The wind that shakes
the willow tree
That slowly bends
the rods and reeds
My iron bones
and sulphured soul
The roots grow fast and deep
I twist, I give
I stretch and flex
The bark, it groans
from sweet duress
I crave your touch
your whispers' true
Oh blow now, through my leaves
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 11:03 PM UTC
You end the static
Quiet all the noise inside
My head, now at peace
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 10:19 PM UTC
while I shove sleep
to the dark corner
i slip more
hard caffeine
through my blooded canals
and ponder
how
the cotton cloth'd
and pastel'd world
now opens up
before me
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 10:16 PM UTC
I have ignored the warning signs
teetering, all a' kilter
upon this precipice
to breathe, hard air
a gasp, of frigid life
tip into another one
trip into oblivion
my mornings are strains of
ichor from within
ochored bile an offering
to a porcelain god
an illness slinks
through these
capillaries
sandpaper stress
scrubs my marrow clean
to bleached
pale
bone
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 8:45 PM UTC
Now, I always wait
For the other shoe to drop
Good things aren't for me
But I fight these thoughts
Incumbent storyteller
Perhaps, he is wrong
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 11:49 PM UTC
color splashed upon living canvas
a Pollock'd dalmation
rippling stories speak on
madness
and
journeys
and
peace
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 11:41 PM UTC
I am a living memory of you
For as a sculptor
Slow and methodic with the clay
You have shaped and molded
My very being
And all can see
Your impassioned mark on me
A testament to kindness
Tried, and true
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 11:13 PM UTC
I ventured forth, again into the musty canyons
The dark, dank space that is
My past
Or more specifically
Ours.
A perusal reveals:
Hats in boxes, brims unmet by sun in ages
Creased shirts, bands' crests emblazoned bright
Clever titles scrawled in sharpie on silent CDs
And everything coated with brown hair
Crooked and curled as the smile
That I wear presently
Upon this journey
Upon further inspection:
Percussive rhythms, beats tattooed
Into slick skin
A laughing afterthought of intimacy
A private joke shared between us
Among many
The messy box:
Conversations held hostage by anger
Fueled on one side by deceit and fury at the world
While the other fights a war, at another's side: alone
Confusion racking both
Where once there was naught but desire
To care, protect, discover, and journey
Hijacked, a spoiled child upending a puzzle
That his insolence will never allow him the
Solace
Of completing
And the box that releases a torrent of whispers upon opening:
My name
Hands on knees, rage relieved in an instant
Your laugh
At my protruding tongue, a face fraught with focus
Poetry, lilted and simple
About the charm in how I climb stairs
Ending with the lessons:
To seek patience; with the large, and especially the small
To love fully; as they say, time flies
To face fear; naked honesty will conquer this
To rely on; there is no shame in support
To...
The grit of clenched teeth
Overcome by the solace of
Framed reality
I descend the shaking ladder
Leaving behind this echoing forrest
Mist clouded with
Shared impassioned melodies
I have sorted and cleaned enough
I will revisit from time to time
But. In practicing honesty:
I am a living memory of you
For as a sculptor
Slow and methodic with the clay
You have shaped and molded
My very being
And all can see
Your impassioned mark on me
A testament to kindness
Tried, and true
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 8:17 PM UTC
The marks on my arm
Now hidden, masked by color
History disguised
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 8:58 PM UTC
**** bookends
**** closure
**** the black and the white
**** the knots
Tied up neat
Cause that really ain't life
Life's messy
There's dirt
It's not simple and clear
It's the road
It's the journey
And the path you take there
Feb 10, 2019
Feb 10, 2019 at 9:59 PM UTC