you never asked to read my poetry
maybe that was the sign.
i told you i wrote for fun,
you shrugged and moved on.
Nov 6, 2020
Nov 6, 2020 at 4:35 PM UTC
If there is no dirt in the pockets, washing no sooner enables a selection of the same thing neater. If there is no kneeling or skidding or tattering there is no reason for making the exchange. A messy occasion makes the long climb worthwhile. Habitual, mandated, stains the ordered chaos of it all.
Sep 8, 2020
Sep 8, 2020 at 12:05 PM UTC
They will tell you
All poetry has been written
There is nothing new
Under the moon
But let me tell you
They don’t know you
You are as unique
As the DNA that exists
Within your frame
The ripples on your thumbprint
No one ever had the same.
Listen...
You have something to say
Say it proudly
Say it boldly
Never let them scold you.
Never let them make you go away.
Feb 20, 2020
Feb 20, 2020 at 8:01 AM UTC
She walked out of the watercolor storm of a fresco
Like a cowl-bound form in a light drizzle of rain,
Her mosaic tiles of ancient lovers’ eyes, ceramic-borne,
Just as her hips held the curves of the urn, kiln-fired,
The coiled heat of Greece still stinging through her flesh.
For her, the treetops had been the summoners of storm,
In kind, she poured down the wet grove of her hair, electral,
Pantheress of humid breath and fanged flair of lightning,
Tamed once in the cloudy cage of Pentelic marble of the Parthenon.
But the world piled dust before her, baiting with its groveled roads,
For her black mullings, much-tasted rain, and heaven’s leaves to fall.
If only the Michelango-to-come had carved the clouds of her
For the light to remain, shining its centuries,
Then maybe the thunder would have been left undone.
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 1:22 PM UTC
Lost yourself
Tossed yourself
Out the ******* door
Where you went
Who you are
Kicked across the floor
The one I know
The one I love
Is nowhere to be found
It’s like I took your heart
Ripped it out
And smashed it on the ground
It’s not my fault
I know I can’t
Control the way you heal
I never can
And never will
Feel the way you feel
Now you’re gone
You’ve lost your spark
I never want to call
I tried so hard
To keep you here
I gave my ******* all
Too bad
So sad
You had to go and change
Now it’s me who’s gone
I don’t feel bad
Was never playing games
Jun 4, 2019
Jun 4, 2019 at 12:55 PM UTC
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.
When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.
If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.
But most people don’t see it.
Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.
The poet lives in two different worlds.
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 1:06 PM UTC
You are the light of my life
My morning sun and my evening moon
I want to reach you and stay by your side
Too bad you’re just “not in the mood”
Too bad “you have better things to do”
Because the only thing I do
is think of you
I dream
of you thinking about me too
May 15, 2019
May 15, 2019 at 6:10 PM UTC
so I noticed that we both drink coffee.
just like anyone, we both like ours a certain way.
i like mine sweeter, with just the aftertaste of coffee there.
caramel, sugar, creamer.
i think about when i’ll have my next cup, and the idea of it alone makes me happy.
i don’t care what time of day i have it, i almost always have a cup.
i make time for my coffee.
it might be safe to say i think you like your coffee black.
you might add just the smallest touch to soften its bitter taste, but never too much.
sometimes i think you just pour it and carry on, as though it’s nothing important at all.
as though all it is, is just some quick fix.
like you just want to get it over with.
we drink it in two different ways.
i drink it slowly.
i note every flavor in every sip, i enjoy it.
i note the warmth it brings me.
i like it all hours of the day.
you drink it quickly.
quicker than me, at least.
you don’t care if it burns your tongue, or perhaps you’re used to the pain.
you accept it.
you never let it last, you move on to something else soon after.
i lay in your bed, watching your eyes as they skim the screen in front of you.
your mind is somewhere else.
i savor the moments you look my way, if even for a second, and smile at me.
i wonder if you even notice them.
i feel your laugh vibrate my bones, making the hair on my arms stand on end.
do i make you feel at all?
i reflect on it every time i drink my coffee.
i think about it with each and every sip, taking my time.
something tells me that you don’t do the same.
after all, it's just coffee.
but i put my all into this coffee.
i think you like your coffee black.
May 15, 2019
May 15, 2019 at 6:10 PM UTC
A hard hit.
Smoke hangs
low, slowly slithering
from a cracked smile.
Her vexed and vacant
visage is frozen
for a moment...
and her glossy eyes, glazed
with frigid gloom, dilate.
Expelling expired air
she hacks in exoneration,
as if some spirit's
clutch surrendered
her soul, shaking
her skeletal frame
in a passionate
fit of unbridled hate.
She relaxes in her recliner...
relief.
May 15, 2019
May 15, 2019 at 6:07 PM UTC