I'm envious of playing cards,
played according to the game,
unashamed for following the rules.
The suites mix seamlessly,
pressed together to make the deck.
When they're drawn up
they're played immediately,
know their fate
when their face meets the light.
Then they lay discarded for awhile,  
before being shuffled up,
and brought back to life.

greetings Darkness
you always sink into the ground
when Light isn't around
only pesky Moon
tries to ward you away
soon Moon won't shine
for just one night
and Light will fail its
daily battle
you'll rattle with inky conquest
rejoice in the hours
at your disposal
all yours
all Dark
I'll envy you then
more than I've ever envied
that pesky Moon
or too bright Light
I want to topple your throne
and be the ruler of quiet
Night

The heavens opened
wide
         and cried,
"We have abandoned you."

The ground burst
forth
         and cooed,
"We have a spot for you."

Two left feet have me
walking crooked
calculated my chance,
took it.
I've always been poor
at math.

Cut a fish, split it in half,
turn my time in for a bit of cash,
has my career path
swerved and crashed?
I don't know much about
anything,
I don't own much of
anything,
and my skill set is out dated,
no one wants to pay for poems,
they're over rated.
Put the pen down, grab a blade and,
slice up veggies, your hand, and salmon.
The perk of this job is there is always
more work to do.
If you finish at one store,
there are fifty more to go to.
They'll ship you out,
pay over time,
all they ask is your body, your mind,
and your future.
Can I suture the pieces of my creative
side, fix it up, write a poem that
doesn't ****,
**** it, I'll start off by posting
this ****.

I used to be nice
before the world took my hand
and showed me the bad side
of everyone and everything
including me
including me

I fight everyday
to keep myself from going under
But the more I grab
the more it slips away
the more it slips
away

I haven't been this relaxed
In longer
                than
                         I
                           can
r e m e m b e r

Splitting a boxed wine
right down the center
staining cotton shirts
sentences ending in hiccups
blood boiling from
growing up

My mind is drained
looking for a way
to be less used
like the back side
of the page.

I let Tony know
left a message on his phone
"Dude...my grandma died"
he called back twice
then dropped a text
"call me"
I was hesitant
but did
first thing he said
"I'm sorry man...that *****..."
but in minutes my
spirits were up
it's like I never left
I was so scared things would
feel broken
I was wrong
he hung up with an
"I love you Dan"
I couldn't have asked
for a better friend
to help me through
as we change from children
into
men

two burns decorate my shoulder
due to drunken recklessness
one on my forearm
by a stubborn game of pain
but the second in the same spot
was not in ruckus or fury
it was born from being
terribly, terribly
empty

I found your old
hackie sack
all the beans had
fallen out.

I would watch that movie
just one more time
if I watched it with her.

The thought of light beams
painting your thighs and collar
just a bit tanner
as you offer in a smaller than normal voice,
"I could sunbathe in your backyard"
is more than enough.

Sitting in the bathtub,
face flush, warm like the water,
as I sink in further
I think of you,
off on your adventure,
and wish the moon, like a bow,
could shoot me across the sky,
a flash of light
that you see with delight,
until I fall down at your feet,
my journey complete,
returned home again
at last.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
two bones and two bowls
legs like twigs
and the only thing that
makes it feel like
Saint Paddy's Day
is my corned beef sandwich

I'm coffee and you are cigarettes
I keep you going
while you **** my slowly

My timing is almost as perfect
as the broken glass
that lines my cracked feet
tired from walking
running, leaving
It'll be worth it
But my timing is almost
as good as that lie
that spoils my tongue
tired from saying,
"It's a big change. I'll
be                        fine."

Old man eyes hide
behind rims covered
in Native design
Lens' of a dark
bark brown keep the
prying looks out
Honest irises are a virtue,
I was told.
Mine scream
"This head is muddled and old!"
So cover them up
Don't let the hungry
stares get past the
glass, sipping from that
red plastic cup
Honest eyes are a virtue
I think that's only true
for you

It's all about that
                                                                ­               Whump!
It shakes the chest so
hard you can't catch your
                                                            ­                    Whump!
breath
Yup, that's it I flew the nest
                                                            ­                    Whump!
Making my own plans but
I can't pull away from that
                                                            ­                    Whump!
I'm an alien on a spaceship
charging up that engine
                                                          ­                      Whump!
Steering straight toward that sound like
                                                            ­                    Whump!
I hunger for that sub noise
rumbling, I'm addicted to that
                                                            ­                     Whump!

A disturbing lack of interest
has risen to the surface
struggling for purpose while
school work seems worthless
unimpressed by the standards set
or perhaps just pensive
wondering where the road leads next
the feeling that textbooks
only hold answers for paper tests
not physical, substantial assessment
That ****** diploma a chain
keeping my brain and body locked
to this spot, this location
when my very essence yerns for motion
for some cosmic lotion to apply
to this burned romantic
helpless, maybe, but awakened
none the less
even if I can't be bothered to
laze over homework
two weeks and it'll be no work
to fall from the sky
back into my old house
and maybe
her
eyes

March single file, up, up, up.
Take the stairs two at a time,
sweat beads run lines down your face.
Get to the tunnel carved in rock,
push past the crowds to break out,
then up, up, up
till you peak at the top,
the trail's end.
Survey the crater, lush, serene,
barricaded against the city
which spills between hills and mountains.
Forget it all,
turn to face the sea.

I don't really think there is a hell,
but if I'm somehow wildly wrong
and a firey pit awaits all sinners,
I hope we are standing in line together.
I heard the line to Hell lasts forever;
we would have eternity to delve
into each other, meld ourselves
bit by bit till we were locked
                       in a kiss-

a symbol for love in a place full of hate.