I know you are scared to **** your garden
Because you are afraid it will look too bare
But those pretty flowers you crave need space to grow
So even if it takes you a lifetime
Pull the weeds
Disturb the earth
Plant new seeds
we’re always waiting.
we’re always waiting for tomorrow or the next
we’re always waiting for high school to be over
just so we could wait for college to be over
just so we could wait until we’re married
and then we have a family.
so we have our whole life figured out?
but we never stop waiting
we wait for more money
so we can buy more expensive cars
or a bigger house
we wait for vacations off work
because we’re working too **** hard
and somewhere between all this waiting
we seem to miss time passing by
our faces show the sign of it
and kids get taller by every minute
we begin to wonder whats the point
but we wait for even that
we wait until we find the meaning
as if it takes waiting to find
yet we’ll never really find it
and so we’re never satisfied
we assume waiting will fill the emptiness
bring us joys and things we lack
but it only pushes time ahead
and leaves our souls dragging behind
and when our bones become too weak
and our bodies ache for rest
we’ll even wait for that
for the day that is our last
you still exist
in the crinkled pages of my notebook.
last autumn i dog-eared the top corners so i would find my way back.
your veins dance with the curves and loops of my
the contours of your dreams lay in the indents of my ballpoint pens.
your fears bleed black and blue.
your voice--the raspy scratching of graphite before bed.
my sentences often sit incomplete because that's how you left--
in the middle
because you lacked a single transition.
your breath echos at the turn of every page
(i can almost feel your lungs working alongside my own).
your blood runs red as i scribble across the pages--
at times i am in a frenzy, lacking control as my hands skirt along the paper.
other days, i am silent, waiting for my hand to pick up the pen
and bring you to life.
i keep telling myself that
you still exist
in the crinkled pages of my notebook
every time i close its covers shut,
i can't seem to find you.
june 11, 2015
One thing that poetry
Has taught me outright
Is you can not beat the written word
When it's put into rhyme
Where they may start out dull
You soon will find in time
All of them before you know
Will sparkle as they shine
As they weave their way in and out
Of poetic word play
Silver in the dashing tongue
With the gold that they create
Nothings more astounding
Or comes this close to work
As the poetry surrounding
The rhyming of the word
the death rattle
of the rain on glass
in the eaves
i feel the earth
as time's shuttle
loops and weaves
all that is within me
wants to turn and run
but i know that i must
and finish what's begun
three days of darkness
i don't believe in
but this wickedness
i'm hiding out
within the halls
of a fortress strong and tall
I would not have
been able to brave this
so, c'mon wolf!
just huff n' puff
try to ******* down!
squint your eyes
***** up your face
wear that bad ol' frown!
i await my destiny
and with tact
I LIVE IN A
THAT'S A FACT!
My father is back from the hospital.
He doesn't have cancer
But there are other issues
It will require all the strength
within me to handle what's ahead.
But i have considerable strength within
I HAVE JESUS CHRIST
I must go to bed now
It's 3am. I've been up all night
assisting my dad
When people are searching for god
The very often look to the skies
They very seldom look inside their minds
it was an inevitability
that we'd unearth the evidence
to validate Einstein's theory
of general relativity.
three cheers for the
method of science,
an appliance that
liberates and enlightens,
suffocating the miasma
of dogmatic parasitism.
pariahs can't stand beneath
the weight of empirical data.
a culture of imperialism
intoxicating inane idiots,
inundated by asinine philosophy.
ideologues instigating turmoil—
an intergalactic being
created the cosmos
in seven days for the
to insist inanely that the legacy
of our existence could be measured
in seven millennia
is to extinguish the light
from the majority
of our neighboring galaxies.
you read the opening lines
of your holy text too literally.
open your mind to the poetry
of a reality that no deity
could ever breathe into existence.
we are not special.
our fate is tied to a
planet choking on CO2
and you deny the truth
in the same breath you
disparage any challenge
to your impotent,
if you would deny
the ancestral history
of our evolutionary biology
simply on the premise
that it's “only a theory,”
then i'd invite you to put
your vain hypothesis
to the test and take a long walk
off a short bridge.
perhaps the theory of gravity
will provide with you some clarity.
Scientists recently proved Einstein's theory of General Relativity. This poem celebrates the scientific method.
love - noun
deep affection, fondness, intimacy
-where your jaw drops to the floor and
your heart beats out of your chest like a cartoon character
-where time slowed down, or even came to a stop
because you locked eyes with this one person across the room
and your entire future flashed through your mind
like a projector streaming home videos on a
sheet hung upon your living room wall
but it didnt last and eventually time caught back up
and you ran out of film
so again you were stuck holding your own hand
love - verb
adoration, worship, idolize
do you love me?
could you ever love me?
dont answer that
i dont understand the meaning, and i dont mind if i die trying to