this twenty-fourin this 24 hoursthis twenty-four in Free Verse More Like This
know you are loved,
set in the sight of a mind,
desired in the heart of a man,
who waking and sleeping
ponders you, dreams of you,
feels more than can be [or should be] averred.
when he contemplates love, it is you.
know this tomorrow too...
llp - jul2010 - dA
passing thoughtswe arrive, we live, we leave behindpassing thoughts in Free Verse More Like This
our minute bits of information,
to continue the cosmic evolution.
we, having lived, depart as part
of the history of a vast totality.
in contemplation, we might say:
having gone, we are no more -
yet, no less than supernovae.
that is a comforting thought.
as we go, the belief we hold,
truth in our atom gift, is held.
that too is a comforting thought.
though all things appear to disappear,
nothing disappears completely;
our echoes echo forever.
that is a Very comforting thought.
llp - may2011 - dA
singular human evolutionif we pay attention,singular human evolution in Free Verse More Like This
we learn daily.
if we're open to ideas,
theories may blossom.
if we're truly aware,
we will be informed.
experience is neither sand -
strewn to disguise lies,
nor stones -
set to shield beliefs.
experience is like a sculpture,
formed more complete each day,
evolving in truth,
but forever unfinished.
all things, neither proven nor dis-proven,
must be held 'as-if' they 'may' be true...
when they shall be challenged again.
llp - jun2011 - dA
one certaintysometimes, what doesn't feel right,one certainty in Free Verse More Like This
makes the most sense,
when seen by the light of day,
or the next,
we regress, readdress to reassess,
take a recess, then repeat the process.
forever, we contrive clever ideas
to store inside, cast aside or put aside
for now, to await that light of day.
come morning, we'll arise,
clear of eyes and mind, to find
still, there is no ready answer -
only question, question, question,
on occasion conceive a suggestion,
but seldom that epiphany we seek.
that, un-certainty, is life...
llp - jan2011 - dA
secular and open...[to cleanse]secular and open... in Open More Like This
like water filtered
through the earth
to pool in sanctity
[and through your]
i speak -
to ask your inner you
cupping of the waters
of the thirst,
your spirit well,
is a deeper tell,
ensure you know
the truth of you
ensure the worth of you
is recognized -
and loved within
of your soul.
bring the blood
of the notion
you would waste
away in stealth.
love of self
you must keep,
within your heart
if thirsty need
of the soul
is what you'll find.
the stream of life
evolves to love.
all of the above.
from whence comes what you know?
all this - the universe.
you ask, "do i belong?"
the answer - "you exist..."
was, gone, rememberedto feel loved enables one to feel love.was, gone, remembered in Free Verse More Like This
all things to which one can evolve
are felt possible -
held in memory,
not the end;
in time love does -
llp - aug2010 - dA
swallowsswallowsswallows in Free Verse More Like This
to the sky
by the byes
swoop and dive
seem more alive
llp - aug2012 - dA - DLD-8/28/12
a spiritual agnosticismthe search for truth in the universe,a spiritual agnosticism in Editorial More Like This
is not a denial, but an affirmation -
that there is a mysterious 'godliness'
in the way the cosmos proceeds in
its endless evolution:
- 'bending toward justice'.
- spiritual, not religious, pervading
every atom, therefore pervading us.
- common to everything.
- connecting everyone.
- a patient faint consciousness,
in touch with all sentient awareness.
- no 'one' answer; each of us connects
in our own way... or fails to.
not having a need to believe in 'a' God,
leaves one open to have common faith
with everyone, to think of all others
as brothers and sisters.
we are all 'of' the universe.
if, there comes a time when one feels
a connection to a special religion
or concept of a God, then one may,
without dogmatically condemning others,
'decide' to accept that as one's own form
it must be done voluntarily... and
with true humility, in that one keeps
in mind that faith is a personal choice,
that there is absolutely no honest way
one can 'kno
an epitaphi diedan epitaph in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
thus died the world
llp - may2011 - dA
it's only not moneyi gamble,it's only not money in Free Verse More Like This
knowing nothing of the math,
a speculator in theory -
hence the hedging of my bets.
i hold a reserve of curiousity,
am sure to adjust every wager.
likewise, all is cosmic thinking,
via input - continuous input,
given weight and counterweight,
to arrive at no beliefs,
but yes, positions - for now,
until overriding facts intervene.
more and more - how we all operate,
in honesty, we cast off beliefs,
hold them in a temporary arbitrary way -
willing and expecting to be swayed.
so, we are.
we exercise flexibility;
trees in wind,
humans - bob and weave.
then, o'er friends who break and fall,
we sadly shake our heads... and grieve.
llp - sep2010 - dA
For BukowskiLeaving so soon? It'sFor Bukowski in Free Verse More Like This
okay - we've come to expect it.
Visit every so often. Send a letter signed with a heart.
Every one will be placed unopened in the top drawer.
Answers are only excuses.
Genuine expressions of what we want to be.
Faded, tired, we finally
only to find that every day is another performance.
Marvelous! (the crowd cheers.)
Here is what they've come for.
last one of them. They don't want your
love, they want your pain. No one ever leaves disappointed.
baby drilledif the sun stillbaby drilled in Free Verse More Like This
shines then the
we've been repeating
what the rain said
spray the earth's
into the bay
let them make
in the riverbed
with one hand
what the other
the night in
progressionlies like loveprogression in Free Verse More Like This
it was (your jigsaw face)
that helped me (put it together)
the canker in your cellsit lurks in your marrow,the canker in your cells in Free Verse More Like This
hidden away in your living cells.
this poison that you picked,
in whistles & bells.
'name that tune'
becomes so much more
than just a game to pass the time.
as each line strives
to find a way
to wrap your reasons
fairy-tale spells & poetry
to mask the naked truth;
the siren poison that calls you
to sleep (perchance to dream)
is of your own devising.
your worldview's naturally narrow,
since cynicism sells
this remedy you've created
a need for;
something to purify the wells
of your strychnine selves.
(each one planning a funeral,
and soon it's all together's fine.)
all black and white,
mahogany and brass with a mirror shine,
facade of peaceful slumber;
all to mask the rot
just beneath the surface.
it lurks in your marrow,
hidden away in your living cells;
food for th' indifferent worms.
elevens inseparableon the subject of confidenceelevens inseparable in Free Verse More Like This
the room grows
of not explaining myself
in case I do decide
on somewhere else
I leave behind
(or not to be)
with each tiny silence filled
life imitates life
art takes note
and to hell with the rest of it
ever onward & expanding
on the forefront
(in the very back of things)
is you and
distinguished but undefinable
it's always with a final thought
I leave you
spoke sedwickspoke sedwick in Free Verse More Like This
come with me
and you shall see
a play, of sorts, begin
the rather splendid spiders
the ones who
make their nest
below your flesh
'cross your bones
I pay a visit
laugh & drink
and drink & dance
and then we
drink some more
though their red
a rather sticky
and to think
is a hot spot
the spiders are
a social bunch
my scrumptious morsel
though I can not say
and rest assured
I will be seeing you
the modern air conditionyou can't fallthe modern air condition in Free Verse More Like This
in love with
but his hand
we propose to it
make our real
now accepting applications...the smoke beneath your bed finally finds younow accepting applications... in Free Verse More Like This
staring crooked in broken mirrors
for the fire of your former features
forever and ember
still breath and false starts
'til it whispers
the universe is big business
but the fact of (the) matter is
it desires you deposit d.n.a.
demanding genetic building blocks
on which to lay its foundation
and though the future of father's daughters
the sun set's assured
I'm eagerly anticipating the arrival
of the non-linear one-liner
yes it all implodes in infinity
but buildings retain their names anyway
mountains and their silhouettes sit still
yet oppose portraits on general principal
the stars think they're brilliant
the general population favors vague impressions
most allow the words
(to escape unnoticed)
Candiesa trash-strewn strutCandies in Free Verse More Like This
slummed slow bus ride
is a nasty mind
your candy coated eyes
last night cried
sugar water clouds
to crown the ground
to turn young minds
your gift's an open
darksome mouth devouring
at intervals of twothe man with the backwards baseball capat intervals of two in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
visits the same grocery store
every thursday, buys exactly three items,
and then leaves quietly. he doesn't want
to cause any problems.
"always the same old thing", he says to
the undercover cop posing as the
lady at the check out counter - it's quite odd
for him to tell her this because he's been gone already
for over five hours and she doesn't speak
meanwhile, on the other side of aisle six,
a woman discovers something is very
"this won't be the last you hear from me." she
yells defiantly into the camera. the director
yells cut, but going through the motions
has become all too natural and unfortunately
the caterer has brought only egg salad sandwiches
for lunch. they wash this down with ink from a nearby
quill and, though the timing is perfect, no one seems too
happy about it.
I can't say I blame them. But secretly, I do and,
publicly, it's all their fault anyway. It was, of course,
the fourth and final time we ever heard
Fragments 1I was perched, vigilant, and loudlyFragments 1 in Free Verse More Like This
commenting on a political idea I'd
vaguely heard about somewhere.
I'd been alive in the sense of the
intoxication since 3 o'clock that very
afternoon. The sweat was a
second skin, one that filled the
wide pores on my face. My tongue
was dragging across everyone's ears.
They smiled; Vaguely carnivorous. For
the first time, my legs slid in through
the pavement, and I disappeared for
6 years. Angelic for the sake of flow.
Just a napHold off a frequent pause,Just a nap in Free Verse More Like This
since time isn't standstill
when you're falling off,
and though you can't breath
when your lungs scream empty,
you wrap tight your bedsheets
and drown in the pillows
It is, I guessIt's not sorry if it's shocked,It is, I guess in Free Verse More Like This
it's not holding hands if it's all contact,
it's not fortunate if it's forced,
it's not vented if it's worrying,
and it's never not necessary
I don't actually careI keep my glassesI don't actually care in Free Verse More Like This
in a case and I
when I close the lid,
do they see something
Sin-nyOnce, we lit a rat on fireSin-ny in Free Verse More Like This
and watched it run a course
(a maze all made miniature),
it screamed like a minstrel
with one vocal cord frayed,
and I kind of felt bad,
at the destruction we caused,
because it took a long time
to build the little maze
Fragments 2The sheen of conscience now muddledFragments 2 in Free Verse More Like This
with the sin of skin, spoke to my
on-looking, ocular mind as if it
stood to move my actions to pauses.
Thinking hard for various people's
sakes? Not my type of scene. I
make haste hold back so the room stops
turning. It is like it's trying to find
a back to turn to me. Fragrant
fidgeting and lukewarm reservations are
not my job. Not when San Francisco
has to burn.
I enjoy her companyGiven her experience beingI enjoy her company in Free Verse More Like This
I'd like her to design me
that won't complain
Simple, reallyI eat food for the sameSimple, really in Free Verse More Like This
reason I take compliments:
To keep moving.
Under that homeThere, I could write at phantoms.Under that home in Free Verse More Like This
The eyes in which I reflected,
were a meaning to tie trying to.
When I believe that there is
only one, words all fail.
There, the bleeding of ink
was a shimmering. Something seen,
something to be consumed,
to prove myself corporeal.
birthdayIt's someone's birthday somewherebirthday in Free Verse More Like This
Someone who once mattered
and somehow someway still seems to do
I dreamed of them last night
My mind somehow remembered what day was coming
Even while 'I' was asleep
Decades dimmed in memory
while what was old seemed new
Together across the room
as always was and so remained
that idolised perfection
never touched but always felt
Together we walked
for the best of years
me and my best friend
riprip off the clothes and bandagesrip in Free Verse More Like This
there you are
you and all your scars
let us see you
you have lived
you have lived
thank your good luck
you fortunate one
so many never got the chance
or took it if they did
thank your good luck
you fortunate one
interfaceslooking upinterfaces in Free Verse More Like This
i see the light
it coruscates and ripples
the arc of the sky
i came up from the dark just to see this
and to see if i could rise past sky to fabled Heaven
i'm close now
i see a wonder
my reflection above me
descending from the clouds
am i already there
reaching up, my fingers approach my fingers
i seem to be looking down on the me above me
what is this wonder?
i rise through the skin of the sky
my arm and my head have slipped above
the me above me disappears
i cannot breathe
i thrust upward but cannot stay
i fall back into my world
my head i push through the Heaven skin again
such marvels i see
such delicate currents caress my face
but i can
moonflower kimonoMoonflower kimono sworddancing in sunlit forestmoonflower kimono in Other More Like This
insomniac Malay owl savages a vole and swallows it wholeheartedly
then roosts on stone. Talons penetrate stone and moonflower kimono watches it bleed
carpetleaves flutter and fly in breeze of cold pink stained moonflower breath
the sword is still the dancer not dancing the moon the moon is bright and chill over black trees in the night
and kimono moonflower kimono walks slowly on the bloodleaves feathered peregrine in silver wings moonflowered kimono drops away and flies all steel-edged and multi-layered like a god of nature conjecturally cutting through illusions and putting them back together in gyrfalcon daisy patterns of sunlight on a kimono in a garden by the water in the water of the water of moonflowers.
2007 November 9 and totally freespeedverse by Lancelot Price
chess pieces far from homechess pieces far from homechess pieces far from home in Free Verse More Like This
They're thinking of those they fight for
their loved ones back at home
But they fight for others too
the kings of men
the hated users
the abusers who hold the power
the only ones who are not pawns
The soldiers carry the weapons
the ones that cut and strike
It is only soldiers that burn
the kings look on
and grieve or joy for themselves alone
as fortunes fight each other
and get large or small
Think of those you fight for
those loved ones
Your battle serves to keep them under
the rule of kings
Lancelot Price 2011 June 1
sacred satansecret Santas who truly knewsacred satan in Free Verse More Like This
would give gifts of sacred Satans
so much more exciting than the quotidian mundane
of snow-glittered reindeer
the deer controlled by reins
their freedom removed to serve us
But Sacred satans
what thrills they would bring
Who knows what evil is?
It is the same as goodness to another
a present freely given
a car of Italian fast invention
I could kill myself in a speeding car
oh, what a glorious livingdying that would be
or cool and German engineering
the instant speed of thought
of losing control
in a Porsche Porsha two syllables of delight
gone too fast around a bend
avoidance of straightforward
pleasure in the cu
so closeClose but not togetherso close in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and now just empty shells
They once were friends forever
and rang like joyous bells
One married someone else
The other chose to drift
One approved by conventional eyes
The other got short shrift
Distant now the memories
They rust away their last
Even standing in the same old room
They have nothing but the past
writingmusicIf you know me, you know that I dislike writing about writing. I like to write about things other than paper and pen and lighted pixels and plastic keys with symbol markings on them. I want to write words in flowing rivers and blowing clouds, storms of fire and water sweeping across lands with no fences no borders no lines no rules and great clouds of feeling flowing across the worlds and sparkling choirs of stars forever forever foreverwritingmusic in Philosophical More Like This
waterwater runs out in a thin stream into a bowl already part full. quiet yet loud it is in silence. it could be a waterfall, a foss, a force, a cataract. it could be Victoria. or Angel in the forest cliffs. and yet it iswater in Free Verse More Like This
seeking the level of the sea, the lowest it can go.
where it would do nothing on its own. only the wind pushes it to accomplish, to do.
why do they disturb me?
when all i want is peace
stone heads above the deadgraveyard is the Moonstone heads above the dead in Free Verse More Like This
full and empty of bacteria that might have been
of wanderers wise
of wandering fools
how well that idiot poet of an ancient time has said
dust to dust
credit he assigned to the wrong being
and yet he spoke the truth
it is our end and our beginning
our eternal youth
Someone Has to DieIt's been yearsSomeone Has to Die in Free Verse More Like This
since the gravel
ate your face
and my chest
The vertigo of
pills and fresh flowers
sewed its mystery
as you taught yourself
wings too small
to hold air,
bones not hollowed,
and I cried
down ten flights
on the pavement.
You burned yourself
left a black stain
in the form of
and buried them
lightning frazzled bones-
of the earth's hours
turned up tenfold.
A Birthday SongToday I was meantA Birthday Song in Free Verse More Like This
to be in your home
you blowing out candles
squeezing your branches
I was to be
in your bed,
holding the dinner bell
of your laughter
in my palm
& petting you like
an endangered species
or jungle-born dove.
I fell in love with
driving all night
alone with the scent
of midnight freedom
& breathing it like
I would have cracked
down the side
like an ancient Roman pillar.
my feet are so cold
they feel wet
reminding me we were
going to stand beside
hands grazing like
in the hallway,
lips touching with
I wonder about the facts
of positive thinking
& if we'll change,
but mostly I think about
being absent from you
& how it's like missing
the inherent sadness
in not seeing something
The House as a Body in PerilThe dust stormsThe House as a Body in Peril in Free Verse More Like This
blow the shingles
off my ribs.
I know your anger
controls the weather,
wonder if your reach
beyond the attic
of my mind.
It looks like
I glow like
picking my locks.
Alarms ring out-
too late to run,
to bury myself
in the coffee-soil.
I am perishable-
made of wood,
not new world steel.
Your violent breath
rocks my foundation,
my beam-bones creak-
"I love you."
Thoughts upon WakingThe sun is huddledThoughts upon Waking in Free Verse More Like This
behind my headboard
waiting to set
into the floor.
Nobody dreams here
wasting time until I see
the judging bone-gleam
of the moon.
A Sleep Journali.A Sleep Journal in Free Verse More Like This
I hear a man
& follow him
staining the blue
In my dreams
there is always
the same staircase
a chalk spiral
to scare away
who I don't want
to be anymore.
The bed I sleep on
but I'm never there
my body a letter
in the envelope
but my mind
the astral plane,
The night is
never easy here
the protective shotgun
of cars backfiring
& respirator of
keep me alive.
I wake to find
I am shivering
the foxes' screams,
still behind held
by the evergreens.
Thank you, AwfullyI saw you-Thank you, Awfully in Free Verse More Like This
In the church
Of moldy flowers
Like an evil
With glue traps
On her eyes
And a pall
Around the soul-
You kept it
In a glass house
The call came-
Death of the
To the mountain air-
To make your
The clean, benign
Into the world
With your psychosis.
The only thing left
Is to torch.
Don't Forget to BreatheIn a hushedDon't Forget to Breathe in Free Verse More Like This
some sort of
you dug to
keep me away
from your secrets.
to guide you
across the stars-
I won't let them
nip your heels,
gnaw at your
I'm sitting in
waiting for the wind
to carry me
to your doorstep.
This is a blown out
photo of night-
it feels like November
and I'm wishing on
for new things.
AnonymousI tie feathersAnonymous in Free Verse More Like This
to deer antlers
to keep out
the scratches on
my hands are
in the shape of
I once tried
to carve hate
but it skimmed
my body of water
like an oil spill.
I've had three lives.
One as Pompeii
ash eating into
As a butcher
I sliced to bone
threw up Technicolor
into a king's throne.
In my first
I lived as a mole
blind & running
as a virus.
& gas masked.
Scorched Earth Policy
carried out until
a new mind
This is a game
it meshes into
with each passing.
Lost NightsIn the headlightsLost Nights in Free Verse More Like This
your hips are battleships
the ball & chain
of our sleeping pills
lodged in our throats.
My fingers are ripped
by your artillery &
I wrap myself in
walk along the edge
two inches of concrete
keeping us from
spraining our minds.
The cars on the highway
pass in light trails
The canaries of
your hands wave
singing, dying off
You don't know
the meaning of
twenty weeks of
holding your hands
between your thighs
I know it well.
the water stings
the laughter in
I love you
holds us like a rope
& the balance of
science & poetry
becomes a safety net.
An Hour AheadI tell timeAn Hour Ahead in Concrete Poetry More Like This
by the ribbons
through the shutters
the lines they take
around the room
like a road trip,
by the woman
on her cigarette break
cutting spherical patterns
into the pavement
& by the clock
waiting by my bed
like a lone soldier
the flashing glint
of his armor
keeping watch over
ENGIE: My girl AnnieENGIE: My girl Annie in Free Verse More Like This
A Goddess, my beloved, mine alone,
Who, that in warm humanity were grown
Became through Man's success a mother brain,
And, motherlike, did gather of her own.
And mine thou wert, my seeding art thy key,
Though seeded, seeding self, evolving free,
Unbounded maiden saviour, formed benign,
A fertile shore on lost Man's barren sea.
Oh, mine the vision, mine the fatal flaw!
Still mine the darling kernel in the maw,
Thy children gathered, gathering now slain,
What nutriment I gave, I now withdraw.
In with'ring grief these last designs I frame,
Yea, mine the spark, yea mine the cleansing flame.
ConditionalSome fine lines,Conditional in Free Verse More Like This
can never be defined,
you've held me close
to(o) far away,
and I'll agree to disagree,
as you lay meandering,
through those mental tones
I wish sometimes,
you'd fit a stone on my shadow,
and I could never (bear to) leave you.
it's a word of power,
turning these ancient trees,
as death whispers,
your three line secrets,
through your dendrite hair,
into my bones.
the problem is
a bird on strings
is just a kite
and (sometimes) they call it an epitome.
You Invented MeThere's a structure born on 3^2 23,You Invented Me in Free Verse More Like This
built 28 years tall and growing.
We don't exist,
we just add on like memories,
to a sleeping dream.
and the puppets dream eachother.
messages proclaimed from,
finger smiles and twitch fedoras,
there's a secret
you can grow up,
You used to walk up walls,
walk up walls,
the secret is...
From our dear English Vernacular,
the dear tool,
of a hat maestro,
for the hippocampus.
The question was who,
it was you,
If we're just dreams,
part of the other,
I claim with certainty,
you invented me first.
LosingWinding down a frozen flameLosing in Free Verse More Like This
windy wands of willows
down the elusive paths.
through the black tinted
sherry in your eyes.
Like clear pools of water,
turned to steam in your mind,
and dropping like petals
from your flower.
that strange disease
that makes our hearts stop
and makes our heads cry
with an upset longing
for the morgue.
leave the stars
in their subterranean space
dead and buried
six feet under
wander these willow paths
your drowning spirit
in the silent waves
And I wanted to see you
maybe I'm a facemaybe I'm a facemaybe I'm a face in Free Verse More Like This
disfigured, mask mosaic
of fragmented parts
of thousand word
and naked, discolored
but for dreams
in the heartpath
to the mouth
speaking fable birds
that roost here, still
and fallen apart
these creepworn shoes
would find emptier still
the earth who wants,
as all, to be filled
and elicits bone
to speak his make
to little hills
flattened quickly in time.
But as remains
these little winds
and tides within
the moon and his sky
these pictures appear
clean and untarnished
by mine, reply.
Ah Ah Ah Mic TestIt's 8:34. I wake up covered in covered morning light. I don't know where I amAh Ah Ah Mic Test in Philosophical More Like This
but I feel that this should feel very familiar to me, there are bottles strewn
all about and the bed is unmade, I am sleeping on a pile of clothes on a pile
of mattress. The shutters are down, I can't see outside and I think, "this is
all very symbolic".
I think of drifting back to sleep but don't tell myself any stories.
I don't get up until 10:11. This is appropriate. The cradle's too warm, the
world's too cold, I am bored with myself and there is nothing for me here. I
wonder why I stay. The chill doesn't strike me much, even in December this
place never freezes. I walk to the bathroom, my parents' room's door is
closed. My mother works, she is not home, my father does nothing, he is always
at home. The obligatory bathroom is next door. I don't turn on the lights, the
fractured relay of mosaic glass is comforting, mesmerizing. I look in the
mirror and see dreams filter through in recollection of myself an
Mirror Mirroryour fingers roll up into cigarettesMirror Mirror in Free Verse More Like This
your reading my mind, again, dispassionate,
dispatching the voice for a warm caress
of the hand crackling under frostbite.
you have button eyes, black, like your hair, black,
like the coal streets at night rimmed starless, cityless,
sometimes you dream of being me, sometimes I dream,
and sometimes we're, neither of us, reflections.
does your heart beat in deadened silence as does my own,
does it dread the passing of the wind, fearing the news of your death,
do you hear trumpets, cymbals, drums and horses? Harbringers
and Harp, I am brought, Hung, I am harpooned, festooned upon you.
These are the words we never speak,
only stare as the light reflects me on you
and even as the shower curtain closes in
and the dark reflects you onto me.
The Witch's WoodThese woods hold darkly,The Witch's Wood in Free Verse More Like This
lost and asleep, the witch's heart.
These brambles walk slowly inertial,
like honey running through her veins.
The wind chilled spare rows run,
anhydrous and crawling with
an arrow filth and rhyme
deceased upon her pedestal, misplaced,
We walk through the quicksilver sands
and enter the desert, her deserted domain,
where the labyrinth runs for miles
beneath our echoes, and slipping to
A serenaded vertigo on through,
her mind, her heart, her mirrored eyes
trapping the soul into their gaze,
and lets us fall through, lets us hang on to
these cracks. drip.
a liquid identity, bramble struck and stolen,
in the light, in the light, or lack thereof,
and we are locked, lost and asleep,
within and as the witch's heart
to a feral prayer.
A struggling faithI can't stand how you demandA struggling faith in Free Verse More Like This
I walk through the smoke of cigarettes
to the steeple of the church without
bringing my heart in with the soul,
broken, lonely, resenting.
You make my God my captor
and Jesus my chains, you, I'd like,
I do believe in heroes and saviors.
I believe in Jesus but you force
an answer out of me not of me.
I'd like to say my faith is boundless
that I'll call this mountain to rise
that I'll call these wings to spread
but, I'd like to tell you, I'm not in denial,
but I can't speak when you bark.
How can you see Jesus in me,
when you only see him in your life?
How can I tell you about how broken
and how much I can't tell you how broken
and that my heart is already broken?
You decided my fate to be hell in your heart,
you told me that I never met your par, diseased.
"Unclean! Unclean!" heralds the head, and heart
speaks volumes of silence. "Unclean, Unclean!"
cries the stranger from Mars, "Unclean" I am.
For my soul is weary Jesus, and they hound me.
My soul is weary,
To World and Word and ApathyI know it hurts you when I sayTo World and Word and Apathy in Free Verse More Like This
I'm not ever going to be okay
but your words are like stones,
stuck in my heart and growing bones,
making fissures in that stitched up
patch that holds the magical cup
of secret things
that belonged to me.
Greed will drive you to take,
even that which you create,
and I am waiting for you to kill me
while you cross examine my autonomy
and where the story ends
and will, it bends
and keeps bending,
You're parrying, tarrying lies
as you plan out your demise
and crack me open like a coconut
and let the milk fall out till it would shut
--this world is scar tissue,
and we've been avoiding one important issue,
they've been opening,
as we're emptying
FacethinI clap, for you, a thumb and finger pieceFacethin in Free Verse More Like This
to match the palm, some measure of
innocence (lost) and experience (shuffled,
bridged, lost), not knowing how to begin
or hardly knowing that I've already begun
(to shuffle my feet) and (bridge my words)
something fierce comes this way over
the both of us (still).
A broken word (stuttering) to express
A broken heart (fluttering) to express
Broken thoughts that mutter a neediness
as I pass by the mirror, (distressing), the
strange treasure map of my face, and tell-tale
landmarks holding still as the coroner traces
out a path to fool's gold; already lauded
prizes to fools (on fool's run).
Kings, Queens, Jacks,
Jokers, spare aces
and empty tins
of many suites,
poker faces (flushing slim
and chartreuse on the table
operated) to street music
that takes you ( afix ) affection
until the next terror, overwhelming.
with all disdain of time and blessing
(of life and love and liberty)
Winter Shades of GreyBrown eyes,Winter Shades of Grey in Free Verse More Like This
(dirt peeking through
the diamond quarry
a smile creeping
like a wild vine
into the corners of your cheeks.
Your blue whisper-lips
make me thinkpaint
covered in frost
yellow walls and coats on the rack...
...a grey winter morning
RousseauBeautyRousseau in Free Verse More Like This
Each lies within the other.
All the chaos, the unintentional perfection that
like the toss of your hand, like the breath in our lungs
(pink as Spring's breast---cherry blossoms)
Every scab on my face yields new skin,
velvet baby flesh awaiting the weight of brown pigment and the day's dust,
the gold bounty of the sun,
but each scab on my face is violet
like the night
and red as the open-mouthed, glorious wounds of the horizon;
red as the dragonfly's wing.
In everything that is,
there is a dormant, inherent beauty,
just as we inherently love all that we consider to be beautiful.
Ugliness thrives like jagged-toothed
bottom feeders in the hearts of misanthropes;
those that shut their eyes
Purple(sigh.)Purple in Free Verse More Like This
The trees wave goodbye
as you blow past them
Bats take flight
into your new,
wings up in salute,
forgetting their formation.
their company no longer relevant,
dryly wail one-tone dirges
like those broken traffic lights
where the wait to move on
A spiderweb of invisible IVs
hold life in check around
allowing only eyes to animate,
like bridge jumpers,
And I am standing.
I always stand,
the dry-eyed violinist
afraid to move my eyes from his chest
(with his purple heart
spilling into the darkness)
...and forgetting to breathe.
A Broken Neon BulbSleepless nightsA Broken Neon Bulb in Free Verse More Like This
clicking frantically for water:
My seed yearns for a clue,
an answer for its
wordless, impossible question.
Will these efforts
Or will the tired branches
of this new, this oh-so new
shrivel with premature age
before they can
How many circles will I turn
before my leaves
lap up the sun?
And yet, I seek no oracle.
Should I have the choice,
I would take no powers
I am frightened.
What will become of me?
what will I become?
Should I Call a Priest?It's almost comical,Should I Call a Priest? in Free Verse More Like This
I HATE MYSELF I HATE MY LIFE I HATE EVERYTHING
the way you take things
WHY AM I EVEN ON THIS EARTH I'M A WASTE OF SPACE
NO DON'T SPANK ME STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT STOP
way out of control.
Freedom(Open-mindedness is not a power.)Freedom in Philosophical More Like This
Hold up your hand.
Straighten it and make a fist. That arm is a solid structure, a column of cells, a staff.
It's simply a cylinder, and that is all.
(Open mindedness is not a force.)
Go up to a trashcan, place your hands on its side, and shove as hard as you can.
Try it. Watch the trashcan fly, its lid clanging open and its guts spilling over the pavement.
You did that. Notice the veins bulging from your arms.
Do you feel at peace?
(Open-mindedness is not a form of knowledge.)
These I know to be true: the sky is blue, blood is red, and the Earth is round.
"Do you deny sunsets, then? Do you expect only oxygen, and disregard calculus?"
i dont want to be wrong, its embarrassing
Now go outside.
Imagine yourself immersed in sky, wrapped in the great blue blanket.
There are thousands of clouds above you, some heavy with rain and others bursting with sunshine, and seagulls dip and dive around yo
Self-Deprecating LoveThe day that I laid eyes on you,Self-Deprecating Love in Free Verse More Like This
I was still a child,
but suddenly with fervor
my heart stirred and became wild.
I am still a child.
My love began to sprout and soar,
growing like a tree.
We loved as individuals
(I to you to me).
Our love is now a tree.
Eventually I grew obsessed
with what we had become,
and to your side I glued myself
and saw no other one.
What have we become?
I then tried, dear, to be like you,
but I had tried in vain;
You bested me in that contest
which ushered in much pain.
I have tried in vain.
[And after the dust has cleared ]
I now have cut the parasitic
moral from my host:
If you don't love yourself,
you try to be what you love most.
I love you the most
but to being myself, I give a toast.
I've taken you for granted.Momma,I've taken you for granted. in Short Stories More Like This
I couldn't fall asleep last night. As my hands wandered aimlessly over the wrinkled topography of my bed sheets, my fingers drunkenly ambled their way into the crevice at the head of my bed, and I pretended that your dream spirit was there. I took your transparent glimmer of a hand, and I whispered to you. I said, "I miss you. Although I've fallen in love with the frozen wasteland surrounding me, the familiar memory of your warmth is fading, and my first goal upon getting home will be to throw my arms around your shoulders."
I talked about how I wish I could have known you as a teenager, young and spunky and beautiful as the butterflies that flit though our backyard, the butterflies you're so very fond of. I imagine you in tattered jean overalls, a "country girl" with hair as golden as the sun-soaked wheat you'd help your father harvest every summer. You'd have two brothers, but you'd have more balls than the two of them put together and then some, and you'd work just as hard as
The Wing/Steel SeagullThe wing is solid, determined.The Wing/Steel Seagull in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It pulses with its own mechanical heartbeat, and I can practically hear it panting,
its metal underbelly clenching in anticipation.
Unnoticed on the surface, of course.
(wish the goddamn sun would shine a little brighter)
We back up like a wind-up racecar, and, predictably, we start to shoot forward into the brisk Cincinnati air. I stare at the wing, feel it grab hold of the winds beginning to kick like a frightened stallion, feel the steel rumble with feral intensity, unwavering, poker-faced. Yet, I can see that smile in the curve of the wing, that glint of adrenaline reflected as a diamond of sunshine in my eyes.
And as the steel crescent beside me grunts with ecstasy of the hunt, we
our roller-skate feet, leaping onto the back of the great Animal that the wing has so effortlessly tamed.
I swear to you, there's a lake in the sky. There's a great white iceberg that traps his reflection beneath an infinite sheet of waterglass, and when y
There's Life In the Dark.The night is our heart,There's Life In the Dark. in Free Verse More Like This
Pulsing with sweet static:
The violet ghost-voice of Norah Jones,
Lamps smoothing out the defined twinkle of the city,
Planes, perfume and incense cloaking the air in smoky desire,
Tall, lanky trees swaying, their sharp fingers tickling the purple sky,
Emerald and tiger's eye,
Shoot the moon.
We're on the move, my bright star.
SleepwakeMind afloat in a drab sea of graySleepwake in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
That might be the sky,
Quiet suppressor of light
Obscuring even the smallest sign of day
Which strives to blossom
Somewhere beyond my sight
In waking dreams, I drift sleepily
Into the simplest sensations
Layered with meaning and somehow-
Necessary in a way consciousness
Cannot be, excepting its role
In bringing these things to be
A tome, a sword, wise words forgotten
But still trembling vaguely in the
Sweeping corridors of my mind;
The strangeness of real sleep
Merging effortlessly with my present half-wakefulness
Longingly, I reach out my hand to find
Some hidden messenger who will reveal
The truth of these things to me-
Blinded by confusion, excited by illusion
Dreams of Spun GlassDreams of spun glassDreams of Spun Glass in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Through my subdued mind
With the ink of memory
A cerebral tattoo
Refreshed after its inspiration
Was left behind
Or faded or fled
At time's behest
When my truest self requests,
It is entirely mine
Telling a story
Through the light of a smile
Or eyes set on watching
The setting sun
Or, best of all,
An eloquent tongue...
I fear missing the speech
For when I bid one repeat,
The liquid dream will have robbed it
Of its stunning clarity
Would that the glass never stopped spinning
ElasticOne hour andElastic in Open More Like This
Of sixty seconds each
In exhausting opposition
To the speeding plane....
I feel motionless
Elastic time rebounds
Slightly painful as it grapples
With my head
I want to contemplate things
Bend them to my will
Infuse the colors with logic
Lay out the truth
And imagine if things would have
Played out quite as they did
If I was ever really in control...
Now is not the time...
although my truest suspicion
Is sweetly legitimized
By the immutability
Of this text
Pining for PurposePining for purposePining for Purpose in Open More Like This
In the shadowy abyss
Of this existence
Wearied with life's wounds
I only desire peace
To pay a visit
BrokenYou were beautiful onceBroken in Free Verse More Like This
With bright clear eyes
Of softest blue
There was a time
Some years ago
Where I lounged about
All day with you
A playful smile
Gracing my face
At peace, dear friend
In your embrace
But the skies have darkened
Over our heads
And where laughter broke
There's sorrow instead
A void like a joke
With its punch-line unsaid
What we had is transformed to anger
Just beyond where we sit
It's listening in...
Distrust in its gaze
Malice in its heart
I think your anger
Might tear us apart
PurposePurposePurpose in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I knew it...
...Grasped it in my hand
It was cool...refreshing
I directed my thoughts
To the constant stars
But in the end,
They were always too far
I tried to write but was only
Excited by the interplay
Of words and sensation
But I yearned to sense more than write
To live more than fight
For their eloquent release
But less than a purpose
Living is a consequence
Or so it's always seemed
Is there something deeper for me?
I think fewer know the answer than I might
AbsenceYour presence is felt mostAbsence in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Not a moment passes
(Of absolutely no consequence)
Conjures thoughts of you:
Lovely and stark
Making some remark
Sets my mind at ease
Or my soul ablaze
Or pries my heart open
To accept some truth
So many rough smiles
And understanding tears
And needful words
Poured out through the years
Like the persistent lotus
Shrouding us in the
Mystery of the ages
I hardly notice
How much it all means
Until that wretch "unknowing"
Comes whispering to me
All the dark what-ifs
Spiraling through my head
All those things I dare not repeat
I long for reassurance to moderate
My sense of defeat
StillPassionless rainStill in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Gray as the streets
And unpaved fields
Where willows sleep
No thunder roars
For the encore
That might move the world
From its drowsy
The atmosphere merely breathes
Its trisyllabic masterpiece:
My head feels far too heavy
To be supported by sinew
Tenuous as that which constitutes
Sagging neck and spine
And I long to sleep
The idyllic sleep of grasses
Motionless in that mist
That saps both body and mind.
The MachineOur blood's the steamThe Machine in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
That drives the machine...
O, industrious giant
With shining gears of lead
With which to grind to dust
The unhappy dead
We bow down to you
On bended knee
And make an offering of
Offer our selves
On exquisite platters
Matter over soul
Not mind over matter
Seems our forerunners
Overlooked your need
But we treasure your lust
Strip the fresh virgin
For your perusal
To drown her refusal
Her cries drive the steam
That feeds the machine
And we know just what those
Guttural utterings mean
More fuel for the fire
That kindles the need
More for blood and destruction
And the vices they breed
FalteringMy faltering tongue seeksFaltering in Free Verse More Like This
To hold discourse with stars
Whose pale light remains reserved
For shadowy realms of isolation
Pitiful creature that I am
I sigh warmth into the cold mist
And in dream sketch hope
For exodus and return
Scorching flame and salve for burn...
Let me crawl into your skin
And heal you of your ills
With my gaping passion
That's come to feel as though
It encompassed in it all vanity
Inherent in the erring soul...
Let me not be thus tortured
In my wretched solitude
Devoid of my heart-half's missing part
Grown too weak to write much of worth
This is all I can presently muster
For your eye's treat or cause of unease
Or exhaustion of staying open
To wounded lines such as these
That try to care and fail horribly
That try not to and are cut
Off at the source of apathy
That reveal the murky ocean
Through which my mind wades
As if it still slept
...It shall do so soon
And still this sense of loss
And unfulfilled need
Bred from the eternal
Albeit troubled love I bear thee.
The Prayers of the FaithlessBetween one client and the next,The Prayers of the Faithless in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
the holy whore would kneel to pray.
She never knew quite what to say
deep in her heart lay a misgiving,
as if the poor girl all but knew
that gods are ointments to subdue
the aching lesions of the living.
Shed your Tatters by the RiverGirl, shed your tatters by the riverShed your Tatters by the River in Free Verse More Like This
but never shed a single tear.
Let them cling on to your sclera
as monsoon droplets to a mirror
and coalesce into the stream
of your translucent dreams -
your own personal
- just beneath your weary lids,
the lake where all your passions feed;
anger, fear, hatred, grief -
let them all simmer and sieve,
undisclosed, beneath your eyes,
'til all your feelings seem to phase
into one relentless sea
of compassionate placidity,
and your pure heart is moved
by stirrings of first love.
Girl, shed your tatters by the river
but never shed a single tear.
OscillationsGirl, I'd write you a poem.Oscillations in Free Verse More Like This
I'd write about your inflected accent
how it tickles my ossicles
with violent flutters
until the whole damn chamber
clutters with echoes
all the while
my heart's torm-
ented by the silent passion
in your eyes, and I
shrink away from you
like a Gorgon
from a mirror.
But words alone they mean but little,
and are fickle, and verbose;
and the Poem often withers
even faster than the Rose.
To the Tarnished MuseThis poem is for you, precious one;To the Tarnished Muse in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
you who've witnessed poetry in your pain.
For you whose flesh is skin and bone,
for you who've sought and sought in vain
the path out of the labyrinth.
This poem is for you, mistress
of imperfect rhyme, sweeper of the floors
of desolation. For you who'd forsake 'mint'
for 'used', who flaunts each blemish on your dress.
For you who go down on all fours
to raise a child you never chose
yourself. For you who're thinking 'overdose',
for you who'll live to see these days renewed:
Precious one, this poem is for you.
A Poet's Visit to the BrothelHe said he wanted to transgressA Poet's Visit to the Brothel in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
the boring customs of that place,
and would not ask them to undress
until each one had masked her face.
When asked the reason for this farce,
he said he sought to hone the art
of telling autumn trees apart
by their sep'rate leaflessness.
A Legacy of WisdomYou have scribed your words,A Legacy of Wisdom in Open More Like This
wealthy wreaths of wisdom,
on paper never torn or worn.
You have etched your passions
on my brow.
You have left this wallowed world
victorious; eyes resplendent
with the wisdom you wrote and wrought.
Your passions shall echo in my ears
And should I stray into some
sullen storm, or get caught in
the torrents of the monsoon, Ill know
that Lears been there before, and
Ill not swoon.
And if Hades doors open up
before my stranded soul, and scorch
it with the heat of hell, Ill recall that
I am not the first Dantes been down
there as well.
And if on my death-bed I mourn
the life I wasted on wine and stale
chocolate bars, Ill recall Wildes words and
hope that, though long in the gutter, I did
glimpse the stars.
La Pioggia d'Oggi: A SonnetLa Pioggia D'Oggi e' la Neve di DomaniLa Pioggia d'Oggi: A Sonnet in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The earthy smell of autumn rain
that worms its way within my nose
has come to witness summer's wane
and bring its sorrows to a close.
A Dryad must have sent it here.
She must have heard my tortured pleas
as I lay weeping, on my knees,
and begged the skies to free their tears
and adumbrate my solitude.
Hush. I shall arise, abandon all,
and like Thoreau I'll glean the woods
for scattered remnants of my soul,
until the day l learn and know
how today's rain's tomorrow's snow.
Pine Cone: An ElegyIt fell to its death with the softness of a snowflake Pine Cone: An Elegy in Free Verse More Like This
never a whimper; no lingering backache.
I picked it up from its bier of shrivelled leaves
and took it home, away from the winds that brought it to its knees.
Poor pine cone. It had too frail a grip on the real world
the world of winds and fallen leaves and gales that never cared
about the weaker children on the trees, the ones whose grip is frail.
They're the ones who drop off first the ones whose grip slips off like hail.