She loves me, She loves me not
She wants me
A second thought
As she twirls the flower
between her fingertips
her finger rips
Watch it fall
watch it settle
Watch it settle to the ground
Where it never
never ever will be found
Can you see it?
the pile on the floor?
her wilted lovers
her lovers from before
She holds the empty flower in her hand
she simply doesn't understand
Why the spark is there no more
Why she is oh so suddenly bored
He's no longer lovely to her eyes
She doesn't fully realize
Why things just aren't quite the same
Why she's the one
The one to blame
When I was younger,
as our lips met
I was so eager
to free you
from your fabric bonds
I was in such a hurry
to liberate you
from the oppressive clothing
that was strangling your body
inhibiting your beauty
hiding the soft curves of your skin
I treated our time together
like a small child would treat a Christmas gift,
Greedily tearing away at the wrapping paper
to retrieve the object of his desire.
Unaware that anticipation can be just as rewarding
as the reward itself
My priorities have shifted
Let me just lay next to you
admire you as you bite your lip
enticing a kiss.
Just a small one
Let me run my hand down your arm
as my fingers find yours and
i n t e r t w i n e
Let me watch as your eyes follow mine
into the place where no words
need be spoken
I want to listen to your heartbeat
There's no need to rush this.
I want to get lost with you in this moment
Just for a bit
Before we're lost in the passion of the night
I fell off of cloud nine today.
Everyone talks about cloud nine,
but they rarely talk about those
Right now, I'm on cloud thirty-seven,
after making an error in judgement.
Cloud thirty-seven is not quite as enjoyable
Thirty seven is slate tinted and full of regrets.
It's as if everything has been covered in a haze
of negativity. It reeks of rejection and failure.
The people here look like lifeless shells. I wonder
what I look like to them.
The worst part, I think, about cloud thirty-seven
is that I can still see cloud nine quite clearly. I can
still see everyone up there smiling blissfully, save
for the few who are looking down at me with pity.
Faces stare at me almost smirking, as if the same thing
could never happen to them.
I can look up at cloud nine and it seems so far away.
It's not unreachable, mind you, but I know all the
blood and sweat
expended to get up there previously was for nothing.
I know that to get back up there requires the same
repetitive bullshit that I've been through
so many times before.
Even if I manage to land back on cloud nine, I'm always
just a single mistake from falling from it yet again..
I've been here to thirty-seven enough times where it is
becoming uncomfortably familiar.
I fear of becoming complacent.
Perhaps I'm fooling myself. Maybe I need to stop aspiring
for cloud nine and pick a different one.
Cloud 28 might be nice.
I'm off, I'm off to London town
come one, come all, let's drink a round
if you look for me here, I won't be found
Be ready, be set...I'm London bound
The stars in your eyes are exceptionally bright
My love has nowhere to hide
They light up your path as you dance through the night
while I struggle to keep by your side
The stars in your eyes, they sparkle and shine
they lead me through the darkness and gloom
They gently remind me to cherish our time
They allow something special to bloom
The stars in your eyes, they burn through my fear
My insecurities have melted away
They seem to see through me, as you draw closer near
Those stars, they beg me to stay
The stars in your eyes, they hold a secret
one kept since our love began
Your breath at my ear, you beg me to keep it..
My lips meet with yours, once again
If suddenly and without warning
I pass this mortal coil
I ask that you dispense with mourning
because I find it rather droll
Don't sit and sob and mope
because I've perished, premature
Instill yourself, instead, with hope
Find inspiration in this world
Go somewhere you'd never have gone
if I had been around
Take a trip, why not see Hong Kong?
There are wonders to be found!
We have so little time here on this earth
it's a shame how much we waste
New adventures have so much more worth
than the memories we chase
So when I'm gone, I'm dead, I'm lost
I'm buried in the sand
I profess, insist, that at all costs
You live the life you can
The door to the room burst open as two lovers twisted into the
gaudy motel room, causing the roaches to scatter to safety.
His tongue was exploring her mouth as he pushed her up against
the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist in anticipation.
They made their way to the bed, undressing as they went. His brown
leather jacket landed on the back of a chair, followed by his shirt. Her
blouse fluttered carelessly to the floor. He pushed against her and then...
He saw what she was looking at and smiled. "Don' worry babe, I only use
that on people I don't like. I like you". He took the gun out of the waistband
of his pants and set it on the nightstand. Hesitation, but soon more clothes
were shed until there were no more. His eyes hungrily explored her body,
preparing for a night to remember. She smiled and bit her lip as his eyes
looked her over. "You know what really gets me off?". He grunted in
response, to which she whispered in his ear. He laughed. "Damn you're
dirty, girl". He acquiesced, though. His mouth went on her breast, followed
by a soft bite. She gasped. He was shocked when liquid trickled onto his tongue.
He pulled back and looked up. She was just staring at him, alluring eyes begging him to
continue. He felt slightly light headed. He stopped. He tried moving away, but
he again found himself at her breast.
That feeling of light-headedness again. Several times this happened, he tried to start
the deed that he had come here for, only to find himself back for more. He slowly realized
that he couldn't move away. He was trapped. He now suckled in earnest. His brain screamed
for him to stop, but it was out of his control now. She stroked his hair, traced her fingers
along the scars on his back. Bullet wounds. "It's ok, sweetie. You're a bad man, but we're
gonna make it better, aren't we". His thoughts raced, but there was nothing he could do.
His body was betraying him. He was paralyzed.
He felt odd, his whole body felt as if he was being wrapped in a warm blanket. Soothing
voices lulling him to sleep. His body relaxed. He felt himself slowly shrinking. He felt
all his memories rushing by him, unaware that they were slowly being erased. He was
in his late 30s, yet he now looked to be no older than 17. He forgot about the first time
he'd shot someone in cold blood. He forgot about his father drunkenly beating him.
He forgot nights in the emergency room. His body continued to shrink, as his memories
left. He was no older than a toddler now. He forgot the first woman he struck in anger.
He forgot becoming his father. He curled into the fetal position. The woman sat
up now, and wrapped him in her arms, rocking him slowly. "There there...that's better now.
You gonna be a good man this time. We keep tryin' 'til we get it right, won't we?"
He was an infant. Newly born. Finally he released. He looked up at the woman he would
now call mother. It wasn't the same woman that he had come into the room with.
She smiled down at him, earning a yawn from the babe.
"That's right, you go to sleep now. Things'll be different in the morning"
She kissed his forehead and wrapped him up in his old leather jacket while she dressed.
When she was finished, she looked around the room. Seeing that everything was accounted for,
she picked up the child and vanished into the night, determined to get it right this time.
You've found a girl who can hold your gaze
You've found a girl with those sinful curves
that girl with the lips that you want sayin' your name
Oh she's beautiful alright. How did you get so lucky?
Maybe you're not as lucky as you think you are?
luscious, limber, lavacious, and alluringly lustworthy
make up for being
lewd, lethargic, and a lackadaisical liar?
So what that she's
ogle-worthy, optically pleasing, orgasmically ideal
offensive, ostentatiously ornate, and overbearing?
She may be
vivacious, voluptuous, and sexually voracious
vain, vapid, vacuous, a vengeful vixen
Don't let her
exotic, erotic efficaciousness
Blind you to her
egocentric, evasive, envious nature
Those lips won't look so enticing when they're spitting poison barbs into your heart
Wouldn't you rather have a girl
Who is likeable?
Who is original?
Who is vibrant?
Who is enough to make you happy?
It's all you need
Do I have to spell it out for you?
Note: After re-reading, thought I should make myself clear -- This isn't calling out attractive men/women, it's more along the lines of "Looks are great, but if they come at the expense of a good personality, they're worthless." There are lots of very attractive folks who have fantastic attitudes and are wonderful, lots of average looking folks who are not, and every combination in between. There. I feel better.
I sit in her garden
listening to the lilting of the birds
feeling the grass tickle my bare wrists
chilled water of the brook meanders past, satiating my toes
while the flowing shadow of the elm lets in specks of the sun
as the wind steps through the leaves.
I'm lazily following an ant as it crawls upon my knuckle when I hear her
Come and find me, she says
She stands among the red ivy, as it madly creeps up the ancient brick behind her
I stand up and walk towards her
The ivy wraps around her wrists and ankles
It weaves in and out of her hair, flows around her neck
It envelopes her hips
Panic sets in
Come and find me, she cries, as a tendril of ivy bursts from her mouth
She is gone.
The wall of ivy has stolen her.
I rip at it, tear at it. I dig in.
I'm surrounded by ivy, as I look back I see a tunnel
a small opening of light indicating where I had started.
It seems miles away
How long have I been here?
It is then that I look at my hands
They are covered in blood
Crimson drops fall from the torn ivy
Come find me
"Are you OK, honey?"
She's sitting next to me on the sofa
sipping her cocoa while mine sits
on the coffee table, getting cold
She lays with her legs across me now,
she's wearing a sundress that tempts
but she's unaware. She tells me about
what our eldest son did while I was working
I should be so proud of him, she tells me
She must be aware of my look of confusion,
as she again asks me what's wrong.
I look down at my shoes as I explain that
I don't remember having kids. I brace
for the anger, but as I look up I only see
as she cradles the womb
that has denied her happiness
The tears well up, and they fall to the ground
I do my best to comfort her, but she's eroding
each drop taking away a part of her
until only a puddle remains
It starts raining.
I'm soaked to the bone
I'm walking to the bridge where I know she'll be
She likes it because it's falling apart.
No motorist in their right mind would try and cross it
Indiana Jones would probably balk
She's standing at the edge, looking down.
The ravine is much deeper than you would expect
the bottom is a black pool of water
She's sitting at the edge, tossing pebbles over the side
oblivious to the creaking and moaning of the bridge
trying to warn her away.
She sees me stop at the foot of the bridge, and looks at me
with those piercing blue eyes. You just don't say no to eyes like that.
They look me over as that familiar feeling washes over me.
I'll do what you want. Just say when. Just keep looking at me like that.
A hand beckons me to sit down, I carefully oblige.
We both know what happens next, but we sit in the silence for the longest time
Finally, she takes my hand...and we're falling.
As we plummet, she holds me tight and whispers in my ear
You found me
The bottom races towards us
and I am at peace
You slowly walk down the avenue of normality
Ignoring the side streets and oddly placed alleys
Change, you feel, is strange and unnerving
You stay straight and narrow, no veering or swerving
You look at us weirdos and our strange machinations
you speed up your pace with much trepidation
You're so busy keeping to the road that's more traveled
that you are completely unaware that it's turning to gravel
You're walking alone, and the road has all but decayed
the streets that you passed up, now bustling highways
Your fear of the odd and peculiar, the offbeat uncommon
has led you to become forlorn and unwanted
Everyone has secrets that no one will hear
You wanted to be normal, and normal you are
now you're a minority, among the bizarre
I feel like I'm chasing
of a whisper
of a lost memory
of a thought
of a forgotten dream
of the faintest glimmer of hope
Why is it that we fall in love?
Is love a trap, a giant pit that we unsuspectingly trip into?
Do we lie at the bottom peering at the light above?
Is love like jumping out of an airplane without a parachute?
Do we flail helplessly as we plummet to the ground?
Falling is painful, uncertain, and something we try to avoid.
Except in the case of love.
I don't like falling.
I think I'm going to grow into love instead...
When I was but a boy
no older than 4
I insisted that the number of pickles
on my sandwich be representative
of my age.
4 years. 4 pickles
5 years. 5 pickles
6 years. 6 pickles
This went on for awhile.
Eventually, though, I felt it was time to end that particular tradition.
28 pickles was getting ridiculous...
On those days
when my head is full
of all the things that
are going wrong in my life
I'll find her waiting for me
and I'll lay my head across her chest
and be greeted by
a steady heartbeat
I can't be strong every day
Sometimes I break
It's only inevitable
That's why I need her
It goes deeper than the warmth of her skin
It goes deeper than the lust for passion
I need her love to flush the toxins
I need her love to cleanse my soul
I need her love to refill me
For I've been running on empty for far too long
She's not there when I open the door
I put my head between my knees
I ignore the emptiness
I try to remain strong for another day
Let us fly somewhere terrifying and wonderful
where supernovas explode in the darkness
Name the place
Name the time
to make a rhyme
We'll be there faster than you can say
There's no time nor relative dimension in space
That I'd want to be without your pretty face
We have the future, the present, the long ago past
The beginning, the end; The first and the last
We'll trek through the universe in moments so fleeting
You've no idea how fast my hearts will be beating
If you'd just open
All of them will open, there's no place for locks
One's options are limitless
when you have
A Blue Box
One day, I asked a chef
how he made his food taste
He said to me
"It's simple. I carefully
mix spices with meats,
fruits, and vegetables,
then I combine them
in a particular order,
during which I apply
heat at certain times
I was awestruck.
Then I asked a painter
how she created such
She said to me
"It's simple. I mix certain
colors together, then I place
those colors on specific spots
on the canvas in a particular
order using a various number
of stroke techniques."
I was amazed
Finally, I asked a writer
how he wrote such beautiful
and inspiring lines
He paused and looked far off
into the distance, contemplating
what wise advice to impart to me
Then he took a hit off his bong
"I dunno, I guess I just
write, like, how I feel
"Totally", I replied, as I bit into a ham sandwich
This poem is reserved
for the love of my life
Its lines are only
for what is to come
There is no meaning right now
so don't go and search for it
These are cold, emotionless words
ready to be replaced with fire
when the time is right
This stanza will be filled at a later date
This line will be about her laugh
This line will be about the look she gives me (you know the one)
This line will be about the spark in her eyes
This line...mmm...will be none of your damn business.
It's a private moment
It's between her and I
The one with the reservation
to my heart
One day this poem will mean something
One day these lines won't be empty
But not today
The mind of the insane is really not that difficult to understand
It's rather simple
You see, when you eat the blue macaroni while
singing "Modern Major General", you must
remember to Stop. Hammer time. If not,
the rhesus monkey will shoot lemon rays
at your hampster with dead lifeless eyes.
Those terrible eyes
If that happens, then your only recourse
is to do the Darkwing Duck and hope
that you don't eat pancakes before
noon. Also, don't forget the most
important thing of all:
Like I said.
Now go eat a muffin.
It makes you fly.
Are you bored?
Do you feel there's no point to the things you do?
Is your life missing an element of excitement?
Fear not, I have just the thing
Put the Awe back in Awesome
Put the back Zing back in Amazing
Put the Fanta back into Fantastic
What? Fanta is great.
It's rather simple.
The next time you have to do something you find boring, depressing, or unfulfilling, do it FOR SCIENCE!
I'll be out later, I have to do my English homework...FOR SCIENCE
I'm giving the big presentation tomorrow...FOR SCIENCE
I got into a car accident this morning...FOR SCIENCE
I don't feel so well, I need to use the crapper...FOR SCIENCE. I'll be in there awhile. For Science.
Someone tried to steal my purse, so I stabbed them...FOR SCIENCE
I guarantee that if you use this handy tip, your self esteem will rise, and people will find you exponentially more interesting!
Or they might think you're crazy
They definitely won't think you're boring, though.
So go out there and show the world what you're made of
They gather 'round
the mountainous pile
Cascades of books
Pages upon pages of
They despise these words
they hide them in dark corners
of their minds
Where they do not peer
where the tissue paper of their fantasy world
barely holds back the truth
They've gathered all their fears together
in the square
covered in gasoline. The fuel of the righteous.
The medium of control and order
Now those are words they can get behind.
They stand for a moment
as if they aren't quite sure
if what they're doing is right
The moment passes
a lone cigarette flips carelessly
through the air
Bouncing off Twain
Rolling past Dickens
Before landing on the esteemed Thompson
Let there be light, indeed.
The heat given off is immense
Why wouldn't it be?
The fire is burning through ideas
A powerful fuel source
freedom of thought evaporates
with the smoke
with the smell
of burning paper
of burning leather
These righteous people
These wise people
with no emotions
but anger and hate
are suddenly alive
They roll their eyes back
into their heads in ecstacy
it brings them pleasure
to destroy knowledge
and replace it
The pile is smoldering now
A hill of dead authors
They walk away
Until they've gone
Not all is lost
Dig deep into the remains
you're sure to find survivors
born again out of flames