She was alone
Oh so terribly alone .
She wondered who to call
If they would help or didn't care.
She was but a humble maiden
Had no delusions of grandeur.
She knew she had faults
Maybe more than the normal maidens.
She sat on her balcony
Watched the world go on.
She never went out.
Oh no she couldn't venture
Into the fold of humanity.
They were known to be picky
What if they didn't embrace her?
With her old fashioned mannerisms
And odd way of speaking.
She swung her bare feet.
Watching them move forward
And imagined she was marching
In a band somewhere.
Following music to a beat
Purposeful and deliberate.

She needed a friend
But how to go about collecting one
should she place an advert like she had seen in papers?
Or go to the fairs and wriggle her way into a group
What if they asked from whence she came?
And so she watched from afar.
admired a couple walking hand in hand
The boy pushing her hair out of her face
The girl looking up and smiling at something he said.
What she wouldn't give to feel normal.
Instead she kept house and world
Carrying the burdens of both.
For someone needed to protect humanity
From the cruelty of life.
She had a job to do
And so remained alone.

Where are you now, where do you live?
What do you value, what can you give,
or take and learn, absorb you sieve!

Look out a window, any window at all,
watch in silence the rainfall,
close your eyes and listen to the call.

What do you hear?
Does it generate fear,
Or a sympathetic tear?

Open that window for sounds and more,
of wind and the not so distant traffics' roar,
close your eyes, listen to the waves rush the shore.

Breathe in slow and deep,
Hold that breath, take a leap,
exhale, with control the air you keep.

Touch and taste with good sense,
your life does not end at the fence,
be a kid, or a wild child, no offense.

Wear boots then jump and step in puddles,
It may leave you a lot less muddled,
There will be those who walk away befuddled.

Live your life do no harm,
Wear experiences like charms,
Hugged, closely held in your arms.

Simplify, do one thing alright,
Start the day early and pray, at night,
too, give thanks and express any plight.

I know you not, yet, I but want to do,
About Him, who am I to say to you,
With an tender heart, pursue, pursue.

i heard a girl once say,
if i could
i would drown
in poetry.
i would throw myself
into a sea of verses
and sink in splendor.
oh, no, i thought -

no you wouldn't.

if there was a sea of poetry
the coasts would be ringed with barbed-wire
and electric fences,
and signs that yelled warning
keep out
undertow
and swim on risk of death -
the beach would be littered with broken glass
from all the drunks that took their last drink
on the edge of a stanza.
the water would be turbulent
and *****
and cold,
and you might admire it one twilight,
when the sun is drowning and turning the sea
red,
and you'd say, oh
that's beautiful.
and you'd take a photo of yourself
grinning with the sunset at your back
and leave.

i heard a boy once say,
if i could
i would drown in your poetry.
oh, no, i thought.
no you wouldn't.
why is drowning such a common theme
in the minds
of readers of poetry?
i imagine it seems
romantic,
in some twisted morbid way -
but i think seeing a bloated corpse
pallid with seawater
missing a limb
or two
would put these delusions to rest.
i imagine seeing
the corpse of a poet
missing a heart
or mind
would put these delusions to rest.

you don't want to drown in poetry.

you want to watch me drown.

i heard a boy once say
if i could
i would drown in your poetry.
so says the boy who calls himself an artist
because he can play
'hey soul sister'
on guitar
and will prove it every chance he gets.
you don't want to drown in my poetry,
and even if you did
i doubt you could -
if poetry was bodies of water
you would throw yourself into a hotel swimming pool
miles away from the polluted lake
where i wash in stagnant water.
if poetry was bodies of water
you'd have someone build a koi pond in your backyard
and call yourself a poet.
if i could
i would drown in your poetry,
he said
and i told him to prove it.

if i could
i would drown in poetry,
she said.

the only people who say
they want to drown in poetry
are the people who don't know what it means.

the only people who drown in poetry
are the people who have no choice.

And once again,
It's two AM.
And she's awake,
Writing about him.
She can't explain in words,
Those feeling that occur,
When his face drifts in her head,
So she sings about it instead.

When he says hello,
Her thoughts just melt like snow.
And when he walks her way,
She forgets just what to say.

And once again, my friend,
I'm up at two AM.
I sit here all alone,
My thoughts shift into poems.

I miss when Jane didn’t smoke.

She sneaks under morning’s cloak

Goes to class and laughs

With an empty head

At my empty joke.

Empty is the ***** flask

I pretend not to notice

Tucked into her lunchbox

So I stare at her sandwich instead

No crusts

A housewife’s handiwork

There's no use pretending anymore.

We are empty

We are fading

And she is faded

And I am waiting

In the food court of a failing mall

While she is debating

Whether or not to give it all

To another blue-eyed boy

Because he made her feeling something

Her father didn’t

After his deployment.