Self-DiscoveryAs a young man, out back where the trail curls around
to meet the creek, where you can still smell the ghost
of a three-year-old fire - he used to think of novels;
pieces of charcoal we hold as holy, hoping a pen can
put the grit of cinders back into our mouths.
The last chapter seemed to him smaller and further
away, and the goalposts so thin, and the grey plot so dim.
By thinking of things, you could understand them.
The way small animal tracks leave mud holes where smaller
spiders spun overnight webs, delicate, complex, stunning.
By morning the threads are strung with tiny blue water
beads, dewy pearls on finest silk as if dropped from the
neck of a tipsy wood sprite still dancing as she tiptoes
But the spider needs not understand why, to comply.
And so creation needs a habitat, long-silhouettes, and
tall shoes for getting wet, and a courageous set of legs
for soiling and navigation - to feel the way of walking
is a wordless lesson -
the feeling of light falling on strange
Like A QueenI am a fool of good heart,Like A Queen5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
a creature of ambient lighting
hovering over torn floorboards;
only few have known me before,
yet I go by so many names.
Neighbor outside my door,
no better than I,
no longer can I hear your
filling my slumber,
making me think you've come back.
Innocent flowers and incense
repeat and repeat,
"was there a word I could borrow for
Instead, they left,
wordless in a world of moving
tongues and teeth.
But your garden always made me smile,
reminding me of you every once
in a while.
I'm dotting my I's with breaths
and other residues,
so I won't forget
the day that we met:
our feet sticking to tree-sap
looking for pages to write on.
Now white fog hides
your sharp blade eyes,
laden with a cadence of soft
petals in an even softer wind.
And, to me, you meant more
than any other knock
at the door,
and I bet I could trace
where your knuckles
used to knock before.
For when I am devoured
in an empty house
it is still famished;
To Play the WorldNo phrases taste of the same air,To Play the World5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
No flavors matched across sea and land,
For that which only tongues declare
Do little to flames but fan.
And the poet's kindling, letter
And flair, burn quickly in comparison
To the spirit's sound, a better
Fuel to prepare peace upon.
So then to wholly unify, or
Merely rest, with all nations curled,
We poets cannot speak, for
It takes one note to play the world.
A PageA paper-cut can't kill, but that doesn'tA Page6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
stop me from trying.
A scratch or two makes me feel alive,
but that doesn't stop me from dying.
Submerged in this urgency,
words of blurred emergency
bleed with hidden rage.
On this empty piece of paper,
these corrosive throes caper
to the anger on the page.
A paper-cut can't make it right,
a fallen star won't burn
for however small or however bright,
each light in the sky will burn 'till it's gone.
A paper cuts like a razor,
a page cuts deep like a hollow song.
On this empty piece
I'll bleed sweet release
to rewrite my life
and right my wrongs.
We Are the World[we are the world.]We Are the World5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
afternoon makes me sad.
it's something about the color of the sunlight
and the length of shadow.
this day will never come again.
so hold onto it.
[we are charging into battle, shot from a cannon, heads held high, flags waving.]
she wears a ring around her left ring finger
to pretend she isn't so alone.
she knows that there's still
only canned soup
and her pet goldfish
to come home to.
[we are blazing hearts of glory, singing for freedom and life at the top of our lungs.]
she's mascara-smeared and drowning.
they spit those words
in the cold metal-bound hallways,
bitch. slut. stupid. fat. ugly.
storing secrets in the back of her underwear drawer,
wishing she could return them.
the tags and receipts are gone,
she doesn't even remember how much they were worth in the first place.
crying doesn't do anything except get the pillow wet,
and at some point, she simply ran out of tears.
[we are grass-stained knees, wind-tangled hair, and sk
SuccinctYou'll be unforgotten,Succinct6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You and every word you spoke,
Whether wise reply or whine,
And I'll paint portraits so succinct
Of every way in which you blinked.
And to no end will these feelings travel,
But to no avail, as time unravels
In a concise
And perfect decline.
You'll be a burning flame;
A folded picture without a frame,
Kept close, for hanging is
Such a cruel display.
And by no other name will your fire
Be known, a life meant to warm
Must know Winter someday.
And to no wrinkle will my affection
For emotion is ageless and languid
In changing its subtle, delicate
Whether or not the heart knows what
You'll be remembered
For the love you left behind,
For each uttered breath;
Every word, hateful and kind,
And I'll paint your life,
Its beauty distinct,
Through every way in which you blinked.
White SongStruggling plum blossom, neck bentWhite Song4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Under the cruel weight of the sun,
Bless each slight breeze that brushes
Your peevish cheek, movements which barely
Sway the branches of the trees, but dent
These walls within me; strong fingers spun,
Shuttled, and weaved between two touches
Of this instrument: these clumps of wheat-like
Weedspushing through cracks in the cement,
Uncertain stems and hairy leaves caught
In uncomfortable gracethese are me, blushes
Of glassy purple heads in the subtle wind.
I who was near your heart,
lose beauty in a dry voice...
a whistling choir whispering their flute,
white song for my weary and grateful ears
Love Me BecauseDon't.Love Me Because6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I know you,
better than I'd like to, admittedly.
love me because
I love you.
Love me like my father loved,
the way my mother tried to.
Not to help,
nor to console;
like the weather, neither good nor bad,
just simply there.
Because I know what it's like
when nothing has value or worth,
when Life is nothing more
than a reflection of itself,
when everything is mired in its complete
and inherent thingness.
Love me because
you don't need me.
Because logic isn't always right.
Love me, because
love doesn't exist,
and I've tried everything that does.
Act OneMorning blossomsAct One4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
slow, and strums thin
Autumn's cool drink;
fresh tears sink like
aged ink at rest
beneath blessed rays,
thoughts of you for
Act Two. End scene.
Haunting ShadowsTime slips away,Haunting Shadows5 years ago in Surrealism More Like This
Like some sort of sand,
Its colours fade between,
The forming gaps in my hand...
The clock ticks on,
And I just have to glance,
At the shadow behind me,
To know I don't have a chance...
I turn to face it,
"My soul?" I ask,
and the shadow nods,
And moves on past...
It takes me to the rooftops,
To see from the sky,
To see everyone I have hurt,
And have made to cry...
I ask, with sadness in my tone,
He turns to look into my heart,
And shatters every bone...
Hypnagogic RhymeWe woke up and peeked in,Hypnagogic Rhyme5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on sleeping things
piecing together dreams with lips
that mouthed the vague shape
of hallucinogen crypts,
and we crept, as they slept,
keeping our steps
and breaths under lock and key -
outside we pressed flat feet to cold
cement, and pleaded
to the night that from shadows
sent us this flesh:
...left the interim, an unfair retreat...
...deflated beings wooed tragically
...spread into the beyond, awake or asleep somewhere in-between...
And we tied to each other precious letters,
old love stories to be our feathers,
to fly and finally be seen.
Sonnet IXOld crumpled photographs cover the floor,Sonnet IX6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Serving as portals into our aged minds,
Glimpses of love, pain, and a heart which tore,
A heart still shattered to bits, one that pines.
Our cold, icy forced breaths fog glass windows,
As your dry lips struggle to meet my own,
Finally making ends meet, my heart froze,
Your kiss fills in the pieces, a heart sewn.
You once promised me the world would be mine,
In hopes it was enough to keep me here,
With you in my arms we will be just fine,
You are my world, left with nothing to fear.
As our bodies grow warm, the night goes by,
Take my hand, stare with me into the sky.
Eager EyesEager eyes face upward,Eager Eyes6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
looking nowhere below.
Lay one false step before them
and they won't even know,
passing by right turns toward
many winding roads.
That boy with a cold
and that girl in the snow,
they're perfect for each other but they don't even know.
That singer with curls
and that girl at the show,
they're perfect for each other but they don't even know.
They might pass each other by
with their eyes hanging low.
Never to remember any faces,
walking along at many paces,
because they all have different places to go.
July Haikuthon1.July Haikuthon6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
cramped back rooms
a world away-
lines about lives
in the ditch
the chain of her necklace
she drives to Dallas
adding more miles
sharing a glass
waking up alone
swallowing a lump
thinking of her
dried floral soap
in the bristles
in stacks of bills -
a love letter
the governor quits
I still don't have one
loneliness kept at bay
I write haiku
the page is
breadcrumbs for birds
my dog fancies herself
from the speaker
from the shoes I wore
to her funeral
Heart's SongSing me your heart's song,Heart's Song5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
each syllable spilling your
blood, your viscous and loving blood.
Sing me your heart's song
to tell me how love works
and where we got it wrong.
Reach out with bleeding emotion;
each thrilling spill, each
cut deep from your
the world's smallest ocean.
Render words useless,
pierced by putrid fluids;
a fruitless, mad song spewing
as I weep for a meaningless scene
drawn from your heart's juices.
Sing me your heart's song
to tell me I'm not dreaming,
and I'll song along
with my own blood streaming;
our faces grown pale, our struggles to no avail,
all to see where we got it wrong.
Lost in Timetime.Lost in Time5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
where is its end?
how can soundless wails echo
through an infinite sea?
-it hints at different voices,
silence withering, more delicate
where it measures the menace
of distances long-forgotten.
where does it end?
-its insistent whine, a caress
calculating the future, oppressive
and lax in its imminent
no beginning, no end.
clamor and riot;
the primitive litter existence
with star-crossed illusions
of a world without time,
as the past picks up a voice,
in its arrogant truth.
in our superficial permanence do we lose meaning,
restoring illumination to endless generations
QuandaryYour secrets keep me down here,Quandary7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
amidst the soot, up to my foot
in overjoyed resentments.
Your senses cannot see clear,
amidst the smoke, too much to choke
on undercooked contentments.
Before my eyes, you comprised a disguise,
and now I don't know where you've been.
Before I die, I'd like to see you try
to never say never ever again.
You used to be
so close to me,
you used to speak in quandary.
You used to shine
like a diamond mine,
in perfect lines of quandary.
Glorious sun under which I thrive,
I live for you, but I'm not alive.
Amidst the secrets, amidst the lies,
a mysterious enigma, conundrum, and surprise.