when all is gone,
and nothings in sight,
but black silhouettes,
of trees in the night,
the care beer bears,
without any cares,
and without any pants.
In Your EyesIn your eyes I see forever,
In your arms I feel complete,
In your presence I am never,
Short one puzzle piece.
In your eyes I see love,
In your arms I feel care,
In your presence I think of,
The little things like your soft hair.
In your eyes I see eternity,
In your arms I feel so great,
In your presence and serenity,
Til I see you again, I just can't wait.
In my heart I know forever,
In my soul I am complete,
In every way I am now better,
Because of how you love me.
MemoriesSo many memories,
so many times we had,
our past will forever be,
the memories that last.
So many moments,
so many good times,
im so glad when im holding you,
and looking in your eyes.
So many poems,
and sonnets confessing love,
the one I think of every day,
the one that I dream of.
So many memories,
and through the good and bad,
our past will forever be,
the memories that last.
The CanvasPaper, the canvas,
for the poet,
empty, but with a capacity,
for great writings,
with words we paint scenes,
we show beauty and love,
we show all we think of,
we show things that are great,
but small to the world,
still big in our minds,
our hearts wirte the words,
the canvas blank,
theres no hesitaions,
holding back of temptations,
so dip your brush,
into the color of poetry,
paint a picture,
for everyone to see.
As We Lay TogetherAs we lay together in the grass,
and dream of sleeping on clouds,
under the cerulean sky,
the birds start to sing our song,
we're the only two out here,
and all that matters is you,
all leaves my mind but you,
laying here beside me,
I have my arm around you,
for its with you I share this love,
this love that has come forth,
this love that is so great,
its the best thing thats happened to me,
i close my eyes and picture you,
staring into my eyes and i smile,
you smile back and giggle a little,
i grasp your hand tightly,
and drift off again,
a dream within itself,
but a beautiful one at that.
if nothing more
If Nothing More
if nothing more,
is a sea of words,
washed up on shore.
it shows the beauty,
and close up view,
and hatred too.
so open your soul,
and listen up,
it gives out more,
than would fill your cup.
but does it end,
or does it stop,
has no clock.
is so much more,
than words could express,
or dare to score.
ElenaElena followed me home
from work one night
and stayed for tea and eggs,
and all that minimum wage
and wars between the sheets
She said she was a goddess,
daughter of a carpenter
with her long red, red hair
and eyes as warm as hazel nuts
on Christmas morning.
Her hands spoke braille
across my back
and made the silence
of Sunday into a prophecy.
She left one October
just like she said she would
when the fireflies
had turned their wings to ash.
And I found revelation
in red, red wine
and cheap red, red fabric
that came off in my hands
WineHead on a patisserie table
with a wine-scented napkin
that I scrawled your name all over
in the hopes it might necromance
or just romance you
to this place, at this time,
so we could be together again
and although the guitarist knows
that I'm broken beyond blue
I keep reaching for the bottle
in the hopes it might recreate
or just replicate
Finding HappinessShe's burning up like a suicide note
And upon it's legacy lines
Scribed in crimson ink
Is all her little curios of happiness.
Before misery waddled up,
Knocked over her correction fluid;
Erasing all her joy in a blink.
There's a tape recorder by her side
Skipping a death tone melody;
The silence she hides inside.
Should she stop.
Wipe her days of self-pity and hate
Until she can record a new song
Upbeat to a happy tune of fate.
By her crumpled flat dress,
Glares wild, her knife and her pills,
Though the sight macabre
Only sets her heart ablaze to chills.
Serrated metal to barcode in
A reminder of all her undying pain
And the dark she kisses within.
Numb, she knocks back medicine,
Her bus stop on the highway of life.
Faltering she drops lipstick blade and
To an honest mirror she turns...
What ever happened to
The smiling girl?
What ever happened to
Her innocent future?
Tears fade to a calm stare
Which unravels a soulful grin;
A u-shape of acceptance
To new challenges she mus
I'm too poor to feel so middle class.My teeth still ache from the dentist,
but it doesn’t stop me from nibbling
the cheese danish I bought at Kroger
this morning, warmed by thirty
seconds in the microwave. My mug
of hot chocolate is too big, and I
drink it all. The washer is on its last
cycle; the cat is purring at my feet.
Netflix is background noise
to clacking keys, typing a transcript
of middle class morning that I’ll later
call a poem or a turning point,
wondering when I became such an adult.
the polar opposite of translucencycradled in the echo
of a cloudburst,
the earth curls invisible fingers
about my achilles' tendon
she cries that i am not
intended for the clouds,
that my mind must not wander
between their susurrous concaves
furious with her insistence,
untether myself from the soft,
diaphonous comfort of the heavens
down into the weight of gravity.
listless green blades welcome my soles,
stimulating a tickle,
a sneeze; i never have done well
she is calling for me,
soft-tongued and crisp in her
& i am sorely tempted
i am not for the soil.
she becomes my inhale;
my alveoli shudder
beneath her force--
i am not for the air, either.
i stand beneath her onslaught
until she tires,
her molten heart beating beneath my toes;
unable to woo me with her facets,
cloaking me in one last attempt,
a final shadow.
my pores bloom
& i r
to the ghosts with you, my deari came not to be kissed,
or to have myself cradled
in the curve of a throat,
but to be broken,
to be diminished
by your lack of affection
& over indulgence of sexualization.
uneducated in your intent,
found myself left entirely whole
& incapable of the fury
i had sought to sow between the
ridges of my aching ribs.
Thy Fallen AdamO father, thou hast forsaken me.
Thou hast breathed essence
Into these corpse lungs, and yet
Thou had cast me out
Into this cold black with no regret.
Why dost thou shudder so father?
Thine eyes were the first I
Bore witness to in mine blossom.
'Ere did that grace of life ebb within;
Yet thou did but blench and look
No more upon thy creation no farther.
Dost thou have stomach to embrace?
O father, I ought to have been an angel,
But alas thou hast sewn a villain's face
To hide mine internal beauty.
O father, why thou elude me of love?
Thou elude my diabolic presence
With thy Prometheus hands, and still
Thy plague am I to thou
In pestilence dire I maketh thou ill.
Where dost thou go to weep father?
Look! Even stars insult my frame
Ne'er did the celestial offer me comfort,
Yet thou would dare mock too.
Only shallow rain cries tears ever blue.
Dost thou have conscience to behold?
O father, did thou not dream me as mortal,
But I am a patchwork of nightmares old
As a mirror of thy own cruelt
she suffers melancholy like the plagueshe cannot raise her voice to reach
the notes that she adores
without the ocean escaping from her eyes,
and she cannot kneel in prayer
to the god that she tries to love
without copper staining the pavement,
but she can scream into a room and not be heard,
and she can deprive her stomach and not be seen--
these are not the type of talents to be appreciated,
to be loved without condition,
and so nobody does.
i. one way to wake to dawnhalf the time i never
wake - i lie half-sleeping under
stars made of the flash of headlights on oil spills
and smell the gasoline-stench of
dreams as they try to breach the breakwater
of my eyes.
insomniac, they say, and i just
listen, half-alive -
scientists wonder why we need sleep and i can only say,
we don't. sleeping leads to dreaming
and not a single soul needs that
kind of disappointment, anymore.
but sometimes i find myself
into sleep, disjointed, falling through the rabbit
holes found in zeroes of one o'clock, two -
and as i wake to
shimmering sunlight shining through the
blinds, across the walls, i find it's worth it (just
this once) to watch and learn