Bound.
For hell,
Oh life is swell,
ain't it?
piece of art, tainted.
Convos with Satan,
Can you feel the cadence?.

Can you smell the melody?
Can you touch the tunes?
Can you taste the frequency, grab you some silver spoons.
Grab you a piece of advice, from the man on the moon.
Falling under the depths, ill have to handle it soon,.

Convos with Lucifer,
Lord of the Flies..
How'd he get my number?
probably family ties..
probably hearing the cries,
probably feeling surprised,
The light within me, forever will shine.

But for tonight,
i converse with The Anti-Christ..
Actually giving me some mad advice.

he said,
"I advise you, don't you ever find bliss..
If one day you do, you'll forever be ******.
Instead, stay in this chaos and revel,
Truthfully your bliss might become your hell."

How can you ask for sunshine if its always sunny?
How can you laugh at something if its always funny?
.......
suddenly i realized the ******* was right.
Only if hell bound, do you realize that heavens in sight.


-afj

As I sort through boxes of yesterday
I hear you whisper
But I do not answer
For I do not speak with spectres of plans that went awry
Or the ghosts of love not fully realized.

As I dig deeper more spirits of past disasters join the chorus of the broken hearted
But I do not add my voice to your song.
Yet when I sob I ask:
Do I cry for you?
Do I cry for them that came before you?
Or am I just crying for myself?

Question: Do I place these memories we shared on a mantel to be polished and admired?
Or do I pack them deep into a box not to be discovered until the next train wreck?

Photos and mementos are just snapshots of what might have been,
Who needs that reminder?

Where are you?
Are you sitting on the floor like me? Tears dropping unchecked as you write poor poetry?

No. I picture you sipping tea with a friend. Your laugh, always loud, resounding off the walls and finding it's way into the hearts of everyone who hears it. That is your gift.

This poem is my goodbye. It will be packed away with our other things.
Not forgotten, yet no longer a part of my life.

Goodbye.

Dear the girl over there,
I dont mean to stare,
its hard not to,
I know I really dont know you,
and you havnt made the move,
but you havnt stopped smiling either,
maybe together we can make new believers,
to love in a place that seems to being loosing a lot,
So lets grab hands and go to a spot,
where we can sing loudly and whisper things no one cares aboot,
I'll get my suit,
you get your dress,
and we will destroy the all you can eat buffet and laugh at our mess,
So take my hand and we will go to the moon,
and make the lovers that swoon,
all jealous that we dont try so hard,
so consider me a tuneless bard,
with bad rhymes,
and fly by the seat of your pants
and take a chance,
it will be fun,
I promise.

I dont like it
When you bombard
Me with compliments.
You telling me
How great I am.
I dont like it,
It makes me feel
Bad about myself.

My daughter called today crying, and said
"I miss you daddy, when are you moving closer?"

Any other day

I would just tell her "I'll be there soon, baby"
but those words seized up in my throat
and refused to pour from my lips

On most days, I would tell her
"Baby, Sometimes you have lay the foundation,
before you can build the house" and her
sleeping on the floor and giving me her bed to sleep in
or giving me the 5 dollars that she had saved from her allowance
isn't a viable option (though a heart like her's makes a father proud)

but today

Today I was three seconds
from melting down, the process
signaled by tears that formed like lava
quiet pools meant to renew, gathering at the corners
of these weathered eyes, and it took all the strength I had
not to curl up in the fetal position and close my eyes
until the world turned black

I held everything inside for a few moments longer
just long enough to let her know
that I love her and to say goodbye
I realized at that moment that I had waged this war far too long
and losing a battle like this was not the end of the world, so today  
I held up a white flag in surrender, and gave in

There's something about crying, it's like hitting the reset button
it buys you a few more days before the next breakdown
before the next time life tries to break you
So I cried in my car, alone....

*because today she needed to see strength
and not the cracks in my armor.

Music.

It's within. Without.

We share it with everyone. We hide what it's about.

We protect our privacy. We let it all hang out.

We want it, oh how we want it all, it all defines us until we find the wall.

The wall! What a joke. We're all in on the farce. Just give us your music, we'll decide what is art. Just sell us your soul, we'll take it from here. Have another beer, we have plenty, my dear. You're valuable, oh yes, just keep your thumb on the pulse. Drink up and polish your gift of schmaltz.

But it's false. It's all false. It's the ******* waltz,  our partner keeps face while we're falling apart, and then kicks us aside when we're behind in the race. We're falling apart, we're floating in space.

I want this to have a happy ending. If you ever hear one, its ******* worth defending. Keep me in mind. I've got music for spending. Together we've got the means for the mending.

Snow
snow
snow
snow
snow on her golden hair
snow on her palms
snow on her crimson lips
snow on her blushing cheeks
snow
snow
snow
snow
white beauty in a cup
I would drink to the brim

We are all
just lifetimes
searching for
       infinities.
     And the broken
    parts or who
we were
      should never
          be excluded
   from the beauty
of what we
are.
     -Andrew Durst