You have to go through the storm
Before you can see the rainbow.
Please stay and experience the rainbow with me.
Don't ever let anyone make you think
That you can't make it through the storm.

Is this how we were mean to live,
to die,
to take care of each other?
The woods and open space.
To observe the ant and its care-free life?
To love nature the way we so selfishly love ourselves?
To caress the earth like we would our loved ones?
Maybe, we secretly indulge in such biological dispositions
by planting flowers in the souls of men.

-m.c.

I live only here, between your eyes and you,
But I live in your world. What do I do?
--Collect no interest--otherwise what I can;
Above all I am not that staring man.

Anything can
look like a poem
and sound philosophical
simply by moving
the words on
different lines.

Am I doing it right?
Is this
really
talent?
Art?
Effort?

I think I am trying.
Really, I am
I go back and change the order
and I break lines
where it sounds right
But it does not take me long.
Not at all.

I try to be
intentional
and call it natural rhythm.
Instinct and style taking over
I alternate between
agonizing every detail
like When to Capitalize
and publishing free form poems without looking over them twice.

How is writing supposed to feel?
Should I labor?
or should it flow?
Or do I get to decide?

I think the things I talk of
mean something
at least.

But am I just
pretentious?

fooling myself into thinking that
using common poetry formats
somehow makes my work worthwhile?

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.

Say my name
And her name
in the same breath.

I dare you to say they taste the same.

How many times can I check facebook, check facebook check facebook?
Glance, browse stalk, stalk harder.
How many times can I watch a show on my computer?
Watched, finished, next episode next episode next episode-caught up
How many times can I get distracted, get distracted check emails—no new messages
Entertain me, distract me, disconnect
I want to be turned on standby, autopilot, you can think for me
Keep the walls of paper from burying me, suffocating me
Intellectually flat-line, a mental goodbye
Lose consciousness, fake my awake
Get lost, then found then actually find my way back to my workload
Attempt the task that terrifies
Look it in the eye,
Unafraid eager and tackle it down to the ground
One subject two three,
But the pile it looms over me, consumes me
I bit off more than I can chew
Teeth that don’t release, don’t retract
All I think of is how I should act
Attack, straight on? That’s the best bet
Nothing was ever accomplished by sitting down in fret
The stakes are just too high to try
A failed attempt changes impressions
Self-Conceptions

Oh little love
Hold that head up
He's really not that
into you
Maybe it's because
you called him
Baby (daddy)* or maybe
in that first conversation
you sent a picture
of your *****

He got that cream
from the cow
what do you expect
him to do now?

Of course he's going to
continue to milk
some stupid cow
for free
but trust me
He's not in love with you
He's just *******
on a tree
marking territory

but you ain't the only bush
in the forest, lovely...

Oh little love
just remember
that **** pic
he sent to you
went through
10 million gigabytes
before it got to you

Little love
I beg of you
of backlit screen
and tattered pride
anonymity
is a great place to hide
even on the darkest night
when your phone screen
is the only source of light
when words are not actions
no real kisses or hugs
The Internet is no place
to find love