I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

Say you loved me for me
Yet, I’m being deceived
Place my faith on false dreams
Then you play me & flee

I’m just tired of playing your games for sure
Froze my heart for sure
Took this “L” like a fool
Became a dog cause of you
Love, i don’t want you no more
Someone will replace you for sure

No more, no
No more, no

Oh I bet
You’re regretting it now
I know you wish
You treated me different now (2x)

Want me back as your boo
A toy to re-use
Desperate like a fool
Karma’s cruel now to you

But I’m just tired of playing your games for sure
Froze my heart for sure
Took this “L” like a fool
Became a dog cause of you
Love, I don’t want you no more
Someone will replace you for sure

No more, no
No more, no

Oh I bet
You’re regretting it now
I know you wish
You treated me different now (2x)

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

Bring me no roses,
or sad white lilies
chant me no dirge,
or quiet tunes of deep respect
this is not remembrance
for it was never how I lived
or ever wanted to be
instead, bury me in colour
asters for my winding sheet
yes, daisies for my shroud
a stars and wonders funeral
and sing me out, real loud

We fell in love by chance,
We stay in love by choice.

Get out
Go away,
I've been working hard
For too many days.

Can't think
Won't sleep,
Not with you there
Herding all my sheep.

Get out
Go away,
My head's so full
And heavy with clay.

Can't think
Won't sleep,
Afraid of monsters
That are sure to creep.

Get out
Go away,
I never said
That you could stay.

Can't think
Won't sleep,
Could end it all
With just... one... leap...

Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.

I think
the world
needs
more
of us
than we
can offer

I should’ve
waited
for someone
like
her to
come
into my
life.

He was glowing in my eyes
A blazing star that could never die
So bright that he made me cry

“Why are you alive”
“You don’t deserve this”
“They would be better off without you”
“Leave and don’t come back”
“Push everyone away”

Are you stuck?
Need some help up out that rut?
Cos I can lend a hand to some stuff under the surface
Almost like pulling up a plug
Don't give up
Never give up
Small steps first
Never give up
You'll turn your walk into a strut, trust.
Cos you are worthy
You are loved
Don't give up
Never
Give
Up

You can’t compare yourself
With the unbroken girls
Surrounding you
You already shattered
Creating
A new form
Of beautiful

-jt

Why Men Cry in the Bathroom

For so many reasons.
I will tell you the why.
I think you know,
Or perhaps, you think you know.

Men are always O.K.,
Even when not.

We expect the worse,
Accept the worse,
Nonetheless,
We are forever unprepared.

Wearily, we cry,
In the bathroom, in private,
Lest sighs slip by,
We be unmasked,
Early warring, strife signs warning.

Copious, tho we weep
Before the mirror confessor,
It is relief untethered,
Unbinding of the feet,
An uncounting
Of beaded rosaries,
Of freshly fallen hail stones,
Of night times terrors
By dawn's early edition's light,
and welcomed.

But look for the mute tear,
The eye-cornered drop,
*** tat, that never drops,
But never ceases formation and
Reforming, over and over again,
In a state of perpetuity of reconstitution,

The tippy tear of an iceberg revealing,
And I see you peeping, wondering,
What is beneath

Look for:
the torn worm-eaten edges of spirit,
thrift shop bought, extra worn,
grieving lines neath the eyes,
where the salt has evaporated,
discolored the skin.
worry lines,
under and above,
browed mapped, furrowed boundaries.
the laugh line saga,
where better days are stored,
recalled, as well as recanted,
publicly, privately.

Why just men?

I don't know,
Perhaps,
it is all I know.


Jan 6, 2013

Poetry has to rhyme
No it doesn’t
That lie is just a crime
It’s meant to fixate
To inflate
The curious mind
The literate kind
Words in a verse
The gold in the purse
Of a creative person

Poetry has to rhyme
No it doesn’t
Your wrong this time
Its meant to uplift
To drift
Into a person thoughts
A charm of sorts
Letters in a line
All beautiful and fine
To read everyday

It may look like I'm silent
But don't let it fool you
I'm holding back the will
To say that I love you

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

Different
lines on the thermometer,
when it happens,
it moves all by itself.

Deliberately
random restless waters,
terrestrials standing on their banks,
recidivists having deposits
and withdrawals
at an inflated rate.

Dungeoneering
--the amplified gesture
means a convenience charge,
elevate me later.

Defibrillation,
I'm on the existential end
of viral paradise,
"the files you have on me"
are a trail of stolen pebbles,
sure to inoculate my final
walk into the sea.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

Mon triste cœur bave à la poupe...
Mon cœur est plein de caporal !
Ils y lancent des jets de soupe,
Mon triste cœur bave à la poupe...
Sous les quolibets de la troupe
Qui lance un rire général,
Mon triste cœur bave à la poupe,
Mon cœur est plein de caporal !

Ithyphalliques et pioupiesques,
Leurs insultes l'ont dépravé ;
À la vesprée, ils font des fresques
Ithyphalliques et pioupiesques,
Ô flots abracadabrantesques,
Prenez mon cœur, qu'il soit sauvé !
Ithyphalliques et pioupiesques
Leurs insultes l'ont dépravé !

Quand ils auront tari leurs chiques,
Comment agir, ô cœur volé ?
Ce seront des refrains bachiques
Quand ils auront tari leurs chiques
J'aurai des sursauts stomachiques :
Si mon cœur triste est ravalé !
Quand ils auront tari leurs chiques
Comment agir, ô cœur volé ?

Mai 1871.