concrete jungle singing by and by.
Pretending friends and slanted grins have left her high and dry.
Dry your eyes now, baby bird, don't let them see you cry.
Oh, we're happy people,
Mmm, until the wind blows.
Mama's buying baby clothes for nobody again.
Hasn't been the same since all her babies left the den.
Set the table, say a prayer, and let the dreams begin.
She's all a buzz 'cause all it does is let the sadness in.
Oh, we're happy people,
Mmm, until the wind blows.
Father's Day, let's celebrate, we'll gather at the farm.
Watermelon sweet and red is rolling down your arm.
Fifty years he fought to keep the family free from harm.
He's looking blue but you refuse to let him lose his charm.
Oh, we're happy people,
Mmm, until the wind blows.
Baby bird is taking off, she's learning how to fly.
She lands upon a concrete jungle singing by and by.
Pretending friends and slanted grins have left her high and dry.
Dry your eyes now, baby bird, don't let them see you cry.
Oh, we're happy people,
Mmm, until the wind blows.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Good Girl
Seventeen drops of sweat set above her lip
As she steps up to the diving board.
She senses a saber tooth stare from the bushes.
She's a woman now whether she wants it or not.
She carefully covers her sun-pinked skin
And coats her face to camouflage the freckles.
She reaches for the rouge without knowing why.
She's going through the motions
Like a good girl should.
As she steps up to the diving board.
She senses a saber tooth stare from the bushes.
She's a woman now whether she wants it or not.
She carefully covers her sun-pinked skin
And coats her face to camouflage the freckles.
She reaches for the rouge without knowing why.
She's going through the motions
Like a good girl should.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Tart Pop Tart
Funeral
Let's talk about your funeral again.
You say no one will give a shit
But won't it be fun to make some plans?
Then write your own obituary--
Death will never be this scary.
Woe, woe, woe, woe.
I'm becoming introverted again.
Withdrawing is so easy
With the movies playing inside my head.
Always the protaginista,
Ready for my close-up, Mistah.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!
They're talkin' 'bout my problems again.
I've never known so many who
Could live a life without any sin.
A know-it-all, a pessimist--
The surface is not all of this.
No, no, no, no thank you.
Thank you for enlightening me.
Let's talk about your funeral again.
You say no one will give a shit
But won't it be fun to make some plans?
Then write your own obituary--
Death will never be this scary.
Woe, woe, woe, woe.
I'm becoming introverted again.
Withdrawing is so easy
With the movies playing inside my head.
Always the protaginista,
Ready for my close-up, Mistah.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!
They're talkin' 'bout my problems again.
I've never known so many who
Could live a life without any sin.
A know-it-all, a pessimist--
The surface is not all of this.
No, no, no, no thank you.
Thank you for enlightening me.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Weather Advisory
Weekend Rains
The weekend rains are falling.
There's no good place to be.
The wind is ripping through
The roaring oak trees.
All morning I've been staring
Out of dirty windows
At red birds and fox squirrels--
They know exactly where the river goes;
At struggling flowers
In their tiny containers,
Protected from elements
But dreaming of danger;
At my face in the mud,
Dripping with Sunday.
I'm longing for sun
And pleading for Monday.
The weekend rains are falling.
There's no good place to be.
The wind is ripping through
The roaring oak trees.
All morning I've been staring
Out of dirty windows
At red birds and fox squirrels--
They know exactly where the river goes;
At struggling flowers
In their tiny containers,
Protected from elements
But dreaming of danger;
At my face in the mud,
Dripping with Sunday.
I'm longing for sun
And pleading for Monday.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Two More
Just Say It!
I hear you
Stutter, mutter, stammer
As a crooked hammer
Clamors for the nail's head,
You never reach the point.
The words emerge disjointed,
Pointed east and west.
Tell me,
What are your coordinates?
Important Decisions
Rosy cheeks,
You promised forever;
You said you'd go on,
Painless as a heart transplant
That refused to take hold.
I have decided to be a teenager tomorrow.
Elastic mind,
You said it better;
You said it so wrong.
The conveyer belt slipped off
And tumbled out the back door.
I have decided to eat pie and ice cream for dinner.
I hear you
Stutter, mutter, stammer
As a crooked hammer
Clamors for the nail's head,
You never reach the point.
The words emerge disjointed,
Pointed east and west.
Tell me,
What are your coordinates?
Important Decisions
Rosy cheeks,
You promised forever;
You said you'd go on,
Painless as a heart transplant
That refused to take hold.
I have decided to be a teenager tomorrow.
Elastic mind,
You said it better;
You said it so wrong.
The conveyer belt slipped off
And tumbled out the back door.
I have decided to eat pie and ice cream for dinner.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
garbledeegook
As you probably noticed, I have not kept up with the Poem a Day Challenge for April, as I fully anticipated. Even so, I feel like it was a success because it got me thinking creatively and writing more than usual.
This is my brain on life.
Red Line
My imagination is overflowing.
Or maybe imagination is the wrong word.
My frontal lobe is exploding.
I'm sure that is a better way to put it.
Airstream dreams, real estate schemes, poetic themes,
scholars and locals, hard lessons, low blows,
practices and rehearsals,
whoopie pies and thunder thighs,
kitty sand and coffee hands,
over-ambitions and a thousand decisions
that can change a life forever.
No wonder I keep walking
into a room, only to forget
what I walked in to do.
This is my brain on life.
Red Line
My imagination is overflowing.
Or maybe imagination is the wrong word.
My frontal lobe is exploding.
I'm sure that is a better way to put it.
Airstream dreams, real estate schemes, poetic themes,
scholars and locals, hard lessons, low blows,
practices and rehearsals,
whoopie pies and thunder thighs,
kitty sand and coffee hands,
over-ambitions and a thousand decisions
that can change a life forever.
No wonder I keep walking
into a room, only to forget
what I walked in to do.
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