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With a still memory in one hand
And the other clutching my heart,
The rain like my tears are falling
As we grow farther and farther apart.

I look out into the unforgiving sky
As it bears down on my weak life,
Like a raindrop destroys a still puddle
Your absence cuts like a knife.

But who can I blame for what I feel?
How should I keep this lonely mind sane?
When the forsaken words I’ve spoken,
Are the same ones that have caused this pain.

So I ask the heavens above me,
To pour down all that they can.
And wash away these pains I have,
That makes me look less than a man.
I wrote this on 02/2010. Rough patch with my girlfriend, pouring rain outside, perfect conditions for a very emotional poem.
How I adore your nerve
when you kissed me in your closet upon sheets made of legos
and all of your childhood dreams.
How easy I am for you to draw when you play on stage the song that you wrote me,
The one that feels like rock climbing by the river,
Like naps in the summer when I drool on your chest and you don't mind,
Like kissing you until the very last minute of my curfew,
only to break it for the miracle that is your lips.
How alluring is your breath on my neck,
Your voice in my ear when you told me that you loved me
and you didn't stop smiling,
even as the years went by and I did.
How I craved, longed, begged for time to be still
the time you took me to the highest hill you could drive to,
You called it my mountain.
"At first, you look at it and it's so small,
but once you notice it, it's all you can see," you said.
How my stomach floods with waves of nostalgia and a taste
of everything I've ever had to live without,
With complete and utter spell-binded devotion at the simple familiarity
of your smell.
How addicted I am to your laugh when you're happy and
the mastered impression you do of your mom.
How weak I am to your intellect and your appreciation of literature
and real music,
Your enthusiasm for art and the "name that note" game you force upon me
as you stumble onto the classical radio station.
How in love I am with your romance that is as childish as my attachment
to my baby blankie and my mother's childhood walrus that you never ceased to insult.
Our pajama day that we decided over our prom,
When we turned on John Mayer and slow danced in your room.
Your idea of a date consisted of fake wine and me.
How incredibly warm are the coldest of nights,
On the side of your dirt road as we lie in the snow that is too cold for comfort,
yet holds us there with the fear that one day will not look the same as this one
and I would bear any amount of cold winter to keep one more moment of yours.
How I cherish the way you latch my pinky with yours when we walk
And the face you don't know you make when you play guitar.
The rooftop where you kissed me for the very first time and the string rings
we wore to remind each other we were still there.
How incredibly and unfortunately devout I am to all that I remember of you.
A monster came out from under my bed,
all hairy and ugly and oh so red.
He ran to my closet and ate all my clothes
then back to my bed he was tickling my toes.
I was so afraid he might suddenly eat me,
There was nowhere to go where he couldn’t see.
He threw all my toys in a great big sack
And told me meanly they’d never be back.
Then he looked at my desk and suddenly smiled
And seemed to be happy or maybe beguiled.
He looked in my eyes and pointed at me,
“give me your laptop and I will let you be”
I loved my laptop a gift from my mom
I stared in his eyes feeling so dumb.
I was no longer scared now I was mad,
Monsters aren’t fun when they behave so bad.
So I took out my bat and put on my new shoes
and said to the monster, “guess what you lose”.
One swat on the noggin and he was out cold
I keep my toys because I was bold.
It pays to be brave and never have fear
But be careful at night when a monster is near.

HAPPY LATE HALLOWEEN
to my Grandaughters
Copyright Jan/2014
WHC
When I was little, every Sunday I’d go to Church
I was a child drunk off of fairy tales and day dreams
And I loved the idea that we could go to heaven when we died
And the pastor looked me in the eyes and said
"God is with you."
And like any 5 year old would, I believed him

My family bowed our heads and prayed before every meal
But halfway through dinner they’d start yelling
And I remembered what the pastor told me
So I covered my ears and asked God to make it stop
But I felt all alone
And that’s why I’m an atheist

At school the kids would pick on me
I didn’t understand why they didn’t want me as a friend
And I prayed to God that they’d stop
But I also prayed for them too
Because I was a good Christian
And good Christians love their enemies
But nothing changed
And that’s why I’m an atheist

I remember the first time my mom hit me
One time during a fight
She told me I was stupid and worthless
And after a while I started believing what she said
I started to wonder
How could someone so hateful
Call them self a Christian?
And that’s why I’m an atheist

I prayed that God would make me beautiful
Because I wasn’t skinny
And I knew I wasn't good enough for that boy I liked
But every time I looked in the mirror, I felt the same
So I stopped kneeling in prayer
And started kneeling in front of the toilet
And that’s why I’m an atheist

I haven’t prayed in 5 years now
I have only one request of God if he exists
That he end the pain right now
But nothing happens
So once again, I will have to do things on my own
And standing so close to the edge
I think about how I used to love the idea of life after death
But now I’m obsessed with the thought that when I do
They’ll be nothing coming after
And I can have eternal sleep
And that’s why I’m an atheist
I used to spend time
Worrying about
How other people
Looked at me.
              Until I asked myself;
      Is there
      Anyone
      I really
      Need to
      Impress?
she
walks on water
(who cares?)

the blue sea trembles
(the sun)

anyone who wants to
can love
(nobody does)

--

in her torn dress
she is
just another
ONE
in her torn dress
she does
what needs be done

--

walks on water
(over there)

we are always
somewheres else

soul  torn to pieces
(who cares?)

we are always
somewheres else
Blankets woven with yarn the color of the sky,
on a cloudy afternoon, when the sun don't shine.
Pillows, soft and as fluffy as clouds,
greet you as you lay down.

And a circus of clowns surrounds you,
dancing and honking their noses.
Flowers fall from the sky,
dropping thousands of roses.

The world is a marvelous place,
filled with grand adventure.
Gold, love, and magnificent sights,
all in just one night.

The fields of golden grains and pastures far and wide,
are resting under the sun high in the sky.
The mountains cast shadows,
on the valleys below.

The world is calling your name, calling for you,
there are so many things that you can do.
Roam the pastures, and the fields,
climb the mountains, explore the valleys.

The world is a marvelous place,
filled with grand adventure.
Gold, love, and magnificent sights,
all in just one night.

Because someday, you will shrivel and die,
just like the rest of us,
we all live the same life.

So get out there, and enjoy it while you can,
'cause someday will come,
where you lose the upper hand.

The world is a marvelous place,
filled with grand adventure.
Gold, love, and magnificent sights,
all in just one night.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
i have a face cut from ice
a heart pierced in a thousand places
so to remember
always the same voice
the same gestures
and my laughter
heavy
as a wall
between you and me

the ones who are most alive
seem the most still

behind the milky way
a shadow dances

our gaze climbs toward the stars
A most marvelous  morning,
I sit cross-legged high above the swaying green grasses,

then flew a bird- the moment adorning,
With white striped wings swimming in the wind's gentle passes,

The bird- I knew not her name,
but she had a yellow beak,

I wonder how'd she see the world through her small beady eyes,
Are humans like ants? Do we walk in lines, or is our gait unique?

O nameless mystical bird!
Of nature's infinite secrecy- you are a part.

We have named you a name you probably haven't heard,
You remind me of a lady I once saw - a specimen of art,

Much like your yellow beak, I've never heard her lips speak,

Your flawless flight, her auburn hair,
Your mysticism, her wild streak,
Both belong in my Vanity Fair,

Where nothing is earthly,
nothing is the same,
and love does not always,
have a name.
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