the door is still ajar and there is still a lamp lit
and hue spills out in a straight line
where I follow markings on the
sides of highways to forget
how I won't forget the impression
you leave on the sidewalk through
season after passage of next to
brightlit stripmalls somewhere
with snowcapped mountains
and lakes and lakes and lakes away know
I'll probably miss you
when streetlights burn down
when stoplights wear out
I'll be out on the ocean
you'll find me in
hillsides on
indian summer mornings
or in
rain flecks on train windows
winding trails around
provinces I'll
never figure out how to pronounce
you won't miss me
Snort snort snorting lines
Damn this feels good
Wonder when I'll get high
Snort snort snorting lines
Powdered lines of cocaine ink
Yes I'm addicted to it
So go fuck yourself
It's not the 12 grams of cocaine you see
It's the 12 pages of ink I'm sniffing
Yeah the blunt that's burning is mine
I have a fascination with its scent
And the feeling it gives me
After I sniffed a couple line
My new addiction almost killed me
So I picked up on this cocaine
Smoked three blunts
and damn did it feel good
Started to sing this song
Snort snort snorting lines
Life is always better
With three powdered lines
And a blunt in your hand
You are no one singular Unit;
you are the culmination
of Billions upon Trillions of units
we've come to call "Cells":
Neurons, Organ Tissue, Muscle.
You are no singular Persona;
you are the cumulative collection
of Personas which you chose to wear,
or which have chosen you:
The Teacher, the Student, the Victim, the Infallible.
You exist at no singular Time
for you are the collection of Nows
connected forward though Time
to create the line
you think of as your Life.
You are no small feat;
you are a miracle of Consciousness,
perhaps even an inevitability
but who am I to say?
There is a certain thrill in the unfamiliarity of
a new wonder;
the nervous laughs,
the hand fumbles,
the shy glances,
and the flutters that you hope will never leave.
There is an even more certain serenity in
memorizing all the subtleties of this unknown territory
until it becomes your home.
There is nothing more captivating in suddenly realizing that
you are beginning to know
every wrinkle on her face,
every pitch of her laughter,
every song of her voice.
There is nothing more divine than the moment
that you can retrace the entire landscape of her
wondrous body that was once unknown, undiscovered
by your hands.
You can sculpt every mountain,
every valley, every curve of every shore
across this land that lies bare beside you.
You watch as you trigger chills across
her skin as if a crisp fall air has just rid trees of
their burnt leaves..only because you know just
the place that that fall air comes from.
You press your lips against the sternum because
you know that it feels as if you are submerging your
body into a hot spring in the middle of a harsh winter.
You kiss her cheek right before her ear because
you know that the noise that will escape her lips is
nothing compared to your favorite symphony.
She is a masterpiece at every angle, every crease,
and every laugh line.
And suddenly, you are home at last.
Black accents
Purple coloring
Bright eyes
She stays up until it's time to wake up.
Black and purple line the bottoms of her eyes.
From the many nights spent writing of loss and heartbreak
with tears
I wish I could go back to a year ago
When I thought I was at my lowest low
When I thought everything had gone so wrong
Bet I would be singing a different song
I'd start by deleting that very first line
Maybe then my life would be just fine
I would never have learned how to twist that bowl
Maybe then I wouldn't be filled with this gaping hole
I wouldn't know that you could eat dope
Maybe then I wouldn't be left without hope
I would have said no and walked away
Maybe then I wouldn't be sitting here a meth addict today
Every line a perfect metaphor
Every stanza a perfect simile
You're the poem I wish I wrote
Because you are perfect
The muse to every poem I write
I love you
I wish I could read you
Day in and day out
You're the poem I wish I wrote
But you're the poem I fell in love with
And get to read as long as you're with me
I’m home again.
Endless waves crash and tumble
Making my stress and worries crumble.
The ocean here has more stability
Than even the Garden of Eden’s tranquility.
I lay on the sandy shoreline
Inhaling the sweet sea scent, filled with brine.
And hear the waves crashing on the beach,
Ending their journey from a far-too distant reach.
An assembly line of crests and currents
Advance to this side by no odd occurrence.
This is their purpose on this beautiful Earth:
Results of past events create their berth.
My life rides these waves,
Affected by miracles and mistakes.
But I have yet to reach the shore;
A massive ocean still awaits.
March 2010
(c) MDC
Get up.
No turning back.
No standing still and no turning back,
You’ve only so much time to go as far as possible.
Ever the mountain that needs to be scaled,
Always, something needs to be done,
Do this and you’ll be happy,
Go there and you’ll be happy,
No,
Only way to do this is to be better,
Because she’d never want you like you used to be.
Long forgotten what level ground looks like,
Only way is up,
There’s still this mountain,
That needs to be scaled,
If they can do it so can you,
Look at them up there,
Looking at you,
Asking who you are to stand where they stand.
Ill find a checkpoint every now and then,
They always tell me they’re the top,
Always tell me I’m done, I can stop walking,
But I know better,
I shan’t stay and comfort the fallen,
By falling myself.
I will climb this mountain,
Find the finish line in the dark,
Ill endure it all,
Time and again,
Safe in the knowledge,
That she’ll love me,
If I get to the top.
You read me like a book
Papyrus skin telling tall tales of
Life written on my skin
Engraved into my skin
Line after line
Have me looking like a zebra
Caught off guard with my mind in the heat of
Being grabbed at,
Careful not to rip the pages
This story has been told to few
And yet no one has taken the time to
Analyze, annotate, and agonize over the details
Because it’s not what I buy in retail
That makes me retell these stories
It’s the person within
That only knows how to sin
While trying to maintain a fake grin
Because you read me like a book
And on to the next chapter, I implore!
But this is a never-ending story
Falcor will tell you more
If what you see entices
This story you read may splice
With the emotions you’re feeling
Do I keep you reeling?
Wanting more, waiting for the next book to come out?
Well it won’t.
I’m one of kind, a one hit wonder
A book written by an author
Who only became famous after dying
Yet I breathe, living this story
So I guess you can say I’m not famous
But if I'm boring, then close this book
Move to the next if too much do I perplex
Inflicting thoughts and emotions never felt before
Coming at you, giving you more and more
Than any genre can give you.
