A puzzle on the table
By the fireplace.
The day is spent warm
Filling empty space.
Pieces go here, pieces
Go there; it is no race.
A boy takes his seat
In a plaid arm chair.
Winter whispers in his ear
Place the puzzle piece there, yes there.
He fills the picture with his time
Searching for pieces with a sharp, sharp stare.
A knock on the door, “Hello!”
A girl he greets in grinning gusto
She joins him at the puzzle. Two pieces
Put together, the flame brightly aglow
The puzzle finished, a kiss goodbye
His past out the chimney like smoke goes
Smoke that billows and twist and moves
He disappeared in a magician’s trick
Tie pin lost on may 15th. New pieces are
Found to fill holes not there before. He’s Sick.
Time moves on like a train, with much more
pain. A candle burns down, down its wick.
A late landing in Georgia
A late pickup in Mesa
He learned that to everyone
He was
He, the leftover puzzle piece
that didn’t quite fit.
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 9:03 PM UTC
I try to depress and
repress
my depressing
tendencies
They are tendrils in seas
and stormy in skies
lies about guys, and
grandmas who die.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 1:54 AM UTC
Sometimes when we
Kiss
People we aren't supposed
To
Feel fireworks but the
Fall
Of a siren alerting nuclear disaster
In
The near future. It's not
Love
It's catastrophe.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
I originally wrote "its funny" as the first line
however I dont think
its funny
I started liking you far too long ago
and I got stuck on the Argo sailing
in sorrow under the statue of Rhodes.
I started writing a poem a day
just to impress you and I realized that
i only ever impressed myself
You like our car side conversations
maybe because I keep good company
or maybe because you were actually interested
in the hopelessness that
I am.
I start to make you a black hole
and I am past the event horizon.
Sunlight only escapes through my words.
My open lips meet your parted sentences
cut short by the warmth of human breath.
I made you into poetry
but I should have followed my sisters advice
and not smashed you into my poetry books
I should not have swirled the words of your
glassy blue eyes into golden threads
binding ancient books.
Thats where I went wrong.
I cared to much.
Our path wasnt a lambda where two paths meet to make one
we were an x
bold on the page but
only crossing for a mere moment.
I dont regret any of it. I just wish
you knew that I meant all of it.
Pretty poems
and movies on weeknights.
Masquerades hiding our feelings.
I never even asked where you stood.
What your mask meant.
What it was hiding.
I showed up to the ball dressed like art
and you were cinderella
waiting for her prince charming.
I shatter glass slippers.
and arrange the fresh fragments into
an ugly spectacle
of futility.
We are schrodingers cat
locked in a box.
Im just afraid that I am pandora
and that the hope of us died
when I observed the radioactivity within.
Cancer cells on skin
you called them cute moles.
I guess I kinda just wanted you to be mine,
and I always knew
that
Good guys
stay stuck at home
watching star wars box trilogies.
Dreaming of their Leia.
Id rather be George Lucas. I think.
This stopped making sense to me the moment
That I decided to make it about you
so Im going to end it
here.
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 8:00 PM UTC
List fully, lie. lying in misery
Most mysteries missed by me
Must muster mist deceitfully
Mister, mister, can you die?
Dyed blue from rhythm and tunes
Tuning to thoughts
Becoming robots
We fight to make men free.
Machine made men
Stamped from a die
Born Barren of Blemish
Passed over to sacrifice
They alter Altar altercations
Killing to show their true devotion
What world is this? And what man am I?
Might it mightily reveal itself
To a boat in the harbor
Harboring fictitiousness
Figuratively fighting for
Fewer than them.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 12:05 AM UTC
Charred Chicken and broth
steamed in a ***
Pies are for dessert.
Sweet no savor to save her
Lustful froth.
Papered Pastries and jam
cooked together in al/
Dente is for pasta.
Crunch no chew a choice of his
friendly madams
Sweetened Sodas and pork
grilled on char
coal is for trains.
Thinned out thoughts lost
in transit to New York
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
The crisped air shuddered soundly through my cracked window
Carefully weaving wistful wanderings into my mind
lacking of self pity and doubt
Im taken back to a time about
a year or so ago
when money didn’t matter
and I still had a home
Now I’m sitting in a tahoe
shootin arrows at apollo
wondering if Ill ever find
where all my wasted wishes go
cuz the timer reads 11:12
just a minute past those dreams are shelved
and I’m lost in october
finding out my mental states desolved
resolving resolutions made at 11:59
287 days ago
not quite sure if can make it 68 more
and still be fine.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 10:10 AM UTC
My thoughts are the slots
Put a coin in to play
Two pennies for some sense
Since the banks recompense
the poor sitting on a lower shelf
The rich are empty, lost themselves
Attached to puppet strings
Pulled up by faceless masters
faster full of things
Stop. Cut your strings.
Sell the loans and mortgage debts
Escape the ensnaring nets
Look. Now you’re free.
Fear is free just look at me
Im stuck inside with my soul to hide
a sinful slip up ups my chance
My tongue is doing the liars dance
Two toes on point, or into finger guns?
That’s the one that I still fear
the freedom to do, drive the car, yes steer.
Drive away or drive by
to these feeling on the sidelines
second string emotions turn
with stinging motions. Burn
my offing notions with a note
not a hundred grand but a modicum
I lay in my bed try to sleep, feeling none.
The slots spun a short win
when I put my two cents in.
Now the lump sum is sitting dumb
My thoughts are dimmer
I’m the loss when I’m the winner.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
There was never a story so happy or so
Sad
as the one written the day She
Left.
Our coffee kisses tasted like hot chocolate;
Bitterly
sweet because She always added a double shot of
Espresso
and never told me. Her hair was a frazzled
Mess
because we had stayed up too late and slept for far too
Long.
She smelled like my favorite book and her
spine
was just as familiar. The day
Previous
She hugged me until I shook. I think I
Cried
too. That morning her October eyes looked
deadened
by winter. Our season had passed, and now She's
happy.
I wish her well. I always have, but the espresso
stained
my teeth. Her words stained my mind, and She stained my
Soul.
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 5:11 PM UTC
You remind me of lemon water on a Wednesday morning.
Bright and vibrant when the surrounding world is a drone of grey mundanity.
You will be a heart surgeon.
Because fixing people's hearts it's the closest
you can come to mending their fragmented souls.
You see a piece of yourself in the broken and the hurting,
their bitterness masks sour decisions wrought by bad timing.
You remind me of lemon water on a Wednesday morning.
The succor for a halfway dance.
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC