I spent a few hours trying
to write a poem from your perspective.
First I get stuck on something I would say to you,
that’s not completely stupid or irrelevant,
and then, after I say in the poem
“Everyone is an atheist,”
I try to write how you would respond.
I am not sure if you would have moved on
with whatever other subject,
or have something to say,
(though it feels like you usually don’t)
And I realized,
after two years of knowing you
intimately,
I do not know how you think,
I don’t know where to begin.
I can describe you,
But I don’t know how you would
describe me,
or anything else,
and this
terrifies me.
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 11:33 AM UTC
All that one might see
in this strange world, with all it’s grim
trivialities,
and our ruffian leaders
and our expensive college degrees
that promise nothing,
is depression.
I won’t say that you turned my life
into a happy Beatles’ song,
But you have certainly been a companion
To enjoy the goods things in life,
Like proper violin music
and teas with multiple vowels.
And when I do feel overcome
with the trivial stress of
our trivial lives,
I know that, not only
do you feel my pain, truly,
but that you will do
anything in your power
to lift my body up,
knowing and trusting, rightly,
that I would do the same
for you
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 11:32 AM UTC
We were parallel like
hot math,
which face it,
is made of stuff we don’t
understand,
but someone we know to
be true.
So many chemicals involved,
So many novels written,
Philosophers think they have
Everything understood,
until they get to what love is,
and that, my friend,
is tricky.
I’ll surely attempt to question what I feel,
not to doubt but to answer, to know
fuller, to understand You and I.
But I’ll always know,
love exist before
rationality.
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 11:31 AM UTC
Violins where plucked
just like grapes for wine,
speaking in the vernacular
of birds in the Amazon,
the colours of orange and green
with more species of bird
in a square kilometer
than they have in the entire
Northern Hemisphere.
Going to the outback as an adventurer
Might have been our grandfather’s idea,
one that I might share if things were
different.
But we have dreams of
large cities couple with an
ocean view,
and we both want to capture it.
From the sun setting
to the people it contains
to the raindrops falling off
a precipice,
going nowhere.
We’re artist, we can share our passion,
our passion shares
us.
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 11:30 AM UTC
I find it hard to write
love poems about you.
I usually don’t know where
to begin.
Love is like gravity.
Powerful, ever present,
but by itself, well,
not much.
Because love is so much more.
As much **** as it is butterflies,
encompassing all of the things.
From snake oil to water of the rose
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 11:29 AM UTC
I want to be your biggest laugh,
The best high you’ll ever have,
I want to be able to count every hair on your head,
And feel your spine, up to your seraphic wings,
I just want to melt into your skin.
the most remarkable thing about you being with me,
is that it’s you,
and that you are with me
(it’s the most extraordinary thing in the world)
it’s motion, it keeps me moving again.
It is this small but interesting town
We keep finding hidden and new things
even though we have been together
so long.
And at one point
I believed I could survive
with only half a heart
arteries spilling out like roots
of a pine tree.
But
you ended this.
You joined
your roots to mine
and we were one
once again.
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 11:27 AM UTC
Allow me to state a fact
(as obvious as the colour of the sky):
Love is so strange.
It can bring me to scream and curse and
slam doors and kick holes in the wall
(watch the sheet rock explode in dust to your amazement)
It can absolutely do away with all reason, all that effort
to foster a logical, intelligent mind.
But I woke up in such a terrible mood today
I didn’t even get out of bed until four
(my class was cancelled even though I did not find out till later)
I come to see you on your brief break—I had not eaten
in a day and quite frankly the thought of seeing you
scared me.
But I saw you, and I swear to God,
everything is right in the world.
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 11:26 AM UTC
What is the matter with the sky?
It is raining down books like snowflakes,
they are just gently falling down, melting
into dust when one tries to read them,
And the miles to travel to those words,
the years it takes, my, what a journey.
Walking through northern Norway
with ice breaking beneath where you stand,
you feel the cold, it is sharp, it brightens
your vision and the mountains grow blurry.
You think about how it rained down books in
New York City but no one could read them.
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 11:25 AM UTC
I never said goodnight, but
I suppose I’ll say good morning.
It’s nice seeing the stars fade out to the sun for a change.
**** off” says the sun to the stars. “Those
people don’t need to know about you guys.”
The sun knows one day we’ll go to those stars.
And old Sol won’t be as popular as he once was.
But *******
I want to go outside, but this
****
Alarm is keeping me in.
I’ll wake up the whole house, and
Mom
Will worry about my insomniac sleeping habits.
I guess I’ll have to enjoy the sunrise from my dusty windows.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 1:39 AM UTC
When it rains, I won’t be in the position
To get out of here unscathed.
As the rain falls downward, this muddy ravine
Goes higher, and I’m a young teenager again.
Mud up to my knees and twigs and leaves in my hair,
I climb on all fours on the embankment, thorns stabbing my skin.
And all I have with me is my machete, a curse and a smile upon my lips.
I’ll make it out alive mostly,
It’s the best anyone can do.
Don’t tell me I should be happy,
Happiness is a privilege, not a necessity.
And once you start smiling all the time the good
Things are not as extraordinary, your food starts tasting the same,
Colours bleed to together in such a way you don’t
Even notice what colour they were before.
And when darkness hits you’re truly blind to it all.
Whereas my lack of smile means nothing,
My scowl just an ordinary thing of life,
The grays blend together indiscriminately,
But when I see colours, they bring my eyes to new heights,
It showers me with their light.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 1:37 AM UTC