I live on a diet of foo fighters and remorse.
I am 22 feet tall.
I looked to her face, she disappears into thin air. "Pop." When she returns her face is not hers.
My fingers are mountains, my hair is cattails and my belly rumbles for the moon.
I am 5 feet tall.
The Phoenix lands on my headboard and speaks calmly "nevermore." I search for Allen but only find Parsons and Ginsburg.
My eyes are emeralds, everything is red. My legs are Christmas trees, my arms are machine guns. Both red.
I am 17 feet tall.
The moon is gone, captured away. Night is gone. I wither away, from starvation.
42 feet tall.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
In the jungle of your mind
I bedded with the clichés
We sat round a campfire
And talked about foreign trade
You're favorite one stood up
and begged to play charades
We humored him only
because we knew he had had a bad day
Then the oldest and wisest
asked me to sing
I told him my voice was
reminiscent of a bad dream
He responded with laughter
slapping his sides
Then he pulled out a snake from the grass
and held it while it slithered and writhed
That night around midnight
We lay under the stars
We tried to use our imagination
But it didn't take us very far
You showed me constellations
That didn't exist
I told you I knew them
had studied them when I was a kid
You then took my hand
and kissed me on the mouth
I was shocked and bewildered
But accepted it without
The knowledge that your father
Was watching from afar
He took an axe and proceeded
to chop my courage apart
I ran further and deeper
into the jungle of your mind
I found the clichés still siting
enjoying their time
I begged them to let me
play charades
The agreed politely
They could see I had had a bad day
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 4:30 PM UTC
I look across the field and past the sewer line, over the mountain range ignore the road that climbs
I glare across the ocean bypass the boats that glide, peer into the forest refuse the loss of lives.
Is the answer love, is the answer peace? Surely it can't be freedom or the will to go green
Could it be knowledge, or publicity? When I contemplate this, honestly I just don't see.
I don't see new generation, hope for humanity
I don't see a great change coming, ideas oh so revolutionary.
I see doom, I see fear
I see destruction and a falseness.
I see lies
And I see a darkness.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 12:24 PM UTC
I had a question burning on my mind
And I thought maybe to pass the time
I could write it down on a sign
And ask the passing souls.
My intentions were pure I wanted to know
I would discover whether from above or below
And with the answer I then would know
The fate of the passing souls.
I took my sign to the busy street
Where there are many hands and many feet
And with my question I did greet
A many a passing souls.
The answers did differ I can tell you that
Some laughed while others answered back
Still some just stared as though words they did lack
Oh the many a passing souls.
I was taken aback by the answers I received
With some I implored and with some I did plead
I cried “listen to me, won’t you please!”
Oh lord save the passing souls.
Not all accounts were bad, some were quite good
I received a hug from a man in a hood
Although by the end I understood
The hearts of the passing souls.
So at the end of the day, I folded my sign
I gathered my things and with tears in my eyes
I turned towards the street and I said good bye
With no love from the passing souls.
Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 4:11 PM UTC