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I know that I will at times struggle for words…or even use too many to say too little.  Expect this. It is part of me. I will try to connect myself to the world, to circumstance, to people, with words. I attempt to stitch my fingertips to what I touch, see, and feel, with what I say. I attack with words. I defend with words. I seek, run, build and dismantle with words. There is sometimes in me a necessity for silence. But it does not come often enough. Why? It is because I fear it. I fear what silence means, because words are tangible, hey can be defined, put in boxes, made to be straight or curved, applied in context, and analyzed even for meaning separate of context. But silence? Silence can mean so many things.  There are clues with softer edges that require much more foreknowledge to obtain. Silence can be shaped by emotion into something in the mind of the beholder that it is not to the one who sits quiet. Words too can be misconceived, but with words, things are definable and misconception is almost always evident to one or the other. With silence, misconception is often left in ignorance. Both the silent and the listener are unaware of the other’s thoughts and intentions with silence. Silence is at least as powerful a tool as words.  They may both change the courses of lives. There is a time for silence and for speaking. But it is my mind which fails to know when silence is more necessary, because my mind almost by nature uses words to explain or ascribe meaning to almost everything and anything I experience.  See how long this single entry is? To explain words and their role and importance to me I am using words, because in my emotions, words are bridges, and silences are those bridges burning.  I am using words, but I will learn to use silence.
Jan 2013 · 484
truth two
And then society started splitting truths like hairs and blurring bold lines into itty bitty discrepancies that make the world go round – only a little bit differently than you would think – they started talking more and meaning less, using words that were meaningless and hiding what they meant from themselves in a massive mess of words that make no sense under the surface – they started running from the truth without even knowing they were moving – they thought they had it in their hands, but turns out it was a trick of the light – the senses that were their only source of inference.
Jan 2013 · 795
transitions
she... she left me callous and cold, ripped raw and alone, ....you...you spoke radio wave words that embedded themselves in my skin, took time to sink and burrow in, I, I made promises that shuffled into the sketched edge skyline, my lifeline, I, screamed promises at God.
In the beginning there was truth, unhindered and un-splintered
obvious and obviously good, remember?
then entered a serpent who'd had his ego injured
he spoke words more smoothe and sly than  eve's ears had ever heard

Speak Truth!

Since then the disharmony is harmin me
dissonance is dissin me in totality
breakin me apart my heart is split into
two - count em two- duality
******* the vitality right outta me
leaving me wounded and without a dynamic melody to sing in metaphysical reality

It's not just a fable see-
they're trying to change me, chain me
trying to tame me, train me

I AM BEING DOMESTICATED.
I am being transformed from the true but hated
into the shallow form of the antiquated
into little mix and match mutt, play nice, look better than ever, half true whole lie
source of more than a little disturbing shoe leather

I AM BEING WALKED ON.
I AM DONE.
Is this our only season? Have we by jaded hearts and mediocre reason
Undone ourselves at the seams from each other, unraveled all that we used to be
I knew things were changing but I didn’t know that they were disintegrating
Is this our only season? Is this how it all ends?  
Will you be another person I never forget, but who I never get to love the same again?
Have those hardass roses in the garden that spent forever too scared to bloom but doing a hell of a job surviving - have they just died?
Have the colors gone from my heart like they did when I lost the color in my eyes?
Is this our only season? Will we turn out to be perennial lovers?
Or maybe even lovers that bloom in rarity once in so many years – twice in a lifetime if lucky?
My pen has no eraser
its end inks over my soft skin
etching errors over the places I've been
inscribing the essence of the sins I've sinned
My poems saved me
like tattoos that allow me to
explode poetry into the external
to be remade, remodeled
like a sprinkle of ink syllables
creative release in the form of an ink fit.
I'd leave it if I could, I'd want to and I would.
But simply I can't stand and that's the stance I’ll take.
And its how I get by day after day .
my poems save me.
Begging to have our eyes opened
we spend our days prayin or smokin
Sayin wer'e looking for something higher, higher

We walk on solid ground just as timidly
as the ripples  rippledthrough the Galilean sea
broke scared
broke scared around peter and Jesus' feet

write deep music deep music  
but we won't ever sing it in public
because we're afraid that we'll find
that when it hits the ears of the audience
it won't be worth the words we spent

the truth is

we look for
the Sermon in the suicide -
moral in the ****** of five

the truth is, the truth is
sometimes it's hard to find
Inspiration and two lines from a quote by joan didion
Begging to have our eyes opened
we spend our days prayin or smokin
Sayin wer'e looking for something higher, higher

We walk on solid ground just as timidly
as the ripples  rippledthrough the Galilean sea
broke scared
broke scared around peter and Jesus' feet

write deep music deep music  
but we won't ever sing it in public
because we're afraid that we'll find
that when it hits the ears of the audience
it won't be worth the words we spent

the truth is

we look for
the Sermon in the suicide -
moral in the ****** of five

the truth is, the truth is
sometimes it's hard to find
Native American necklaces, doing a dance on that neck of his
The wolf and the eagle entwining in lovely loyal leather bindings
The eagle with clay in his claws like prayer he won’t let go of
Empty air in the teeth of the wolf but his hope to be filled feels enough
Scars raked through your lion’s pride but hidden by your mane
You’ve got Native American necklaces that look like mine but I don’t even know your name
Absorbed in tribal metaphor, enthralled by nature’s sound
Bowed with face and hands and knees to dirt, but your roots aren’t in the ground
I see you beg to understand, I see you beg for touch
And leaves reach out and jump from trees, it’s enough but it isn’t much
They brush your skin like the fingers of a long lost lover
One you remember from a time before you were born from your mother
And you, You beg for more and bathe in a waterfall
as with the water cracking on the cliffs
you see your heart beat apart, reminding you of the gift
the name you were given, written
on a white rock,  living
inside you from the beginning, spinning your head
as you realize you are
alive
and it’s written across your spine in indelible ink
and every step you walk is another breath that you take
grinding it deeper into the bones in your back

the wolf isn’t always white and black
his fur tends to be gray
but the eagle
is two
colors
On the day he falls and the day he flies away
CRITICISM AND QUESTIONS WELCOME, I WANT TO MAKE THIS ONE INTO SOMETHING I CAN BE PROUD OF.
Is there any such thing as always?
For sure forever is a fairy tale, or so i thought
broke down after my best attempts at building bridges
so i could still
walk all over them
and then
had my eyes Un-jaded by a jagged re-creation
so that i could see all the blazes that i left in my wake
all the floods of fire that i set for my own sake
realized i had forgotten that there is always one
always. . .
that there is for sure just one forever
Oct 2012 · 454
what is this feeling?
she still makes my chest burn
but this time it's not warmth, it's fire...
Oct 2012 · 1.9k
Lazy sunday
it's one of those lazy Sundays where your stomach is full
you are
almost content in your procrastination
you are
just happy to digest
your day
and your weekly home-cooked meal
but you still know that there is
work to be done
an echo in the back of your mind keeps saying
(do it tomorrow... tomorrow..tomorrow)
Oct 2012 · 1.8k
Confirmation
when the lighting lights up yellow,
It tells me that I haven't lost my thunder.
She has
eyes like the sky and aspirations to match
she says
"guys like to lie" and "I'm not a catch"
she is
only half right but
she could
never be farther from the truth
she will
one day touch the sky but first
she has to
lay down roots
Oct 2012 · 730
Not much meaning
Eyes wide open
I am awake
and i lay back
and i type
these short lines
with no meaning attached
besides the moment that
my fingers hit the keys
Oct 2012 · 518
How to write love
One day I will figure out how to
write
LOVE
without using just four letters
Always
and
Forever
Are two words
that I can only believe
when it is YOU that says them.

Forever
and
always.
A plate of french fries so greasy they were soggy
(ew, ew, ew)
Three half green oranges
A bowl of trix cereal half the size of my head
Most
(but not all)
Of a Mayfield toffee bar
The definition of eating on a whim
Those starving kids i keep hearing about
probably would've eaten the toffee bar right down tothe stick
(maybe the stick too)
and perhaps even the orange peels
then licked my the plate clean
when I
left
peels
ice cream
some ketchup on my plate
milk in my bowl
and complained
in my mind
the whole while
about how the fries weren't crispy
the toffee bar was cold and hurt my teeth
the oranges got their sticky juice on my hands
the trix milk at the bottom had too much of the cereal left in it so the texture was just a tad off

I eat on a whim
they can't even eat enough to avoid being emaciated
There's some thinking to do. . . i think
Oct 2012 · 728
My forced devotion.
What's on my mind? It's hard to pin myself to paper, to pen myself to paper, in a forced manner, bound by fetters, but remember later, the resistance is better, the nurturing of my underside, written in fine lines, they are not wasted time. They are lifelines.
                     The letters are lifelines. The essence of my devotion. Moving in motion. Like the color of my pen, matches the color of the ocean, and the scribbles on the paper match the rhythm and the notion. I understand, it's understood, It's unavoidable but I'd avoid it when i could, escape it. Break loose. Unchain myself. free to wallow in the more comfortable chains i smelt.
Oct 2012 · 934
The wordless girl
The wordless girl
she has a voice
It's spoken in
the way she moves
her eyes look so
absolutely hungry,
the sweep of
her tongue across her lips
even when she's silent
she moves her hips
against mine
making melodies
in time
to
rhythm
that feels
so wrong it's
rhyme
There just isn't a love song that says what I'd sing
There just isn't a melody to match what I mean
when I say
There just aren't words that aren't cliched
There just aren't voices that haven't replayed
It just couldn't be written by a pen low as mine
It just couldn't be written, Though surely I've tried
Sep 2012 · 780
An insane urge
An urge
to fall on my face in the embers
scoop them up in my palms to give me scars that I'd remember
To Pray
God would take his very fingertips
rip open my chest
and throw my heart at the nearest star
because that kind of surrender
that kind of sacrifice
is much too far
when all I can think about is how far
I've fallen,
from what I thought He wanted me to be.
Consume me with warranted zealotry.
I am tired of praying But not feeling.
I am tired of doing and not being.
Release me from all I can't break free from.
God what I'd give for her goodnight kiss
a menagerie of midnight looks and licks at her lips
a motley mix of *** and sensual slips between her hips
If only for tonight my face could caress her fingertips
If her chestnut and champagne tresses could traipse across my silhouette
If i could have the privilege to be powerlessly entranced by her eyes like on the day we met
God what I'd give for her goodnight kiss
If before sleep our mouths could be the strings, I'd be her marionette
Sep 2012 · 759
Don't really know.
Tryin to figure out what’s captivating me
What captivating means
Tryin to figure out
What scintillating
How senses feel to seem
Tryin to figure out
What’s enchanting
Captured
Captivating me
Sep 2012 · 678
I feel sideways.
I feel sideways
Like I’m melting on the page in
Horizontal lines
That fluctuate to match the edges of my mind
As it attacks itself in subtle ways
That are easily mistakable and even harder to trace
I feel sideways
Like the smile on my face
With it’s crooked teeth and smirked edges
All fakes
Are falling right here on the page
I feel  sideways
Sep 2012 · 1.5k
Temporarily untitled
Not at all confident in where I stand
Not at all full of any fully formed ideas on the matter at hand
I am unsure
That I am
Who I think I am
That I am
What my hands create by their actions
If I am forming my own dissatisfaction
I
Get lost
In the
Mazelike craters and crannies of my wandering and cynical mind
As it fluctuates to attempt to avoid the pattern of divine
Revelation that just might bring my doubt, wandering, and day to a point of
Disintegration,  I suppose this is a twisted and muddled form of self alienation
Maybe. . . Or am I mistaken?
Aug 2012 · 1.6k
insanity personified
I asked you what your dreams were, you said they always change
I asked you how that could be, you said they're different everyday
I asked you what your biggest dreams were, the ones i've never known.
You say you want to marry me- here i am, mind blown.

It's sort of a shocking reality
I never thought I'd be with a girl like you
let alone be with YOU.
It's insanity personified.
I thought it could never happen.
told myself it couldnt.
But it has.
and in very drastic ways.
i miss talking to you like i miss writing
their absence is frightening
like something inside is only just alive
like over time it 's fading...
like my reflection in your eyes as i'm forced to walk away
i say
we have our lives ahead of us
but that don't dictate what the distance does to us
I'm afraid of this
Aug 2012 · 1.5k
Goosebumps
contrary to what one would expect by name
watching goosebumps makes me laugh
Aug 2012 · 642
Morning glories
I saw morning glories in the morning
white and full of pride
purple crowns around their green stem necks
alone, but not lonely
in a cotton field where i ripped up roots
and uprooted rocks

I saw morning glories in the afternoon
tired and a little pale
purple crowns looking like they needed a bit of polish
solitary, not brooding, but thoughtful
in a cotton field where the sun beat down on me
and i refused to bow

i saw morning glories in the evening
withering and dying
almost dead, looking for heirs to their crowns, but finding none
melancholy, but somehow still solemn in the stark heat
in a cotton field  where beauty i did meet
and speak of here and now
Aug 2012 · 571
temporarily untitled
losing you feels like
the absence of a long present friend
a year long storm that out blew it's wind

you'd think i'd notice more often
that the clouds are gone
then too, you'd think the sun shines
perhaps not, perhaps again
Jul 2012 · 697
sinking in the blue
not neath cerulean skies,but sinking
drowning in the thoughts im thinkng
here again the lonely night,
again the questions plague and plight
and when in honest answers come, i speak and after all i've done
look back and wish that i'd not spoke, for tears i've spilt and hearts i've broke
and passions flamed and suffocate
and enter in to no escape
but here i sit and ask i none,
the skie dark blue, not cerulean
Jun 2012 · 337
memories
See what you left me with? Do you? It took me a long time for me to see...you left me. with everything. Right here. All of it. Took nothing with you...except maybe the memories...the one thing I wish I could be sure you didnt leave.
Jun 2012 · 466
you make me sick
You make me sick
What you did to me won't let me go
And I'm just supposed to act
Like i never needed you to take it all back
But you did it
And you didn't
Ever think of what itd make me
You make me sick.
Jun 2012 · 813
the worst kind of theft
Just not my best friend anymore...
It just isn't so
But these vagabond feelings I feel
They just wont go
You've still got some ****** up hold
I think in how you left
You steal the feelings I wish I could feel
It's the worst kind of theft.
Jun 2012 · 382
still got a hold on me
Bile in the back of my throat...
Fighting my past until I choke
I'll spit you out if I have to
Walk away from the wet spot you make on the pavement
And never look back
I can hope...
Why don't you just let go?
Jun 2012 · 391
drown me
Take me by the neck
Drown me
I won't make a sound
I didnt then
I won't now
Not even a whimper
It's simple
Finish me.
Hold me under until the
Struggling
                     Stops.
Tick....
              Tock...
Jun 2012 · 470
another thing just thinking
I thought
"you and i have what she and i lost"
It's not easy
to be sure of what I've got
there is
that sort of
spark
in my chest
not butterflies
but this
this is new...different...
this can take my breath.
It's been far too long and I've been living in my chest
suffocating in blood from the wounds that she left. . .
and for a time i had forgotten you had watched
(buried it more like)
but when i remembered...
that on a day many months ago...you didn't go
when i wanted to
disappear
you held me there...
in your driveway..
almost from third person, i watched my self
break
in YOUR
arms...
you keep telling me i didn't deserve it...
you said it'd be okay

and baby..the irony of that
isn't lost on me today.
I am contradiction, confliction,
I am human.
Misconception
I had me but i lost me
stared at my reflection
inflection
in my voice
misguides your misdirection
mistakes
made by choice
a past without correction
this is my self infliction,
I am contradiction, confliction
i never learn my lesson.
Jun 2012 · 3.7k
M.S. Capulet
M.S. Capulet it's time to be honest with my self
time to wash my chest out
come clean about all I've really felt
This isn't perfect, isn't close,
but neither was the romance that Speare wrote
feel like a fairytale frog with words stuck in my throat
been trying to speak what i feel but so far only just croak
                    Let me be your romeo...

Dove, you remind me what it's like to fall in love
at midnight like a Montague
you make me want to
throw pebbles at your window
come over late on nights like this when i don't know
because you would't say and you fell asleep
(you thought this might just be a summer thing, some sort of fling)
But I'd do almost anything
to keep you Juliet
no regret, no joke
         I don't think there ever were words big enough for this hope. . .

And the two lovers they were starcrossed
just like my fingers when we started "us"
that night we stargazed but i guess I'm just
afraid we'll shatter into stardust
he climbed but
she would have jumped if he asked
that's us
we're trying to get over our past. . .

I'm not gonna pretend i don't think about the past
that i don't sometimes wish it, but that's just it
we've got this chance and i'm not gonna miss it
we've got this time and i'm not gonna twist it around
I've got an ugly purple scar across my heart, will you kiss it now?
It's been far too long trying to get this off my chest
but let's write our own tragedy,
       hell, romance is a mess, miss. . .
notice, beginning M.S. is not ms. It is my girlfriend's initials, but the similarity helped inspire how i ended the last stanza.
Helpless to reject you when you call for help
pick up because i'm powerless to do anything else
beg for some kind of insight into this insanity
manage to hold my breathing half way steadily
speak in calm tones, gentle, to console
you're crying - and you have no way of knowing
what that still does to me (it cuts me)
The whole time i call myself helping, offering an ear, a shoulder
something to hold onto when your world is blown apart-
this tightness in my chest, a consistent catch in my breath
an ache, a longing, not something i can explain
but it has words of it's own - and i know what it would say
"i still love you, I'm sorry"
this conversatuion serves to make me smile and mar me
unspeakably

(click.)
(dial tone. . .)
I still love you, I'm sorry
screamed at the top of breathless lungs
you tear away from me and all i want is to touch you
open the door and in an instant slam it behind you
I recoil in spasms, near madness
so overtaken with emotion that i am shaken
into violent paroxysms
I frightened the hell out of you i think
kicking, slamming my body into the door
through the empty space where only seconds before
you sat
and
I watched you walk away
(I wish i didnt know you went to cry in the bathroom...)
and when you're gone, in silence, after the storm, i still do
I'm sorry, but i still love you
I'll whisper
whisper when the wind picks up
I still love you, I'm sorry

I never have been good at reading lips
but I hope this is something we don't share
as you stand there
windblown hair,
with nothing on your face
I hope you understand
this time I'm going, I have no choice
life has made it for me
I'd take you with me if i could
and so I'm sorry
I'll whisper
whisper when the wind dies down
I still love you, I'm sorry
I might have lived lies
But
I won't die one.
May 2012 · 529
Healing the differences
you might be clever, but you can never,
come close to me, ever,
you are silk and I am leather.

Eviscerate, obliterate, break
and it's too late
wounds can be stitched up
But the edges never line up quite the same
May 2012 · 369
When you're hungry(10w)
when you're hungry
A few spare cents
can change everything.
May 2012 · 856
Black diamonds?
All, nothing, or the next best thing
something, waiting, or living my dreams
They aren't black diamonds, just shiny black coal
Each with it's exception, each with it's hole.
two with their benefit, one with it's beast
none of them docile, and all filled with teeth.
Hungry and hurtful and all double-edged
And here i am standing, perched on a ledge
glance down, inhale, and take it all in
Too many ways i could lose, but only two I could win
So do i stand here still and stiff
or do i step, fall off this cliff?
May 2012 · 550
Fill in the ( )'s
I will write another page
to entertain, turns out this is a stage
and the audience isn't all the crowd that listens
(only a few of them pay attention)
to what i say and what i don't
the message i speak and when i leave ( )( )( )'s
In my words
If you care, you'll fill them in your self.
But i doubt you will, you're probably like everyone else
(if i expect it I can't be let down)
please, someone raise my expectations
It's not easy where I'm waiting
(because it's real, and real,real  low.
May 2012 · 429
Trail of tears
and
       the words
                         t
                           r
                              a
                               ­ i
                                   l

                                    d
                                   o
                                     w
                                     n
                                          the page,
                                                             like
                                                                dripping
                                                                               tears .
                                                                                              .
                                                        ­                                              .
                                                               ­                                          they
                                                                                                             probably
                                                                                                                       will .
                                                               ­                                                                    .
                                                             ­                                                                             .
                                                          ­                                                                                  for
                                                                                                                                               years.
May 2012 · 823
Forgetful?
I'll pretend that i forget
If you'll stop pretending you forgot
But you won't
so this is pointless
Just forget it
(It should come natural)
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