i don’t want to love you
anymore
i’d rather love books
and words
and the sea
when it rages
i’d rather love
adventure and
late nights
filled with smiles
i don’t want to hide
anymore
i’d rather fly
to a far away mountain
and scream
at the top of
a blue peak
i’d rather explode
with virtue
like a light—
a star
who has met
it’s end
i don’t want to love you
anymore
i don’t want
the sun to fall
i don’t want
my coffee to go cold
or my cigarettes
to wage war
on my lungs
but there’s little to do
when the universe
twists
in it’s inevitable ways
Jun 9, 2012
Jun 9, 2012 at 6:18 PM UTC
x.
understand that nothing is real.
**
search for art in all that you see (for art is present in all things).
***
art is everything, nothing is real. we are left to conclude that art is nothing, nothing is art, or perhaps everything is nothing-which makes art more real than nothing, because it is in fact something.
xxxx.
when we smoked cigarettes in the alley way during winter, our backs against the cold brick wall; well, darling, that was art.
xxxxx.
you made poems and paintings and songs and dances, but i’d never seen anything more real (or perhaps less real) than the way your eyes looked when they were in love. and that, well that was the truest art there could ever be.
xxxxxx.
understand that your love is everything, and everything is art, but nothing is real, or art is nothing. my words will never quite be right, but your eyes in love were the rightest thing that never existed -(or existed more than anything).
May 21, 2012
May 21, 2012 at 8:17 PM UTC
“how do I look today
was it worth holding my hand?”
*“darling,
i’m holding the hand
of all of my dreams
you look perfect
don’t doubt a thing”*
he spoke in poems
always told her
she was beautiful
dipped her back
parallel to the ground
when he kissed her
like they were always
in a black and white movie
he bought her diamonds
and never let go
while she slept
at the park one day
his hand shook in hers
and he said simply
“darling,
i’m a woman
the operation is tomorrow
if you leave
well, you leave
but my love will never die”
she looked at his beard
and his old green eyes
she decided then
not to let love cry
*“darling,
dont you grieve
tomorrow you’ll look
the same to me
i’m holding the hand
of all my dreams
you’ll look perfect
don’t worry about a thing”*
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 5:45 PM UTC
our brains are only
soggy ventriloquist creeps
who never leave home
May 17, 2012
May 17, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
If I held your palm to my heart in the moonlight
would the soon-to-be sunlight matter much?
We could only whisper and never speak aloud,
stay forever underneath where nobody can see.
As long as your lips are mine to taste, no amount
of darkness could overcome our time spent in the night.
The curve of your neck I know is lonely,
your hands cold, eyes tired, and your lips dry.
I’ll cure you in the night, forever whispering
the world’s best kept secret to the bare dark.
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 3:10 PM UTC
the way you wanted me
is too much to bear
now
my shaking hands
and solemn acceptance
are gone
i just want you
the look in your eyes
the guttural moans
the way you said
“make love to me”
is always haunting
in my time of need
and
i go back to when
my lips were hot
on your bare skin
cry out
and continue
to wish forever
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 3:09 PM UTC
it turns autumn and
leaves fall and spin-
nature’s dancers
graceful and neurotic
who seem to make love
to earth
as the inner manifestation
of my every thought
and yearning
naturally,
how could i keep
you off of my mind
my soul did not teach my body
how to **** relentlessly
like the summer heat
All i want to do
is make love to you
swiftly and gently
just as the leaves fall to the ground
i will fall to you
you will fall to me
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 3:09 PM UTC
there she sits behind the trees
alone
with her book and the leaves
just like me
they fall to her with
the rain
but i won’t
though i know she is my soulmate
like all the others
she coughs and i wish i could be the air
stale in her eyes, in her lungs
beneath her ribs where it’s soft
she is me
i am her
watching that flowing sun
ripple on its surface
cowering at the sky’s laughter
she is my soulmate
the sky chuckles and says
“aren’t they all?”
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 3:08 PM UTC
this is a poem because i say it is
i could imagine that once you thought the same words
with perfectly bleach-white blinds
letting flawless streams of morning sunlight in
maybe a smile on your face and a boy in your arms
these words are what I put together, okay?
they’re all i have when the sky is dark and the clouds are moving
in that too-fast way
and I need somebody to hold me but never ask
this is a ******* poem because I say it is
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 3:07 PM UTC
If I told you about when
I tried to flip my car
at three in the mourning
in a field that would
be an accommodating
burial ground
(which was all too ironic)
I think maybe
grass would grow faster
or just turn yellow
like it always does.
If I told you about
the time I lay face down
in a rain puddle
on my old playground
where I once
was pushed to the concrete
by a sad and angry boy,
I’d be left to think
that maybe I’ve taken his place
and kicked my own self
to the black pavement
laughing into
a ***** water pool
breathing in hilarious defeat.
If I told you about
when I climbed my roof alone
and smoked my first cigarette
jolly and wild and new..
I can’t help but think now
that I was low and not high.
I stumbled back into the warmth
of my room
dizzy off of this new sickness
that is no longer new
and is quite yellowing and calloused
on my fingers.
If I told you about
the first time I drove at night
sad and angry like the boy and me,
I think that I would chuckle
at how
I tried to flip the car over
so many years ago
quite halfheartedly
and how I am the same always
in the most laughable way
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 3:06 PM UTC