abcdefg: Favorites

Jan 2012 abcdefg

To Blame

Jan 2012 abcdefg

Loewen S Graves

To Blame

As he dived headfirst into the
kiddy pool, he was thinking of you,
and the roses gathering dust under
your bed that you wouldn't find
until next year, when you were packing
for a trip into the countryside
to clear your head.

He remembered your dreams as he
plunged hard into the concrete floor
of the place you spent your summers in
as a child, the one you loved most
when the sun was shining and no
bodies clouded the path between light
and what we perceive to be darkness.

In love and lust, he mourned your
freckles upon hitting the bottom,
his bones floating off to sulk
in the corner somewhere as his brain continued
to think of the possibilities when one has
gone and broken his own spine in a
reckless attempt to somehow get born.

When you pack his tongue into your
briefcase someday, I hope you'll remember
the way the sky felt on the day you told him
you weren't in love.

Jan 2012 abcdefg

Dust In The Wind

Jan 2012 abcdefg

Kathleen

Dust In The Wind

And then you say, "All we are is dust in the wind."
Little specks,
enumerable and miniscule,
grains of the infinitesimal,
listless,
pointless,
directionless,
fading dreams of nothing.
Well, I say "Thank God, I love the prospect,
there is freedom in being nothing."
Why are you so displeased with this conclusion?
Is it that the contention you wrought is dispersed by my contentment?
We'll let it drift then on the wings of some updraft on it's way to God.
invisible to the naked eye,
just as you and I shall drift thoughtlessly into the atmosphere.
Little particles of dust fading into nothing and immeasurably free.

creative commons

Jan 2012 abcdefg

The Strain on Branches

Jan 2012 abcdefg

Kathleen

The Strain on Branches

I let my words drip onto a keyboard, since I don't cry anymore.
I am shocked that we never have time to talk, saving breath for breathing.
I cut down trees to reveal the forest.
And at my poorest, I never blamed you for being true to the version of you, you felt most comfortable in.
A second skin, for skin walkers.
I've had more and less,
in less space than one can have with the bitter tastes of phrases caught in the back of the throat.
What we wrote on pine trees scars me,
taking far too long to heal over.
But I grow as growers do. And so do you.

Jan 2012 abcdefg

I think I can, I think I can, I..

Jan 2012 abcdefg

Kathleen

I think I can, I think I can, I..

confined to your own head, you might as well be a steam engine.
burning little holes in your turncoat.
making new friends in old dens.
masking proclivities.
barking at intruders like a dog.
what caused her, so many times,
to remove herself from the same line of thinking?
the man with the cocktails doesn't know,
but he knows the solution.
the solution to all life's problems,
to be imbibed and controlled.
the embrace for the embittered.
the fuel for the fire.
the stoke for the engine
the energy to keep chugging along at a good clip.

Jan 2012 abcdefg

Dearhome

Jan 2012 abcdefg

Kathleen

Dearhome

If I was to write home
I'd have to tell them I died under a horse I beat far beyond death.
I'd have to tell them that I caught a disease from breathing in the atmosphere here.
I'd have to tell them I fell into depression on a milk farm out west.
I'd have to lie, I'd have to lie a lot is what I'm saying.

Jan 2012 abcdefg

"You're Beautiful"

Jan 2012 abcdefg

Kathleen

"You're Beautiful"

Everyone wants to get into those pants of yours;
get into those jeans.
They'd all say a lot of things
to get in between.
Keep in mind the bottom line
is beneath those clothes you cling to.
So strip yourself clean string-bean.
Let them play tambourine on your heart strings.
Let them lye next to you,
tell you sweet lies that mean nothing
till you take it off.
Take it all off.
Do a little dance
make a little something to be remembered for in the morning,
when they leave.

creative commons

Jan 2012 abcdefg

You Flickered Off

Jan 2012 abcdefg

Kathleen

You Flickered Off

I'm starting to dream in color
swimming in Silvia red night gowns
and dancing into silhouettes of purple and crimson.
psychedelic actually,
if you take the time to think within that perspective.
it's like a toned-down rave set in slow motion by overdose.
and where are you?
are you passed out on the lawn in front of some closed down swapmeet?
did the flicker of insomnia turn you off like a light switch you hadn't paid the bill for?
who now, will answer your phone or pay homage to your quips
or late night phone calls to God?
I wish I could say that I relayed the message
but my nerves never were enough.
I wonder if the angels ever picked up on the twisted games you played on their names.
Many people never bothered to decipher it all.
But on occasion I did.
When the time was convenient,
when the moments were dull.
I delved into it.
I tried anyhow.
Forgive me for never letting you pass.
For standing arms and legs wide apart to halt the inevitable.
I wish for so many seconds
that I was there to do something,
to show something,
some inkling of understanding through sarcastic grimaces.
To you, who will read this and play dead for flair,
may you call upon me from the imaginary casket when you get this.
Fore I do see that you could never leave like that.

creative commons

Jan 2012 abcdefg

Fiery

Jan 2012 abcdefg

JL

Fiery

Your words are a sight to behold-
You can inside-me and outside-me
With one simple line

You are a prophet and scholar I see
Words scratched on every surface
Splashing the lifeblood of an inkwell
On the face of fate

Your arms are covered in poetry
Up and down written
Back and forth
Letters roll from your tongue
Squeezing the throat of my inner silence
Taking hostage my thoughts
Pushing and proddding them

I feel as if you are a thousand years old-
And I am just a boy
A curious child searching for meaning in the blue
You let me poke and **** at your words
Picking up a book
Just to read your first page
And lay it aside
Reaching for another

I am not your equal in the least
I know my place as a student of fate
I am your humble servant-
(Although I wrestle constantly with
Human affections)

How can I be at blame?
You have eyes- full of ancient and knowing light
Your hair is more compelling than an English garden
Full of blooms
Silken strands of summer rays
Cast my heart into shadow
I revel in the shade of your haunting depths
Picking blooms of Nightshade and Oleander
In the mist of your presence
The dew chills me to the bone
In the wake of your departure

I am ****** to a life
Wrapped in your absence
It is so cold in my heart
For the prison of mountains
Will keep you from me

I can only hope that one day
When my body is buried
Roots will curl and swallow me
Crushing the spirit from my bones
So I may wander over the mountains
And watch you rest your legs
As you wait for Aurora's morning kiss