Milk

skin too thin
to deal with the seal
of a broken fate
that penetrates
deeper than glass:
thrown and broken,
left for cleaning
with naked hands.

Infusion

Reducing myself to a memory;
I'd freeze onto a cloud, floating
over you, falling,

melting upon your tongue,
to be swallowed and absorbed
inside of you, forever.

Missing

when love speaks
to my heart,
it must be traveling
without a DAMN
map, cause
it gets lost
in the translation…

Altar-ation

A dimly lit lamp
in the corner solely
lighting a book of poetry
stained with tears, still damp

inside: pouring rain--
outside the window,
the wind blows
rattling the pane

in a procession--
as a roaring crowd,
beckoning loud-ly
the call of participation.

Cant

alone, watching
people sit in their
comfy chairs
sipping their joy
from a cup;
when I notice
no one cares
to watch me.

Stillborn

the road to creation, long--
the current being so much different
than before.
on the cusp of his birth
The heart, stopped
The voice, silenced
The soul, flatlined.
The new beginning
buried before the final
preparations begun.

the anticipation was grand.

The Seduction

The pen, swirling in curves and lines
up and down, side to side
unruly and wild --
Thrusting with words
penetrating
deeper --
Deep inside, you quiver at the very thought
of bringing life to that which is caught
within the pages of my Trapper Keeper.

-----------Sigh------------

Running Shoes

Millions of miles traveled
All on foot, self propelled;

Almost two thousand pairs of shoes
In over sixteen thousand days, where
Running wears them out, so fast.

Twenty four months
Give or take
Destination discovered... ?
Time will tell
Four corners held by beams of steel
Walls of colors painted with the breath
Of a kiss,
A thought,
A mood,
An inkling,
Or the contractions of climaxes yet made.

My head, spinning
At the ever changing colors,
Enchanting,
All encompassing
Before I realize
I hear the
Smacking of lips
Her walls, swallowing
Mine.
Perhaps a good place to rest?
For a time...

The Rack Room is on speed dial
Just in case.

About Time

Hands in lap, as they should be
watching you talk to me
posture of fear drapes your shoulders
heavy like boulders;

waiting for my gavel to drop
not quite knowing the type of crop
my garden grows, but please know
a pedestal I will never tow.

Against the resistance
at my persistence
giving me a half smile, chin down
eyes full of questions, answered on some dawn.

Thinking of time, eyes locked
on some distant rhyme knocked
out just for you, hoping it will
be me, with my lips being sealed.

A bolt flashes through me
screaming, "MAKE YOUR MOVE DUMMY!"
thinking better of it, I move as if the clock
read yesterday when destiny made me flock
To You, in the first place.

Burned

Like a cool bath, the burning
sand cradles her soul
the scorching sun caresses
her skin, as the sting
from careless words fades
into a rock hard memory and
the last tear splashes
into a wake.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Feed

a pint or two of stout
just to ease my pout--

a pint of ice cream before bed,
sweet dreams to settle my head

But hunger pains gnaw.

fast food drive-thru after midnight--
dreams of you shatter my might

throwing my belt on the highway
my pants are screaming, "may day!"

The hunger pains still gnaw.

one and a half dozen cupcakes
in the oven, set on bake

hot chicken wings sizzle in the fryer
new pants, a size up in the dryer

Still, the hunger pains gnaw.

now a heart knows a thing or two
about gnawing pain of rue--

it is swift and sly
makin' up lies

That hunger pains need to be fed.

Detachment

I took a memory

from a day in June
when we wrote
poetry in the sand
just before high tide--

I made it

an idol on the mantel
between two candles
smack dab in the middle
of the room. Last night
in a fit of sobs

I gave it back

to the earth
that birthed it,
with a mirror
in its place.

Cracked

“Come fly with me,” Frank sang;
But he ended up dead
Before I could get there

Just like life.

With feet dangling like a dream
Unmet, Alone I jumped
Off the wall

To fly away, somewhere--

And oh, What a great fall it was
Until, the crash—
With nowhere to land,

In particular

Like Earhart’s Electra
Off the coast of Somewhere;
I shattered

As I fell

To a million pieces,
Never to be
Put back together again.

Damn you Frank!

Past Tense-Shun

The rose, with soft petals:
Destined to die
before it can rise.

Before Supper

The afternoon sun is creeping through
the bedroom. I like this room this time
of day; alone with no one to care--

for or about; I chuckle.
The darkness lies across my shoulders,
while I swirl my bourbon on the rocks;

gearing up for the sun to set; the time
when I have to smile and tuck
the darkness beneath the bed.

Learning...

We are learning in my creative writing class how to write imagery that the reader can taste, feel, hear, smell and almost touch. This is my short piece I presented for my creative writing class today.




The Brown Pontiac




I am in the brown Pontiac sitting at the airport watching planes land. I am in the backseat, alone, but being alone has never bothered me. This Pontiac only has two doors, but they are really long ones that extend almost to the back seat. The windows are rolled down and my head is wedged between the front seat head rest and the window frame, with my eyes wide, and fixed straight toward the skies. I am waiting for the next airplane to take me away. The incoming planes are so low, I could reach up and stroke its belly, but the thrill of the vibrations is enough to sustain me. I am six years old, and I am free as a bird!




It is night time, the air is August thick and is mysterious with the orange glow from the runway lights. My mom and dad are in the front seat, smoking Pall Mall reds. The car is smokey and the air is filled with the scent of jet fuel pressing against every sense I have; I cough without noticing. My parents are happy, they're laughing and flirting and saying things they think my young ears don't understand. It was before they declared war on each other; and it was before I declared war on myself. This night is better than chocolate milk and doughnuts, and I never want to leave.

Hunch

If I built a bench,
Little by little
Beyond the middle
Of normal;

Would you rest with me?

She Was Hope

When darkness swallows

the sunny memories

of day, 

hope bares to

its nakedness

hiding within the

abandoned whisper

just beyond the shadows;

leaving no trace

she ever was.

Waiting

The distance from here to there
Spans a separation like
A trip to that galaxy;
With the name that was born from
Your initials engraved in my
Heart like a brander made of
Fire; Trapped forever-- like time.

Hard Stuff

I'm repeating this as new, cause it's.... relevant again.

The spirits hold me

when it hurts to see,

Drowning

is what I feel

when I’ve gotten a raw deal.

It

doesn’t really matter much

cause there’s no such

thing as having it

All.

The spirits know

when it’s time for me to go

Away.