I had the dream again.
Im running in place and I cant scream.
My lips make motions but my lungs fall silent and my tongue seems tied to my teeth.
My blood is at its boiling when I feel you next to me.
Ive always begged
Please leave me
They would always say
You didnt deserve anything.
It was all give and take
I give you the world
You take away pieces of me.
Ill wake up from this hell
Ill be a man instead of a hollow shell.
Im finally sleeping sound.
A peace ive found
Even with missing piece of myself.
Im a man.
Not a hollow shell.
i want a good heart .
i want it to be made of good stuff .
i want the stain glass window builder to be my drinking buddy .
i want to drink only the punch of a million gender queer school kids taking free martial arts lessons to survive recess .
i stopped calling myself a pacifist when I heard gandhi told women they should not physically fight off their rapists .
i believe there is such a thing as a non violent fist .
i believe the earth is a woman muzzled , beaten , tied to the cold slinging tracks .
i believe the muzzled have every right to rip off the bible belt and take it to the patriarchy’s ass .
i know these words are going to get me in trouble .
it is never polite to throw back the tear gas .
just like its never polite to bring enough life rafts .
they crowd the balconies where the wealthy shine their jewels .
but sometimes love ..
sometimes real love
is fucking rude .
is interrupting a wedding mid vow just as the congregation is about to cry .
to stand up in your pew to say
“ is everyone here clear on how diamonds are mined ?”
hallelujah to every drag queen at stonewall who made weapons out of her stiletto shoes .
hallelujah to the blues keeping the neighborhood awake .
to the activist standing in the snow outside of the circus
holding a ten foot photograph
of a baby elephant in chains ,
when it’s probably some little kid’s birthday .
hallelujah to making everyone uncomfortable .
to the terrible manners of truth .
to refusing to clean the blood off the plate .
bend this spine into a bow
i can pull across the cello of my speech .
love readies its heart’s teeth ,
chews through the etiquette leash .
takes down the cellphone tower after millions of people die in wars in the congo fighting for the minerals that make our cellphones .
love blows up the dam .
chains itself to the redwood tree ,
to the capital building when a trailer of mexican immigrants are found dead on the south texas roadside .
love insists well intentioned white people officially stop calling themselves color blind .
insists hope lace it’s fucking boots
always calls out the misogynist , racist , homophobic joke .
refuses to be a welcome mat where hate wipes its feet .
love asks questions at the most inappropriate times .
overturns the defense of marriage act then walks a pride parade . asking when the plight of poor single mothers will ignite our hearts into action like that .
love is not polite .
deadlocks our rush hour traffic with a hundred stubborn screaming bikes .
hallelujah to every suffrage movement , hunger strike .
hallelujah to insisting they get your pronouns right .
hallelujah to tact never winning our spines .
to taking our power all the way back to that first glacier that had to learn how to swim .
to not turning our heads from a single ugly truth .
to knowing we live in a time when beauty recruits its models outside the doors of eating disorder clients .
that is not a metaphor .
this is not a line to a poem .
an indian farmer walks into a crowd of people and stab himself in his chest to protest
the poisoning of his land .
a buddhist monk burns himself alive on the streets of saigon .
a united states' soldier hangs himself wearing his enemy’s dog tags around his holy neck .
may my heart be as heavy
as a tuba in the front row of the mardi gras parade five months after katrina .
may it weigh the weight of the world
so it might anchor the sun
so it might hold me to my own light until i am willing to sweat as much as i cry .
until i am willing to press into the clay of our precious lives .
a window .
might our grace riot the walls down .
may the drought howl us awake
may we rush into the streets
to do the work of opening each other’s eyes .
may our good hearts forever be
too loud to let the neighbors sleep .
at once, a fragment of time,
feigning invisibility, or ignorance, or
what was lost? surely i.
the list repeats;
a thousand or more repetitions,
cold, partially fogbound.
open covers, reveries composed of wolves' teeth.
huh, some olympia this makes.
i slept and your words were life.
you smiled, silent,
one-half of a crescent moon's portrait,
the sky was soft, turning
away you set light
awash on the tracks of swells
i cast a small boat across
there are too many nothings, here. i'll drown, empty.
move a hair's width, you
drop an anchor into the world.
and i, warm,
wonder, once more,
how the seconds must trail
shadows across your skin,
in the rain.
Obnoxious smoker, you put the cough in cacophony,
but you're generous, I can't deny what you offer me.
Sun dried and trapped within self fulfilling prophecy.
I trust you barely as far, as I can throw you up.
Big surprise, it didn't make past the teeth or tongue.
Sear the throat, scabs coat esophagus,
Which shade, of sweat, will stink enough?
© Cole Silvers
I wish to fly in the spirit of my childish naivety.
To sing-jump-dance in the joyful silence I feel as
I sway to the rhythmic flow of my favorite sunbeam.
But I have already spent my summer days under the sun,
I have soaked up all its warmth
until it could not bear the burden of nourishing me.
winter has come.
And though I deny it, the child within shivers.
His rattling teeth begging me to take him home.
To rest awhile. To wait the return of that glorious spring.
I am left alone in that empty void he has left.
all color and mirth gone with his smile.
I look around, not knowing where to go... all is gray.
I know not how to grow.
like a rose in the snow, I will not grow.
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore —
No doubt you have heard the name before —
Was a boy who never would shut a door!
The wind might whistle, the wind might roar,
And teeth be aching and throats be sore,
But still he never would shut the door.
His father would beg, his mother implore,
'Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore,
We really do wish you would shut the door!'
Their hands they wrung, their hair they tore;
But Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore
Was deaf as the buoy out at the Nore.
When he walked forth the folks would roar,
'Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore,
Why don't you think to shut the door?'
They rigged up a Shutter with sail and oar,
And threatened to pack off Gustavus Gore
On a voyage of penance to Singapore.
But he begged for mercy and said, 'No more!
Pray do not send me to Singapore
On a Shutter, and then I will shut the door!'
'You will?' said his parents; 'then keep on shore!
But mind you do! For the plague is sore
Of a fellow that never will shut the door,
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore!'
The rhyme scheme is the stand out point of it
I'll never understand how it's so easy for you to let me go, while I'm trying my hardest just to hold on.
I don't get how you can say you love me, then turn around and chip away at my soul
I'm clueless as to how you can lie right through your teeth, telling me I'm your one and only when there's so many others I'm beneath.
I have no idea how you allow me to feel like hell after every time you say goodbye.
you're lucky I love you because if it wasn't for your unsteady heartbeat, I'd make my wishes come true. and all my best wishes are for me to die.
Each year for your birthday,
I'll get you a hundred balloons,
each one a different color
for every kind of face you make,
and tie them together
with locks of my hair.
And every time you sing,
I'll give you a glass jar,
with a pop top
and golden lid,
so that I can capture
the sweet honey
that drips from your teeth
when you open your mouth.
And every time it rains,
I'll give you a new pair of rain boots
that squeak and thump
with each step,
so you won't be afraid of puddles
ruining your khaki pants.
And each and every time
the world has been cruel,
leaving no room for your balloons
I'll be there with white chocolate,
to sweeten the bitterness of their sting,
with thousands of poems
written on every sea
to remind you
that you mean the world
and that the world
is full of love.
Life has four different seasons
And my favorite is Autumn
Because I love the leaves turn different colors.
I love when the leaves run across the street
while the wind screams.
Life has a meaning some don't understand
And people try to find its meaning.
Life is a beautiful thing and I see that when
Autumn comes along.
The cool breeze,
Gets to the little hairs on your arm
While you wearing a sweater
And your teeth start to clap
As you exhale you see your fog in front of your eyes.
You see. . .
Life is beautiful and I found beauty
That it brings to the world
And as Spring comes along
I smile because daffodils & roses
Start to grow with all the other flowers
And I smile because there are so beautiful
You see. . .
Life is Beautiful.
Just look at the positive things
And you'll see.
Freestyle within seven minutes, I loved it (:
The streets are cold and unforgiving
Smothered in white silence that cuts you to the bone and makes you wish for hell just so you can find warmth
You may find peace in it but not tonight
Not when the winds howl and threaten to knock you flat on your face
You promised you would be the one to keep me warm
But the only thing I have now is this lit cigarette and the chattering of my teeth spitting out "Where are you? Where are you? Where are you?"
Because you're sure as hell not here.
The only thing colder than this frozen wasteland is the soul-numbing emptiness of the world around me.
You must have left along with the sun
You promised me
But you're not here