Thursday, January 28, 2010

If You Freeze Tomorrow...

Where is that place we used to go
with monument trees and stoic skies?
Untouched by the scent of purpose
and never spoiled by our lies.

Staring out raindrop windows
and wishing for those old days
Missing someone/something
that flew out off the runways.

Far too late it's thought we can fix this,
there's nothing that cannot be corrected
Flat note statements on pianist terminals
this symphony so poorly directed.

A dry hand, an uncaring shoulder
regret for compassion shown too slow
and the last fake-smile phrase
I wonder if it's cold in Nagano?

Tuesday, January 19, 2010


lights drown in the dark sky
strained eyes focus
on entropy
twisting itself downward
oh to be made of glass
simple rage shown through
beginning and ending points
self motivation for a new
revolution of industry,
a mechanical hate of being
white shirts to show stains
and lies
no appropriate way to love
paper trailing off
burning to lose the hurt

Something Like God

Healed headaches and
stress induced muscle tension
Body tingles and feels
Cured of affliction
ready to live again.

Calming and refreshing
ravaged minds
Bringing a sense of peace
to little worlds that people live in
Giving serenity to the opposition
in one's heart

Forgetting the trap of purgatory/residence
Keeping fresh the memories
of love felt
Giving loss to the ability to hate
and to suffer, knowing only

A lover's touch caressing
through vibrating air
A bliss to ear, touch
Surprising and comfortable
like sleeping with your true love.

The object of selfish desires,
holding so much power.
Beauty inciting envy
If only to steal it.
In the absence of my own,
Your voice
is the first I turn to.

One Shade of Grey

Driving back, to return to the point
Passing buildings and then trees,
a haze starts to settle over the landscape
That kind of wet haze that takes over
like a grey veil across the scenery
I know the rain will follow.

Stopping by the local diner, I
order my coffee as I sit
The drink is all I find refreshing
as I sit and wonder why I came back
Trying to catch up on missed happenings
is a waste since nothing ever happens here
So I sit and stare at the clouds coming in
and let my mind wander to her

A month. A month is all and I miss her
That kind of longing that burns
straight through your heart to your soul.
Not seeing her smile is like not breathing
Why am I sitting here when
I could find a way back to her?
I let myself be distracted by thoughts of work
Getting it over with before the sky gets any darker
and using it to get focus on something else
I have to
Already, I'm dying here after one day

Work, of course, goes painfully slow and
I cruise down the road with the
conviction of a zealot
We are supposed to speak and I can't wait
I'm excited enough that I almost miss my
turn, down the street to my house.

I finally get what I want most and
it makes me wonder if it was worth it
Just knowing about her day takes pressure
off the stress of being so far apart
Yet it reminds me of the same thing.
The conversation trails off and I decide to
go to sleep. Hopefully a deep one.
A sleep that helps my heart recover

I lay down and instantly think
of how she isn't next to me
I think to myself that I will
have to suffer for a short time.
Just long enough.
This is about the time that I notice
that it is finally starting to rain.

Coffee Topics

Jokes and distractions
and hellos
Years fly by and
summers do too
Only if it's there
when all her plans are crumbling
The orange of the table
inviting a "good to see you"
Lost traditions in France
through overheard conversations
Who sang with her
in a duet?
Wolves burst forth from the piano
tempos incorrect
She would cry if she knew,
but she is gone now.

Other People's Hearts

At times a child is consumed with
thoughts of self inflicted demise
Teen years are options
a heart is unwilling to entertain
What's wrong with being like a parent
a father, taken?
Some answers do not matter much.

Surviving encounters
pressing forth - onward
to new trials/tests of endurance
Only companion a demon minus an angel
Whispering decay, steadily into being
Drawing breath only to topple
to feathers of stress

To survive another day, after
day, after another day
Maybe? Yes
How does someone really lose a game?
Just remembering that
love exsists in other people's hearts,
isn't always enough, though.

Lost Glory

Broken doll heads, cracked branches,
and humility lost
Upon barren wasteland roads
Shoving tissue up one's nose to
hold the blood back.
It does not stop the tears though
A solemn defeat exchanged for excitement
when deserted van is discovered
Some dirt lines run for miles,
the path stretching endlessly
Hitchhikers anticipate victories
and recieve just passing glances

Head Mistress

I feel as though I should preface this with something
explaining that editing is not my style
and this will be raw, but you
already know this about me and
You like it that way, don't you?
At least, I want to believe you do

I feel like my words come
out wrong. Needing more. Wanting more.
Never being the perfection
I desire, yet always
they find their way inside you and worm
themselves to someplace
You attempt to mask
They scratch and claw away to fuel
some symbiotic link to them
Simply feeding me with your tears. I have never been
moved more.

Your intellect and insight are so
which makes you all the more alluring.
I told you I want to be one with your mind, and I
very much intend to
Sliding into that device could only result in the most
blissful sensation known to, at
least, this man.

You instill confidence, desire
In every inch of text that I subject myself to
Poems are just words
It's the belief of its meaning that
gives it power
Admiration conveyed through
Thoughts written.

This poem is solely for you.


Chaos ensues through panic
Shambling movements
across the burning streets,
dread rides a slow beast internally.
News, silent
offers no salvation for minds
or hearts (bodies)
Growing vast with consumption
Those terrified of audiences
flee the sanctuary of home and hole,
against seas of moans and hunger
Only to die alone
in a group of people.


Inviting curiousity to
break walls down
Listening for inspiration
across foreign lips
Losing myself in an ocean
of cells,
emotion - ambition
Vehicles continue forth
with no driver present
Words give way to destruction
and silence murders person.


The lust of morning
calls heavily to heart
To be overtaken by desire
in this affair, coveting
The heat brings
our passion to life
Subtle kisses sweetened
by yellow dressed love
Your darkened body made whole
with cream poured into shape
Sweat runs against our skin,
the passion unending
And lovingly repeated,
every day a necessity.

Counting the Time With Cars

Racing down streets in this urban disaster
Trying to catch her as quickly as possible
Will all the assumptions be wrong?
Crippled by a first glance
Package delivered
Staring secretly to avoid misinterpretations
Are feelings the same, standing before her?
Friends and gatherings make us uncomfortable
Duet walks in the sonata of moonlight help assessments
Minds can comprehend a lot but
They are not what one needs, feels, or
No straying from her side
No loss of breath from conversation
No missed smiles
Moments of bliss spread over
With each passing minute
Consume her and live through her
Steal her strength and views and passion
If only to stay the night for her voice
As she sleeps
Wake to her and continue on again

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Burn Like an Addict

polaroids of lost times
birthdays, adventures, and common days alike
shuffled together and flickered
across movie screens in cold theatres
alcoholic memories defined
by urges that lose their meaning

when one is so tiny and insignificant
anything seems to be a delusion of grandeur
sans ego
illusions pending
lights on the veranda snuffed out
mosquitos resume their assault

sometimes skies seem to endlessly gag
on the smoke and ash that floats about
decidedly worse on each new morning
no resolutions sometimes, only failures
salty tears will accumulate on smooth cheeks
but some fires just refuse to go out

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Baseball In Some Fashion

thoughtless at times
at times nothing more
men need to swear in some fashion
highs and lows in stride
casual glances towards imprints
alone in the snow frigid snow
where are you now?

scratched by linen tags
on necks rubbed, no grinded raw
sight and sound absent
touch never failing like dignity does
a scar
just a scar never leaving

addictions to pulmonary functions
are just water cooler comedy
broken branches
hold no icy weight
sitting outside when night sets in
breathing darkness in

another cigarette to savor
the death of opportunity
another shattered picture
of emotional grifters
just another mind
drawn to wishful thinking