Poetry · Writing

silver key

yielding at gates

crossing would be the end-

watching from the window

chariots and kids screaming with bows and bows

gods feeding horses

thunder storms at the tips of fingers

the heat of the furnace lingers:

crossing would be the end-

pleasure on a patterned plate

love on patterned sheets

sleets of snow below my feet

and now i am yielded at the gates-

watching kids play with bows and bows

and i see the end in bright lights

a silver key in my left and the lock in my right

but

i don’t belong

banana loaf as tribute

might as well be mud pie

for tribute to a god

 

Poetry · Writing

trouble wall

trouble is i’ve avoided the trouble for so long i can’t remember when the trouble was at my front door

trouble is i hate the trouble

trouble is that last one was a lie

i never use to be this way

trouble is now that i want the trouble all the trouble that i have put to the side

has come back

but

trouble doesn’t seem so troubling with you

you make the trouble feel like a box that we can step on together

and i can see the trouble

was only something that stood here- until you got here

Poetry · Writing

hotline

i question you

your existence your plans your methods

which books you open when you have your own question

who answers your calls when you feel lost

do you feel mortal anxiety- depression

do you eat ice cream and watch twenty-seven dresses

to forget how she use to wear all those dresses-

do you ever wish, you could be us:

live, bleed, and die

do you ever wish we’d forget your number

so the line would be silent so you can catch up on game of thrones

do you paint on your spare time

smoke cook fuck read on your spare time

or is it just us

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

podium lows

can’t finish first every time

you’ll finish short

and watch someone else cross your finish line-

i know

i know you can’t win them all but you were the one

so this one hits harder

everything feels so much farther

just watch the podium

this one wasn’t yours

they’ll talk about it for a week

and you’ll be gone

but be back

it was just one race

Poetry · Writing

life of echo

practice makes perfect

perfect is how i see you

you are part of a dream i live

live on a mountain with only your echo

echo the night where you taught me how to live

live to see the beauty of you

you are the beauty i watch so perfect

perfect how i feel when we practice

Poetry · Writing

kinetic theory of heat

have it playin’ every day repeat

livin’ on my mind can’t delete

here for the front door not the back street

all these feeling i got are real not abstract baby concrete

soft sheets rip up the receipt feeling on my heartbeat

have it playin’ every day repeat

hold the key give a down beat

this view is amazing , gave me the window seat

down and out never admit defeat

holding down the fort never scream retreat

have it playin’ every day repeat

Poetry · Writing

clear vision – answering machine

i never ran away with doubt

danced with greed

or slept with fear,

it was always clear vision-

no second thoughts of where i needed to be

who i needed to be

i have seen them laying and waiting

for me to slip up;

but i have left them behind

feet no longer on the ground

cut a whole in the boat they’ve all drowned

snuck out at night never made a sound

and they won’t see my number again on that answering machine

they’ll see me from a distance with you

jealous talking shit, but i’ll never split