gs-white - Hello Poetry

I’m inside whale bones I’m outside my mind I have doubts and I have fears I have thoughts that don’t stop Thoughts that pierce my chest like a pin cushion Clenching my stomach in their fists Thoughts that go round and round in circles Thoughts that don’t drip Out from the holes in my head Like every other word that comes to my lips Thoughts that don’t die, No matter how much I wish they were dead “Throw away logic, if it helps, Enter abstract, no boundary thought Grow wild Return to the earth and think only in Butterfly dances Not silken sounds of past and future loves The harsh realities of the present have deep roots in your skin And their flowers bloom into Doubts and fears And above all else, Should be ignored Like bullies on school grounds For the seeds that are dropped will grow and bloom again Unfaltering, unwavering So long as the have sun and water Fed by confusion, watered and told to grow Ignore them For to let your doubts and fears Grow and bloom again and again Like never ending waves of soldiers on beaches With the sun hidden beneath the earth Is no way to live.” I’m inside whale bones I’m outside my mind Trapped in separation Trapped in old age’s waiting arms My body too young to die So death waits for it to catch up to my mind And there is no fountain of youth That my thoughts can drink from Making them young again Forcing carefree upon them Forcing fairytales and irony Feather headdresses and no shoes Walking through the mud because it’s cool And prevents the needles from piercing your skin And the sun from burning it “So face the sun Because you can Stop with the doubts and fears Stop the old age from creeping though your mind You are young but you have thought too much You have thought too many years ahead of your time!” I’m inside whale bones I’m outside my mind “Break the bones that imprison you And with your new found freedom, And your new found arms and legs, Moving, again, for the first time Chase your mind And hold on to it tight Hold on like it’s the last thing you’ll ever let go Interlock your fingers And hold on Like it’s love, Something we both know you never want to be without Something we both know because you said it yourself, It’s the one thing that reminds you that you’re still young That your mind hasn’t gone with the dinosaurs, So hold on like it’s the last penny that you haven’t bet yet Hold on, and become one, not two Break the whale bones that imprison you And with your new found freedom, Sit still, Become you, one with yourself, young like your body is.”

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Jun 26, 2011

Jun 26, 2011 at 12:48 PM UTC

Whale Bones

I’m inside whale bones I’m outside my mind I have doubts and I have fears I have thoughts that don’t stop Thoughts that pierce my chest like a pin cushion Clenching my stomach in their fists Thoughts that go round and round in circles Thoughts that don’t drip Out from the holes in my head Like every other word that comes to my lips Thoughts that don’t die, No matter how much I wish they were dead “Throw away logic, if it helps, Enter abstract, no boundary thought Grow wild Return to the earth and think only in Butterfly dances Not silken sounds of past and future loves The harsh realities of the present have deep roots in your skin And their flowers bloom into Doubts and fears And above all else, Should be ignored Like bullies on school grounds For the seeds that are dropped will grow and bloom again Unfaltering, unwavering So long as the have sun and water Fed by confusion, watered and told to grow Ignore them For to let your doubts and fears Grow and bloom again and again Like never ending waves of soldiers on beaches With the sun hidden beneath the earth Is no way to live.” I’m inside whale bones I’m outside my mind Trapped in separation Trapped in old age’s waiting arms My body too young to die So death waits for it to catch up to my mind And there is no fountain of youth That my thoughts can drink from Making them young again Forcing carefree upon them Forcing fairytales and irony Feather headdresses and no shoes Walking through the mud because it’s cool And prevents the needles from piercing your skin And the sun from burning it “So face the sun Because you can Stop with the doubts and fears Stop the old age from creeping though your mind You are young but you have thought too much You have thought too many years ahead of your time!” I’m inside whale bones I’m outside my mind “Break the bones that imprison you And with your new found freedom, And your new found arms and legs, Moving, again, for the first time Chase your mind And hold on to it tight Hold on like it’s the last thing you’ll ever let go Interlock your fingers And hold on Like it’s love, Something we both know you never want to be without Something we both know because you said it yourself, It’s the one thing that reminds you that you’re still young That your mind hasn’t gone with the dinosaurs, So hold on like it’s the last penny that you haven’t bet yet Hold on, and become one, not two Break the whale bones that imprison you And with your new found freedom, Sit still, Become you, one with yourself, young like your body is.”

77

ONE man sits in a pristine state of loneliness his one heart in perfect singularity waiting to be found not bothering to search waiting to find himself as a part of TWO hands held with two beats, the quiet lub-dub of each of the two hearts slightly out of synchronization overlapping just a touch so the two double beats become a beat of THREE perfect circles in descending sizes in each of their eyes of which there are FOUR lip touches to say goodbye because the first would’ve been the last without the second, the second wasn’t sufficient and the third wasn’t enough and the fourth would lead to kiss number FIVE fingers locked around five fingers on the small of her back and five fingers wrapped up in his hair he wishes he had more fingers to make the hold stronger he wishes he had SIX syllables spoken between them the same three words repeated so they know that their hearts beat a little bit closer the veins and arteries wrapping around the other pulling it in pulling the beats together making them a little less disjointed but she’s all the nearer comatose, her slow beats in this minute barely reached SEVEN sounds that he counts in every minute that he stands there unable to sit his legs locked, shut like her eyes that he wants to stare into he shakes she does not stir even as the sun climbs higher in the morning sky she does not stir he counts more sounds every minute he counts as they go from seven to EIGHT arms and legs wrapped like tentacles wrapped so tight never wanting to release and show the red suction marks from each of their fingers on the other’s skin like an octopus their eight limbs holding together their one heart it’s dull lub-dub beat in perfect synchronization with itself in the perfect opposite of a pristine state of loneliness

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Jan 5, 2011

Jan 5, 2011 at 3:01 PM UTC

Octopus

ONE man sits in a pristine state of loneliness his one heart in perfect singularity waiting to be found not bothering to search waiting to find himself as a part of TWO hands held with two beats, the quiet lub-dub of each of the two hearts slightly out of synchronization overlapping just a touch so the two double beats become a beat of THREE perfect circles in descending sizes in each of their eyes of which there are FOUR lip touches to say goodbye because the first would’ve been the last without the second, the second wasn’t sufficient and the third wasn’t enough and the fourth would lead to kiss number FIVE fingers locked around five fingers on the small of her back and five fingers wrapped up in his hair he wishes he had more fingers to make the hold stronger he wishes he had SIX syllables spoken between them the same three words repeated so they know that their hearts beat a little bit closer the veins and arteries wrapping around the other pulling it in pulling the beats together making them a little less disjointed but she’s all the nearer comatose, her slow beats in this minute barely reached SEVEN sounds that he counts in every minute that he stands there unable to sit his legs locked, shut like her eyes that he wants to stare into he shakes she does not stir even as the sun climbs higher in the morning sky she does not stir he counts more sounds every minute he counts as they go from seven to EIGHT arms and legs wrapped like tentacles wrapped so tight never wanting to release and show the red suction marks from each of their fingers on the other’s skin like an octopus their eight limbs holding together their one heart it’s dull lub-dub beat in perfect synchronization with itself in the perfect opposite of a pristine state of loneliness

105

Maybe someday When I’m sick of imagining my future I can accept my present It’s nothing too hard Except I imagine like wild rivers run Never contained And the dams put up to stop the flow are washed away Like leaves down storm drains Maybe someday When I’m ready to disappear I will turn invisible And turn into the forests on the mountain Except I have grown fat with society as my drinking buddy My feet are soft My ears are trained to hear cars and telephone-ringing My soul grew civilized and quiet Maybe someday When I’m tired of being perfect I can let someone dote upon me Treating me as royalty Except I’d rather carve the thrones And build the tombs Than sit upon them Or lay beneath them I will have to deal with the splinters and broken backs that come with the task It’s just my way Of remembering you It’s just my way Of drawing people into my skin Like tattoos of personalities and quirks I try to make them a part of me I try to make them impossible To forget Because I can’t remember most of my past So if I have all of you drawn onto me I might one day be able to read my skin And remember The sound of every laugh you’ve had and the way you moved when you were happy And Maybe someday When I’m old and tired I can read the novels that will be drawn on my skin And remember your words As they passed from your lips Maybe someday When I’m old and tired I can reread the things you’ve told me I can reread through the wrinkles That held my smiles when you were around Maybe someday When I’m old and tired I can lay down peacefully at night With memories in my head And disappear into the forests of people That drew themselves into my life

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Dec 18, 2010

Dec 18, 2010 at 7:43 AM UTC

Maybe Someday

Maybe someday When I’m sick of imagining my future I can accept my present It’s nothing too hard Except I imagine like wild rivers run Never contained And the dams put up to stop the flow are washed away Like leaves down storm drains Maybe someday When I’m ready to disappear I will turn invisible And turn into the forests on the mountain Except I have grown fat with society as my drinking buddy My feet are soft My ears are trained to hear cars and telephone-ringing My soul grew civilized and quiet Maybe someday When I’m tired of being perfect I can let someone dote upon me Treating me as royalty Except I’d rather carve the thrones And build the tombs Than sit upon them Or lay beneath them I will have to deal with the splinters and broken backs that come with the task It’s just my way Of remembering you It’s just my way Of drawing people into my skin Like tattoos of personalities and quirks I try to make them a part of me I try to make them impossible To forget Because I can’t remember most of my past So if I have all of you drawn onto me I might one day be able to read my skin And remember The sound of every laugh you’ve had and the way you moved when you were happy And Maybe someday When I’m old and tired I can read the novels that will be drawn on my skin And remember your words As they passed from your lips Maybe someday When I’m old and tired I can reread the things you’ve told me I can reread through the wrinkles That held my smiles when you were around Maybe someday When I’m old and tired I can lay down peacefully at night With memories in my head And disappear into the forests of people That drew themselves into my life

58

With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He sits a thousand miles across Through earth’s hard calluses atop bent-knuckle mountains And soft, golden hair growing in the soil Through lakes full with tears And forests filled with hands and fingers... He sits a hundred blinks of the sun And watches drive-in theaters disappear Along with the ferris wheels Spinning into nothing Dances going mute Bodies moving soundlessly through the air He watches lights go out in carnivals And hands letting go THE SUN BLINKS With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He stands and shuffles Through undefined shapes of colour A brilliant array of blurred blues And greens And yellows They move so Fast Through his eyes THE SUN BLINKS With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He sits Through the drone of voices in his ears And nods To mask his heart And smiles To mask the obvious Pull On his soul Dragging it down Trying to keep it from being pulled Out Through the soles of his feet A mask on his face To hide the struggle To keep it from Slipping Away THE SUN BLINKS With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He writes with his thumbs Words he hopes Can be felt Like winds that whisper love Through ears And cold water That reaches through Skin and freezes bone And the words return Like rivers do Sometimes Missing A few drops of water Sometimes A little less happy And a little more Tainted With sad things Like broke down carnivals And quiet dances... Ferris wheels that stop turning And drive in theaters that stop playing movies It becomes a little more polluted With sad things Like closed curtains over the sunset Through the window And tea that goes cold A little more And a little more Until the words that return Like rivers do Are missing More drops of water And They Dry Until No Water Runs Down The River THE SUN BLINKS With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He sits with lips closed Under the mask of a smile A mask of calmness over the worry In his heart Sadness masked by happiness Tears masked by laughter Fears masked by confidence A mask For every Emotion That his brain triggers Except one Because to him No mask can cover What she makes him feel Such pure Perfection When she Holds His Hand THE SUN BLINKS And no words come to his tongue Or pass his lips Silence, masked

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Nov 19, 2010

Nov 19, 2010 at 1:56 AM UTC

The Carnival (A Mask)

With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He sits a thousand miles across Through earth’s hard calluses atop bent-knuckle mountains And soft, golden hair growing in the soil Through lakes full with tears And forests filled with hands and fingers... He sits a hundred blinks of the sun And watches drive-in theaters disappear Along with the ferris wheels Spinning into nothing Dances going mute Bodies moving soundlessly through the air He watches lights go out in carnivals And hands letting go THE SUN BLINKS With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He stands and shuffles Through undefined shapes of colour A brilliant array of blurred blues And greens And yellows They move so Fast Through his eyes THE SUN BLINKS With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He sits Through the drone of voices in his ears And nods To mask his heart And smiles To mask the obvious Pull On his soul Dragging it down Trying to keep it from being pulled Out Through the soles of his feet A mask on his face To hide the struggle To keep it from Slipping Away THE SUN BLINKS With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He writes with his thumbs Words he hopes Can be felt Like winds that whisper love Through ears And cold water That reaches through Skin and freezes bone And the words return Like rivers do Sometimes Missing A few drops of water Sometimes A little less happy And a little more Tainted With sad things Like broke down carnivals And quiet dances... Ferris wheels that stop turning And drive in theaters that stop playing movies It becomes a little more polluted With sad things Like closed curtains over the sunset Through the window And tea that goes cold A little more And a little more Until the words that return Like rivers do Are missing More drops of water And They Dry Until No Water Runs Down The River THE SUN BLINKS With worthless words In his throat And on his tongue He sits with lips closed Under the mask of a smile A mask of calmness over the worry In his heart Sadness masked by happiness Tears masked by laughter Fears masked by confidence A mask For every Emotion That his brain triggers Except one Because to him No mask can cover What she makes him feel Such pure Perfection When she Holds His Hand THE SUN BLINKS And no words come to his tongue Or pass his lips Silence, masked

125

My heart Oh, my heart Bleeds rainbows through my arteries Oh, they spill Out of my body and into the world Oh, they water The soil, and grow the shoots and the leaves Oh, it feeds The yin-yang skin wrapped around my chest Oh, it makes The milk that keeps the future alive Oh, it left Unicorns and dinosaurs in the past Oh, it’s leaving Me behind, my feet can’t keep up Oh, it’s cutting Down the shoots and the leaves Oh, it’s tilling The soil and planting cattle Oh, they fill The air with death, and heat Oh, I stop Walking, there is nowhere left to go Except to the past With the unicorns and dinosaurs To live As nothing but a memory Or an imagined, false being On the edge of a rainbow Spilling out from My heart Oh, my heart

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Oct 9, 2010

Oct 9, 2010 at 4:25 PM UTC

Oh, My Heart

My heart Oh, my heart Bleeds rainbows through my arteries Oh, they spill Out of my body and into the world Oh, they water The soil, and grow the shoots and the leaves Oh, it feeds The yin-yang skin wrapped around my chest Oh, it makes The milk that keeps the future alive Oh, it left Unicorns and dinosaurs in the past Oh, it’s leaving Me behind, my feet can’t keep up Oh, it’s cutting Down the shoots and the leaves Oh, it’s tilling The soil and planting cattle Oh, they fill The air with death, and heat Oh, I stop Walking, there is nowhere left to go Except to the past With the unicorns and dinosaurs To live As nothing but a memory Or an imagined, false being On the edge of a rainbow Spilling out from My heart Oh, my heart

32

I climb into bed Waiting for a non-existent sleep To take me into the dreamworld of my childhood Where I had Blindness And Quiet in my head I sleep Or try to But my thoughts are loud And breaks in their conversations Are few and far between And never quite long enough For me To fall asleep I wrap the blankets around me Like tentacles Forcing the air out of my lungs Forcing me into Unconsciousness I dream Or something like it For a minute or two, it seems, upon waking And the quietness that had enveloped my mind Awakes From the trance I wake To a thousand thoughts And headache All the thoughts that could not be heard as I dreamt Shout out To be heard and acknowledged And then Then you dance for my hunchbacked heart And my thoughts stop to watch They stop to listen To the sound of your breath To the sound of your footsteps And there is quiet in my head, and blindness Like the dreamworld of my childhood, long since forgotten

0

Oct 3, 2010

Oct 3, 2010 at 10:29 PM UTC

An Average Night for the Insomniac

I climb into bed Waiting for a non-existent sleep To take me into the dreamworld of my childhood Where I had Blindness And Quiet in my head I sleep Or try to But my thoughts are loud And breaks in their conversations Are few and far between And never quite long enough For me To fall asleep I wrap the blankets around me Like tentacles Forcing the air out of my lungs Forcing me into Unconsciousness I dream Or something like it For a minute or two, it seems, upon waking And the quietness that had enveloped my mind Awakes From the trance I wake To a thousand thoughts And headache All the thoughts that could not be heard as I dreamt Shout out To be heard and acknowledged And then Then you dance for my hunchbacked heart And my thoughts stop to watch They stop to listen To the sound of your breath To the sound of your footsteps And there is quiet in my head, and blindness Like the dreamworld of my childhood, long since forgotten

40

“Is it the absence, the distance between us? That which makes our hearts beat Stronger And harder As if they are trying To be loud enough To be heard Across the country Across the mountains and the plains... No, it cannot be For my heart beat this strong When you were next to me The increase in love is due To the increase of time, Not of distance Every passing second I love You more and more My love for you is Exponentially growing Climbing higher and higher Up the mountain Until we meet at it’s peak And then My love for you Will culminate into a kiss And jump from it’s peak and into the sky And spread across the clouds Lighting the fire Behind the sunset.”

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Sep 28, 2010

Sep 28, 2010 at 9:07 AM UTC

Why Does My Heart Beat Stronger?

“Is it the absence, the distance between us? That which makes our hearts beat Stronger And harder As if they are trying To be loud enough To be heard Across the country Across the mountains and the plains... No, it cannot be For my heart beat this strong When you were next to me The increase in love is due To the increase of time, Not of distance Every passing second I love You more and more My love for you is Exponentially growing Climbing higher and higher Up the mountain Until we meet at it’s peak And then My love for you Will culminate into a kiss And jump from it’s peak and into the sky And spread across the clouds Lighting the fire Behind the sunset.”

29