I'm dreaming of stars.
Of love, of money, and fantastic cars.
Of artistic creation, the fame, and success.
Of hope, of longing, and beautiful ***.
I'm scared of the future and staying up late.
I've wrapped it all up just to dream it away.
I feel terribly bad but I cant stop the bleeding,
My dream-clotted heart just might keep beating.
But its keeping me down 'cause I'm failing, you see.
I think it might be such an awful disease.
I think I'll combust of this crippling confusion.
I think I might lust for some perfect delusion.
I think this has gone on for too long.
I can't find a job 'cause I long for a song.
I can't stop feeling nostalgic, although.
I dream of a house, of my little home.
Just enough to keep on moving forward.
Just enough to live 'til I'm older,
Without too much trouble and enough for my kids.
I dream that maybe I'll finally get rid,
Of the dreaming that's been holding me back for so long,
The one that's made it so terribly hard.
Florescent light in the early morning.
The sun comes up when the rain stops pouring.
Ticking, brooding clock in my head.
I wrap produce on plastic beds.
Plastic earbuds bring me joy
By vibrating air through the void.
"Fake Plastic Trees" by Radiohead.
I'm reminded and filled with dread.
A podcast speaks on microplastics.
Oceans filled and consequences drastic.
Bothered by the nine to five.
These vibrations keep me alive.
Pulled from a shelf and myself on a lounge,
I sit with the brittle paged book.
Try as I might, my immersion is dashed
From the sounds of dinner cooked.
My will delivers a writ to read,
My mind runs to and fro,
The television demands my attention.
Progress, none will flow.
Instead, I sit with prose,
And write a poem on the fixation.
Five minutes have passed; The T.V. now dull.
Finally, I receive my satiation.
I shall never meet the souls whose paths were mere inches from mine.
Our lots cast aside from each other as the gods baited for us, the fish.
Take the bait and swim again; hooked deep In my bleeding mouth.
My Heaven is small and quaint;
A little dingy and filled with faceless saints.
It's a small bookstore with disorganized shelves,
Plenty of material to feed me well.
Comics, games, records, art,
A million things to start.
I'd sight-see amongst my creature comforts,
And read on near death experience.
Near Death: A Look Into The Minds Of The Brave, Page 152.
"It is often reported, that people who experience a near death feel only the nothing around them as they slip out of conciousness."
Even the anxieties will be there,
For without them I'd find no joy in being in small, dingy, quaint bookstores.
I haven't seen you in a year.
And I'm almost twenty four.
I still fell seventeen.
It's running out the door.
The ground beneath my feet.
Time don't always mend.
Here I am;
Sitting like the ******.
My hearts empty room.
It's been a while since seventeen;
Six years since house gigs and cut teeth.
Put my mouth to the grindstone,
Because I still don't know anything.
Hot Sun in the sky
There's birds in the trees
Not a day goes by
I won't need the money
Yeah I'm broke with a kid
With a broken A/C
Oh this Summer never ends
Crack a window and sleep
Wake with the Sun in my eyes
Cartoons on T.V.
Not a day goes by
I'm not glad as can be
Yeah there's no school now
I've got people to meet
Maybe take a girl out
Pop an Ollie in the street
Things get better in the same way a cut heals;
Obvioulsy, with time,
But also with pain.
In pain, we have a gift that keeps everything real;
Grounded in rhyme,
But also with shame.
The blood shows everyone how we feel;
Some say you're fine,
But some step closer to share all the same.
I weep for all the lives I won't live,
For all the loves I never had,
For the times I looked in your face and breath was put into my lungs,
For songs I never wrote,
For people that I promised to see soon,
For my childhood,
For the times I missed work,
For the times I didn't do my homework,
For the times I chose nothing over living,
For the seasons of depression.
Why does it feel like somethings missing?
You're getting married on my birthday this year.
I'm just saying that it's weird,
And I don't mean to pry,
Or ask you why.
I just remember the time,
You were all I thought about,
And all my friends laughed aloud
When I told them I loved you after only knowing you a few days.
I can see why now, but that felt real;
You felt chill.
And after a long time without love
You were the only thing I thought of.
What I'm trying to say is ,
I still think about you.
Not in any particular way but you pop in and out,
Like a visitor that forgot their keys on my couch.
And I don't have any feelings or regrets.
I'm just saying you had an effect.
Things aren't always perfect,
But I wait for a spring day.
With open skies and honey bees
And nothing in the way.
Winter has brought pain,
From many cold, cold nights.
My steering column veers,
From slipping on the ice.
I wait for rain.
I wait for ants.
All things have a balance;
All things have a cadence.
My mind is not ready to commit,
That the blood on my hands
And the blood in my skin
Is wholly me.
Bury me with my poetry,
When I am gone.
Bound it in leather and give it back to the earth.
Let a new green tree grow from my words and my curse.
My sharpened silver tongue will carve a river bed.
I will rain down bright blue color to keep it fed.
My energy, my true self;
I will recycle.
It's been a month.
It's been two thousand words.
I've grown from this dust; I'm covered in soot.
Still, I have no place.
Still, I fall from grace.
But, it's been a month.
"Tell me all the times you've prayed"
I heard them say.
I heard them sing.
There is no counting;
It's been too much.
To no God, did I give trust.
All things must come to an end;
The day, the week, the minute.
Man counts the hour alone,
He stands upon his great throne.
I have counted all these things.
I have stood as all men stood.
Everything has lost its sheen;
I have done all that I could.
I think I like how it feels;
To lose each and every thrill.
To hold on by a small thread.
I walk with death as a friend.
I chewed my fingernails down to the bone
And when you moved your lips I listened
With intent to understand your tone
And see your smile glisten
I speak of heavy weather often.
Pouring rain here, thunder storms there.
But today I fell in love with fog.
A form of precipitation that softens.
It makes bright orange street lamps turn into light warm fires.
Takes the busyness of a road and shrinks its view,
to only whats in front of you.
And it is this, that focusing effect, that fills me with a desire.
Now, I ask the gods for soft weather.
I'd like to stretch moments out.
In the way you stretch a sore back when dawn breaks,
to treasure just a few seconds more before your alarm wakes.
This is why I take a longer route when driving home; once the gas stops running through the engine I know it'll be over.
These fingers quickly till the dirt for words buried in my mind
I can write free verse or I could rhyme
I can make haiku
Though its not necessary
To portray my heart
Struggle, I have become; I'd like to find my voice.
Amongst many a great poet, I am the furthest ripple from the rock thrown in water.
The lowest branch on the red wood.
Don't believe in such tactics as motivation; a devilish dependency lies there.
No, it must be discipline that is fair.
To write strictly; to write deliberately; to write however I want in those ways.
"Yes, but did you see the way she looked?"
Motivation from the deepest nook;
Inspiration that sings rhymes.
Free verse couldn't emphasize.
Simply put, maybe there's a time and place.
For different styles, and different tastes.
Iambic signature, saving grace.
Freely spoken, unknown fate.
Trying to create an idea using different methods.
All things so morose
So many people speak of woes
When we're deep in throes
Hello, cool air that carries news
From northern breathing trade winds
I've gone all night not sleeping
My stinging eyes make bad friends
My attention span is waning soon
My work will be so **** thin
I cannot stop obsessing
O'er my present next of kin
"Once I was-" and "Once I had-"
Don't pay me any mind
For I am just a sleepless boy
But with a man I'm intertwined
I mourned my childhood; that daydreamin' boy of the past walking in the woods with friends.
Sweet child that knew no bounds.
This laughing kid with his head in the clouds.
**** the dreams that flew away; given my chance, in that past I would stay.
A eulogy for the electric being I once was; no current was ever strong enough to hold forever.
On my birthday in 2016 I blacked out. Usually, bad things happen when I blackout. This time was different though, I was a very pure version of myself. How pure could it have been really? I mean, there was viscous alcohol running through my veins. I was always told alcohol wasn't pure; I still believe that.
On such a night, I can remember the blur of pixie lights hanging outside the rooftop bar. Mixed with tequila, the lights created almost a room of light around me. I remember the girl that put a plastic sword (used for stirring drinks) in my hat. I loved the sword, it must've meant something to me. She must have meant something to me that night, but no longer.
Thats the strange thing about such small moments. People can mean so much one night, and then be gone in the next. She was on her way to Colorado, Montana, or something the next day. I never saw her again. I'm not sad about it, but it does leave me confused. I'm not one to believe in purpose, but I do have some inkling that its a possibility we cross paths in a biological rainstorm. Maybe our biology determines our chance meetings with the fates.
I hope we get snow
Dampen my sound, close my eyes
Ready for winter
I check my phone.
Its the same thing I saw 5 minutes ago.
I have no interest in my favorite things at this point in time. Even as I write this bit of prose I can feel that I'm not truly interested; I keep writing.
I check my phone.
20 minutes ago I zoned out while my favorite song was on and stopped singing.
When I was 16 I picked up guitar; my dream job was to be a musician, but then I turned 22. More recently my dream has been to find a dream in all the perfect chaos that is this world. "Are dreams a valid thought, or are we just told we should have them from a young age?", I ask myself.
I check my phone.
I should be leaving my car to go upstairs to my girlfriend and child.
I check my phone.
Why does my car feel like the safest place at times?
I check my phone.
JUST GET UP AND DO SOMETHING WITH YOURSELF.
I put my phone down.
Why am I not crying? Normal people cry.
Why would I be crying? I haven't lost anything worth mourning, right?
Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.
I check my phone.
My discipline is weaning; I should get up and do my chores.
This mess is brooding deeper and hiding all the floors.
The dishes smell like ****; the trash is overflowing.
Why, O why, do I stumble by and let this charade keep growing?
My vision has been blurring from pure domestic purging.
Unhealthy mechanisms have given to isomniac flurry.
A blue screen has been screeching; blue rays keep me awake.
I'm sick of turning over just to see that I'm a fake.
Down a winding trail I stood;
Looking back on the way I came.
A blue bird sang in suburbia.
A younger me walked in the rain.
What a free day that must have been,
Or is it simply my imagination?
We walked down the path together;
The road of our summer vacation.
The rain has dried; the dirt now cracked.
Easier to move on than look back.
Our path now gone, and terribly overgrown.
Still, we always know this was our home.
I think I may get it
Why we remember our favorite memories
In vivid shades of colors we dream
How someone may think of the great green grass the day they met love
The ruby red lipstick of their mother who was sent above
The soft silver hues of a rainy day when they were young
A overbearing blue from a stained glass window depicting a guardian that, once, they were sure of
Even if I dont, i'd still like to understand.
The way the heat of a raging orange sun feels to someone else
How this black shadow would cast on someone else
What my dirt brown eyes convey to someone else
Does this bleeding pink heart feel for someone else?
Everyone speaks of falling in love
As if its something to strive for
My screen tells me that this is what I want
And the dopamine injection is just to die for
I wanted to try it
And try it I did
I've spent 10 long years living by your skin
I wanted to try it
On myself, in fact
The self-loathing is too strong for me to love I back
What an overdone topic, but I can't help it
Have I forgotten Autumn in a name?
Did I forget the warm blood in these icy veins?
Last year had I sung my last song on a floating memory?
Red leaves, red leaves
Falling trees, soon likened to me
Cool air on the breeze
Soothe voices that smoothly ease
Downed by the crack in the concrete
"I know its over" Morrissey sings
Oh mother, I can hear my happiness coming back to me
My pendulum is swinging everyday
It is held down by the lyrics of bands from my teenage years
Why do words that shouldn't need apply to me any longer still hold their weight?
I thought I was done with the swinging motions of this back and forth mindset
Yet, here I am clutching at every word pounded through my speakers
My ears are ringing
My lips are bleeding
I am still the youth that I swore to escape
I am still on the pendulums rope, praying it will finally wear down and break from these heavy weighted words that clutch at my gut
When I was a kid,
And I still am in many senses,
I sat in my room
I stared into the dark and conjured up monsters
I was afraid of them, but they were welcome
If the could play nice
I read books while they watched and threatened me
I played guitar when they'd stop yelling
They would hop on my shoulders
And I'd feel their weight
So, I worked out to make my body stronger
These creatures would get bigger and stronger just like me
At one point they were so strong that I wanted to **** myself at 18
That thought had always lingered though
They dug me a hole and called it a grave
They said they were going to throw me in
And I was terrified by that
And I wanted that feeling to go away
I asked them if they wanted to go for a walk before that happened
Perplexed, they agreed
And we went along
I got to know them and why they wanted these horrible things
They were just as confused about themselves as I was about me
We stood there trying to make sense of us as a group
I realized that we were, in fact, a group
We always have been
We always will be
I'd forgotten that they were just as lonely as I was when I was in my room
I'd forgotten that they forced me to become stronger
I forgave them in that moment
A moment suspended in my reality
Pick up your guitar boy
Keep that chin up
Your life's not over yet
Its only just begun
I want the lights to be softer
And the noise to be gentle
So many are so strong
And I feel so brittle
Breath into me again
Resuscitate my lungs
I want to feel like I did
Once when I was young
Familiarity comes to me
Lying on its back
It never wants to stay
It said theres something I lack
I can't fall asleep again
Im not sure I want to
I feel the radiating heat falling off my engine
As I sit by and partake in a ritual passed on from men before me
The smoke hits my fingers and I know this is a religion that should be forgotten
In my mind im trying to prepare for a service to a community I betrayed
By getting behind a wheel while I was emotionally unvailable for those around me
A sense of accomplishment inside me for fixing this now radiating engine that sits besides me just a few hours ago
There's something to be said for hard work
I'm doing okay
I have a past, but it doesn't define me
It let's me know that I'm just as human as anyone around
And humbles me when that sense of accomplishment trys to turn into a beast of triumph that is above the world
Quicker to judge
Quicker to love
For the most part the fast nature of our society helps us evolve into our future selves
Some use it like a drug though
And while drugs are fun and even supported in our new found kingdom
We forget the distance we swim away from shore so quickly
Like children in candy shops, we salivate over the things we hate to love, and conversely, love to hate
The simple matter is,
While you love to hate someone who thinks differently from you
How often in one day do you think different from yourself?
I do frequently, but in that I find growth
I find meaning in hearing the woes and experiences of others
Even if it pains me
Because sometimes I know I'm wrong
I have a recurring vision of me underwater
Completely conscious and viewing the great beam of light trickling in from above me
It happens when my thoughts become too much
When the wave breaks and takes me under, I suppose
"Let my mind run underneath warm jets"
I sit there with my eyes wide open and think of nothing
At least thats how it feels
In reality I'm thinking of everything still
And right when I want to close my eyes and stay under
With the predators of the sea and my heart bleeding
I realize I need to breathe and swim back up
The quote is "close to you" by frank ocean
How long before the next group leaves?
Are my interests now just a fling?
Do I truly know who I am when no ones around?
Or do I lie to myself to stay on this weak ground?
When was the last time I grabbed my guitar?
The wood that held me together when I fell apart.
Now it feels like distance away
As if I drove out of town just to give me a break
But forgot my way home and started a new life
In this lonely town that holds all my lonely strifes
Tingle on the tongue
Knives in my lungs
for what I've done
Haze of mind
"All in due time"
Flicker in the wind
Body coaxed by sin
I want to meet somebody while on tour
A fellow musician that can see the whole
An open mind and a muse
A broken hand that lit a fuse
Love, love carries us
Not for more than an idea
A simple brush stroke away
From a smile that isn't out of fear
We wrap ourselves in kerosene
burn for those who care to see
What we really shine for
A lit fuse leading to what's in store
According to me
Falling in love is a mid-tempo jazz swing
Where the air is chilly
But she is not
All I can see
I only have eyes for you and me
And I smile when the lights look bigger than they are
I could get along without you very well
But why would I squander such a grand tale
When you are here and very near
I can feel the swing ring in my ears
Just wanted to know if I could go home
You've kept me here far too long
I've stood in the drunken downpour
While you berate me with your stubborn core
I miss all my friends and the ones that let me in
There's ink missing from my timid pen
Yet here you are to offer it back up
Right when the chaos erupts
And here we go again
With our sparks and our ends
Are we dancing for ourselves when the lights cave in
Or can we even distinguish the love we began with
Its just for us and all that we extinguish
You and I
You and I
You and I
All for you
Inspired by Jeff Buckley
The rain makes me ache with memories
Black coffee, your books, and my singing
You were something borrowed
I was something blue
Honestly, the rain reminds me of you
In spring I drank mostly wine
Listened to Buckley all the time
Constantly pestered you with the knowledge I held
Of a poet that was six feet under and very pale
But you'd listen
And in a sweeping moment I knew
There may never be a love like you
Your art spoke of this type of entanglement
And it seemed by the pictures it strangles quick
Yet, the world felt softer now I think it through
Because I'd rather go back than sit here and brew
This coffee taste black, cold, and shrew
This isn't what reminds me of you
I'm starting to believe loves a terrible thing
Something you may never wish upon an enemy
I'm thinner in a metaphorical sense
And I wish you weren't on the fence
I can be too sometimes
Its only natural when you watch flies
Going one place to the next with no destination
Ill save you for when I get back
Monsterous potential for now I lack
But maybe just a little scratch
Of this bug bite so I can relax
No, it only makes it worse
A hot spoon on my skin could take the curse
Or maybe if I rid the flesh as well as sin
Give it up for the mess I'm in
Like God, I give and take
To myself, this creative stake
But block these things that must align
So I can stay within the lines
I need to tap into a root and find my own brew of amber tree sap
So I can examine it in a lab
The scientific method of my being and consciousness
Because you can't fix something until you understand it
The first step is locating the issue
Taking all the memories and flipping through them
To stop at the ones that incite my curiosity
And explains many atrocities
The second step is accepting what was
This is difficult because our culture doesn't like the past
"The past is the past, move on"
I reject the notion and say embrace it
The third step is constructing a mutual agreement between my body and mind
That my actions will not harm any part of mankind
And this includes myself
This marks the change
The fourth step is enacting the new self
Taking old books off the shelf
Spending time with all the new matter I've created
Cultivating a consciousness that will harvest good things
"With gorilla gone will there be hope for man?"
How long until all my laundry smells different?
Do the walls even look the same with me not there?
Send me a postcard of your new stage of life
I want to reminisce on all of our plights
Once again, I put paper to pen
I think of all the times I've wanted to quit
But there was still a rhyme scheme in my head
And oppritunity in bright seductive red
Off in the distance, but I can see it
Its only interested in poets with cranial diseases
It knows of self doubts and coyly plays
Among the pink labyrinth of our brains
She is beautiful and rare
She is destructive and snares
But she is momentum and change
A swinging gate of every phase
Smile in the mirror to show yourself you're happy
Faking self esteem only gets you so far
But I can tell you what its like when you are laughing
You'll never see how beautiful you truly are