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waterloggedThe rain hasn't stopped for days
a continued onslaught to this waterlogged heart.
It creates an orchestra outside my window
of pitter patter plop
that makes my bones sigh.
The gentle doldrums ease me
into the darkness and the best sleep
I've had all month.
The rain hasn't stopped for days;
I'm beginning to think
it never will.
There's a place in the middle of nowhere
where dreams go to die.
I visit it in my sleep
covered in the veil of the city rust
a velvet cloak of despair
anchored to my scapula
with wire and bullet-holes.
Surrounded by an ocean
of life on the cusp of bare metal and steel,
I am buried underneath the haze,
a sea of high pressure torment
filling my emptiness
with pollution and filth.
The cavitary holes eat away
I am left grasping,
unable to gather the unraveling
threads of ribbon and metal
that led me here.
There's a place in the middle of nowhere
where dreams go to die.
And it's beginning to feel
Tip ToeSometimes I feel like I've lost
that part of myself that clings to sunrises
with poetic verse dancing on the tip
of these tired and twisted fingers
eager to capture every breath that is lost
in the cracked light, breaking upon the morning sky.
There are many moments
that these eyes and this heart will never forget.
They are not big moments like other people's moments
full of white dresses, swirling moments, and kisses beneath the bedsheets.
But do not be mistaken,
there have been so many moments that have passed
where my heart has swollen,
pushing against the confines of these ribs.
My hands have held, soothed and hoped;
these hands have done all the talking
yet cannot translate to paper
the joy that it all brings.
If only they could talk
they would tell of late nights,
of paper cuts and coffee,
of gunshot wounds and car accidents.
They would explain the stifling nature
of the operating room,
gowned with two layers of latex,
removing organs and cancers.
The feel of cold metal instrumen
I've seen you from afar
the way avid bird watchers
glance through windows and binoculars
to see the fleeting passing of some obscure bird
they had only seen once in a book.
The day you talked with me
my heart fluttered
a bird with broken wings in my heart
unsure of whether to smile or frown
at this twist of fate.
Now left dreaming
too afraid to step forward
and upset the balance,
this delicate dance.
I enjoy our time
this lyrical rhetoric of medical banter
knowing it will not last
so I step back.
because some birds are just meant
to be enjoyed.
button it"button it"
put a button on it she says
as if it was that simple
to sum up the world on a button--
a few words to stick into shirts
pants and bags.
what happens when we mis-stick
and the button reaches
somewhere below the skin?
will we even bleed?
is there no hope left for the world?
what would my button say?
would it be unreadable 1 point font
too many words
to fit on the front of the button
or would it be a single word
like confused, misunderstood, or way too damn busy
as if that's all i had to offer the world.
forever the world embraces
the labels of buttons--
the superficial words of those who refuse to look
beyond the outside and go deeper.
so dont tell me to put a button on it
because it will never be that simple
and give me a call when you finally realize
and live further than just
she dances softly
the starlight in her hair
if only she could believe
how beautiful she really is
instead, she tiptoes as she dances
afraid to wake the black
of judging eyes.
if only you could see
her dance a whisper across the stage
maybe you'd understand.
the sun rises and sets upon my heart
in equal joy.
the yellow mist of the sky
catches my eye briefly
and fills my heart with wonder.
perhaps we are the forgotten
the laborers of love
who breathe life daily
finding the beauty in a simple sunset
or yellow canary
everyone else would care to ignore.
life has become a traffic jam
in a city with no power.
we hesitate to move
the lack of the simplest change
of lights from green
i turn around
and am confronted by
a yellow light.
and we hesitate to move
or stay behind.
things continue to change-
the lights flash above me
and we move quickly
to catch a glimpse of something
to take our breath away.
this city is always changing
that yellow sunset always looks the same
no matter which rooftop
i stand upon.
we have missed
hundreds of sunsets
as if blind--
i never really could see them
until love found my heart.
and now all i do
is watch the sky
and the gentle morph of the clouds
from white to red to pink
i look to the stars
and i can only hope
you are looking at them
right now, at this moment.
if i could, i would catch them
to light your way home.
a brother removedshe stands strong
but she's crying inside.
i dont want to lose him
with him never understanding
how much he really means to me.
she stands so still
but she's dying on the inside
the last time i saw you
the last time i heard your voice
did i tell you i loved you?
she looks so hopefully
but she's worrying on the inside
the sound of mom's voice
when she found out
nearly made me die.
she fights back the tears--
will you please hurry home
the truth about growing up
1. It's easier when you don't think.
1. It starts early,
on a cloudy day when you recall
the 'childhood memories' of
two summers ago,
that's when you start your backslide into
2. On the bright side
you won't notice this until you're
good and ripe in age,
so maybe it doesn't matter
3. That tightness in your chest?
The feeling that you're not ready
to take on the rest of your life; it
4. It stews in the pit of your stomach
makes you doubt,
but there will be days when you look back
on the mountains you climbed -
the raging rivers you crossed -
and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you were
more prepared than you thought.
5. There's nothing like your own bed.
6. Laundry will never smell right
without mom's sweat and tears.
But you still have to separate lights from darks,
keep the zippers pulled tight
and the buttons unhooked.
7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.
8. Things change
the future gnaws and rips
Stranger's funeralUnder the clouds
Under the rain
Staring at the coffin
At a stranger's funeral
We're all alone
Feeling the storm
But not the pain
For he's but a stranger
And the graves around us
Are just there
Keeping us company
During this empty moment
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
CarolineYou loved the fire
of rogues -
imperfect men who shot up
the endings of the day
and drank down
too much beauty.
And like one of them,
you bellied with rebellion,
felt his tense seed
toil where women
and craved his notoriety.
Poor girl -
his verses won the day
and the call of words
was too fickle a lover
for any constant star.
Don't blame yourself -
are more attractive
and all poets are
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
things to tell you before i leave for collegeto mrs hatcher:
i promise that one day i will write that poem you asked me for
(the only thing you ever asked me for)
and i will finally tell you that you deserve
so much more.
to mr. walker:
i promise that i will not pity you.
i promise that i will not envy you.
i promise that you will always be one of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.
i promise to always be grateful.
i promise to be careful.
i promise to be crazy.
i promise that i will remember what it feels like to be needed
and what it feels like to let someone who needs you down.
i promise that i will never resent you for asking for help
and that i will always be there when you do.
i promise that even sixty years from now,
i will not be surprised to find a letter from you in my mailbox.
i promise to always remember what it felt like to be young and crazy with you,
how scared and lonely we were.
i will remember that we both survived it,
and that we'll survive this, too.
You Were Born Missing SomethingYour skin is glazed with crystals of frost
and your heart's valves are close to
freezing shut tight
from being devoid of something
Though I am torrents of hail, whirling storms,
warm tears streaking,and tornadoes of rage
that flow uncontrollably through my veins
and out of my mouth,
every breath near you is warm
because your words are so cold
I am a natural disaster at its finest
with bones twisted in painful angles
and a crooked spine
you were born spineless
Barefoot beachBarefoot, these soles beat across the sand
dancing a mystery of footprints
that disappear in the coming tides.
We jump, soaring above--
for a moment, there is a mix of body,
reflection and shadow.
Upon landing, we relish the warm water
that greets our toes
swimming in the laughter that echoes
in the crashing surf.
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