The Taste of Bitter Grapes
November 1, 2012

The taste of bitter grapes is what they do to me.

Do they ever wonder why people are so strange?
Of course not, for they are usual as in their ordinary lives.

I make a splash, and bring tidings of vitality.
Only to flop like a fish, utterly uninterested, outside their tiny ponds.

I chomp chomp on their hearts.
Tug on their brains with my toll on their souls.
But what's in it for me?
They become another casualty, and then nothing more than my inventory.

Maybe this hole was a birth defect.
Something like a mole?
I don't really want to know.
To get on with my days, I just need it not to show.

So, solid snow of this barren baron.
Please excuse these hoes, and the rakes too.
They didn't realize they were just a sideshow.
The main attraction is to never possess any true attraction and see how these things go.

Until I finally find my first true delight.
This is my plight.  
I take another bite.
Of these bitter grapes.

Directions?
October 1, 2012

My life as an unfinished portrait.
I trace lines through the veins of my brain.
Place down these paper thoughts.
Distinguish between what I teach myself and have been taught.

Let me get this straight.
I can only be one person?
Get a single choice of the careers I'm searching.
Only to make it under the burden of weight.

Each step closer, closer, is saying no to no longer options
I feel this is a mean means to an end.
Need to follow the signs, but of which signals I send?
Leaves me tying corners together, assimilating assumptions.

Put on a pair of glasses to spectate.
I sit in the hot seat until I matriculate.

Relationship in Reverse Poem
September 29, 2012

Together always means we're alone.
Moments shared take us far along this road.
Walking wherever like the world doesn't own them.
Our steps stretch the ground to make our own unlimited zone.

Sharing stories of when the driftwood someday sinks.
Doesn't floating only work with living things?
But separation isn't death, solely some sharp stings.
Live life as your own, not forced under others' bindings.

We live in a globe that spans the whole Earth.
A place we created, made of our happiness and warm mirth.
Stretching apart, sure it makes some big holes.
But with talks late at night, those gaps, together we close.

Where can this structure be found?
Is this Atlantis others sought after, solid and sound?
Just as a book can be unbound.
We may live this story rewound.

Relationship in Reverse Poem

Hmm
August 15, 2012

How does one co-exist?
With peers or like-minded individuals?
These relationships can be examined and statements regarding be made.
However, co-existing with one's own entity is another story.

Even in a stable environment, emotions will unavoidably be unstable.
So, how do you pull yourself, and your goals, apart from the seemingly trivial?
Those limited instances, which many claim comprise you,
also may not define you, or perhaps not properly, or entirely...
giving off to others, the wrong interpretation of who you are; a second, potentially fake version of you
The emotional side, which only appears in limited instances, due to certain events.

So, in an all-encompassing scope, which piece of your puzzle are your emotions?
Are they interchangeable, do they cause other pieces to be created, or do they stem from an original root?
Your true identity deep down inside is amendable, due to this other you - the emotional side.
Now tell me, how do you co-exist with yourself?

Why write a poem
October 10, 2011

Sometimes it feels like
I have the need to share a word.
As if I have the power to change the world.
Or to save a herd - of people,
from hurdling toward bad things.
You be the one, and they'll be the many.
Satisfying the masses can be done with just a penny - for your thoughts.
Find peace in a pen and paper, and write your worries away.
It doesn't matter if it's night or day.
You just do what you need to.

Transcend to depend on your stupend-ous thoughts and thoughts alone.
For our thoughts are what shape us and what need to be shown.
Rather than lend your ear, give your words out freely.
If someone should tear, then hear you me,
they need it all the more, let your words rain down, let them pour.
Write a poem, and put it on your wall.
Read it daily, whether Winter, Summer, Spring, or Fall.
If you think it's stupid, then share your 'stupid' poem and call it dumb.
But you know what, even if dumb, it's something to hum,
when you're feeling down, remember it, and recite,
the magical words to make you feel alright.

You might not need to call it a poem, just keep your thoughts in a diary.
But still you need to communicate, the people in your life are your family.
If you can't get what's on your mind out, then trap it in a book.
Once it's written down, you can give it a look,
and have an easier time deciding what's making you feel down.

I would if I could
October 6, 2011

I would if I could,
stay up all night, awake in my bed, thinking about you
- just because I wanted to save the dreaming about you until later, when I need something to cheer me up.

I would if I could,
put pictures up on my walls of all the places we go together,
arrange them in the shape of a smile, from how happy you make me.

I would if I could,
stop everything I'm doing in my awful, busy life,
just to spend one moment with you, and remember it forever.

I would if I could,
if we could and would.

a poem i wrote briefly in homage to my legit airport creeper.
August 25, 2011

Face to face, definitely not a warm embrace.
Eyes on me, make me nervous enough to ***.

Creeper, Creeper.
Please don't follow me hoooome.
Creeper, Creeper.
Go stare at something of your ownnnn!

jump, skip, hop, then POP!
August 2, 2011

So here's a playful tune
to make your body swoon.
Shake and bake those hips
pucker up and lick your lips.
Because tonight, we're dancing!

da lada dee da daaa laaa la laa ohhhh

I love the way you move like that
jumpin' 'n jivin', you're one cool kat.
So now we're getting down
laughing so much, are you a clown?
In our serene meadow, together, we're prancing!

Lemme catch you off guard, sweep you off your feet
this is the most romantic way I could think of for us to meet.
Now don't get me wrong, I mean I dress to impress
but girl, for you, I'd much rather wear less.
If you know what I mean, hiding my eyes glancing!

Excuse me mam, but I don't mean to be rude
or have you think my humor is too crude.
But for a special lady, lady, lady, oh so cute
I'll give it my my all, gotta take aim, then shoot.
Gotta get, gotta gotta, give you my all, all my romancing.

Boop boop be doop buh bahhh tra lalalahhh

Baby, so I've got you now forever maybe.
Squeeze you so freaking tight, 'till your soul leaves.
Enters my body and we intertwine, as it mentors.
Me and teaches how to be we.

koo koo cuh cahhh shoop doop la lahhh
Jump, Skip, Hop, then POP!

expanding progression part 2
July 18, 2011

So maybe just maybe, maybe maybe maybe.
You're not so bad at everything, just at being you.
We tried you being me, but when we were we, everything was just dandy.

So, as a collective entity known as weeee.

You were the cup in which I poured my tea.
You were the funny joke that made me tee hee.
You were the water in my emotional sea.
You were what made me we.

Then one time you became our and in our finest hour, our we became so much more.

You were our most favorite song.
You were our feelings for which I would long.
You were our chemicals I smoked in our ****.
You were our days we stayed in and watched King Kong.

But as time progressed, our faded into us, and with us, or without us, us would always be us.

And us was the way we danced in the wind.
And us was the unfinished sentence you always chimed in.
And us was the times when to eat we had searched many trash bins.
And us was the moments I would sin - to return to.

But now is now and has you and me.
We're just two more people the world will never see.
As a single entity - anymore, I'm not sure.
If I'll ever take the time to see you and if you'll think of me.
And I'll never be us, we, our, or anything more or less than I or me, or you and he, she, it,
ever again.

expanding progression part 1
July 18, 2011

You can be the greatest man in the world.
Hold power in the palm of your hand like a deck of cards.
Whoops flipped upside down, impending doom, the jokes at your feet.

You're mediocre at best, a solid 2.
You're a dim light bulb in my closet, helping me spend too much time searching for what I want.
You guide me so great, that I feel lost even when I'm found with you.

Your moves are so new and fresh, you remind me of my annual rereading dusty books from the shelf.
When you dance, I feel the rhythm pulse through my immobilized  knees, as they collapse to the ground.
You can make the very trees dance as they sit still in their roots.

You're the fiery flames on a boring sultry day.
I don't care to do much today, yet on today of all days, you are there eager and ready to go out and play.
Your fire is so fierce that even when burned out, it's far too expansive.

I think that I may be on to something.
So you're not good at what you're good at at all.
Maybe if you try something that's not quite your passion.

Farming, stock trading, free running, leaning on walls.
Boating, animal tracking, forensics investigations, and conjuring spirits.

Tics are worse bugs than butterflies baby
May 16, 2011

You give me tics in my mind.
No, not the little bugs type.
The nervous kind that bugs me in my brain.

You used to give me butterflies in my stomach.
But with time, they digested, and now don't fly.
I'm p-p-p-pretty sure this means it's time for this kind of thing to end.

So this is goodbye, goodnight, farewell, yet you're not done with me.
But I don't believe in miracles, Santa Clause, or you and me.
So leave, I don't want to hear your plea.

The next day, I get these nervous tics.
A panting sweat makes me move ways I don't wanna move.
I think thoughts that make me long to shoot your silence in my life.

This is a disaster, train wreck, airplane crash, all caused by me.
Some smooth operator I am, collect call, no change refund.
I wasn't sure, but now know, I'm no good for you, though you're great for me.

So now, the only recourse is to di-vorce.
We'll split our ways, having learned a lot.
But geez, you'll never be replaced, you'll remain in that special spot.

I'm on to my next victim.
Maybe someday you'll meet her, since you two will have so much in common after I'm through.
I'm a mother ******* monster, with tics that drive me out of my mind.
I am the devourer of butterflies, feasting on your warm happy feelings in order to survive.

There was this kid
May 3, 2011

There once was this kid who was afraid of airports.
He had many fears, but flying was not one of them.
- Just the airports.
He tried and he tried as hard as he could to prepare for his travel experiences,
but time after time, something would go wrong.
and then one day, he missed his friends and family soooo much,
that he decided he needed to conquer the big, mean airports.
and it was with that positive thinking, that he entered, sent away his suitcase, and boarded his flight,
all with no problems at all, what-so-ever.
The kid who was once afraid of airports, did it!
He accomplished his goal and made it home with time to spare, receiving tons of warm welcomes, hugs, and kisses.

Now That, is the story I would like to be able to tell after my adventure later today, coming back home.  :)

Sometimes, Words are Just Words
April 28, 2011

Have you ever had that feeling
when words become boring?
You get that idea
that you really want to express yourself today.
Too bad that everything seems so plain.
You post a provocative status on Facebook,
but you already do that all the time...
You get that idea
that maybe you should try something different.
You could scream at the top of your lungs,
jammin' out to your favorite song.
But those words aren't fun either,
they're not yours after all.
Even writing a poem seems dull today.
You get that idea
that you can just shake it off
but the magic of your words doesn't come back.
I wonder what good words are when you lose the will to use them.
You could build castles, toasters, pudding, people, anything you imagine.
You get that idea
that your words just don't excite you today.
Thinking, speaking, writing,
have never ****** so much.
You get that idea
that if words are just words today,
then maybe today,
you are just you.