Pleased to Meet You: Poems

Pleased to Meet You Jul 2014

Your blue eyes are infections for each one of mine.
My double barreled siren.
Stop killing me with that look.
Piercing oceans slap against my
Sea side ribs.
Tangent truths are dead to me.
Your blue eyes make sense to me.

You are my guarantee.

Not no more

Pleased to Meet You Apr 2015

Not no more

She won't climb down from that hill.
She has nostalgia stuck in her throat.
It's left her voice rather hoarse.
She won't climb down from that hill.

Forced rhyming cannot dance.
It only struts, like a bandit in the night.
It steals all the important things:
It's in the words!

She made a home on that hill.
Sadistic how she could only think
of her own.
ALL!
A much needed detachment from the world;
she's tired.

The grass will eventually die.
Show me what doesn't.
I'll show you Adam and Eve,
post Sin.

She won't come down from that hill.
Not no more.
She not needed come down from that hill.
She's her own will.
She's her own hill.
Free!

obvious skin

Pleased to Meet You Apr 2014

obvious skin

I remember it all,
And that was the point.
I felt every infected scab
On my heart.
Bruised fingertips left their mark.
Your name screams within me.

There are black ghosts inside of me.
They leave their nails in my soul,
Broken off and bleeding through.
And to think
This,
This is all because of your name

off to war

Pleased to Meet You Dec 2014

off to war

These slick people dance as
If they're off to war;
Fighting because
instead of
A cause.
There's blood in that.
September's ribs break under my
Rotting hands.
I have to try before the moon
Runs
Runs
Runs away.
My corneas are tired of seeing
And choosing to twitch at the thought
That this moon...
This very moon belongs to anyone
Else but me and you.

Armies died for you;
Medals were rewarded on
That white hill.
They say God stood here once.
We did too.

I'm sure those bronze medals are worn
Proudly around your neck.

All those soldiers are dying or dead.
No real difference to this or that.
Armies fought for us.
The axis won.

Oh show us the way

Pleased to Meet You Jul 2014

Oh show us the way

I cannot create a universe within structure.
My child like hands are not up for the job.
Rhyming this and taking out that,
A poem is simply an idea left for the masters.
Only they can show us the way.
They are the best reflections of God.
Oh show us the way!

"I don't want to."

Perfect.

Old

Pleased to Meet You May 2014

Old

There is this man who makes me bleed
every day.
It doesn't make any sense.
Let it go they say.
I am five and I like the color blue.
Hazy but still, there it is.
You are a wingless angel, but still,
I look up to you.

Outside in July I remember you

Pleased to Meet You Sep 2014

Outside in July I remember you

We sat on the swing
and it was magic
because for that moment
my pain floated away
on top of those perfect
butterfly wings and into
the mid-day sun and as
it died I remember
that it was the second
most beautiful thing
I had seen on that
July day because as
remarkable as my sadness
dying in front of my
crimson eyes was I remember
looking at you and
knowing-not thinking-
that these years of walking
through that devils flames
would, in the end,
lead me to
you.
A muse.
All of this is true.

Permanent Wars

Pleased to Meet You Jun 2014

Permanent Wars

Wearing hard hats in permanent wars leaves irony trapped
between bricks.
Whimsical cement barrages the broken man,
as if God trembled on his throne of Gold.
Sadistic laughs echo out of a war torn time;
rivers of blood only flow in June.
A rag with embroidered initials dances in the sky,
only visible by the truths that it once told.
I swear I saw an angel in the sky.
The signature of man is only visible once the
rifles stop shrieking.
This humid day leaves hearts cold.
Once eyes set upon a hope gone black, all is lost.
Only the howling wind knows what we have done.

Petty

Pleased to Meet You Jul 2016

Petty

The wrong person
Might say the
Right words;
She's gone.

Faster than fast.
It isn't right.
In fact it's
Wrong. You lost.

quite, now

Pleased to Meet You Feb 2015

quite, now

You mix me into your life,
Like a secret to good to say.
Pitter patter,
A step here and a leap there;
You ***** it all out anyways.

The heart; it is your worst friend.
It is there and not, depending
On the lie untold.

Red Lighting

Pleased to Meet You Apr 2014

Red Lighting

I miss you

I miss you so much.
(But you were never there).
You forgot your clothes under my bed
(I found a piece of my heart under there)
It burns,
(Your gold necklace around my neck)
You left With a smile, a gamblers delight.
(But you were never there).

That wooden floor.
Those creaking voices under there.
They laugh at me,
They mock me.
You use to walk on that same floor,
There was a creaking in your throat.
You laugh at me,
You mock me.
(But you were never really there).

I think, looking back, you didn't try,
And that,
That was my crime.
There isn't a number to call for the lies you told.
No prison to put you in.
Just a rib cage
With a heart,
I will imprison you there.

riverboat suicide

Pleased to Meet You Jul 2014

riverboat suicide

Hate hides behind motherly kisses.
It festers deep within those gargoyle hisses.
It scabs over, but never truly heals.
The right person can unearth them,
Like time capsule seals.
Daddy, you were sometimes there, but always scared.
My father was a child before, until you became his thorn.
Concrete steps were your way into his heart.
Looking back, that idea wasn't very smart.
Those scabs in the past are left feeling damp.
They never truly heal and I feel like a *****.

road.

Pleased to Meet You May 2014

road.

There are rainbows trapped in
Colorless cracks.
Their color has been ****** out
By others.
For others.
The *** is empty.

Rust

Pleased to Meet You May 2014

Rust

I remember the baggage you had,
Tagged with everyone that
Hurt you.
There are miracles in there because
There you are.
Still standing.
Still a believer in heaven and hell.
The ******* can never know they
Did this,
To you.
Keep this secret stuck in your throat.
Cover your mouth!

It might escape,
Like your
Hope.

sand on my skin

Pleased to Meet You Jun 2014

sand on my skin

A tiny universe rest on my skin,
A reflection of Amber and gold.
Belly flopped jives and reaping
Good times exists in the howling
Wind.

Scab

Pleased to Meet You Apr 2014

Scab

We are better monsters

than humans.

Sediments

Pleased to Meet You Jun 2016

Sediments

You loved me as a volcano;
Unstable in your words.
Violent in your actions.
Hearts are left in sediments
This way.

She

Pleased to Meet You May 2014

She

She is engraved in my spine,
I'm unable to walk.
She is stuck in my throat,
I'm unable to talk.

But I can write
Type,
Put words together.
Structure my ideas.

I wish I didn't.

She's tired

Pleased to Meet You Jun 2014

She's tired

Look at the marks on her skin.
The way they tell her pain.
Slit and slash and blood on the brim.
The girl with no name,
Only a snark and a grin.

Lets find out more about her though,
before she becomes a shadow adrift a
raggedy ship.
Twenty-two, a reader, and a Jew,
A master of none, but yes,
a seeker of truth.
She did love this life, a great pretender she was.
Suicide never reveals itself, well, in itself.
It's always because of others.

The man of her nightmares found her.
The rest does not matter.

Tick and Tock, they both go hand in hand.
Her time had come, her time had come.
With a broken heart, but a precious smirk,
She took that blade and danced on her wrist.

Silence

Pleased to Meet You May 2016

Silence

Everything speaks through the silence,
Like family heirlooms
Or
Picture frames of a time
Belonging to your past.

Listen.
Through the nothingness of it.

It is the sound of the tides slamming inside of your head.

Say this or look at that or avoid this.
Your head is polluted.
It is years of humanity delicately turning your heart into stone.
It has become an immortal God, flawed in all its beauty;
In all its silence.
In all its truth.

Silence

Pleased to Meet You May 2016

Silence

The silence in the things
Left unsaid
Is a blanket of darkness.

It is covered in all those
Words stuck in your throat.
They were sentenced to life
In a rusting cell.

To die.

Sitting on a blue chair

Pleased to Meet You Apr 2014

Sitting on a blue chair

A colorful, impressive, innocent life,
Sprawled out on a glitzy boulevard.
Those eyes are yelling for acceptance.
Those eyes are asking for attention.
White and black; blue mixed in as well.
A child´s strength simply isn't there.
That's what a family is for
Here, have some of mine.

That's love
(Or something like it).

Blurry stacks filled with lively smoke seeps out of the gray sky.
Reminders of death and love are stuck to the walls.
Its stench is depressing.
Its mark is repulsive.
Even so, there is a ******* hurt within these walls.
Sadness rains from the silver sky, but so does hope.
Each death is comforted by love ones.
For every goodbye, there is a hello.
The reaper believes it to be fair.
It leaves me feeling scared.

I sit here in this hospital chair,
Waiting for my time to rest.
Eventually I'll get there with a smile on my face,
My loved ones will be there, and finally, I'll rest.

Slam

Pleased to Meet You May 2014

Slam

There is a rock stuck between my toes
It's gets sharper with every step
Yet when I go to remove it,
it isn't there.

There is a blade stuck on my tongue,
thats done its job too many times before.
Cuts can only be cut to a point
where what is left is only
the truth.

Pain sweeps through my chimney throat and
roars back out,
a music note is what emerges.
Out of hell comes a lesson,
but before that comes
his voice.
His name.
His tongue.
His touch.

That's the rock stuck between my toes.
That's the reason the blade is pointless now.

slash

Pleased to Meet You Apr 2014

slash

I would bleed if you
Asked,
Every.
*******.
Day.

When they think
Of my innocent blood
Dried on the floor,
I'll be a rusted God.

This blood,
It reads,
"It's not me, it's you."

Some false ideas are truths for others

Pleased to Meet You Jul 2014

Some false ideas are truths for others

You have fangs as sharp as your wit.
My Delicate lips tremble at the sight of you,
But not at your aesthetic.
You broke me at seventeen.
Dried me out at twenty-five.
This false idea of you felt rather true.
Like most things, I chose to see my truth.

Tasteless sass filled with dreaded plights of mine.
Pockets full of dried receipts from a time that has died.
I tremble at the thought of you now.
Death wrapped in silk sheets.
That's the death for me.

spaghetti

Pleased to Meet You Jun 2014

spaghetti

Blue faced God,
He's Melted on the ground.
My heart is trapped in a pod,
It's broken and left proud.

There is pain between my teeth,
Wrapped in marmalade sheets.
I'm unable to walk, or talk,
In my path are ****** defeats.

I was never young, buy always aware.
Unsure if those sticky truth were
Merely cracked lies, like the ones
Inside of me.

splinter

Pleased to Meet You Apr 2015

splinter

Divorce splits not only families,
But souls.
It leaves damage more powerful
Than a hurricane,
But,
Like a thief in the night,
It leaves no evidence behind.

That July Night

Pleased to Meet You Jul 2015

That July Night

The muddy dirt I walk on
Are the lies I've told.
*****, unashamed of the
Suicides in my head.
It's all been said.
All the moons are full tonight,
White with innocence.

The rain washes nothing away,
Only the surface lies.
They died there in that July night.
The night of my first suicide.

Enter date here.

The leaves on those trees are self
Sufficient, unlike most men.
The sons of God, the ******* of a
Society unwilling the see the
Lies I've,
we've told.
Say no more.
This is the death foretold.
The tree of death is here for you,
Unwilling to leave without your flesh.
This is the truest truth.

A death foretold.
A suicide, unashamed.

The death, in living, is here
For me,
For you,
For them,
For the *******.

The muddy dirt
That I walk on,
Paced only by the beat of the heart
I left on the moon all those years ago.

One pump.
Then another.
One more for show.
There's a joke in that.

The afterlife in this life

Pleased to Meet You Aug 2014

The afterlife in this life

I walk from a blue room to a red one.
I never know which one to sleep in.
One is for lovers.
The other is for pretenders.
Dance in either one, **** in only one.
One is the color of the sky, before hell approaches.
There other is the sky for a killer.
Ravaged innocence is spilled on my Atlas.
A tourniquet is wrapped around my heart now.

I looked up at the sky much too fast;
to early.
My neck is snapped by the sudden whiplash.
You were my blue sky; we danced.
Now you're the devil with no disguise.

The Cupboard

Pleased to Meet You Mar 2015

The Cupboard

I am put away in the brown cupboard,
Like a brave Greek soldier.
Those battles with love and
Longing: I'm there.
This constant stillness though;
This is a death.
I wait with my martyred eyes
Clutching at my leaders tiny pinky.
I'll never let go.
I am yours.
Till the death of me.

I have sawdust in my
Pockets.
That is enough for this
Bewildered soldier.

What is now and what was are
Irreconcilable to me now.
I am your brave Greek soldier.
Play with my when you need.
Kiss me when you're lonely.
**** me when the moon disappears
From your Vantage point.

Over time though, my chiseled Greek
Body will rust.
It to will become black
And then,
Only then,
Will you realize those brave grunts
A brave soldier has mastery of weren't cries of bravery, but of black Pain.

"This hurts" I'll say.
"I thought you loved me" you'll reply.
My queen, my leaders, my killer.

These scars are your scars.
This blood is your land.
Conquer everything in sight,
Except my heart.
That died a long time ago
In that old brown cupboard of yours.

The curb knows my love

Pleased to Meet You Jul 2015

The curb knows my love

Now tell me;
Whisper it softly into my skin.
Bite my lip and say its love.
Your rubber-like tongue
Seeps from mouth to lust.
Is this love?
Is that word more than the world
Can contain on this
Blurry night?
Those lies
Seep into my skin, like an
Infection.
Carres your skin onto mine;
Call it the love of the month.
Hang it for all to see.

The Doctor

Pleased to Meet You Feb 2015

The Doctor

Under the light between heaven and
my morbid body;
it's there.
The Doctor forgot the anesthesia.
The succession of my repression;
there is no one better.
He let me feel every inch of
the blade as he tried to perform
a miracle.

Truths are told for entertainment.

He cut me deep, deep, deep...
A single tear shoots out of my left eye;
I can't ever rest.

The virus is part of me now.
Oh how I pray for the times I knew
everything and nothing;
all at once.
I miss seeing everything in black and white.
It is all to vivid now.
I can't help but tremble thinking of those
times now buried in afternoon backyards.

The Doctor can see this, and so, so much more.
He finally understands now.
the operation never stood a chance in hell.
The anesthesia would have been a waste of time,
I suppose.

I wake up and feel nothing;
this time by choice.
I throw coins into that old fountain,
bronze over gold they say.
I wake up and feel it all;
this time by choice.*

I now sob with innocence as my backdrop.
It is always black and white.
The Doctor said this might happen;
everything and nothing equal suicide.

The faces of July

Pleased to Meet You Sep 2014

The faces of July

My love for you is a sin.
This medallion around my
neck burns me now.
It was a gift from a time that felt
as innocent as your skin once did.
The walls are marked red tonight;
I couldn't help playing God.
Pull this pink blob of mass
out of me.

God has made me from bottom to top.
He saved the last for worse.
He must have made me in July.

I still dream of you by mistake.
When I drive to work
there you are.
I see you in the tears that jump
out of me.

Sometimes, and only sometimes,
I honestly miss you;
but only in the heat of July.

This medallion
around my neck
is to heavy now.
I can't take it off.
It's burnt onto my
skin and the only
thing left to do now
is dance in the marsh
where I met you on
that warm night with
no name to it because
once I laid my eyes on
you I forgot all;
all but your eyes.

You're gone now,
just like the brightness
of July.

The gentle breeze.

Pleased to Meet You Jun 2014

The gentle breeze.

The gentle breeze of an imagined kiss,
ends with tears, breaking you bliss.
Imagined lovers in this time of mine,
manifest couples, unable to go through the grind,
of the greatest crime;
I have you heart, you have mine.
It's better than suicide.
It's better than life.
The love of another.
The lover of life.

The green night in July

Pleased to Meet You Aug 2014

The green night in July

He sliced me up in a way that meant love.
He killed what was left hidden beneath my bed.
There are dried fruit baskets from lovers I've yet to scorn.
Suicide, let me take a break.
You've become singular in a plural world.
Of course the flowers dance when you wear that summer dress.
They can't take that from you;
Not on this night, under the summer unknown.
Golden rewards pull on my hair, like a submissive ex lover.
It took my favorite brooch, my mothers white brooch.
It was given to me before I was reborn again.
Suicide, let me take a break.

The hillsides have dancers on them

Pleased to Meet You Jul 2014

The hillsides have dancers on them

I envy the shadow of a tree.
Oh how it dances every single day,
like clockwork; because it is.
Its green children in summer.
Its brown ones in fall.
All live and die multiple times.
No sleep for them, just white death;
black life.

The hurricane in me

Pleased to Meet You May 2015

The hurricane in me

There is a hurricane in me,
Leaving my organs,
My soul,
My essence in shambles.

I am in the eye of the storm now.

I can ready myself
For the next
Barrage.
Put up those palates
With rusted nails.
Scratch the linens on my organs.

Bleed, bleed, bleed!

I am in the eye of the storm.
The calm. The calm.
I can rest. It is a respite
From all.

You'll be back though.
I know this.
I won't be ready; I'll survive.
You might **** me though
With your god like winds
Devastating my insides.

I'll never be ready for this.
That's the point:
To be ready for anything means
That we know nothing.

My hurricane. My selfish tongue needs you.
You need me.
We need each other.
The calmness of death.

Die, die, die!

The oldest disguise

Pleased to Meet You Jul 2014

The oldest disguise

Pour the magician a glass full of rainbows.
Pick your poison, pick your fuzzy pain.
Smash through walls and collapse from your sorrow,
It's 4.a.m again, there is nothing more to gain.
A shot for his royal pardons,
A sip for her lovely corpse.
The bottles leave you disheartened.
The ****** ***** you, now your voice is horse.
A forced laugh runs out of you;
there was once a happy child in those eyes.
Your world has left you ******, and bruised.
She's a magician and hides using the oldest disguise;

she hides inside your heart.

The Procedure in June

Pleased to Meet You Sep 2014

The Procedure in June

I was too young to know what I did not know.
Whimsical love penetrated me at an early age.
I promised I loved you and for all this show:
You slithered out of my life and felt no disgrace.

Your love was really yellow tubes coming and going;
in one orifice and out of another.
You danced like a ballerina and put on a beautiful showing,
You slithered out of my life and became my ex-lover.

I made you up in dreams now buried in shallow graves.
Then you came true and without warning I'd found my place.
You left in the yellow night that belongs to the moon,
You slithered out of my life and you made me **** my muse.

Nine years have passed now with little to show for it.
I cower at the thought of you and now I fear flowers in June.
The valley of death I know now has a big, black grin.
You slithered out of my life on the day where lovers meet gloom.

There is a monster trapped inside my head

Pleased to Meet You Jul 2014

There is a monster trapped inside my head

There is a monster trapped inside my head.
Oh how it seeps deep within my inner monologue.
I swear it's the darkest voice inside my head.
It protects me from the things I've left unsaid.

The ride and its worth

Pleased to Meet You Jul 2015

The ride and its worth

The winds of July swing
Your hair from
Side
To
Side.
Your age shows now.
It's in your color.
Brown fields that mascarade
As mothers spaghetti,
Only yours though.

The sounds of the month are
Those of busy people.
I see industrialism on the
Brown fields.
Busy body beauties, black in nature,
And because of it;

Work, work, work.

They too know the worth of a dollar.

The Roaring Pendulum

Pleased to Meet You Jul 2015

The Roaring Pendulum

My self is trapped within the wood chips
that creep within my lonely heart.
It's becomes a bird feeder; come take a sip.
You'll do it if you're smart.

Just like with all the others;
I have died for you.
These bags under my eyes are my lovers.
They are mementos of my own, personal, truth.

I've built my own prison and I've bought
all the goodies for it too. It's full of hyperbole,
for all the lovers that have been caught
in its deceptive web, as you will see.

I love you more than the Sun.
I'd burn a city down for you.
I'd **** for you.
You'll **** me too though.

**** Me.

the season of the unsaid

Pleased to Meet You Feb 2015

the season of the unsaid

You languish in angst that is full of needy sores.
Those blue viles come straight from heaven to send you to hell.
It's the only respite from everything
I was;
Everything I can't.
This language has the odor of death.
This stamp on my heart is dried,
Broken,
Dead.

A river runs from my heart to yours.
They are now separated by crooked ways;
They go this way and that.
Still though, we occasionally meet at the place where death meets our tattered hearts.

July is the season for lovers unwilling to know everything about the stars.
October hides it's own language too.
Listen for the secrets of August.

Anne Sexton knew what death really is and was and will always be.
It is not an escape.
It is not rest.
It is everything left unfaid.

"I still love you."

That's my truth.

These things are never me or mine

Pleased to Meet You Dec 2014

These things are never me or mine

These things are never me or mine.
These clocks ticking are a maxed out card.
You
       run
             as if you knew you were the mark.
The collective outweighs my lies.
July rains;
September moans.
August though...it whispers:
"Order in the court!"
Control and substance are married lovers
whose pits are tired of the night time sun.
Those type or miracles don't have a place
in my head to make sense
(It has
           it's own bed
                                 inside my head.)
The stitching in my heart is slowly coming
undone under that night time sun.
Mothers can only do so much before their
hands crust over.
These months run cold now,
unaware that they each have cousins,
waiting for their turn.
July 20, 1987.
There was a mistake on that day.

the stained letter

Pleased to Meet You Jul 2014

the stained letter

Black blotches dry on the brim of the
Yellow paper.
This pen cannot breathe tonight.
It's tired of your sad love letters.

The thing that makes creepy sounds.

Pleased to Meet You Jun 2014

The thing that makes creepy sounds.

The invisible sounds behind the door are reminders.
It is an unattainable respite from a future that is tied to past scars.
Listen to the waves crash behind those sedimentary bolder;
the black algae rest on damaged secrets.

Inconclusive results of a test failed many times before.
You could rest once; lay dead from this sharp,
crimson chance.
Let there be sand on my tongue, trinkets of a banned romance.
Your naked body is all that I remember, a crime committed.

Look at the moonlight, with its selfish, confusing rays.
One could see much, or nothing at all, from the miracle in the sky.
Do not ****** me with reminders of what I already know.
I labored in my fruits and rotted away with the maggots.

Pity, shifting, hateful rage!
Let go of something I cannot physically kiss.
Those suns you call eyes have left me,
Foaming behind enemy lines.

The words of September

Pleased to Meet You Sep 2015

The words of September

Your words are folded up into
Tiny
Novels,
As if they are meant for others.
Unfold them though.
After all, you are their great mother.

Sprinkle these shards you call words
Unto my skin,
Like a mother would.
Nurture me and feed me stories;
The ones full of glory.

Lock me up when I see
These stories being full of allegories.
"There is no moral in feeling condemned,"
You said.
"They keep away those horrid angels,
Said the talking head.

It's the truest form of truth,
Pure and worth more than gold.
These words that transform into stories,
Are full of meaning and glory,

and nothing more.

There's no God in these stories,
Nor life or death.
There's only everything worth saving,
After that, there's only the words
That must be bled out and said.

The Words Unsaid

Pleased to Meet You Jan 2015

The Words Unsaid

This feeling that is fleeting;
It lays between peace and chaos.
It is the dandelions singing,
Everything found can be lost.
Those creatures linger in my head
Hoping for a romance instead of death.
Suicide hides in clouds full of rain;
The only way to leave things unsaid.

Dance upon my body.
It is barely July.
Those dandelions can't sing anymore.
Fire and ice; it is the best lie.

There in a steel plate in my head.
The operation was botched.
It is time to leave those words unsaid.
I'm not ready for that everlasting shock.

Drown me with my beautiful collection;
The yellows and the whites.
They dance without partners,
That's what nature is for.
Human nature and mother nature;
Come save me now.
Suicides hides in clouds full of rain;
I need to leave these words unsaid.

The worst type of poetry

Pleased to Meet You Jun 2014

The worst type of poetry

The worst type of poetry is the kind
That was never written down.
It's stuck in peoples hearts, but not
On paper.
It would **** to be whispered in your
Lovers heart,
Instead of dying in your throat.
You never did pick up that pen.
In your own way, you left some words
Dead,
Unsaid.

The worst type of poetry is the kind that is left in peoples heads.

They gave me their crumbs instead

Pleased to Meet You Jan 2015

They gave me their crumbs instead

The hopeless ask only for a morsel of it;
they gave them their crumbs again.
Despair is disguised as long legs and delicious lips;
She gave me her crumbs instead.

Tongue tied behind barbed wire fences and tacky
cheap cologne from a father now dead.
His sins became my weight to carry up that hill;
I do it with a smile and the smell of cheap cologne.

Whispers of death or sanity travel from your mouth;
touch my lips with that mouth instead.
Lies and crimes and sigh and whines mix well
for a youth unable to become a man of this time.

I asked for forgiveness or pleasure, and instead;
they have me their crumbs instead.
Suicide is only the scream that cannot be heard.
I spit out their crumbs and took it all instead.