AddictionThis is where I let it go...Addiction7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Is the essence of impracticality, impossibility.
But you tie her down to keep her near,
and she pretends your ropes can hold her.
To need so direly something so unreal, how can she protest?
[She is only a figment of your imagination] Can you see through the clouds?
The stars themselves have frozen
And you somehow manage not to notice.
The rose that fails to bloom
is locked in a perpetual state of almost
and even in the warmest nights of summer sweet,
Is edged in a shro
Time TravelCrawling backwards through time,Time Travel7 years ago in Open More Like This
Trying to find the place
Where the bookmark slid out
From between the pages.
When the rain stopped falling.
When the dance began.
(Infinitesimal sweeping footsteps
Brushing a trail into the sands of time)
[We all need a little cliché in our lives]
When the Once Upon a Time
Forgot where to find
Its Happily Ever After.
There is a place
a show of respectthey buried him yesterdaya show of respect6 years ago in Open More Like This
laid him in a polished box
his widow will work three years
sweeping floors to pay off
then stuck his shining mahogany
in a hole in the ground that
will cost her five more
as dirt lands with
hollow thumps on the lid,
tears falling among
the arranged flowers
now as dead as he is
to me, she will no longer speak
my refusal to attend
his send-off an
she cannot comprehend
that Ive already said
that the cold thing they
planted in the earth
like a dog burying a bone
is not him
pumped full of formaldehyde,
it will survive until
but he was not there
among the gathering
of polite mourners
he was already gone
flown away on the wings
of his hoped-for redemption
on a warm, clear morning
solely lonelybeneath all these wordssolely lonely6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
made of space, i am
just a yearning soul
if a tree falls in...a fenceless gardenif a tree falls in...3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
defenseless and unguarded
she watches you grow
the sensation of drowningi.the sensation of drowning6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
all my life i have hidden myself in the memory of a time and place half a planet and a whole decade away. my faded cotton-candy dreams are no longer pink and sweet; they are light as cloud and i am so close to forgetting that i am afraid everything i have ever loved will go the same way. i dont want to fade into the ether of space. i want to have a place in the world; i want to be found; i want to stop being lost.
i am the only person who can find me and i fear i am not ready for it, now, when i need it most.
today, home stopped being a place i could run to.
all my life i have had this place where i cannot be found because it is mine. but when walls are made by mothers and their drift is stayed by the hands of fathers, you learn that they are human and what they make is only as solid, as perfect as we are. it is not that they do not love me enough to hold back the breach, but by the process of love they hav
pathos as a punchlineand then, mid-rinse, it hit me.pathos as a punchline6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there's something a touch more troubling
about quiet desperation
showing its face during the
familiar & commonplace.
weeping in the shower; fully lathered,
red-eyed in the mirror;
shaving cream scattered,
small cut crowning
a procession of teeth.
crying at breakfast;
full stack of pancakes
cooling on the table.
miserable at brunch;
spinach quiche crumbles
collecting on the chin.
it's a fully realized sadness
fit to laugh at, on the screen.
it's a swallowing despair
to bear in skin.
CamaraderieOurs is an easy friendship;Camaraderie6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
we both know when to speak
and when to be quiet,
when to press
and when to be still.
In my time,
Ive been blindsided,
but as long as youre here,
I never have to worry
about my back.
ThirstyThe evening sweatsThirsty4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
small feet drags
to swig the moon
looking uptell me how to forget, andlooking up6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i will teach you how to leave.
i will teach you to read downside up.
i will change the colour of my heart
for you, and i will forget
what it means to weep. keep me
on the ground, where i can be sure
of my feet; let me catch the motes
of love that float down from afar.
oh love, will you be my sky,
be my eyelids when i fall?
Boy Playing HimselfBoy Playing HimselfBoy Playing Himself6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Standing there on the porch,
his colors hushed by shade, he is
cooling himself perhaps
holding in the last lung of smoke
hell get today.
The blinds behind the window
arent moving. The porch swing isnt
moving. There are no birds in the eaves.
He is not moving.
About four steps from the door
and looking away into the street,
he waits on a U-turn to take
him back across the bay
to the peninsula and then into the city
where his friends are gathering.
Hands in his pockets he is
locked out. He was expecting
someone who isnt there yet,
or at all, though there was probably
every reason to think they would be
just turning off the t.v and rising
to get the door.
This life of his is not easy in my
mind, it is not easy in that way
not like a bag caught in blades of grass
catching the breeze as a bottle drops.
Could it be hes counting cars as he passes
the time before walking the dog?
Could he have begun turning
GazaJanuary 5, 2009Gaza6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Hold them little one, tightly
wont you, my suffering fingers
your breath so short, your pulse
so faint, you are hardly here
with me and I have no time
to explain it is not the shade of olive trees
that streaks your sunless face; it is not
the red poppies of Palestine I see blooming
there in your breast and I dont know
how to speak what I wish that it stung you
to feel my salt as I push these eyes
against your ragged jaw, that youd
scream the agony of your torn body
as I pull you to me and curse my clumsy
mistreatment of your sagging shoulders,
the shattered glass of your mouth,
the splintered concrete of your bones
if only you would, I could pretend anger at you
for bleeding on your best shirt, my shemagh
tucked under your head.
Hold them little one, tightly
wont you, my suffering fingers
your breath so short, your pulse
so faint, I am hardly here.
a quiet night at home with...I want somea quiet night at home with...6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on my chest
and a mane
to rake my
your eyes glued
to the screen
the set spitting
news at us
the stars aglow
I'd like to find
I am a piece
fooled.becausefooled.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I smile when
talk to mehad I known the lasttalk to me6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
time you called that
we would never
speak again, I would
have talked longer,
kept you on the line
babbling about the weather,
asking inane questions
just to hear your voice
produce the answers
everyone's a criticI don't do spoken word Ieveryone's a critic6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
perform a living sentence I'm
a pro noun taming verbs and
miss the premise
poetry's a gift
which opens people
up like presents well
of course this caged bird
sings his song's
each bars' presence us
wild flowers bloom
(to shine) the night
of our senses
All We KnowAll We KnowAll We Know6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And as the balloons touched
down into the sea on that
Sunday night in April
What of the thousand buoyant
red and yellow plans you must have held
for your truck-stop in Paranagua?
What of the truckers at the grain port
whom youd resolved to help?
What of the unnumbered details behind
everything that was so quickly
fading behind the misfortune of that day
and what of our need for better details
to fill in the mysteries of your death at sea,
a death that has left behind
lines that wont come to me,
not even faintly
as a cry drifting across the waves
might have come to me
if Id been out fishing like
someone might have been out fishing
as you struggled
in the company of a dream
neither too big nor too small
but still, at last, the end of you,
awash in unabsolving brine,
asking a fisher of men
to take up the best of you in his nets
as Atlantic cold and current
resolved to carry the rest of you
to where your arms will find their rest
The Last SpeakerThe Last SpeakerThe Last Speaker5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Boa Sr, as you were known,
your passing parts land from earth,
earth from land, leaving no one
to lay your names upon the stones.
Now who is there to say, 'Mother
Mother the howling wind, Mother
it has put night in my bones;
am I scared? Is that all
this is?' What should I call these
biscuits? How will I ask for scissors
without hearing you laugh
at what you've spoken
to yourself? How will my mouth
open to fruit peeled by the tongue
of its name? The sun is hot
as turtle bones roasting in fire.
The small boat of your sister's husband
approaches. A tree has fallen,
uprooted completely. I am
folding my arms to wait.
Poured OutLike old cansPoured Out6 years ago in Open More Like This
stripped of their labels,
naked tins of tomato soup
and cream corn,
their purpose lost
I find myself
Opened and emptied,
I roll through dark days
like blind alleys,
wishing for shoes.
Rwandan Screen Timeguilt spokeRwandan Screen Time6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with angry eyes
from the throats
of eight hundred thousand
for the great
the year...i.the year...6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the lights flickered
like a jar of
that teased the night
and sent it crawling
away as if to acknowledge
who's boss. its infinite dark
waiting behind everything
for the chance to
drown my frail apartment
and the limp chords
that protect it.
look what the cat
dragged under the birch tree
to devour slowly;
a sterling bird who's
feathers rise and fall
at the slow-length of micro-
organism life spans
to the sound-track
of wild children.
somewhere out there is a
beautiful woman, coughing
chocolate cake phlegm and
smoking a cigarette, or
running with a box of cutlery
with my name on it,
her one pair of shoes
collecting the particles
of tomorrow's yesterday
in their bottoms.
upbringingwe interpret eachupbringing6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
others silence as
weve both been
taught not to
eclectic currents.there are frequencieseclectic currents.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
rushing through my fingers
and into yours.
this is our own
private circuit. i leave patterns
under your skin, filled with secret messages.
about being convinced white is another version of
black. and about blushing when i read
your words. and how sad i am
that i've never seen all those times
i've made you smile.
we are what connects
cursive letters together.
we are cold eyes filled
with lightning storms.
we are alone,