Poetry · Writing

Sixteen Fears

I asked my buddy once

what he does to calm himself down.

He is an angry guy and he doesn’t get into fist fights

that I know of

so he must have a trick.

He told me he counts

s l o w l y

lowers his heart beat before he Hulks out.

After publicly laughing

and secretly taking notes

I tried it at home;

One, number of episodes I’ve seen of Ferrigno’s Hulk.

Two, number of times I had to convince myself that I’m not losing it before actually giving this a chance.

Three, pick up sticks.

Four, the number of times I thought about calling the love of my life and not doing it because I don’t want to be a bother.

Nine, worries I’ve given before reminding myself that she loves me and I need to escape the narrowing halls of my own mind.

Sixteen,

Eighteen, the year I decided to burn the world down from a water tower.

Twenty-two, the damn Taylor Swift song that will probably test time.

Sixty-nine,

Eighty-three, letters it takes for me to confess that I don’t want to roam this earth without you by my side.

One hundred and forty-three, It’ll be okay, as long as you know that you’re worth it and won’t give in to every single hick up even though your mortal self can’t help it.

Here, I learn he doesn’t deal with anger,

it’s the way to talk out his own insecurities.

Mine showed their tattooed faces at the first sign of a rain drop

no forecast of showers

towers blocking the sun

gun cocked to my own forehead

dread as I lower my own arm;

One hundred and forty-four, one day these worries will mute, the button is jammed in the remote but it’ll pop out, just have to keep counting.

Poetry · Writing

My Hero

Flipping channels

through all these different success stories

a chance to make a life

to be someones

either through blood

or opportunity.

Them being their, doesn’t mean they’re the best

waiting for the next great to pick up that shield

a Captain is always on the way.

I watch, knowing someone who sings better

paints better

and at the age of four

I learned that people are not born equal

death is a guarantee

and failure is a privilege,

not all of us see the stars.

So will flip channels

pretend that these people never scaled that mountain

and reached

even for a second

to be someones hero;

even if they can’t see the same stairs

or know how to walk

those heroes reach an arm out

lend an ear see the sea smell the breeze

they’ll be there for tough times

sing their song

end their show

with us in our living room

thank you

 

 

but I’ll be their one day

with all my might.

Poetry · Writing

Dinner Time

Since you came

I haven’t needed another-

closed all the shops in my heart

no more tourist- a lonley lurker looking for their old room;

just a mansion

for you.

Candles and sweets

I never want you to leave

I’ve never felt so full:

full on filling conversations

dining on our connection

resting on our full bellies-

looking up at our ceiling

counting the wrinkles on our palms,

your hands are so soft I fall asleep in this dream.

I wake to your voice

sleep to it

and crave it like the next meal.

Poetry · Writing

Swimming Lessons

I never got to say, thank you-

you, you acted as my shield from the world

my iron suit that I walked around in

talking shit like Tony Stark

now I know I was never in the ballpark

bat at home swinging with papier-mache at a tee ball stand.

I don’t know what you were worried about-

I picked plenty of roses and never cut myself

gave the neighbors cat a bath and she didn’t run away

and neither did I.

I did enjoy the days you would show me the light

like a present the sunshine was to my skin

your hand was loose but always in mine

a child in body and lost in the mind.

Thank you, for caring

you never told me the wonders of the light

when the sun touches the water

when your hand touched mine- it was the same

you didn’t show me, I had to swim on my own.

I never asked why you were so protective

and no one has ever been since,

but I learned how to swim

so hopefully you can rest easy.

Poetry · Writing

ROS

Just need to get something off my chest-

someone said that once and went on a long rant

but just need a minute of your time to tell you

that the one with the dimples in the front row,

the one that supported me from the start

libra in her profile – dimples when she smiles

you make it worth while

just a few lines here and there is my artistic style

and I’ll never stop chasing you, I’m looking for you babe

and I’ll never stop through sunshine or rain.

 

Yeah, can’t seem to shake it

didn’t try real hard never left our bed

and still we’re layin’ playin’ bed head

and you drive me wild.

Lets, make a promise

pact between an angel and a fallen saint

when I’m all over the world and just here at home

we never keep score, just the one for our latest bet

still waitin’ on my five as long as we share the mindset

while the world is fallin’ will count the towers

and I’ll always be there to bring you flowers.

I, can’t bring myself to take a second

to blink away because I’ll miss your excellence

with an emphasis on your tremulous intelligence

jump the fence can’t wait another minute

the way you say my name, a favorite attribute

your are a queen and I’m a king

look at this chess we’re playing

a peace of mind a sound in the quiet a phone a friend lifeline

and I will be yours, through rain and through shine

Poetry · Writing

Cruise Control – Mistletoe

I come to you with a peak inside–

it’s quiet

too quiet

outside the blinds, families picking up their last holiday gifts

festive hats, have a great day

a few gift cards, have a great day

wrapping paper sporting jolly Santa and trusty Rudolph, have a great day.

the happiest time of year, theme songs of the month playing on repeat, and I can’t remember one person’s face.

Our old family car’s cruise control never worked

you would have to hold the button, however,

we discovered if you inserted a coin and really jam it in there

the cruise control would stay-

and as I sit and watch these faceless people

and the coin jabs further into my skull

I don’t remember any of it.

Silence.

Quiet in the madness

scrambling and I’m the only egg that’s cracked

dreading the time in silence because I feel safer

here in the madness

but I can’t stay.

The faceless walkers troll apart the hallways

screaming and ripping off others ears and I’m the one that’s sideways

and I can’t run.

The water falls in a single drip

exactly three seconds apart- I know I counted.

Heater and a candle because the cold is awful and should be banned.

The candle is a Mistletoe scent

I didn’t know at the time that it would keep the madness with it

warding all reindeer to stay the fuck away

so I can lay and cry in peace an.

.

.

Sorry, your time is up.

Please enter another twenty-five cents to keep the cruise control going,

have a great day.

Poetry · Writing

Blood Filled Library

I guess we know

we didn’t but now we know-

the book was published

and all your lies became truths

ripped open my spines and poured ink

and sold it for fourteen ninety-nine.

I thought I was worth more than that-

a cheap penny

blood filled library

and signing with my wish bone.

Worse part was- I loved the book

shoveled all your lies like a dessert

everyone at that shit up

and in a motherfuckin’ instant

I’m the lie.

The history written in my bible

was being preached

in the quad in front of all the people

my texts-

the next step in the light

silenced in shadow

a cloak over my head

choosing between rewriting

or telling the truth

so it’ll be this chapter

somewhere in the middle:

hello, my name is Sam

and this is my truth

Poetry · Writing

Alice and Tony

I couldn’t help but watch you leave

the coffee shop on fourth and it was the third time

I counted the seconds until I was the first to follow you out.

I bet that sounds crazy,

but I saw her in a crowded coffee shop last week

ordering the same drink I do, reading the same book

like going to a book story and picking up my daily planner.

I wanted to ask her if she thinks:

that Tony and Alice deserve each other

Alice was a dick but Tony wasn’t a saint

or will they keep passing each other

in coffee shops just like this one

or will he go out- chase after her

or wait until next time

because we are naive to believe that there will be a next time

so we sit in the same chair

working on the novel we’ve been staring at

just writing Alice and Alice over and over again

and just like auto correct I’ll walk with red lines under me

because it’s a mistake

the suggestion was to delete

but I couldn’t live with that

so I’ll follow her out and ask-

if she would give Tony a chance

because I think he would make Alice happy.

 

Poetry · Writing

Small Worlds

I hope I never keep you waiting-

Looking for something-

magical so I never had to leave

never knew you were so close

reach out and fall through

this place was always here

under my nose-

watching the clouds passin’ through

passin’ out tickets have them rushin’

to their seats for when I kiss the sun

bright  and always makin’ the day desirable-

right under my nose,

and I’ll fall asleep in your arms

wake up smelling like you

carrying you on my sweater keeping warm and love with me

and I won’t take it off-

but the world is so small

until it ain’t and you’ve found this haven

a place where you are kissing the sun

and wearing a sweater sewed into your skin

so deeply engraved you can’t remember

what it was like before them

and now

I worship the sun

turn the dial past nine to hear her voice and awaken to her heavenly bliss

and will leave the dial here-

not to puase time for a minute

just an extra second so you can take a mental picture

if just how perfect-

wanting it all meant something different

just to keep this world spinning

to keep the sun shinning

to keep this sweater warm

to keep you in my small world.