**I went through a phase where all I would write is haikus. They're quick, fun, and can hold a lot of meaning for so few words!
I am careening
down an accidental life
directly to you
The rain jumps like feet
hitting the dirt and bouncing
searching for a hold
Kiss of misletoe
sacred, sharp, traditional
full of deep green love
to taste your skin's love
would be to swallow your soul
in one greedy gulp
Unfettered eyes speak
Volumes of passion revealed
Do they speak the truth?
Rebellious last spark
Glowing irreverently
Before it succumbs
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Consummation
***This is a poetry slam, so try to imagine speaking this out loud, with the "/" indicating a pause. Bear with me, it's very hard to "write" a slam.
sticky webs of pre-season snow/melting in the heat of fires/we know all too well and/trees in a haze/from a smoke filled daze/and I fill my days/with ways/to gaze on/this place we made/created from a phase of/insane desires and/lingering rage of rusty/lust and dust/from skeletons burned in the flames/that will ultimately save/what no one thought could be used to replace/bitter hate and tortured faces/of the people we knew/and the places we came from/and I can't help but wonder if/cold storms and/raging thunder could/ever plunder these/unexplored mountains/and fields that lie under/if this fire will ever consume/us and exhume us/ before the truth of us/be know but/I know and you'll learn/that going doesn't mean/staying and/playing doesn't mean there's no cravings of love/that we earned/and even as I turn/away/from your eyes I see the smoke/clearing lies/before they can even think to rise/and I finally find that/ I won't mind if I'm/walking through flames/entirely consumed/by the fire of/you.
**Again, 2004ish
sticky webs of pre-season snow/melting in the heat of fires/we know all too well and/trees in a haze/from a smoke filled daze/and I fill my days/with ways/to gaze on/this place we made/created from a phase of/insane desires and/lingering rage of rusty/lust and dust/from skeletons burned in the flames/that will ultimately save/what no one thought could be used to replace/bitter hate and tortured faces/of the people we knew/and the places we came from/and I can't help but wonder if/cold storms and/raging thunder could/ever plunder these/unexplored mountains/and fields that lie under/if this fire will ever consume/us and exhume us/ before the truth of us/be know but/I know and you'll learn/that going doesn't mean/staying and/playing doesn't mean there's no cravings of love/that we earned/and even as I turn/away/from your eyes I see the smoke/clearing lies/before they can even think to rise/and I finally find that/ I won't mind if I'm/walking through flames/entirely consumed/by the fire of/you.
**Again, 2004ish
Simply Revealed
I heard the rain tumblin' down the other day
like all my defenses when you kissed me that way
although rain is defenseless, and can never hold its shape
it wields a peculiar power- something nature can't contain
and some people might say, what's love got to do with rain?
Rain can be seen, yet love is much more famed.
Love doesn't fall, heavy and wet, from the sky
rain will weigh you down, while love makes you fly
my reasons for this poem then, I will now summarize:
Rain reminds me of the simple comfort I find
in sharing our thoughts and what's on our minds
of staying warm, protected; of comfort that knows no boundary lines
and I know I can't defend it, should you wish it harm
yet your constancy and companionship give me no cause for alarm
my heart trusts your love; my head, your altruistic charm
and I guess what I'm saying, to prove all this is real
is that your love has an effect on me I didn't think I could feel
Take it or leave it, now you know how I feel- this is my love for you,
simply revealed.
**Somewhere around... 2003-early 2004?
like all my defenses when you kissed me that way
although rain is defenseless, and can never hold its shape
it wields a peculiar power- something nature can't contain
and some people might say, what's love got to do with rain?
Rain can be seen, yet love is much more famed.
Love doesn't fall, heavy and wet, from the sky
rain will weigh you down, while love makes you fly
my reasons for this poem then, I will now summarize:
Rain reminds me of the simple comfort I find
in sharing our thoughts and what's on our minds
of staying warm, protected; of comfort that knows no boundary lines
and I know I can't defend it, should you wish it harm
yet your constancy and companionship give me no cause for alarm
my heart trusts your love; my head, your altruistic charm
and I guess what I'm saying, to prove all this is real
is that your love has an effect on me I didn't think I could feel
Take it or leave it, now you know how I feel- this is my love for you,
simply revealed.
**Somewhere around... 2003-early 2004?
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
In the Flesh (2003)
You are not now what you were then on those
maddeningly slow summer days
when your bike too you
south to north to my house and back to
front to hip to thigh to
designs of space
catalytic
yet
needlessly anorexic,
apocalyptic scripts and song a
siren to
my 8th grade heart-
heartlessly distant becoming
resistant to your cancerous memorandum,
remembering your defective deflection of warmth
and
whatever else we once had to have to love this
screen of adulthood over the
flesh and fantasy beliefs
that I believed
and you deceived
and the tainted space between has bled
solidified, lied into the chains of
night from too much twisting of an unrequited fate
and
of late, the steel of 4am knows all my stolen secrets
and I think that you like to think you were the one
doing the stealing...
And years from how you were then to what you've
become now
I bow down to the secret that
the mind lies even as the flesh lies with mine
and it takes time to
turn away
around
down the offer
of a forever that flesh fire only cannot sire
because your mind is too worn down to respond
and even as you are gone
and I remain
to stake my claim on the memory of the
fumbling days and the way that you thought
that I should think I was too good for you to hold me
as I hold you down and sometime around
the line that you crossed I had the thought
that
the only time you did not lie
was when you and I
were in the flesh.
***PS: I don't think that poem makes a lot of sense. It has some really great lines, but I think I tried too hard to make it spoken word and lost the meaning sometimes. But it was a pivotal time in my life, so up it goes.
maddeningly slow summer days
when your bike too you
south to north to my house and back to
front to hip to thigh to
designs of space
catalytic
yet
needlessly anorexic,
apocalyptic scripts and song a
siren to
my 8th grade heart-
heartlessly distant becoming
resistant to your cancerous memorandum,
remembering your defective deflection of warmth
and
whatever else we once had to have to love this
screen of adulthood over the
flesh and fantasy beliefs
that I believed
and you deceived
and the tainted space between has bled
solidified, lied into the chains of
night from too much twisting of an unrequited fate
and
of late, the steel of 4am knows all my stolen secrets
and I think that you like to think you were the one
doing the stealing...
And years from how you were then to what you've
become now
I bow down to the secret that
the mind lies even as the flesh lies with mine
and it takes time to
turn away
around
down the offer
of a forever that flesh fire only cannot sire
because your mind is too worn down to respond
and even as you are gone
and I remain
to stake my claim on the memory of the
fumbling days and the way that you thought
that I should think I was too good for you to hold me
as I hold you down and sometime around
the line that you crossed I had the thought
that
the only time you did not lie
was when you and I
were in the flesh.
***PS: I don't think that poem makes a lot of sense. It has some really great lines, but I think I tried too hard to make it spoken word and lost the meaning sometimes. But it was a pivotal time in my life, so up it goes.
Faith Diverted (2002)
Snowflake angel illusions
scattered
across corrupted blue jeans
God is not my savior:
you are.
People offer to show me the
-light-
I only trust those who will remain with me through
-dark-
If god is something we worship and
trust in,
something that has the power to
hurt, and heal,
then your love is god.
Illusions of innocence, while
-pretty-
cannot compare with the love of sin
and the sin of love
you offer me
scattered
across corrupted blue jeans
God is not my savior:
you are.
People offer to show me the
-light-
I only trust those who will remain with me through
-dark-
If god is something we worship and
trust in,
something that has the power to
hurt, and heal,
then your love is god.
Illusions of innocence, while
-pretty-
cannot compare with the love of sin
and the sin of love
you offer me
Morning After
It is worse, almost, than rain
sudden illumination of
hot rubber on long black lanes
slight jerk of the hand when you meet the sun's eye
and look away first
reminding you of times when
65 was way too fast
decisions were not yours to make, but ask
and bright light and crisp breath meant
cereal and fresh leaf piling
not cigarettes, and stale regrets.
Good morning.
sudden illumination of
hot rubber on long black lanes
slight jerk of the hand when you meet the sun's eye
and look away first
reminding you of times when
65 was way too fast
decisions were not yours to make, but ask
and bright light and crisp breath meant
cereal and fresh leaf piling
not cigarettes, and stale regrets.
Good morning.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Untitled
Towns known only by lovers' beds,
each set of sheets labeled with a memory.
I will always love your dog.
The last turn down the last road
before I am at your door.
Places taken by association,
friends that were never mine to begin with.
Their absence worse than yours.
Recognition of faces that should never
have been photographed in my mind.
These paths are so well traveled I can walk them in my dreams.
You don't have to tell me that counting minutes from
my door to yours
is as good as counting
days until goodbye.
each set of sheets labeled with a memory.
I will always love your dog.
The last turn down the last road
before I am at your door.
Places taken by association,
friends that were never mine to begin with.
Their absence worse than yours.
Recognition of faces that should never
have been photographed in my mind.
These paths are so well traveled I can walk them in my dreams.
You don't have to tell me that counting minutes from
my door to yours
is as good as counting
days until goodbye.
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