Do not go gentle into that good night.
Or do and slip away--caressed by cool release.
Without a ripple, slip beneath the quiet waters.
How futile to fight the dying of the light!
The earth will turn and soon you matter not at all.
Rage not Achilles--
for gods, nor men, nor efforts they employ may stop the ceaseless march of time and inevitable decay.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 5:40 PM UTC
I hope the multiverse theory is true
and there’s infinite me and infinite you.
And due to the nature of infinite chance,
there’s a world where we have had time to dance,
there’s a world where we’re happy,
a world where we’re sad,
a world where I’m playing mom and you’re playing dad.
In one universe I was never born.
In one universe your ACL’s torn.
I’ll cry for the worlds where we’ve never met,
but in one world you’re Romeo and I’m Juliet.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 12:18 PM UTC
It’s because I’ve been wanting to text you,
but didn’t want you to think I was planning
on texting you at a certain time.
So I wait til two minutes past the hour,
just long enough to seem random,
but not so long that I explode from impatience.
Exploding is an FDA acknowledged side affect of impatience,
in case you were wondering.
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 1:02 PM UTC
Where heroes slumber
the hills are just as green as
the graves of villains.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 1:35 PM UTC
This word is unspeakably tragic.
Love lost is no love at all.
No sorcery, witchcraft, or magic
Can bring back love that is gone.
Orpheus thought he had found it
His music came oh so close.
But one glance over his shoulder
And true love truly was lost.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 3:35 PM UTC
You might find me silly and vain, and quite possibly insane.
I didn’t stop from humility, but from futility.
Cause I was tired of screaming and fighting
and the dogs they kept biting
and scratching and begging and pleading.
It was me they were needing.
And the harder I pulled away, the more I had to pay.
I think of the pain, standing in the rain,
looking up at the sky, pretending I could fly.
Mar 6, 2012
Mar 6, 2012 at 12:50 PM UTC
7 is such a sharp number, pushed in between the sensuous curves of 6 and 8.
All awkward angles and points, 7 is not a graceful number.
It’s odd. And sticks out in all the wrong places.
6 and 8 bend like dancers,
Swaying or flowing as natural as the breeze.
And poor 7 sandwiched in between them, like a middle school kid,
all unsure and out of place.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 3:00 AM UTC
Diaphanous silk skirts glide gracefully around tiny ankles attached to perfect legs.
And the string quartet plays in the background.
Strong hands encircle a tightly cinched waste
And breath brushes against a neck.
Then the clock strikes midnight or the alarm sounds.
The spell breaks, totalitarian reality invades.
And dreams flutter away, evasive and light,
Like diaphanous silk skirts.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 2:51 AM UTC
Do you remember that night the end of senior year?
We drove and got drunk off my dad’s stolen beer.
I sat, sand in my toes and wind in my hair,
Glanced up and caught your stare.
“You’re beautiful,” you said.
I smiled and blushed, shyly looking away.
But you sat down beside me
And kissed my lips softly.
Do you remember that night the end of senior year?
I’ve never been so free or so free of fear.
We sat, hand in hand, our souls laid bare.
I missed curfew that night, but didn’t care.
“You’re beautiful,” I said.
You smiled and laughed, boldly keeping my eye.
So I leaned in close to you
And kissed your lips softly.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 1:42 AM UTC
The little girl stood alone in the wood,
Blonde curls tumbled o'er her disheveled red hood.
The stranger approached and offered to help.
She let him direct her, unlearned in life.
But he caused her and her family nothing but strife.
The young woman stood alone in the tower,
Blonde curls tumbled o'er her face oh so dour.
The stranger approached, and offered to help.
She had learned her lesson the first time though.
She pulled her hair up and locked the window.
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 7:39 PM UTC