Silent Staunch The Sentry Stands
Guarding Graves of Grassy Fields
And Yesterday Afternoons

A Small Boy playing all the Men not in His Life
Forgetting Strife and Daily Deeds
Zones and Bonding, Contract Bidding
A Small Boy, still not too Old
The Cross Street Jungle Bought and Sold*
And all that's left.....

Silent Staunch the Sentry Stands
Guarding Graves of Grassy Fields
*And Yesterday Afternoons

Its circular face mocks and laughs
at me with that numerical circumference.

Red and black hands reach out and
grab me tight, leaving bruises on my psyche.

I'm helplessly cast deep into my past
where time flows like molasses.

Back when the clocks
took their time
counting down my life
and rotting my mind.

Back when they were slow
and I just couldn't wait to grow
up.

I have been conditioned
To submit
To sacrifice
To shut up and take it.

From the very first advances
That were a little too aggressive
To the subtle denying of my wishes
When I said stop and you said “shhh…”
When I said no and you said “why not?”
When I said I can’t and you said “please”
When I put my hand up and you pushed it away
When you thought it was romantic
To push my limits
When you thought coercion was normal
And submission was expected.
When I stopped questioning
Why your needs were more important than mine.
When your mouth said “I respect you”
But your hands said you didn’t.
When your sudden coldness
Sent chills down my spine
When your charming side disappeared
And your true self mystified me.

When I thought coercion was normal.

When I started to feel like nothing.

When my body was used
But not satisfied
Touched
But not felt.

When your laugh in the dark
Made me feel like a victim
In a horror movie

Up until I finally decided
That you are the beginning and end
Of my objectification.

Oh-de-la-ly

Lifes like a cart return,
Filled with Cheshire cats,
Bad luck,
You broke your mothers mirror,

Drink from a cup that has been spilled,
He said his life is tipped over,
He gladly went home,

Loves no place for me,
Save your sermon,
It's not sunday yet,

I've got plenty of time to regret,
Future mistakes,
You will never
Deserve,
P
O
    E
        T
            R
                Y
Generally you will,
I only have words,
To fill swimming pools,
So we can drown once again.

Id be lying if I said I wasn't bitter.

I've been evanescent:
an irrelevant adolescent.
I've felt this for years,
through tardive tears,
rusted shears,
and too much time ducking in the shade.

Sometimes,
I just don't know if it's worth it.
My bed holds me closer than anyone,
and she can't repair the cuts on my fingertips.
(Nor can she silence the creeks or the drips.)

In memory and in reflection,
we hide from present affection.
But I'll invite the bullet,
and accept your kiss.
(For it is all I've wanted
for as long as the recent past recalls.)
For there's an electric hue in your cheeks:
a cunning current vibrating my days into weeks.

You complain of certain self-distortion,
and blow mindless fault out of proportion.
But as the facts would have it,
you are the brightest sun on record.

I am relevant.
I can and will scream loud enough to be heard.
But I will mute beautifully for you.
I will absorb every cell of your existence
with each auspiciously soothing word.

You are a bird flying near.
A simple graze of my arm
a feather kept, a loss of fear.
And this is not temporary.

You are a parade.
Your trumpets, your drums
reinventing the copyrighted charade.
It's not a trick-it's rudimentary.

You are fresh squeezed lemonade.
When the sweat cannot be quelled,
you forge trees for shade.
But speaking of you is just supplementary.

You are the long drive back.
Every worm in the miles of dirt
can hear this counterattack-
especially those four days of January.

You are my trustworthy veins,
our frivolously necessary games,
and the smell of relentless rains.

These senses, put blunt yet gently,
manifest nothing less than your infinite trajectory.

'

He sometimes feels he may be blind, 
or just afraid of what others see. 
And what he speaks or sees or thinks 
is never what they reckon it should be. 
He is careful, vigilant, and repressed 
'coz in their light he is forever undressed. 






____✒
○●
°

'


Let a song rise through your tears,
Let a smile crease your wet cheeks.
Invoke kindness even when pain follows;
Let the bright of morning kiss your lips.


Let this song, its sounds caress
They wipe away languid raindrops and
make echoes flee in the dark of night;
A long day floats away in its melody.


Let sleep, quietly soft, lift you upwards
into the crook of its gentle arms tonight.
Let twinkling stars line your misty dreams.
Set sail on a shimmering crystal sea.




____✒
○●
°
'