Christopher Rossi
First off, I recommend you read "A Read Between The Lines", "The Noose", "Satin Red Memory", "My Apologies, Beloved", "serenade of love", "Star Lily", "me & You" and "The Giving Tree Is Me" in my poem list. I am more of a thinker than a talker. I conjure up secure, rational, realistic, logical opinions about life. About my life- and I try to accept as much as I can. I give everyone a chance, I try not to judge even though hypocrisy is inevitable. We are only human, but if we have enough will-power, we could change into whatever we wish to be.
Please visit my blog: http://writersblock-decemberdreams87.blogspot.com/,
My poetry is for the exploration of poetry and to influence writers to dig deep for their passion. Dedicated to unknown talented writers who may think they don't have what it takes. Write a blog and expand your work. Believe in your heart and trust what comes to mind.
Lord
I am becoming a dangerous man...
I cannot breathe your light,
I do not know where I stand.
It is not like I needed to ask permission
to live or believe in your religion;
the one I was raised with.
Lord
I betrayed myself with a weary prayer.
I yearned for remission.
I was haunted by a guilty conscience, filled with monsters;
was not ever warned that it was all just nonsense!
Lord I am confident.
I cannot include you with the decisions I make,
By myself I will learn from my own mistakes.
No longer can I pray that my wishes come true,
I believe in myself more than I believe in you.
Amen.
Ready to fly
for the second time
Far away for many days
To breathe in a new place
Where will I end up along the way?
I haven't a clue; neither will you.
I sit and wait
For the time to escape
Making conversation with a dude
All tattooed
But enough is enough,
I'd like to nap before the flight comes.
The sun peaks through
Enlightening the people's view
Justifying the hope and
Safety of our travel plans.
Just a few more hours
I'll get where in goin,
and never look back.
a girl with
a personality,
expensive taste,
soft skin and an honest embrace...
that is what I want.
Honestly,
honesty is a rare trait these days,
in a world of animosity,
all seem phony all betray.
As I escape my fate
I become my own face-
society around me
is different from me,
identically.
As the day begins to fade,
my work is done; a drink, I say!
A drink I'll have in Gonzo's Pub
to escape the people's fray.
A Girl...
with honesty
that is what I want...
I'll take another shot please...
I hope there is a light beyond the darkness
that suffocates a confidence I used to believe in.
A hopeful feeling of salvation that used to be...
whole .
She burns through my vacant heart,
a pinhole charm, causing harm
upon my constant forgiveness.
I ignore I wait I beg I stay;
I fight with passion and bathe in my own pain.
I drown in my forgiveness
contemplate my regrets.
I am forced to forget her words
I have forgiven once before.
But I cannot ignore
my swollen wound is infected
burning with ignorance;
what appreciation?!
there is no turning back
now there is no sign of light,
I am not sure if I can forgive-
in the name of passion, I lose the fight,
laying dead in the choke of night.
A soft smooth motion
across the skin of your feet-
A peaceful touch of grace
that strokes the knots and
relieves the strain.
The stressful day complete,
no bickering or complaints.
This calm, this quiet
must remain for the sake of our brains
You must realize,
It's the end of the day-
You're safely at home
And everything is okay.
I really care about you.
I appreciate everything
you have done for me.
I cannot wait to see you,
for these days are drifting slowly
through a blinding haze.
I do not know where I am going
and I cannot wait
to hold you in my arms as we lead each other,
and I will not be alone.
So I hope to God you never leave;
you are every stitch upon my sleeve
that securely guards my skin.
Every time you come home,
I am reborn, I chant, yes I can.
I am vulnerable
weak at the knees,
though you make me
a stronger man
I look outside and wonder
when will time fly faster,
(only when I want it to, of course)
so I can be released from this cage
and roam free across the plain of grass
that gives me surface from the gravity
that in and of itself keeps me grounded
because without it I would be lost
and floating without direction;
out of this world and into a place
that welcomes my existence
with dark open arms
but terminates my life
and suffocates my breathing calm
because oxygen is absent
and breathing is a healthy habit,
so I must relax and take a breath
to get through this day of madness.
silhouettes above my head
hold me down like paperweight,
the earth crumbles beneath me
and separates into quaking plates;
a toxic air instigates choking breaths
along my gasping throat that strains,
I am graveled as I contemplate
what my path is when I graduate.
a key
to
f r e e d o m,
wave our flags
and renounce our forfeit
b e l i e v e
succeed
and place the crown upon thee
for standing
^u p^
and turning the key
that enables our country's
d i g n i t y
we fight
to protect
we deserve
r e s p e c t
for as a team
we take the throne
America,
they are coming home
hair laced with condensation,
beading moisture streams with fluid
motion down my forehead
as I sweat the day away
amongst the land of incompetence
"can i help you?"
"can i help you?... can i help your lazy ass?!"
feet will not relax,
a constant swaying motion
a blood flow clots within my toes
and suffocates my freedom
of relaxing or letting go
if that bitch scolds me one more time…!
That empty water glass,
It sweats as well
forming a permanent liquid stain
atop the desk a ring of Hell
a ring of Hell for sure-
room 154
a dull pencil
lay to the left of me
and the glass of water is dry,
to the point
the atmosphere hath licked
the contents away with spiteful pride.
a message blinks intermittent
as my file lay awake
with blood-shot eyes and frustration,
this job I cannot take.
this age of existence strikes
an honesty that prevails
it disappoints the generations
perhaps this age has failed
liberal humanism condemns
America's noble stance
a selfish congregation builds
a mosque on hallowed land
for we elected those
who dug us in a hole
in debt, our freedom spent
and now this wretched toll
it's about sensitivity,
we need a peace of mind-
change, our leader must make,
but he's on vacation all the time
From a nail, the clock hangs reading half past five
A sentenced man dangles by the dental floss that ends his life.
Minty fresh, it maybe- a thin poisonous remedy
to free his captured soul and clear the grooves between his teeth.
Is it freedom or is it selfish?
Certainly subjective,
treason
to the life he was given,
treason
to the family who loves him.
Now the miracle child hangs
and his teeth begin to stain...
You are a humble gust of wind,
your kiss dances on my chin,
a tango, certain of a flow-
step one
two,
I love you.
What else is there to say-
for last night, my mind had gone astray
and I abused your gentle gust,
I disturbed your peace in us.
I do not regret my mistake,
though you did not deserve the tongue I gave.
I know you forgave
and would never stop loving me.
Within our book, a coffee stain-
I am sorry for the mess I made.
I may seem
un
Sure
I feel un(sure)
Unresponsive,
......^...^........^...^
But not comotose
Not Retarded...
I think too much
I'm (scar)ed
A compulsive
D
R
O
O
P
I
N
G
disappointment
I'm sorry
What else can I say?
No matter how I may become,
(you)r judgement (will) never c(hang)e
I am an italicized remark,
your spicy punctuation;
I am your steamy satisfaction,
your permanent vacation.
A unique innuendo,
a read between the lines;
I am a story like no other
as I lick between your thighs.
from Cosmo,
The New Yorker;
A romantic gentleman lover.
A sweet wine you taste-test
and lick around my lips,
I am a kiss you can't resist-
a naked sweat, a seductive bliss.
I am the palm that stings the skin,
a kinky spank than burns within.
I am a moaning, seeping orgasm
that rumbles with percussion.
I am your emphasized description
although no adjective does justice.
Air fan filtering through
the cruelty of the world,
A sweeping hum a deadly slice,
helicopter chopping
fields within the fumes.
Crop circle shaped symmetry
determined force of army
To fight for freedom in its name.
No religion come to take our place,
No wing disturbs our flying grace.
Horaah! Horaah!
United we will stay.
There is an open book upon the windowsill of my brain,
The rays singe a clarity across its blank pages
With a bonding so thick
So gripping on a memory unspoken of,
Undeniably ignored.
So clear and brown among the peace of paper,
a stain seeps through the creases of mistakes not erased.
A windowsill of white,
stained dark color from the waste.
A book so pure
polluted with distaste.
A book so destroyed
cannot be replaced.
The storm floods the horizon
With great exuberance
She is an ocean of time
A fatal collapse a disastrous crash,
she takes the torch
Pure atmospheric voltage strikes
with cataclysmic force
A surface permanently damp, she is angry
She rises above and drowns the city
Intently the people scream
scattering
Flooding throughout the streets
The wrath persists;
a queen of storm prolongs peace,
and brings the world to its knees
His bar stool creaks,
quaking ice rattles
as he examines his glass .
His finger swirling liquor,
compressing flavors
with ease and contentment.
He sits
He waits with great patience
and a whiskey drink.
Classy choice, I must say.
I wonder if his blind date
Will feel the same...
