i walked into the night,
and felt the cool air's breeze.
stepping away every once in awhile
usually gives me enough to release.
in an attempt to sober up from binge thinking,
i noticed i was alone, moreso than usual.
not a single car on the street,
no single individual.

this is common after midnight
but i thought there had to be someone who is also deprived of sunlight.
it was then that i was blinded by unusual headlights
on a vehicle known as hindsight.  
abandoned the instincts of fight or flight,
because i was curious.  
it turned into my driveway.
it felt as though there were some undiscovered forces at play,
as i lay in wait.

the door opened up, and a man with a bright white aura stepped into view.
i gazed upon his face and then was at a complete loss as to what to do..
he looked at me, smiled, and said, " yes, that particular thought is correct,
i am you.

you needed someone, and so here we are.  
see this distance between you and your true self aren't so far apart.
it gets hard, when dealing with passions of the heart,
but every day, every minute...moment, can be a new start."

Everything happens as it's meant to, though, right?

" destinies are in the hands of everyone who believes it,
but most don't see to seize it."

are you, God? an Angel?  a jester in disguise?

"you naturally won't want to sleep this statement initially,
but i will tell you no lies.  i am from a faction of lightbearers,
to help illuminate the path.  the variables you add and subtract though, changes the outcome like math, heh heh."

where am i to go?

" you are not to know, yet, what's the fun in that?"

true, but then what about this,' shedding light on the path'?

"all that is with you, is everything.  unlimited potential and power to benefit the universe.
before i disperse back into the cosmos, i am here to ensure that your own light grows.  the love you emit causes radiated blooming within the chakras of others, but your aura has diminished, do you know why this is?"

fear?

"love."

but wait..

" embrace all that you are, Ryan.  i needed to remind you that you are loved deeply.  take care of yourself, so to not be the cause of your own reaping.  your efforts are never exhausted, i see and appreciate all you do, with a smile.  now go the extra mile, cross the line and let your divine shine through.  you are never alone, remember things from the past you wrote.  every word still holds true.
i must be leaving, but listen to what's inside when you're unsure of what to do.  Namaste, Ryan."

but wait! who really are you??

as I stood in bewilderment, he ascended into the sky with a smile, and his vehicle disappeared.  
would this interaction have happened had i displayed my primal urges of fear?
when he was no more than a sparkle in the eye that is the ever-expanding sky
i didn't feel so dry and lifeless, but rather moist with creative juices from all that sunk in.
and the warmth, it was a love you could touch without touching.
this is what i was missing.
and so when reminiscing, i show gratitude and blissful appreciation,
because too much can be lost in the translation of contemplation.

My mind is at a standstill
My heart metaphorically stuck at an infinite fork in the road.
Tripple A has been taking hours,
And the longer I wait the weaker my engine gets.
Moments that once took my breath away,
Now are carbon filled memories that leave me gasping for air.
As the gas prices rise the less motivated I am to put in effort to keep this running.
100,000 miles traveled.
Within those miles lay love,laughter, and lust.
Things that now fuel my hate.
Finally a jump of the engine!
And we are off again.
We weren't broken down, just tired.

While the raging fire burns down the earth
I cocoon myself beside an imaginary hearth
Dreaming of rains to douse the fire
‘It won’t be there’, my hopes aspire!
While the tides sweep lives away
I imagine I can forever stay
Hidden from the tongues in lashing motion
Beneath a placid and protective ocean!
While the storm roars and the gale hisses
I pray for God’s grace and good wishes
To save me come what season
‘I must live whatever the reason’!
Living thus in an imaginary land
Building castle in the drifting sand
I turn a moron selfish and mean
A hollow nothing beyond bone and skin!

Isn't it exhausting,
living with so much hatred?
Not being able to let go
and forgive someone who once meant everything to you?
Doesn't it burn your skin and seer through your bones?
Eat you away?
Or have you changed too much
from the man I once new?
Now your heart has become numb.

I was in love
with Denise,
(She sat behind me in the third grade and
moved away in the first few weeks of the fourth),
but it was Tasha,
(who sat next to me and was the
best friend of Denise),
that I would fantasize about.
I would wait in some bush
for her to pass by and then
leap out
wearing a black ski mask and
armed with a rag drenched in chloroform.

The part of the fantasy that would
constantly change was
the way I would drag her back to my trailer.
Sometimes
I would have a Tasha-size duffle bag and
other times
I just dragged her by her feet
or grabbed her by her arm pits.
I often thought it would be smart
to bring my little red wagon.
except that I didn’t have one

In my fantasy it was always late morning
because that’s when my mom wasn’t home.

Once I had Tasha naked in my room
I would tie her hands with a rope secured
to the ceiling after
stripping all her clothes off
I would pinch and poke and rub Tasha’s body
everywhere.
She would be blindfolded but
I would leave my ski-mask on
just to be safe,
in case Tasha’s blindfold fell off,
you know?

it’s hard to find chloroform when you’re
only eight.  

Anyway,
she would squirm and writhe and
wiggle
but soon she would change a little
and she would start to moan
she would gasp
and eventually
she would beg for more.

And then more Chloroform
and I would drag her back
so that when she woke up
she would maybe think it was
just some dream SHE had.

When I dreamed of Denise,
We just rode bikes and stuff.
I was in love with her.

He smelt like smoke
as he leaned away from me,
texting himself with my phone.

We left the campfire outside,
in our shoes by the door
our socks overlapped in a tangle of limbs.

In that leftover guest room,
on the bottom bunk of the microwaved bed,
I remembered why I thought I knew what love was.

He was tired and needed a nap,
I was restless and cold.
Trapped inside because of violent temperate rainstorms.

This boy owed me stubbed toes,
thorn pricks through my jeans,
nicknames and rubber soles.




This was the boy who had always smelt of smoke,
who knocked over dead trees for me,
who lied about being able to rock climb.

This was the boy who went swimming in the ocean
before summer had properly began
when it was still much too chilly.

I taught him a new card game,
he beat me at badminton.
We played capture the flag and threw pinecones.

We sold cookies on the side of the road,
ate dusty blackberries,
traded innuendos and bad jokes.

This was sea-urchin boy,
slug boy,
the boy with the bird's nest hair.




This boy grew taller,
dropped his voice like a used bus pass,
looked past the top of my head.

He laughed when i stepped in a mud puddle,
dared me to walk in bare feet.
This boy suddenly went mountain biking.

I talked extra loud, in hopes that he would overhear me,
offered him rootbeer straight from the can.
Ate pretzels and learned to read his mind.

We shared our childhoods like penny candies,
switching all the peach ones for strawberry.
we agreed these are the best years of our lives.

He layed beside me, underneath as many covers as we could find,
taking up too much space and he knew it.
my cartoon boy.




My hand-drawn boy,
With smoke coming out of his ears
moved away.

We didn't talk again

(- This is originally a spoken word poem. Read aloud for maximum exposure.
-Asterisks indicate the necessity to pop your cheek with your thumb.
-Answer the two questions correctly and I will give you a hug.)

He fell asleep while traveling time
where a true name
becomes everything else.
So please give me a minute to explain myself
through the doorways
that I see champagne on a windowsill
walking across the room with blue
and fine china feet
saying again and again
drink me.
Until somehow
the words become a song
singing and swinging the bottle like a dinner bell for thirst.
A kind that we've settled to quench
with television
and somebody else's dream.
So don't pour my drink.
I'm trying to uncork it with my thumbs.

POP

It's flat
and I still have a tongue
so I will use it and I
I will use my thumbs to push back time
until hitler
becomes a baby.
Dr. King becomes a baby.
Until the left and the right and every dead genius in between
becomes
a baby.

Tiny feet trying not to crush the wet salad of the lawn
because it is green,
like my heart
that has learned
how to break fine china.
From experience,
let me tell you
it's a lot more tiresome than a blue dream
but he fell asleep on a boxcar crossing Germany
where mustard gas
drowns you in your own lungs
and he tries to breath between the joints in the track

the

click
...                             clack
click

as years
hurtle by.

Asking again and again,

"Who killed me?"
           &
"Who am I?",

until dinner was served without grace.
Until my head becomes stiff and bubble shaped
having been conditioned by
their
piles
&
piles
&      mounds

of
ob        cation.
fus

So we should tell all the baby hitlers,
that become children
that become us,
that a lie
is what you become
when abusing language to distort a reality.

And when you make a fist
you are handing lies out at random on a silver tongue.
But I still have one
and I still have thumbs
so sorry to burst your bubble but,

POP.

Child,
I don't mean to put

barbed wire

between us.  
I know it hurts
to have something so precious as the world
taken away.
But walls hurt worse
and through them only muffled sounds are ever heard
until your world is made of mute prisoners
that have forgotten what silver
really sounds like.

Blessed be
for I also have ears
so give me second place
and I will throw the medal against your walls.
Ringing out,
the universe doesn't look like an ebony tub,
with knobs we can't ever see,
full of infinite shining marbles to everybody.
Your mind
is a library of language,
so free will isn't a book written in english.
And tourists,
those know nothing infants trying to travel,
belong
where
           ever they
are
                             going.

Belonging like this medal bouncing trying to sing
off your wall
and
falls

into


your world.

Where again it will ring,

we've all been runner up

and somehow
we still get annoyed when another doesn't enter our library
instead of trying harder
next time.

So,
let me say grace.
Let me set l o n g tables
with the gruel that's been given
served on b  r                     n.
                         o
                           k  
                                        e          
china,
spooned
with sterling silver.

i want to stay in your pocket
for forever and a day.
til the world is spent,
the sun’s gone away.
i want to stay in your pocket,
for forever and a day.
til the earth stops turning
and the skies go gray.

pull me out like a mouse
who’s become your best friend,
show me the world in your eyes.
talk to me late at night,
when you just can’t sleep,
let me listen
to all your dreams.

when the sun is veiled.
the moon’s in a shroud.
the wind’s whistling around your ears.
let me sing you to sleep
til the rain’s ceased her beat
and the sapphire sky’s returned.

on the day you feel abandoned,
your courage seems to fail you,
the ideas your hand wrought come to nil.
let me sit upon your shoulder,
whisper to heaven, over and over,
the words your soul’s too full to speak.

when i’ve stayed in your pocket
for forever and a day,
and when the world’s been spent
and the sun’s gone away,
when the earth’s stopped turning
and the skies gone gray,
when Fortune’s lovely face
has smiled upon your pain,
the rainbow’s end has lighted on your scars,
then my work here is finished
my happiness complete.

i’ve stayed in your pocket
for forever and a day