I knew.
I knew from the moment you told me how beautiful
you thought I was,
that it would last only as long
as the twinkling of a far away star.
Not even long enough for me to to remember to say hello.
Five A.M. became a habit
and we danced to the songs of chirping birds.
I let you hold me even though I knew
your arms craved a different cold body.
Those long nights outside the church that weren't
long enough.
That cute lisp and curly hair.
Those shivering arms and basketball shorts.
The adorable shyness and humility.
Walk me to my gate one more time.
I should have let you come over that one night.
Hot and sweaty, 2 a.m.,
to sneak in and use my shower.
Fill the room with sticky heat
and let the steam rise out as you exit the shower.
(You can still take me up on that offer.)
Cause I miss the way you tell me I don't smell like smoke
and how you listened to me explain
the theory behind the elder wand,
like you actually cared.
Fern Gully.
You spelled it wrong.
No spaces.
I. I. I.
Your jacket smelled like heaven draped over my legs and
I wanted to live inside the threads.
Walking so far just to listen to me ramble on.
Was it worth it? Ever.
Even after running back to her?
One. One. Only one week
that I was temporarily in love.
Tiger's Blood snow cones with cream on top
and you've never been to a concert so run to Salt Lake with me.
You do like to run, don't you?
Run from your mom. Run from your friends.
Run from feelings.
Run from her.
and Run to her at the same time.
But don't you miss laying in the street at three in the morning?
Or shaking the hand of the copper man?
and watching the summary of my obsession
on my short green couch?
and holding me?
Even though it lasted a week,
a perfect week,
it's time to disappear.
Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
The time spent thinking of you,
Is endless every day,
You stole my heart rapidly,
I feel grateful to this day.
Occupying myself works best,
When I’m struggling alone,
You are my whole life now,
You have gracefully shown.
My love for you is as high as the sun,
As clear as the sea,
As visible as light,
As close as we can be.
You help me to see,
That we are a whole,
That I’m not broken,
That we’re in control.
I keep feeling love for you,
Where our fate lies ahead,
I’m bound to fall hard for you,
I might tell it to you instead.
Our love exceeds a thousand miles,
Romantic as a glass of wine,
As we learn and laugh endlessly,
Is when I see us shine.
Sweet o’ valentine,
I love you ever more,
Sweet o’ valentine,
Look at us soar.
Beyond the barbed wire and gate,
I see a shadow of only two,
Inseparable and complete,
For Zach, I truly love you.
I can tell you just how I feel,
Not only from a work of art,
Not just through words,
But through my beating heart.
summertime sadness
curtains pulled tightly, thick lashes
american spirit fading into mechanics
people moving with faces hot as the embers
the ashes dropping from my cancer stick, citizens
told to embrace their pride and freedom
how can I join them when I don't need them?
patriots, ignoramus culture
dreaming with eyes clamored shut, little emotion
zombie status, a rose-colored illusion
i plant the astilbe in the pot
dianthus, echinacea
fighting words never said, nor thought
watering cans filled with poison, over easy
the banging on the gate is loud and dirty
.
I share with you a story
committed to memory in my castle tower,
an amusing tale of Benjamin Deamer
and his three legged dog named, Power.
Benjamin was nine years of age
and most happy when helping;
Power was two years of age
and most playful when yelping.
Benji's Grandma had a birthday
and was born in 1926.
She is, one might say,
at her best while showing off silly tricks!
Benji had a great idea for her birthday-
bake a cheesecake for a picnic
and she is, one might say,
clever with using chopsticks
to eat, to drum, to play
for all of her critics,
and as Benjamin would say,
"She has many nifty little gimmicks!"
"A cheesecake it is!
I'll fill it with fruit,
and I know she'll love this,
if I write on it with a cherry on top, 'I love you'!"
Power and Benji had a blast
gathering all the ingredients in a glass.
Power nosed Benji, "Please?", for cream cheese
while Benji made a crust from graham crackers he smashed.
Power fetched three eggs
and squished a lemon with his paw.
Benji was preparing strawberries,
sour cream, sugar and all.
In the blender for a spin
then the real fun begins,
when they get to beat the cream light and fluffy
and add some sweet pumpkin!
When all was done
Benji slid the cake in the oven.
Power and Benji watched intently
switching positions every dozen
minutes or so that time slowly passed,
patiently waiting forty-five minutes;
…..when, with a Ding!, Alas!,
Benji and Power swooped in like two bandits.
He let it cool for a bit
and grabbed his mom's basket,
carefully wrapping his gift
in some cellophane plastic.
Power was surprised
at the strength of the aroma;
it was quickly advised
to fetch Benji some grape soda.
The cheesecake was perfect
and Benji knew grandma would be ecstatic.
Benji had to leave with the basket
and Power, his bouncing sidekick!
He skipped and he jogged
carefully with his three legged dog,
carrying his basket with no soda
but a half gallon of eggnog.
Halfway to grandma's house
Power took to chase with a pigeon,
darting into a work zone
with three feathers stuck to his chin.
Benji thought of the hugs
he was going to receive,
for such a thoughtful gift for grandma
that she wouldn't believe.
Power had his own plans
chasing a bird 'round that work zone.
He was a little freaked by those wingspans
and of his playful, young world unknown!
Benji stopped at a gate
whistling and waiting for Power.
He felt that this might be the bird's fate,
surely soon to turn sour.
From around a corner he dashed
into the lap of Benji!
The cheesecake had crashed
popping out of the basket so easy!
Landing in a square of new cement,
bordered by a thin caution ribbon,
Benji and Power had no comment
about their gift that had fallen
into that slab of thick cement.
They worried what grandma would think
of how much this gift meant
left only with eggnog to drink!
With heads down they walked
the last mile to her house.
Sadly, they cried and talked,
never louder than that of a mouse.
Power galloped up to grandma
with Benji not far behind,
sitting erect with tired paws
not yet relaxing to unwind.
Grandma reached out her arm
and pulled in a bummed out Benji,
saying to her grandson,
and his three legged charm,
"the world's troubles stop when you hug me-
and I love you with a cherry on top!"
-Mark Lach
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/shallow-buddies/
.
Passing dawn
with my face on,
brushing innocence to the dust,
my imposing posture
divides a street, disfigured.
I tongue the tips
of my teeth tearing at my lips
to taste the metallic flavor
in my draining blood.
Eight souls have been delivered.
They spit at me
with their religious speech,
their forever plight
who hunt the dogs of night.
A wrath descends
and surrounds a man,
whose love of carnal lust
ceases to demand
his angel born to light.
No more an afflicted man
fell to fall in love
through the gate of immortality,
taking away my breath to keep her.
Baphomet's dice
has rolled in thrice;
I'm slave to my angelic mortal
whilst judged in Hell's Star Chamber.
Black fingernails
draws even blacker blood,
boiling to a surface
that suffers the evils of midnight.
Before she warns
of pestilence in virtue,
she breaks away helpless,
torn asunder in threads of sunlight;
I can't reach my spirit's teacher!
Let no kind of man
try to understand
the mind of mortal women.
The time when it counts the most,
examining confusion within the host,
no demon or lover
succeeds to keep or heal them!
I Love You
-Mark Lach
.
Mary goes merry 'round
gardens of rose and asters,
picking weeds and grinding teeth;
talking to the jesters,
who make friends with her
when she lifts her skirt
whilst dosed by ivory suited creatures!
Mary has flesh to burn;
scarred lines from corrupt emotions
start the show of peeking mirrors
where she has fondly writ upon
by flame in wicked fashion,
the exits of her dark asylum
which bled the hearts of dead friends!
Mary ambled to a moonlit pane
with a webbed brain rent with swells,
requesting peace from Woden.
Removing fate from Earthly spells
to free her feet and back of welts,
she took last breath
'neath the star curtain's shell
to fly out the glass, pierced atop a gate,
where Mary joined her friends in Hell!!!
-Mark Lach
misers gather coins at the gate
collecting for the grand empire gone to dust
each coin taken in is caressed with greasy fingers
before being gently placed in the old tin cup
like a band of beggars and a sack full of lies
they are grateful for their small fortunes
outside a stranger passes slowly by
in the heavy rain
a light in his angry fist
that shines out dully with his agony's of doubt
to illuminate the shadows where his love has fled
he spends his days pounding on the doors of every home
seeking the room where he locked away his dreams
leaving no stone unturned he treads softly in the boneyard
seeking the places he may have buried his hope
he will hunt thru the night for a dry fingernail to chew
for a small place to hide and a reason to bear the unbearable
and wait for the rain to end
the fallen leaves gathered like a tide at his feet
like a spreading death shroud for the days we called our own
the air tasted like blood and wine
the dirty wind gripped our eyes long into the night
carries on it the tears we wept falling from grace
the ones with hope laid it down and took up the faces of fear
we are the ones who gather up such hope
re-sell it in the border towns and dark soulless motels
fools celebrated in the shadows of the hearts crying out
but they fashion tools to carve new lives out of the old
a veritable army of a hundred lackluster minds
as one they commence to make the mountain into a mole hill
when they are done it will be no bigger to anyone except them
so proud of their wares as seen on tv
they buy stock in the ideal that less is more
and its more or less the end of all things
misers gather coins at the gate of this obscene theater
laughing at the ease of it all
its more or less the story of it all
so ends the poem to end all poems
I
Shall it human's life as quivering clouds like wandering in its urge?
Such do e'en curious flee ,yet yearning thoughts as strangers risky be.
Owes the starless nights a haunting dream about our's fickle image,
Since these roaming bees of despair are hiding keen its dismal hive.
II
Hope and strain are earthly elements, fame it do mold a mortal gate,
Then by with day by day lament, doom to us faint its wondrous dread.
O' Constant not life's hours if violent call's do therewith seconds fate,
Thence finds eludible isolation: where do have an unshaken death?
Nithin Purple
static transience
breeds paranoia
and guilt
standing there witness
to your own
subconscious,
like a sneaking
reporter
with a tape
recorder, water gate
style
tapping for
your soul’s
ubiquitous
campaign
party
launched
and revealed
to transparent
realms
I am a knock on your door
You open up and I sneak in
Ill put your life on the market
Snarky teenagers to target a holiday demographic before fully developed concepts begin
Your backpack and notepads house your sins
A man that's tall and gets caught in the calls of women to distract from the purpose of ink pens
You're too horny to be great
A vagina is a dead end
And a vortex for survivals' fate
Explorations of vanities' intellectual alternative gate
