Poetry · Writing

jukebox

love makes you do crazy things

spending everything for a second

she has me in the alley selling pennies

playing quarters with nickles

sitting on first after a triple

just for this dance:

and we will lock eyes as our paths join

fingers sway to the music all through your loin

oh me oh my your fragrance floats on by

smelling from my eye your beauty teaches me how to fly

and when the wind stops and your hair falls down your cheek

my lips fall into yours decomposing my knees oh so heavenly weak

and after a quarter

the song will end

to find another quarter

will be my long life quest

to dance again

my lovely empress

 

 

 

Poetry · Writing

three women – thank you

you watched me fall

you watched me climb, still watching

i know in her visions i am never stopping

a workhorse, mane and all

and i thank you for that:

dreaming on days when i can’t sleep

moving forward when my feet feel like concrete

living when i wasn’t sure how too

and i could never repay you-

 

i find myself wondering where you are,

if you’re still in the same city, playing the same guitar:

i left on a broken down car in the middle of a storm

lost in memories, in a jeep, with a ghost and you

no phone, no address, no one

a seven on my arm drawn in charcoal

the same one i drew on a casket not an hour earlier

and i haven’t seen you since

i hope you made it out of the storm too-

 

i love you- with only nine lines i couldn’t begin to explain

the light that i see in you, it is blinding

and i don’t need my mask, exposed to all of you;

it feels fucking great

your body in my hands warms my soul

my heart beats out of my chest when you’re near

and it’s been like that since you’re light touched me-

you’ll change the world, you’ve already changed mine

 

thank you

 

 

 

Poetry · Writing

saint III

i looked you in the eyes

and i took your words as gospel

preacher of the light

the filler of void

an anchor in the middle of the ocean

and on this cruise, you were the voice of reason

that outfit you can wear during any season-

i pray to you;

before thy i kneel and worship the grace you give

the challenge in your eyes gives strength to those

that can’t will themselves from bed

that can’t summon the strength

that wish for change and are granted borrowed time from your generous hands

that you for the gifts wrapped in neat bows

an angel from below i thought sent to curse

to burn

yet you tend to my gardens

for i

for i am only a humble poet

a dancer of water for the moons wishes

a singer for those souls that cherish the moments that never end

and you granted my wish

for that;

i will love in my borrowed time

i will write about your words

about your beauty

about this life, from this view

 

Poetry · Writing

like a movie;

you bring out the best in me:

when you are around, i wear my shiniest shoes

my best shirt always tucked in and a clean jacket-

i walk in a straight line

when we go out to dinner i pull out your chair

i always pay the fare loving you is all too rare

you support all my endeavours

i’ll give a dollar you’ll give two

when i made my debut

it was you

sitting in the front row ready for a show

and you’ll tell me it was great-

and all i remember were your cheers

you break down all of my fears

like clockwork you are all of my gears

i’ll never leave your side, you can have all of my years

Poetry · Writing

same problem – different day

and it is always me

caught in the darkest corner of my mind

wandering aimlessly destroying the structure that wasn’t

in the last invasion claiming the lives of more innocent thoughts-

i can put down the knife but i can’t hide it

when i am not looking, i will continue to cut and stab and kill

until this home is a crime scene;

there are only a few calm moments

a voice that sends me, the other me

running- running to a place i have yet to evict

to a place he calls home that has it all put together

but

when i am gone:

picket fence repainted

door mat dusted

time for books to be placed back on the shelf

photo albums rebound

dinner in the oven

albums placed next to the sega genesis

and

i

can

breathe

Poetry · Writing

winter is here.

lost in a graveyard

found six feet under

it was never meant to end this way

or maybe it was

maybe i choose to ignore the signs on the road

the endless yelling of choosing poorly

but right now was meant for the hollow

a cross of a god that was never my god

a cross for the forsaken or the loved

holds the seal tight

i would challenge him but

he is a god so that seems dumb-

against his wishes i will rise;

turn my hands into shovels and rise

the bottom could never hold a spirit like mine

a heart with everything still to give

stories left to be told

work still to be done

and

the last season of game of thrones

still to be watched

Poetry · Writing

stringless kite

a little lost now

following a kite

map shredded

two nights to get it

and i have never felt, whatever this is-

a chilling call

not a heroes call

an endless brawl through the nights free-for-all

and i have been losing

easier to count the small moments when i felt everything was whole

can do it with one hand

do not see the second being used

yet to push aside this feeling of being used

left beaten and bruised

to lay in the coldest of night

with nothing but a stringless kite

Poetry · Writing

space in the world;

i find comfort in solace

to retreat to my corner write a rhyme

it is an organized crime, murder- right before bedtime

yet

solace is never kept lonely

i carved my space in this world built on fiction

i will not blame anyone for not being real

made it myself love the appeal

check on the time but that is not real

blood on the walls carved from stainless steel-

solace is my emergency contact

it knows i exist

just never picks up

 

Poetry · Writing

god of song

i prayed once-

like a message in a bottle i threw it in an ocean of many

they clinked together like after a toast-

or a prayer

i do not know if they will ever get to mine or which god answers the phone

maybe it is like the lotto system and we are all on hold

waiting for our number to be called like the dmv;

the bottle was ordinary but the paper was special

out of a journal with muses on the cover

thought they would get a laugh out of that-

whatever god; he she it just know i was in a dark place

darkened scribes on a windy night

saying hello to the moon inches from a fall-

i would not bother you guys

if it was not important

was hoping to get into the priority lane

but i have missed church a few hundred times so i get it

just need something to go right-

anything;

Poetry · Writing

cozy k’night

she said she missed the old me-

the one with the funny jokes

and the unbreakable smile

never hanging from rope just above the tile

the version of you that never updated

who told stories of full hearts

standing- never wavered

now tells stories of death through fine arts

sit high like a king with his chalice

and below his subjects full of malice

switched from meat to salads

bought a case of m light and you were at wine palace

remember when we dropped acid-

where – did – you – go

( who walks in the shadows of your once peculiar self, the tepid demons haunt and talked their way into your skin to walk a path of coal never meant for your loving feet- they trashed you and colored your eyes green so you can profit and all i- we want is to banish and summon the cozy knight once more )