craig-dotti - Hello Poetry

I am mostly brown or black or reddish An amalgamation So when the May- sun magnifies off my sweat-beaded skin It just makes my cheek- bones a bit pink There are only so many ways one can be reminded they are still living There are only so many phrases to let the audience (reader) know that I am wilting To look to the future is more than just waiting on something speculative If it is not a wasteland it is something so vague and sleek and mod that a person like me falls right off Drifting between the fruitless present And you walking down Nassau Street. The trees were blooming. I followed and snapped pictures with a camera. Your hair was long and you were taller than most everyone else.

0

May 20, 2013

May 20, 2013 at 2:39 AM UTC

I Think That's Called Happiness

I am mostly brown or black or reddish An amalgamation So when the May- sun magnifies off my sweat-beaded skin It just makes my cheek- bones a bit pink There are only so many ways one can be reminded they are still living There are only so many phrases to let the audience (reader) know that I am wilting To look to the future is more than just waiting on something speculative If it is not a wasteland it is something so vague and sleek and mod that a person like me falls right off Drifting between the fruitless present And you walking down Nassau Street. The trees were blooming. I followed and snapped pictures with a camera. Your hair was long and you were taller than most everyone else.

11

She Just didn't love the thought of hands felt on thoughts held old in time And who knows the kind of feeling the heart wants When the last words and last breath comes through heavy lungs Eyes gathered up and to the left They forget the world But they are burning to talk and tell of what they saw next

0

May 14, 2013

May 14, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC

To Someone On This ***** Named Danielle Jones (Her Words, Not Mine)

She Just didn't love the thought of hands felt on thoughts held old in time And who knows the kind of feeling the heart wants When the last words and last breath comes through heavy lungs Eyes gathered up and to the left They forget the world But they are burning to talk and tell of what they saw next

7

It's said if you get hit by a High -speed train The body-bag needed to house your remains is no bigger than the one needed to fit your sandwich in at lunch As I pass Brielle and South Amboy, Perth Amboy and Secaucus at 80 mph I stare out into the swamps festering with industrial run-off And the bombed- out buildings of once thriving towns I get the feeling that I want to return to the earth People tell me a lot of things They don't ask much They tell me I can be successful at anything I choose They throw around words like charismatic and love and passionate They tell me that I have the mark of Cain They fail to realize Charisma is for the talentless Passion is blood on your hands at the end of the day And love is blood and war and a dark place and feeling that keeps you in bed Some call this depression But to me it's seeing my world as it is Not as it might be I tell anyone who will listen I can't get over you Guess I'm hoping for one final piece of sage advice But the blind are the blind for some reason or other And I can't look at myself in The mirror these days I've never made a habit of Walking on the tracks It's not that I want to be in a zip-lock body-bag but I don't own a gun I've smoked enough *** for five lifetimes And I don't care that I have never seen the Pacific Water is just water anyway Right?

0

Mar 31, 2013

Mar 31, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC

It's Said If You Get Hit By A High-Speed Train...

It's said if you get hit by a High -speed train The body-bag needed to house your remains is no bigger than the one needed to fit your sandwich in at lunch As I pass Brielle and South Amboy, Perth Amboy and Secaucus at 80 mph I stare out into the swamps festering with industrial run-off And the bombed- out buildings of once thriving towns I get the feeling that I want to return to the earth People tell me a lot of things They don't ask much They tell me I can be successful at anything I choose They throw around words like charismatic and love and passionate They tell me that I have the mark of Cain They fail to realize Charisma is for the talentless Passion is blood on your hands at the end of the day And love is blood and war and a dark place and feeling that keeps you in bed Some call this depression But to me it's seeing my world as it is Not as it might be I tell anyone who will listen I can't get over you Guess I'm hoping for one final piece of sage advice But the blind are the blind for some reason or other And I can't look at myself in The mirror these days I've never made a habit of Walking on the tracks It's not that I want to be in a zip-lock body-bag but I don't own a gun I've smoked enough *** for five lifetimes And I don't care that I have never seen the Pacific Water is just water anyway Right?

29

Hope, at times for them Is a once-great passenger ship Breeched and sinking fast This vessel is one that sees the Mississippi, Floats on it for a brief period But has no idea that it's being dominated By the mighty, muddy beast In these instances responsibility Becomes government reports that are long, Arduous and too thick to be stapled "Many people will die." they say, "200,000 people will be displaced." This incites the mantra, Home is where the water is not The ship that was a home is made of steel Neither black nor white Its grey, so grey that it is without true color It finds itself trapped in the womb of the dense, delta mud The people; The brave, the bold, the idiots, waiting for their ship to come Sit on top of their roofs, Now islands where they can soak up Indian Summer Sun For the abandoned, perseverance is a suntan "THE WATER IS RISING PLEAS…" Words spray-painted white on black shingles The rescuers, government, American people Are suddenly illiterate Federal law states: Energy (money) cannot be created Nor destroyed But the ship is gone, The people are in watery graves The City is a large crescent with greedy bites taken out of it 6 years later the laws of the universe are disbanded Ferrel dogs rule the day And love is never having to say you care

0

Mar 20, 2013

Mar 20, 2013 at 4:03 AM UTC

Hope Is A Ship (Drew Brees For President)

Hope, at times for them Is a once-great passenger ship Breeched and sinking fast This vessel is one that sees the Mississippi, Floats on it for a brief period But has no idea that it's being dominated By the mighty, muddy beast In these instances responsibility Becomes government reports that are long, Arduous and too thick to be stapled "Many people will die." they say, "200,000 people will be displaced." This incites the mantra, Home is where the water is not The ship that was a home is made of steel Neither black nor white Its grey, so grey that it is without true color It finds itself trapped in the womb of the dense, delta mud The people; The brave, the bold, the idiots, waiting for their ship to come Sit on top of their roofs, Now islands where they can soak up Indian Summer Sun For the abandoned, perseverance is a suntan "THE WATER IS RISING PLEAS…" Words spray-painted white on black shingles The rescuers, government, American people Are suddenly illiterate Federal law states: Energy (money) cannot be created Nor destroyed But the ship is gone, The people are in watery graves The City is a large crescent with greedy bites taken out of it 6 years later the laws of the universe are disbanded Ferrel dogs rule the day And love is never having to say you care

36

I woke up to you buzzing about the flowers today I guess I won't see you again till' April or even May I hope you make it I hope you'll know To show up again When the flowers start to grow Maybe when the lilacs bloom again You'll be working in the garden by the gate Maybe not you, Something like you, reincarnate All this worry and indecision Must show you that I don't know up from down Nor the changing of seasons

0

Mar 20, 2013

Mar 20, 2013 at 3:54 AM UTC

Fall is Summer if You Let it Be

I woke up to you buzzing about the flowers today I guess I won't see you again till' April or even May I hope you make it I hope you'll know To show up again When the flowers start to grow Maybe when the lilacs bloom again You'll be working in the garden by the gate Maybe not you, Something like you, reincarnate All this worry and indecision Must show you that I don't know up from down Nor the changing of seasons

14

People tell me I came pretty close to dying Now I just sit and think about why I'm alive anyway I can't think of a thing to do during the day but then again maybe I'm not trying I've been seeing time as A strange, madras garment Memories, strewn together in a sloppy, random, make-shift way At their most detailed They are incidents given a slot on the nightly news But we can never be there again whether we are the ones falling from the burning building, being interviewed about it or glued to the couch watching Everything, just snippets on the cutting- room floor, Melting frost on a window "I love you" written in the middle Something overheard in a smokers' annex A person you bump into on the L That sweater you had to have but lost at the 92nd Street Y A flash in a pan A view from the top Our lives are abridged versions of some greater path, that only those who walk truly upright are unlucky enough to perceive

0

Mar 20, 2013

Mar 20, 2013 at 3:50 AM UTC

I've Been Wondering About The Over- Satiated and The Unfulfilled

People tell me I came pretty close to dying Now I just sit and think about why I'm alive anyway I can't think of a thing to do during the day but then again maybe I'm not trying I've been seeing time as A strange, madras garment Memories, strewn together in a sloppy, random, make-shift way At their most detailed They are incidents given a slot on the nightly news But we can never be there again whether we are the ones falling from the burning building, being interviewed about it or glued to the couch watching Everything, just snippets on the cutting- room floor, Melting frost on a window "I love you" written in the middle Something overheard in a smokers' annex A person you bump into on the L That sweater you had to have but lost at the 92nd Street Y A flash in a pan A view from the top Our lives are abridged versions of some greater path, that only those who walk truly upright are unlucky enough to perceive

25

She only calls because we are both night owls S h e only calls when she's alone and feeling shallow She never calls Writes me every once in a while "I'm gonna wander I'm asking you to follow…"

0

Mar 20, 2013

Mar 20, 2013 at 3:48 AM UTC

Untitled III

She only calls because we are both night owls S h e only calls when she's alone and feeling shallow She never calls Writes me every once in a while "I'm gonna wander I'm asking you to follow…"

6

One morning I'll wake and I won't feel it anymore One morning You'll wake early, 4am, Rub the sleep out of your eyes and see things a new way You will then: 1. Shower 2. Make toast 3. Pack everything you can fit into your Mazda 4. Take the scenic route to 95 North 5. Head (anywhere)home? You almost hit him as you back out of your parking space He tells you that you are a light in the dark It's taken 24 years but you finally let your guard down By 10am he's in the midst of most of the unpacking while you play with his dog, Ringo One morning I'll know your not leaving the Sunshine State I'll wake a bit too early that morning and the feeling will be gone

0

Mar 20, 2013

Mar 20, 2013 at 3:46 AM UTC

You Might Never Come North

One morning I'll wake and I won't feel it anymore One morning You'll wake early, 4am, Rub the sleep out of your eyes and see things a new way You will then: 1. Shower 2. Make toast 3. Pack everything you can fit into your Mazda 4. Take the scenic route to 95 North 5. Head (anywhere)home? You almost hit him as you back out of your parking space He tells you that you are a light in the dark It's taken 24 years but you finally let your guard down By 10am he's in the midst of most of the unpacking while you play with his dog, Ringo One morning I'll know your not leaving the Sunshine State I'll wake a bit too early that morning and the feeling will be gone

17

Fear and Loathing in Ocean City Everyday that goes by Our bond becomes little more than a time of day, Dust on a window sill, A lightning bug in a mason jar I know that nothing can be permanent Change cannot scare a man that has no constant But recently the thought occurred to me that you keep going about your business When the clock strikes that hour, That you brush the thought of me aside as if cleaning me out, That you are glad that light in the jar has gone dim So I find myself waiting on you like a train that will never come And I ask about you now and again How are you? Are you happy? Do you have a new light? At this point I've realized I could say anything and you'd pay me no mind People tell me that perhaps you can't deal with the thought of me emotionally That I hurt you Cut you and whenever I open my mouth I'm pouring salt into to a cavernous wound The other day a close friend told me something different She doesn't respond to you because she doesn't care about you. Move on You've gone from crutch to love to desire to memory She doesn't care. Move on That's a change that would put fear into even the most roving of nomads

0

Mar 20, 2013

Mar 20, 2013 at 3:43 AM UTC

Fear and Loathing in Ocean City

Fear and Loathing in Ocean City Everyday that goes by Our bond becomes little more than a time of day, Dust on a window sill, A lightning bug in a mason jar I know that nothing can be permanent Change cannot scare a man that has no constant But recently the thought occurred to me that you keep going about your business When the clock strikes that hour, That you brush the thought of me aside as if cleaning me out, That you are glad that light in the jar has gone dim So I find myself waiting on you like a train that will never come And I ask about you now and again How are you? Are you happy? Do you have a new light? At this point I've realized I could say anything and you'd pay me no mind People tell me that perhaps you can't deal with the thought of me emotionally That I hurt you Cut you and whenever I open my mouth I'm pouring salt into to a cavernous wound The other day a close friend told me something different She doesn't respond to you because she doesn't care about you. Move on You've gone from crutch to love to desire to memory She doesn't care. Move on That's a change that would put fear into even the most roving of nomads

26

If I never were to see you again You'd join an ever- growing line of women Who tell themselves they never heard my name before Women I gave a piece of myself to A kiss on the forehead and spine A squeeze of the hand A look that says "I only feel safe in my own skin, when yours is touching mine." Maybe those looks are the problem Maybe the kisses are smothering I might be throwing up red flags to everyone Swap spit with him and he will be upside down in love with you Swap any other body-fluid and you might have to change your Locks Phone number Point of view But it's not that I never set out to ruin anyone's day Or scare them into thinking i'm Patrick Bateman It's just when I share these looks, kisses, fluids More often than not, even if it was some kind of Mistake amongst random strangers/lovers I'm giving a piece of me to have Marked FRAGILE: THIS END UP Label me transparent and then see right through me When I find myself giving away chunks of my person I can't seem to tell where love and blood Begins and Ends.

0

Mar 20, 2013

Mar 20, 2013 at 3:39 AM UTC

THIS END UP (For Claire)

If I never were to see you again You'd join an ever- growing line of women Who tell themselves they never heard my name before Women I gave a piece of myself to A kiss on the forehead and spine A squeeze of the hand A look that says "I only feel safe in my own skin, when yours is touching mine." Maybe those looks are the problem Maybe the kisses are smothering I might be throwing up red flags to everyone Swap spit with him and he will be upside down in love with you Swap any other body-fluid and you might have to change your Locks Phone number Point of view But it's not that I never set out to ruin anyone's day Or scare them into thinking i'm Patrick Bateman It's just when I share these looks, kisses, fluids More often than not, even if it was some kind of Mistake amongst random strangers/lovers I'm giving a piece of me to have Marked FRAGILE: THIS END UP Label me transparent and then see right through me When I find myself giving away chunks of my person I can't seem to tell where love and blood Begins and Ends.

28