Monthly Archives: January 2012

Teenage Cycle

Sustain grades
Lick boots
Social outings
File report
Write essay
Slam laptop screen
Have sex
Smile a bit
Break up
Charge iPod
Order pizza
Go to to work
Smile a bit
Frown on way home
Write essay
Fail test
Seclude self
Open laptop screen
Write a little
Put on mask
Smile a bit
Confine feelings
Tunnel vision
Ignite car
Oncoming traffic
Release wheel
Shut eyes
Smile a bit
Cycle broken

The Greatest Among Us

The forsaken one dwells
In the shadow of man.
Tongue twisted and mute.
Rasping breaths rattle endlessly.
His inescapable presence
Could nearly deafen us all,
Overwhelm our personal senses
Of right and wrong
And force us to bend down
And spare him a word.
A touch of the hand.
A comfort,
A friend.

But our ears are plugged tight
By ignorance and personal gain,
And I, beside you,
Will step over this frail and
Broken man,
We will show him our backs,
And our boots.
Never our faces.

As we trudge along our path
Of harrowing gain and abuse,
High and mighty above him,
The unfortunate one,
He laughs to himself,
Because he is better off
Without us.


Uh oh… A love poem is coming on…

To my love,

If there were words to describe
How I feel about you
I would probably use them.
If I could write about
What you mean to me
Then I would.
But, alas, that thing
I call a dictionary
Has failed me again.
My mind draws a blank
When it comes
To my feelings for you.

I cannot describe
To any extent
The love I have for you.
My attempts are futile,
My babblings trivial,
My descriptions vague
and vain besides.

The warmth I feel,
Love so unreal
Is best known as breath-taking.
Such a thing should not exist,
Yet it persists.

I know it has not been many years
That I have known you.
Rather, Time itself has stood still since the moment
Fate had us met.
In any way, through countless days
That I might dream might lie ahead,
I hope that I might put aside the
Block in my mind
To let you know
How out of control
My feelings are,
For you,
And might become yet.

Waiting for a promised day.

You asked me once, a long time ago.
You asked if I would stay if you had to leave.
You asked if I would always be here.
And then, you were gone.
I kept my commitment.
But what about you?
Where have you been?
Where do you call home?
In the time its been, I’ve done a little thinking.
Sitting alone by the fridge
On the hardwood floor.
Your picture on a magnet, stuck to the side.
That’s what I have now.
And a promise of return.
A promise of… Something.
Years trickle by like passing cars
And empty busses that haven’t brought you home
To me.
Because you aren’t coming back.
As long as you’re MIA
That is where you’ll stay.

Cemetery (Picture it & write #12)

Picture it & write!

Red dress.
Black and blue
Litter legs.
Scattered remains
Once held
Now remain
On forest bed.
Dark eyes,
Cool and grey,
Focused on
She prays,
To live
As tear drops fall
On grandmother’s grave.

The Procession of the Dark

The night is a favored subject of mine.
Cold more oft then not,
Dark and immersive.
Mystery and familiarity entwined.

It is my place of rest,
And wide-eyed terror.
My place of peace,
My field of conquest.

These ideas of mine, inside my head
Born of the dark and the cavities there.
Their eyes untrained to venture to the light
They wait to arise in darkness’ stead.

Amid the dark, they horde in the masses.
Voices in the thousands, rasping ideas and notions.
Overwhelmed, I begin to tremble.
Darkness blankets my consciousness in patches.


The voices are joining in singular vision
As a gallant figure strides through the storm.
The creatures are whispering, then voices are harmonious,
The ethereal shouters have come to decision:

Through the darkness, poetry is christened.

…and Brain on the Drums

There’s always a rhythm

Pounding in my head.

My unending production

Of a beat left unsaid.

The clatter of hi-hat

Snare ringing, pedal snapping,

Drum fill, then rhythm relapsing.

Never collapsing.

Mixed meter, swung eighths, even four,

Jazz groove, slow blues, samba,

Double pedal, heavy metal,

Left handed crash cymbal.

Roll on snare. King Kong conclusion.

Curtains fall,

Then curtains rise.

An encore is commencing.

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