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October 5th, 2010 at 3:16 am
Bread on our Table
He works silently.
Standing hours at a time,
By nothing seen, nothing shown,
Staring, furiously, with a blank face
At a patch of dirt where lies dead seeds.
He works hard everyday, standing
Still, as children pass him by.
They cling to him, starving,
Seeking fatherly love
From a scarecrow.
October 13th, 2010 at 11:57 pm
thanks!
November 1st, 2010 at 3:46 am
“Hello”
Are you aware of the admiration for you I keep inside?
Are you aware of the little miss who is trying not to hide?
Do you see me passing by on the way to class everyday?
Do you see me trying to tell myself that everything’s OK?
Do you notice the crooked smile I give as you speak?
Are you aware of my desire to slowly brush your cheek?
I love how when you concentrate you slightly twitch your nose.
I guess I’m just trying to say, Hello.
Can you guess how many conversations refused to escape my lips?
Can you guess how many time I’ve picture our first kiss?
Could you count how many dreams I’ve had of us standing in the rain?
Could you count how many times I’ve heard you call my name?
I’m trying to speak my mind, but I guess I’m a little too shy.
And I feel so lonely here watching time pass me by.
The love I feel for you is real and is something I can’t let go.
I guess I’m just trying to say, Hello.
Do you know how many love songs I’ve wrote in honor of you?
Do you know how I can win your heart? ‘Cause I haven’t got a clue.
Can you tell me how I can get you close to here
Before all of the tears dry and forever disappear?
Will you let me show you who I am and the thoughts that are in my mind?
Would you hug me if I stood in the street with my arms open wide?
You walk by me once again – I just hope one day you’ll know
In my mind, I just said Hello.
November 1st, 2010 at 4:00 am
Thank you!
November 11th, 2010 at 1:07 am
“Almost Forever”
the heather ripples seemed
drawn with pencil
in the twilight hour
where time and hearts stop
the willow weeping for us
in memorial and reverence
of a love so often
dropped and dusted off
perfect pond reflections
of teenage lovers
tainted by the throwing
of a single gray stone
our words have been enemies
fought thousands of battles
but even when i lost
i saw you as home
we are scattered
tattered, battered
but not shattered
if the pieces fall
in exactly a straight line
time after time
November 11th, 2010 at 1:19 am
“colloquial love”
we can build lies
out of alphabet blocks
and spell out truths
only visible from the side
or speak in code
while walking backwards
with hands firmly tied
there’s so much to hide
we can hold hands
but solely in our minds
or brush shoulders
with distracted excuses
or stare from a distance
at obtuse angles
to make things right
hide from their abuses
we can join our minds
eyes fixed on the wall
encrypt meaning in lyrics
colloquial love
or shut out this room
longing hands intertwined
eyes locked irrevocably
measure our lives in love
leading our lives in the eyes of others
how can we truly care about each other?
November 15th, 2010 at 1:12 am
There are three here:
Wounded Night Sky
Stars twinkle against the swirling
black and blue bruise of a sky.
The bitten moon hangs painfully,
clutching the dark skin for dear life.
The villagers gaze up, watching the dying
flickers of the thousands of ornaments,
unaware of their pain and tears.
They smile at the wounded moon, clueless
of its shame. One by one they go to bed
oblivious of the ever present pain.
Winds roll like waves, causing colors to swirl.
Taunting and laughing at the bitten moon.
Lashing and dashing against the sky,
darkening the bruise.
The stars dimmed in an attempt to hide
from the ruthless wind. Yet there was no hiding
from the dangerous predator.
It chews the stars between its teeth and
spits them out with contempt. The beast
moves on looking for some other piece of prey
to bully.
Conversation of a Teenager
“Hey”
“Hey”
“What’s up?”
“Not much, you?”
“Not much”
…
…
“See yea”
“Later”
…
…
“Hey”
“Hey”
Wounded Night Sky
Stars twinkle against the swirling
black and blue bruise of a sky.
The bitten moon hangs painfully,
clutching the dark skin for dear life.
The villagers gaze up, watching the dying
flickers of the thousands of ornaments,
unaware of their pain and tears.
They smile at the wounded moon, clueless
of its shame. One by one they go to bed
oblivious of the ever present pain.
Winds roll like waves, causing colors to swirl.
Taunting and laughing at the bitten moon.
Lashing and dashing against the sky,
darkening the bruise.
The stars dimmed in an attempt to hide
from the ruthless wind. Yet there was no hiding
from the dangerous predator.
It chews the stars between its teeth and
spits them out with contempt. The beast
moves on looking for some other piece of prey
to bully.
November 15th, 2010 at 10:19 pm
Writer’s Block
…
…
…
Bloody hell…
…
…
…
Ok.
I’m going to do it.
The pen’s there.
Right there.
Just right of the paper.
The lined paper.
The immaculate paper.
…
…
…
They’re laughing.
The pen and the page.
…
…
And now the pencil, too
…
…
Stupid inanimate objects.
Laughing at me.
…
…
Friggin’…
…
…
The utensils hit the floor.
Now who’s laughing?
Huh?
HUH??
…
…
I’m talking to school supplies…
…
…
…
Bloody hell…
…
Writers Block 2.0
…
…
…
Stupid cursor.
Just, *sitting* there.
*Blinking.*
Mocking me.
…
…
…
I don’t know what comes next.
The river’s dry.
All the words are gone.
Nothing there;
Just dust.
And the little linty things you find in your pockets after a wash.
…
The cursor’s still blinking.
…
This isn’t even a paper!
Not for school or work or anything!
Why won’t it come?
…
I can see it.
No, not see.
*Feel* it.
Skirting the edges.
Dancing about the periphery.
…
Probably grinning…
…
…
…
Damn cursor…
January 20th, 2012 at 1:07 am
I coated my life with colored oils.
They looked nice and shimmered,
But when I dropped it.
My life slipped through my fingers-
Slick as a salmon,
It cannot be caught,
I can only watch.