parting clouds over the field of wheat
split the gray into a sea of golden rays
bright enough to leave even the blindest man at his feet
passing wind slithers by
carrying with it seeds and soft cries
tears from the protector of all the crop
the lonely scarecrow who stays planted
his tune the most melancholy of acoustics
a tranquil coffee shop
birds circle frightfully overhead
for they do not know their avoidance leaves the scarecrow all but dead
he who never meant any harm
but who's appearance raises cacophonous alarm
cursing the sky, the scarecrow shouts
yet, the scarecrow will soon get his wish
once his stump dries he will be free with the coming drought
so as the farmer prays for rain,
he questions God's whereabouts
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 8:05 PM UTC
vibrations reverberate
strings and chords collide with paintings on the wall
stage lights oscillate through the dim concert hall
in that brief moment your profile glowed
innocent aqua eyes that froze time
the singer sent sparks through the clouded, smokey air
the most harmonic note settled on your lips
gently weaving the couple strands of hair behind your ear,
i lean in to make music
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 2:16 PM UTC
the wooden hinge creaks as its rotting frame grows weak
a delicate hand reaches into the void, brandishing into the cold, open space
reaching for something, anything to grab onto
the bitter air latches onto each finger, burning dry skin with flames of ice
the boy’s hand jolts back, as he blows on it with his relieving breath
his unspoiled heart and untampered mind
they convince his short legs to strut back, away from the unknown
so he returns to his comforting quarters, and in short time forgets this day entirely
years later, the boy is now a young man
the splintered door is all but collapsed from its hinge
with his courage further developed, he walks out into the cold, open space
he scans the area, squinting to his left and right
in a matter of seconds, a gust of wind picks up and begins throwing pieces of the white blanket every which way
the bravery that once existed quickly sinks to fear
his vision impaired, the teenager slowly begins to walk back
as he stumbles backward, he feels the tips of numb fingers scraping against his ankles
he now begins to run blind, his liquid tears turning solid before they are able to roll down his cheek
as he trudges through the frozen land, a hand manages to clasp onto his leg
in horror, the young man looks down and sees hollow eyes matching his gaze
“help"
but he jerks his leg away, and smack! he hits his back against the crumbling door, rolling back into his comforting quarters
he is safe, but the door no longer stands to protect him
many more years pass by, and a grown man dons a full beard
without the door to hold back the outside world, over time, the sharp air has slowly turned his once heated body very cold
lonely, the man willingly walks back into the space, knowing what waits ahead
he takes his steps further and further until he begins to feel the field of hands that lay above the ground, flowers without proper care
the dead establish a firm grip around his feet, and begin to pull him below the earth
unnerved, the man takes in the blank space around him as he descends lower and lower
the rays of the sun glint golden speckles onto the ground
and the reflected light attaches itself to a small body approaching the man ahead
he screams, crying
warning the short figure to turn back,
“no! not now! not this soon!”
he is up to his neck in the compact snow
the restraint of the snow causes his speech to break,
“y-your.. innocence..b-bui-build a door”
and then, he was gone
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 7:44 PM UTC
unforgiving gusts of wind work to weather canyon walls
fractured crusts off orange earth plummeting towards an unknown surface
an area so hollowed out and void
empty, where echoes ricochet off rock and reach clouds above
noises that capture the melancholy tones of lost wanderers
who cannot seem to climb towards their cries
torrential rain weighing down baggy clothes
causing already slumped shoulders to appear level with the dirt
soaked denim that makes every step more difficult than the last
exhausted, he feels like collapsing
so he brushes the dusted ground beneath his trembling knees
and sits down to cry
where unforgiving gusts of wind scoop his tears
carrying them towards clouds above
which fill until they can no longer hold
and the torrential rain continues to fall
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
drop this copper coin
into translucent waters
whispering a wish
shutting dreamy eyes
let the liquid melt your words
absorbing desire
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
broken lips harbor a pale cigarette and untold secrets
some crafted tales, others unfortunately true
disheveled blonde curls scatter near hollow irises
empty vision, devoid of all color from smooth bourbon
as these drunken nights consolidate all of our old stories into one word,
goodbye
blowing smokey kisses into the polluted air
dangling feet, perched above a desolate rusted bridge and clouded waves
whose orange trusses have all but faded
to form a mixed color that matches the scene ahead
the deepening violet summer sky, nearly black and so sticky
tightening its humid grip on trembling fingers
which remove the cancer stick carefully out of sight
in hopes that desperate eyes can convince a lonely mind
that your sillouhette will reveal itself, dancing in swirling smoke
as your faint hand reaches out to invite me to join you
I grab hold with one thought gnawing at my heart
do I give in to your gentle touch,
and slip below the other side of the bridge?
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 9:01 PM UTC
grains of salt slip into fractured flesh
I lay flattened into the sand as pelicans soar overhead
patiently waiting for the tide to reel me in and claim me as it's fish
my splintered skin throbs scarlet with memories
as I let the current wash my wounds and take those thoughts into the blue
cuts with contours whose rivers run red with murky mixtures of joy and sorrow
examining blistering burns that sizzle and sear
ocean waters cool the scathing brands you planted on me
in this process, nostalgic steam arises as old days are recalled
and past scars reemerge as fresh as the day I first heard those 3 words
but now it's all being washed away
all of the "our's" are once again only mine
because I no longer float in the aqua of your eyes
so in a moment of melancholy, I release my steady grip on your hand
and your fingers slide away, gliding against my palm
now, I disappear
now, I sink
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 5:27 PM UTC
Weaving through a path of dusted rocks and invisible insects
The moonlit earth gleams bright enough for wilting branches to reveal the complex webs of arachnids' homes
Beads of pearlescent rain get lost in translation with tears and streams alike
Skipping monochromatic pebbles and identifying the illustrious ripples that their smooth bodies create
Flightless creatures sit perched on exposed logs, waiting for a chance to reach clouds that taunt them with messages of rain
Stomping elk cause blankets of terra firma to wrap around the approaching claws of wolves
And a distant yelp serves as another's song
The forest at night, an elaborate portrait
Each whipping stroke, a new memory evoked
And this one becomes cast astray with the rest
Lost in translation with tears and streams alike...
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 8:55 PM UTC
lavender lilies deceive
for it was merely the color i was sent to retrieve
instead i come up with lilacs, at least i do believe
holding onto the wrong shade of purple while i grieve
but then again, we've been through this before, i am naive
blue skies mystify
wandering innocent eyes
in our youth we hid in simple spots
proving quite unwise
wrapped in disguise, we had to shield our unwanted sapphire cries
green blades rest in your gentle hands
as we've grown old enough to resist parental commands
sharing cold cans, i send a kiss in your direction, confident in wherever it lands
we laugh, and soon enough, my favorite toy had become your delicate blonde strands
red love sears on my skin
burns that leave joyous scars thin
but at any moment an obnoxious grin
can quickly turn to "where have you been?"
i buried those bad days with glasses of gin
but even through hard times i knew if i had you, i could win
but one day under a yellow sun
disheveled doctors told me there was nothing that they could've done
your days were limited, and i cried every last one
i lost my appetite and only craved the metal of a gun
but i knew that your favorite flower would help me outrun
these demons who weight on my vulnerable shoulders in tons
so a lavender lily i sought out to explore
but instead i found a lilac, in the valley near the foam of the shore
reminding me you were never just one thing, but so much more
so let these petals sum up what this poem speaks for
all the colors i saw in your,
heart
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
Is this what it's like to be dead?
Wielding graphite lead as I write sad poems that will never be read
Thrashing and writhing violently in bed, but merely in silence as these words are unsaid
Watching white sheets as they soak up cherry red
Looking on from a distance as weeping people don black threads
Overhearing hesitant and shaky whispers about a boy who bled
Whose overwhelming thoughts were all too much for his head
Now open veins breathe oxygen for the first time and showering streams fall overhead
It's in this stained water I tread, shouting towards the collapsing sky as storm clouds spread
A shaken voice, once again said
Is this what it's like to be dead?
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 10:49 PM UTC