A smile kisses my lips
as the darkness disappears
another endless night has faded
hours lost with lack of sleep
I tremble with anticipation
as my heart burns with inspiration
of so many others that have come before me
my skin humming with the beautiful notion
of their passion and devotion
my blood set ablaze
something is awakening within me
so far inside I had feared it was almost forgotten
but the dawn of each new day keeps trying to explain
all the many reasons I am here in the now
if you were to catch me right here, right now
there is nothing I would hide
I would bare all that lay inside
if you were to pay attention
this moment holds perfection
with its entirety of the unique
perched atop my hidden corner of my world
seeing nothing but knowing all
praying with the aching desire
to only keep getting higher and higher
to climb with worn hands
the rocky mountainside
to dance with bare feet
in the frisky river waters
with my days of sobbing on the bathroom floor
far enough behind me only to see a faint outline
tracing with my fingertips of aftershock
the bits of ridicule and criticism popping up
just as quickly fading to black
and instead of being riddled with tiny little holes
stealing the place
making a statement
taking a stand
I notice all that has made and kept me strong
for so very long kept in the background
my heartbeats pounds with the bass boom boom
all of a sudden the syncopation hits the room
the terror comes in waves so strong
shivers send endless currents up my spine
as if for one split second
not one atom around me is the same
almost dreamlike comes the realization
that I have always been
painting, writing, sculpting, singing, building
my very own reality........
The Weather Channel,
Who among us does not have this app,
On their phone, computer, mobile device
Ready for a quick scan..
Odd topic for an essay,
Strange, that your poetic silence
Should be broken this way,
Then again, you didn't inquire,
Or even notice it had gone missing.
Yet the channel of which I write,
Is mobile, and certainly, applies to each of us
But cannot be found on any device but in our hearts..
When we awaken,
The temperature is taken,
A glance upon your visage
Reveals rested or irritable,
Blue clouds or storm warnings,
Better dress appropriately...
But even this is not the forecast
Of which my heart and words speak,,
The whether I need, the thermometer reading,
The barometric pressure that needs knowing,
Measures whether you love me still,
Love me more, love me better,
Than the last poem/day we just wrote/recorded,
The channels we will yet navigate,
The sky we shall observe,
Cloud shapes to design and designate,
A fortune to prognosticate,
Is the sum f the fortunes/forecasts we create daily.
Our weather is our good fortune,
And strangely the forecast is the same daily,
Whether fair or hurricane,
Whether gladdened or pained,
Our forecast, ours,
Our forecast, unique,
Our forecast, let us record it into reality,
When we awaken entangled,
Looking out the window and envision and
Predict our life-scape.
listening for whispered light
hearing the wind's song
sing through the tall grass;
breathing cadence sways
moon flowers essence shines
illumined spirit beckons
across terrestrial fields
in the space between distant shorelines
the long and winding surrender,
moon-rise to sundown;
the faint reflection of the stars,
setting fire to the flames
roused spirit is drawn to life,
daylight through the night;
knowing essence of souls
enchant the spark turned into fire
harlon rivers … © 2013
Your reassuring hands
Hands of almost strangers
Your rapid steps
Decided problem solving in the midst of task loading
No barriers except my new friends protecting me like I was in every family photo
I didn't even know you were alive and had names six weeks ago
I will not be able to explain to my own family or loved ones, much less, to anyone
how you a Jewish red head,
a southern brunette,
and a Chinese girl have treated me like I was your own blood after knowing me for a month.
This isn't a poem
This is just one person absorbing my recent experience
They said that we would be bonded for life
I know they are right
We are the lucky ones
Culture slips from me
At a faster pace.
The void: “Hi.”
I say “Hi yourself.”
Knowing we’ll be back together, sometime.
(Breakup song for the void.)
As light shines through my bedroom window, casting shapes upon the wall
My thoughts drift to days long past, which I'd rather not recall.
The shadows start to twist and turn, my hands begin to shake,
And as I shift to get a closer look, my heart begins to break.
No longer do I see a wall, with shadows splayed across,
Instead I'm in another time - my reality I have lost.
Even knowing I'm no longer sane, I'm not ready to return,
Maybe if I relive the past I'll have no bridges left to burn.
You can still be
What you want to
When you first met me
Ever get that feeling of being cheated
Of being forgotten and excluded
Just because of your past?
I'm sure the blacks in this country
Feel the way I feel
Slip out from beneath the covers
Land on the floor,
Be stepped on
Time and time again,
People are creatures of habit
They slip a lie here
Put in a lie there
Hard to tell the difference
Now a days,
I just stick to myself,
Knowing what could've been
i think that everyone's lives are moving on
in flashes of boyfriends and best friends and plans
and my best years are slipping through my fingers
because i hate being lonely but i'm happy alone
i have the small town disadvantage
knowing there's more but being to scared to get it
stuck here by myself watching everyone i know pick a college
and fall in love
while i'm holding on to childhood
and lusting for boys i'll never get
and sometimes everything i've done
or will ever do
like i will never be remembered
so why should i try?
because even if i write a best seller
and get famous
(because that's what i want)
nobody will remember me
because it will all end
because i'll never be pretty
so my face won't end up on magazine covers
maybe in the back
and i won't get picked up by cute boys
maybe in a dark bar
but i'd be too afraid to go in
so i'll sit and watch out the window as my life goes by
and feel nostalgic for something i never had
one of those mornings
where I want to lay on the floor with my legs in the air
where I want to smoke cigarettes as skinny as arms
where I want to wear dark sunglasses that spell out
and these shades would allow me to be callous
and my apathy and I could make snide remarks
you little fucker
Boy, I hope you can smell my contempt over there.
You deserve it. But I don't really care anymore.
I don't dislike many people, but if I could do it,
I would tell you that I look upon your character
with the same adoration that I would hold for a
parasite-infested rotting mountain of rat feces.
Which is to say not a lot.
Which is to say I dislike you.
It's just one of those mornings,
where I want to stop knowing you, and wish you wouldn't know me.
where I want to do something, but you see, I can't feel a thing, for you.
I have nothing for you, really,
I am fresh out of fucks to give.
I don't regret anything since I learned a great deal.
I wouldn't say I was heartbroken, just exasperated
by your contrived and un-authentic dumbass-ery.
I am better than you. I put on my darkest shades,
I laugh when I remember that this sunny morning.
In Wonder much your Sore Barrels invade
From Whirlycoxed Dames do Insure your Vote
Or Bribes the Fortunate Rascals evade
Saw no other Buttons to Press your Note
So Truth bends the very Patron decide
Carry on the Labours of your Booned Mass
Though Protests trim for another Subscribe
Let all Porned Bobbies allow you to Pass
That your Room - now a Museum convert
Never which Knowing which Prudent Tile step
Then again - as rugged as Granite your Shirt
Stain its Ghostly Essense on your Precept.
Would there be News? Doubt to my Knowledge based
My Cheques duly Crossed and left to Moons chased.