Whispers of a dream
Turn into silent screams
Still, somehow heard
Maybe

Maybe I’m intimidating
With all that brazen speculating
On what I see in he and me
And what I think we could be
Maybe I am just annoying
And altogether too adoring
Who knows what the reason be
That he is so thoroughly
Uninterested in me

It would take acknowledgment
Whether it came
Or whether it went
Something sure must be sent
But not yet
Maybe
Never

Beautiful muse
What I do to you
Permissionlessly
I bend you and shape you
To the will of me
According to who
I imagine you’d be
I wonder what you think
Of what I think I see
Maybe someday
You will tell me

What could it be
Slowly, slowly
Too slow
Maybe
Who knows
How it’s s’posed to be?
Not you
And definitely
Not me
Maybe we

I have a good life
If you’re paying attention you see
I don’t need anything you could give to me
Materially
I suspect, though
I could gain a lot from you
Spiritually
At least as much as
You could gain from me
Maybe we’ll see
Maybe we’ll see

At this moment I am at Peace
With what we will never be
Maybe
But I’m still not really free
Do I have to stop wanting
And trying
To be at Peace?
Is Peace only found when it’s in the past
Or can I still try?
And remain at Peace
Is trying the opposite of being at Peace?
How can I accept what may never be
When there’s still so much of that “may”
In me?

Imperfection within myself
Present, surely
But you ain’t gonna make me see
When you say it meanly

Maybe I’ll run out
One day
Spent of words
No more
Poetry
Left in me
There’d probably be no more
Me left in me
Either

Do the old starlets
Envy Sharon Tate?

You want to know
If you hurt my soul
If I sit and pine for you
Not sure why you're asking
Or why you care
Cuz I know you don't pine for me too
At least not in a normal way
Where you miss and long and wish to stay
You are such an attention queen
You want me to write you poetry
It seems to be
That you only like immortal me

I could get preachy
About cleaning out the trash
But it’s not my garbage
And nobody here is mess-free
Including me

There it was
The Word
Undeniably unpopular
But true
Sorry the burden to say it
Had to fall on you

Giving in is not giving up

With you
You carry the
Mighty Pen
Live a thousand lives
Within the Mighty Pen
Obscurity to mainstream
Back around again
Magic in perpetuity
Within the Mighty Pen

I feel like I can’t truly call myself a poet
If I haven’t used the word “petrichor”
In a poem before
So here it is
My official entry
Into the poetry “industry”

C’mon Baby
Bring me there
You know where
On the journey from
Your mind
To mine
And maybe back again
Created with a pen
And then it takes me back
A thousand times again
Begging for attention
Never enough
There will ever be
You are like a drug to me

I am defiantly
Expecting a miracle
Who the **** I think I be?
Worthy?
Why not me?  
I strived real hard
Deservedly
That’s how it seems
To me
Feeling worthy
But it depends upon
What you believe
Which, frankly
Is not a knock on me
I am still worthy
Regardless of what you see
Miracle-lessly

At first
I thought writing poetry was personal
My feelings
Just mine
Written and brought out
But now I see it’s
Really got nothing to do with me
It’s the reader who feels it
That makes it poetry

I didn’t write this poem for you
I wrote this poem for me
But in every poem I write
Someone, somewhere
Will see
A part of themself
In what I saw in me

True genius
Seems to be
Annoying
People get overplayed
Especially the best
Become a cheap joke of themselves
Being best
Lends itself to characatarichsaurs
An ancient, magic mirror curse

He quoted Miss Piggy
It was the corniest thing I ever did see
But just call me Kermit
A frog who happens to love corn on the sow
Eating it
With only frog teeth
I don’t like to bite when I’m ******* my meat

I used to blame you
For who you pretended to be
But now I blame me
For who I wanted to see

My mistakes
Aplenty
Exist because of me
Behaving foolishly
Some I’ve managed to rectify
Most don’t have that possibility
Time will not reverse itself
And I cannot make it not a part of me
I have no defense for my stupidity
Living in the memory
Of those I’ve wronged
Including myself
This faulted, ugly mess
And so what if I confess
Years after it’s relevant
Maybe if I learn from it
A mistake is
Somehow
More innocent

He wasn’t a mistake
He was a mis (ter)
I couldn’t take

At one point
Long ago
I thought you were the smartest guy
I ever did know
Now
Years down the road
I read our old messages
And see how much I’ve grown
What a fool I used to be
Falling for those tired lines
And lies
Yet, I can’t help but be so **** happy
About all those lessons you
Didn’t mean to teach me

Sometimes it is a curse
To be a blessing

It’s not nothing to me
Who knows what you see
Or don’t
It must be a pull of some sort
Felt in the tide
Whether you pay attention
Or not
I probably lie
Imagine you see
All this poetry
And it makes you feel
So ******* ****
You muthafuckin’
Beast

It’s in your aura
It’s in your eyes
It’s sitting up between your thighs
It’s locked
It’s loaded
It’s sugar-coated
With that mojo
Over-bloated
Got me singing to the breeze
Begging won’t you
Please PLEase PLEASE!
Get yaself between my knees

I see in you
The beautiful moment
A person finds their passion
The flame has been lit
And I got to witness it

You witnessed it all
Til it turned to smoke
All the effort
Nothing gained
Lost is time, and maybe confidence
Only ashes remain
Along with this sooty stain
I have no right to complain
But here I do, anyway
All the liberties I take
You gave me none
For goodness sake

The demons
In your dreams
Only happen
When your dreams come true

Poetry is honesty
Dipped in
Chocolate
Or poo
Depending on the poet’s mood

She is pock marked, scarred
And alienated
So misunderstood
Often, celebrated for her beauty
Scars ignored
Crater pimple face
Injuries
Spotlighted
Unforgiving
It’s like staring at the fattest person in the room
And celebrating the rolls
If only we human beings
Could see other people
And ourselves
With the same loving bias
With which we view the moon

The man in the moon is no pretty boy
He’s a pock-marked
Grown man
Stuck in his
Reclusive teenage habits
Relying on his Mother Earth to keep
Him around
Which she does

At arm’s length

You didn’t break my heart
You taught me to
Protect it
Thanks
I guess

So many things without which
Would be a big deal
Assumed
Reliably
What could anyone hope for
More than necessity?

Now that you’re on my radar
You are suddenly
EVERYWHERE
That guy has your name
That guy has your frame
And that other guy has your ****** hair
I’m currently being haunted
By all these reminders of you
You’re practically omnipresent
Like no mere mortal should be able to do

I don’t respect you
Or any of your views
You’re a ******* of the highest order
But your poetry is brilliant
Which messes with my mental border
How can I possibly
Love poetry
Saying such ******* things?
But you’ve got some kinda magic
In the play of your words
The ring of your chords
Which make the absurd
Rhyme
Just this one time

What can I say?
You grew on me
Like moss
I suppose
******* off
The tree

I’m not worried about you
My care is more personal
You’ve proven your chops
You’ve got it all
Choices, especially
You’re probably
Mostly right
For not wanting me
And the nutty ride
That might turn out to be  
But the good news is
I’m also not worried about me

I am moth
You are flame
One of us will never be the same
I suppose it's more dangerous for me
But wings
Create wind
Though who's to say
Extinguishing a candle
Doesn't set it free?

Our Mother
She keeps telling us
Opening sinkholes
Creating gusts
We continue endlessly
Work her bones
Milk her body
Mother will give
Maybe
But some mothers
Abandon a naughty baby

No direction
Cooperative weather
Nature’s broom
Coming through
Out with the old
In with the new
Windy days
Can be used by you
To send negativity away on the wind
Through intention
And believing that’s what
Mother Nature can do

The motivator
Has a thankless task
Nobody wants a kick in the ***
Rolling eyes
Loud sighs
Lots of whines and whys
Poor motivator
Can't make it no more
Now jumping off
Fifth story floor

It was over before it began
Clearly not part of the plan
But the way it is
Is the way it will be
I won't blame you
If you don't blame me

Well we're movin' on up
To the east side
To a deluxe apartment in the sky
Movin' on up
To the east side
We finally got a piece of the pie
Fish don't fry in the kitchen
Beans don't burn on the grill
Took a whole lotta tryin'
Just to get up that hill
Now we're up in the big leagues
Gettin' our turn at bat
As long as we live, it's you and me baby
There ain't nothin' wrong with that
Well we're movin' on up
To the east side
To a deluxe apartment in the sky
Movin' on up
To the east side
We finally got a piece of the pie

Mr. Fair Weather
He’s there whenever
Things are going your way
But soon rain will come
And that ***** ***
Will go find someone
Having a sunny day

I avoided your social media
For obvious reasons
It was pretty easy
We don't share any friends
A year went by
And then two
I finally ventured a peek at you
I don't know what I once saw
But it is no longer there
You used to be perfect
When I wasn't aware

Trying to write a poem with nothing to say
Hoping inspiration comes my way
Nope
Not yet
There is nothing,
I'll bet
But I force it to come
And be ** hum
Because ** hum is
Relatable
I could write about anything
Most of us know, but
Who hasn't hoed
A couple of hums
Typing hums out
On the tips of their thumbs?

Sometimes being corny can work
Sometimes it cannot
But corny is undeniable
And inexplicable
Known when it's seen
Without so much as a mugshot