Some Poetry

Some Poetry

I wrote you some poems. I'll keep them here for you.

All writing contained in this blog is my own original work unless otherwise stated.

Copyright © 2012 - 2014

This candle throws shadows
Across the wall
Penetrates the darkness
Illuminates our faults
Exaggerates every edge from which
We could fall
Makes minuscule matters
Twelve feet tall

There’s an exit strategy
On both sides of the coin
I flip it,
You call it
There’s a purpose behind my left ear
Enlightenment stashed safely
In my wallet

And shudders
Earlobe, neck
Language of lovers
Lips, tongue
And her kiss
An ovation,
From the hairs
Of the back
Of my neck
Of a heartbeat,
Of a car wreck

They want me to hate you

They want me to hate you
I have been trained
To hold myself against you
And I am a flickering flame and
You are combustible,
The same
Your god is different than my god then
My god
Do I hate you -
Your skin is different than my skin then
My skin
Should never touch yours
My father was a firestorm,
Loved everything and turned it grey
Taught me to rebel against lessons
To question the purpose and the meaning
To analyze motive and maintain integrity in any cost
And we all look the same
And we all love the same
And we all bleed the same
They want me to hate you
I’ve been praying to a righteous justification
His retort was silence,
Blinding light in a splitting headache and
I still love you,
Imperfect and haunted I have always loved you
Colors of the rainbow,
Creeds of all tongues and gods
Much closer to the ground than my own –
Dirt should not war
Against dirt

When I am cold you make me warm and
When I am alone you are
Never far from me and
Is it supposed to hurt like this?
You are the tear-stealing-fingertip
My “Babe, you ain’t
Seen nothin’ yet”
The forgive but never
The forget but
Is it supposed to hurt
Like this?
You are my thirst
Feast upon
You are ready,
Last request -
A kiss but
Is it supposed
To hurt

The Take

Sleeping soundly,
Upon back,
Open mouth
In the rain

We’ve been dancing for drought
Placing our faith in doubt
Placing our bets then
Sleeping in the beds
We made
Of the take

In this muggy August heat
This relentless 
She sticks to me 
Even more
Than she usually

I sing without inhibition
With concern for no opinion
And she sings
Jeff Buckley 
With me

Hallelujah, Lover 
Psyches on the mend
Hallelujah, Lover 
This night shall 

In this muggy August heat
This relentless
She sticks to me
Even more
Than she usually

I sing without inhibition
With concern for no opinion
And she sings
Jeff Buckley
With me

Hallelujah, Lover
Psyches on the mend
Hallelujah, Lover
This night shall

I want to tell you
You are free
But you are not
Behind you drags a chain
The length of a wedding train
And everyone has turned out in
But they’re hanging their black jackets up in the back
Kicking off their black shoes
They’re laying out their slacks flat
In preparation for
The next celebration
They’re hanging all the flowers out
To dry
Preparedness can come across as eagerness and
Indistinguishable things are often just
The same thing

I want to tell you
You are beautiful
But you are not
The corners of your eyes are crusted with the remnants of a blissful slumber but
The palms of your hands are those of a working man
Or a soldier
Decay rides your breath and
Your right shoulder sits higher
Than your left
You were
Created in the image of a vengeful,
Jealous god

Pretty Please

They can’t tell where or why or how or when but
They can assure me everything
Will be OK if
I just do my part
Just did my part paid
Taxes paid dues paid late fees
And interests,

Learned to kill and to avoid being killed in the name of
In the name of
In the name of…
We’ll get back to you on the name
Hurry up,
Hurry up and wait -
My patriotism unquestioned in
Unquestioning uniform in
Unrelenting uniformity
But one man’s terrorist
Is another man’s journalist and
We need free thinkers,
We need minds spoken and
We need the fucking crowd to disperse -

You can be anything you want to be
So long as you picked from the list
Of preapproved specialties
That’ll be
The next fifteen years of your life,
Pretty Please

For Hire

If you would,
Half a cup
Of your finest,
Not cold but
Just below steaming
I’ve grown old
And reluctantly
Into this unshakable feeling
Fill me,
Styrofoam and wanting
A myriad of litanies,
Volume turned down
I’m blue-faced
In a black-and-white
My kicks against that which confine me
Repetitive and rattling my bones
To microscopic fractures
Reduced to single 
White on
Exclaimed - 
I’ve been helplessly afloat
And only moderately aware
My makeshift craft
Enough surface area to support myself,
And my baggage
With no room left
For agriculture
The reduction,
I’ve been hunting and gathering,
I’ve been threading my fingertips through the passing current
I’ve been enticing sharks and
Charming snakes
For Hire

And oh, I never meant to become so cynical.  

Hanging from the tattered edges where
In haste and desperation I ripped
Pieces from my torso
To make room
For you

In the effort to find the bleed,
To clamp the artery
To replace the bitter parts of me
With those that can fend off darkness
(while I feed
off darkness)
And the light is
Only a fleeting reminder that nothing
Is forever
That all goes dim
All roofs cave in
And flames,
No matter how bright,
Burn out to leave behind
And the night,
And you’ve lost that which was
Set alight in the name
Of finer vision but
Such is the case
When transferring
Energetic states

In the shivering between my arms
That used to be your arms
And between my sheets
That were ours
Where we made love I
Make believe in a place
Where I’ve the strength
To breathe
With the weight
Of my mistakes
Scarred across my chest
Scrawled across my chest

Bet on the wrong horse
Thrown shoe
Broken leg

The dancing monkey
The three circus rings were
The crown of a balding head -
Directing attention to,
Left to right you
Will find
My falling in,
My tumbling ‘round
My inevitable falling out
Of love
With everything
Minus one
Is nothing

The happy ending
Filed away behind
Profit and loss statements
And assorted allergies.
After so long of being sick of
Now just sick
Goodwill comes in a can,
Mylar bag
Boiled and ridded of external influence,
Predation peppered
With charitable deeds,
In magazines,
On television screens

Can speak
Without moving mouth
Can carry on entire conversations
Without speaking