Every piece I write
Is a piece of me…
Of the turmoil, the calm, the violence… or the peace in me
I wonder, when I am dead… how shall they remember me?
For I have a lot of content in my poetic diary
A lot…
Of content…
In my…
Diary
I have written my whole life down one would notice, if one paid attention
Every frustration, every smile, every frown… written down more out of self expression
Than to seek attention
Pieces and records of what I was feeling or thinking at particular times and dates... I could care less if they made a wrong impression
For I have a lot of content in my poetic diary
A lot…
Of content…
In my…
Diary
I’m past trying to get published
Pouring one’s soul into a piece, just for it to get rubbished?
That’s not for me… I have too much respect for my poetry
It may not be in print… but when I read something I wrote a year ago I see it right there, my personality… it’s right there, and I know it’s me
For I have a lot of content in my poetic diary
A lot…
Of content…
In my …
Diary
If you read through all my work
You read through me… I could even risk it being said that whoever has done so
Knows who I was, who I am… and maybe even who I will be
That person will know… does know… and that person knew me
For I have a lot of content in my poetic diary
A lot…
Of content…
In my…
Diary
And one thing that both the old and the new me
Agree on
Is that…
We are and probably always will be…
Content…
With all the content…
In our diary.

It’s scary I tell you, when I turn around and look…
Back
To the days when I just couldn’t wait to read that book
I’d plan my day so that I'd have several hours of page-turning time… with no interruptions in between
Nowadays I find myself turning fewer pages, but lazily clicking away as I read off a computer screen
I’m afraid I will lose the reading culture I’d built... for this is not the same
I go through a few pages, then switch to an online pool game
It’s a habit I’m beginning to abhor
Something I never would have dared to do before
I would read the crap out of a book in a day… or two at most, before
Always hungry for a story, like a ****** with a craving looking to score
I was a book worm… now I just don’t know
What I am anymore
I grab a good paperback and dive into the story
An hour later my eyes feel heavy, I begin to feel a little weary
The Sandman’s close by and I am beginning to worry
‘Will I even get to finish this chapter?’
I begin to rush through the page in a hurry
But by now I’m reading shallow… and the story is so deep
Still, I need to know what happens to the protagonist next… before I fall into this deep sleep
I can feel it lurking around the corner
**** Sandman!...
Around the corner
Then I turn to my machine… that wretched thing
And see the window I left open on the screen
And decide to squeeze in…
A short story I had been reading earlier, before I ‘shut eye’
Knowing full well that if I force myself past chapter four my brain surely shall die
But, forty five minutes later… well, what do you know? The computer has done it again…
It has kept me awake and reading, way past chapter ten.

More loss...
Of life
Somebody somewhere has lost
A father, a mother, a brother, a sister, a husband… a wife
On this Saturday morning
Somebody is weeping… somebody is mourning
‘News just in’… it probably is a media frenzy…
By now
But somewhere out there
Some people do not know where they’re friends be
Right now
Eleven dead… eleven nameless people gone
Unless it’s your loss, then somebody has a name
This is that ‘it’s someone else’s problem’ game
The news you hear… but it doesn’t really ‘hit home’
Unless it really does ‘hit home’
To me… like to you, right now these people are unknown
But they are still people… they were living, breathing people
Now gone
On a Saturday morning
Many are beginning a sad day… mourning
We can lay blame on the ferry services… the lack of precaution
And trust me, they deserve that blame… they really do
But to pin point one particular person to blame it on?... Really?... Who?
Right now… today
Let’s just take a moment to pray
For the injured and the gone
And when I say …I’m glad it isn’t a school day
And most school-going children are at home
I know I’m not alone.

This man stood in the dark* *(He stood in the light)
This man had no idea what to do with the light (He had made it through the night)
For so much time had gone by since dusk (He was free... a seed, ready to grow, that has shed its outer husk)
He had spent one too many hours in ‘fright’ (Not to be confused with being ‘about to flee’… he was ‘about to soar’, ready to take flight)
Too much time had gone by since he’d gotten lost in the night (And it all came naturally, everything just sort of… felt right)
He’d taken the same wrong path he swore he would avoid (He’d avoided a path that he knew so well, one that was… of all serenity, devoid)
That same mistake over and over again, he was frustrated… annoyed (Some would call it a ‘near miss’, he calls it a ‘near crash’… because he nearly crashed and missed, he was overjoyed)

**The previous man… a broken record, a repetitive mistake, an irritating stutter
Just for the record, the previous emotional clutter… seems much less appealing than the organized latter
And the obvious better option for me... for you
Is to work extra hard at being guy number two.

Yo! Am I the only one who thinks Bonnie Parker(Bonnie and Clyde) wrote some ****** amazing pieces while she was locked up??? Brilliant...

I NEVER BROKE ANYBODY'S HEART.
i am not a heartbreaker.

i never took your heart and tore it
or ruptured it
or lacerated it
or stabbed it
or even bruised it
or pricked it

i cradled it and amended it and nurtured it and treasured it and heralded it and championed it and polished it and loved it and maybe even meliorated it

and then, when i could do that no more,
when possessing your heart any longer would inevitably do it harm,

all i did was gingerly give it back to you
fully intact
the most delicate way i possibly could.
if it was broken, you did that yourself.

You are far too young for me
So they say

But still, I admire from afar
And perhaps they don't understand
How the age of your mind
Is far beyond
Your years on this planet

They don't understand
How you're the only man
                                                             ­    (Or should I say boy?
                                                            ­      I think of you as a man...
                                                          ­        Maybe that is wrong

                                                          ­        Well, I'm usually wrong
                                                           ­       About these things

                                                         ­         So why change now?)

Anyway

You're the only man
I've been able to trust
Since he stashed me away
On his dusty shelf
With a cracked spine
And frayed ends

On the darkest nights,
When sleep cannot be found
For miles on end
I dream of your lips
Pressed into mine
Wildly
Forbidden
As I dig my cougar claws
Down your shoulder blades

I shake out my fantasy
Try my best to behave
Appropriately
Knowing that I will spend
The next few years
Waiting patiently

While you fall in love
With some fragile girl
That won the birthday lottery
For she gets to hold your hand
Without the judgmental looks
From disgruntled parents

And she doesn't even exist yet,
                                                            ­      (To you anyway)
But she will one day
And I will be ravenous with jealousy
Of her mocha skin
And her savage eyes
And her luminous smile

And then the time will pass
As it always does
Before I know what to make of it,
An inevitable invitation
To your wedding with the tigress
Will plop into my dead hands

And as you stand at the alter
Opposite of an angel
You will shoot me a glance
So abrupt,
I almost won't catch it.

But it will be there
Of course
And my eyes will meet with yours
Sincerely
With regret

And even though my bones
Will ache with desire
To object
I will abide by social standards
And stay seated
And stew for all eternity
Wondering what could have been
If only…

The two most powerful words
I will even know
If only...

Because you are far too young for me
So they say..