Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
JA Doetsch Sep 2014
The rain filled my drink for days
As I lay on the bridge
staring slowly at the stars

The space between my memories
covered my brain, leaving little room
for love, passion, or beauty

I knew my feet could still stand,
that my hands could still grasp

But I was small, far away
trying to fight the depths
of my desires.

I thought of better times
I wanted happiness

Alas

No use sitting and hoping,
thinking these idle thoughts
I suppose it's for the best
that I finally get a move on
I've been having trouble thinking of new things, so I took a selection of random words from my profile and mixed them around until I got this.  Oddly enough, it mirrors my feelings fairly well.
JA Doetsch Jul 2012
If I had a dollar for every poem I wrote....

I'd have like a billion dollars

Because I would just write a program
that spits out random words and phrases

Then someone would tell me that they're
only going to pay me 50 cents per poem
if I'm going to be like that.

I'd be like "Whatever, dude...that's still half a billion dollars"

Can't be greedy, you know.

Then they'd try to pass some sort of law defining what a poem
can and can't be, spending millions of tax-payer dollars to stop
me from writing poems like this:

SHITAKE DUCK FOOTBALL
magnifying glass eats adolph ******
can I be valentine bubblewrap
I think so maybe
I peanut butter 1975 Yankees
Did you ****?
Robocop.

The judge would rule in my favor.  That would really ****
off the poor saps that had to pay me for my poems.


Doesn't really matter though....





No one pays me for this ****.
JA Doetsch Jul 2013
I sit in her garden
listening to the lilting of the birds
feeling the grass tickle my bare wrists
chilled water of the brook meanders past, satiating my toes
while the flowing shadow of the elm lets in specks of the sun
as the wind steps through the leaves.

I'm lazily following an ant as it crawls upon my knuckle when I hear her

Come and find me, she says

She stands among the red ivy, as it madly creeps up the ancient brick behind her

I stand up and walk towards her

The ivy wraps around her wrists and ankles
It weaves in and out of her hair, flows around her neck
It envelopes her hips
Panic sets in

Come and find me, she cries, as she is finally enveloped

She is gone.
The wall of ivy has stolen her.

I rip at it, tear at it.  I dig in.

I'm surrounded by ivy, as I look back I see a tunnel
a small opening of light indicating where I had started.

It seems miles away
How long have I been here?

It is then that I look at my hands

They are covered in blood

Crimson drops fall from the torn ivy

Come find me

I gasp

"Are you OK, honey?"

She's sitting next to me on the sofa
sipping her cocoa while mine sits
on the coffee table, getting cold

She lays with her legs across me now,
she's wearing a sundress that tempts
but she's unaware.  She tells me about
what our eldest son did while I was working

I should be so proud of him, she tells me

She must be aware of my look of confusion,
as she again asks me what's wrong.

I look down at my shoes as I explain that
I don't remember having kids.  I brace
for the anger, but as I look up I only see

tears

as she cradles the womb
that has denied her happiness

The tears well up, and they fall to the ground
I do my best to comfort her, but she's eroding
each drop taking away a part of her
until only a puddle remains

It starts raining.
I'm soaked to the bone
I'm walking to the bridge where I know she'll be
She likes it because it's falling apart.

She's standing at the edge, looking down.
The ravine is much deeper than you would expect
the bottom is a black pool of water

She's sitting at the edge, tossing pebbles over the side
oblivious to the creaking and moaning of the bridge
trying to warn her away.

She sees me stop at the foot of the bridge, and looks at me
with those piercing blue eyes.  You just don't say no to eyes like that.
They look me over as that familiar feeling washes over me.
I'll do what you want.  Just say when.  Just keep looking at me like that.
A hand beckons me to sit down, I carefully oblige.

We both know what happens next, but we sit in the silence for the longest time

Finally, she takes my hand...and we're falling.

As we plummet, she holds me tight and whispers in my ear

You found me

The bottom races towards us

Blinding light

and I am at peace
Lot of metaphor here, half of it I'm not even sure if I understand, but it isn't as morbid as it might appear at first glance.
JA Doetsch Apr 2012
I was faced with a conundrum just the other day.
You see, a girl that I had fancied -- she took my heart away

She cut it open it with a rather rusty sharp utensil
then she penned the most beautiful lines with that sanguine pencil

Her writing with my AB Positive were delicate and wonderful
as I lay upon the ground, seeping by the bucketful

While I will admit that I was all manners of distressed
I also couldn't help to be tremendously impressed.
I'm noticing a trend of death and blood in a few of my recent poems
JA Doetsch Jan 2012
I'm no writer.  I'm too logical

Sometimes I wish I could just lay my

head down on a piece of paper

and have my thoughts flow out onto it

like water

filling the emptiness

I               want to swim in my own head
I               want to remember things I knew
I               want to seep into my memories
I       want         to break my pattern of logic

I'm getting closer every day

I feel the box cracking

But then I fall back into line
But then I fear criticism
But then I'm apprehensive
But then I remember

I'm no writer.
JA Doetsch Feb 2014
My poetry would improve
If I could write while dreaming
a big fat "meh"
JA Doetsch Dec 2012
The mind of the insane is really not that difficult to understand

It's rather simple

You see, when you eat the blue macaroni while
singing "Modern Major General", you must
remember to Stop.  Hammer time.  If not,
the rhesus monkey will shoot lemon rays
at your hampster with dead lifeless eyes.

Those terrible eyes

If that happens, then your only recourse
is to do the Darkwing Duck and hope
that you don't eat pancakes before
noon.  Also, don't forget the most
important thing of all:
Banana.

Like I said.
Simple.

Now go eat a muffin.
It makes you fly.
Felt like being absurdist this morning
JA Doetsch Jan 2012
I could not write.  There was a drought in my mind
I could not concoct a single ****** line.  I told my wife
My dear, I think it's high time
I went and refilled my inspiration

I walked to the store, the one at the end of my block
I surveyed my mind, yet still it was locked.  I shook my head
I can't believe I waited this long to restock
my nearly empty inspiration

Once inside, I browsed the multitude of  sparkling aisles
Searching for a brand to match my writing style.  With little luck
It was difficult to find one worthwhile
to serve as my inspiration

I started reading the descriptions on the boxes
_________________
E­xtreme Naivete
Do you like Rainbows, puppies, unicorns and sparkling vampires?
EXTREME NAIVETE might be just the inspiration you need to
explain to the world why Justin Bieber's hair is just the perfect shade
of blonde.  Remind everyone that there is sunshine and happiness
in everyone's heart if you just help them find it.  Perfect for the 10
year old in all of us that hasn't yet faced the harshness of reality.

Side effects include:  blatant ignorance of the fact that most people
are complete self absorbed *******, increased use of smiley faces,
and tendency to dot your i's with hearts.
_________________

­_________________
Dark and Brooding
Doesn't life ****?  Do you hate how everyone sits around and acts like
nothing is wrong with the world?  Do you feel like you're the only one
who has ever felt this way, like, ever?  Don't get mad, get...eh...whatever.
Tell your depressing story to anyone who will listen with our brand new
DARK AND BROODING inspiration.  Tell the world how you feel like
cutting your wrists and how every day is cold and meaningless.  Write
words that are as black as the clothes you picked up from Hot Topic.  A
perfect gift for a suburban teenager of successful parents trying to rebel.

Side effects include:  Using generic metaphors that include the words
'cold', 'dark', 'lifeless', and 'pointless' to describe your life; the sudden
urge to dye your wardrobe black and gray; and wearing an excessive
amount of eyeliner.
_________________­

_________________
Hopel­ess Romantic
Is there one person for everyone?  Do you want to be able to describe
the way your heart feels in excruciating detail down to the way your
"ventricles ventriculate doubly so" when your special someone is near?
Perhaps you should try HOPELESS ROMANTIC, the newest
in our ever growing line of inspirations.  Your misguided love will
reach new heights with all of the new words you will be able to use
to describe it.  you will be so mushy, that we'd recommend not
standing on open sewer grates after using this product.

Not recommended for stalkers or near ex girlfriends.  Side effects
include the inability to wipe that stupid grin off your face, random
urges to serenade women, and the sudden desire to quit your job to
search for your one true love.  We do not recommend mixing this
inspiration with EXTREME NAIVETE
_________________

­_________________
Bitter Lover
Heartbroken? Lovelorn?  Sexless?  Have you been feeling alone
recently, but can't quite find the words to explain it?  Well worry
no more!  About that...at least.  With BITTER LOVER, you can
focus all your hatred for the concept of "love" into acidic lyrics
of disapproval.  You will be able to spew forth a torrent of
spite and poisonous barbs towards anyone who even looks
like they're happy with their significant other.  Why should
they enjoy themselves?

Side effects include anywhere from snide apathy to seething anger
whenever you hear the songs "Kiss Me" or "Linger",  the inability
to see that your friends want you to stop depressing them and get
on with your life, and the urge to get drunk and tell people how
much marriage *****.
_________________


­After I finished reading, I shrugged my shoulders and sighed
This clearly wasn't the best solution to try.  I went home
I picked up my pencil with pride
at my growing inspiration
JA Doetsch Jun 2012
1.  If you aren't moving your hands while telling a story, it's a boring ******* story.  Add in something to make it exciting, like a chance encounter with a tiger.  So what if no one believes that tigers walk down 5th avenue, at least your story doesn't **** any more.  You know whose story ***** now?  That ******* who doesn't believe a tiger can make it in the big city.

2.  Make bad mistakes every once in awhile.  How will you know that you don't want to be part of a Colombian Drug Cartel unless you try it out for a few weeks?  Who knows, maybe you'll find out it's your true calling.  Maybe you'll stage a coup, take over the whole thing and get the hot girl in the red dress.  But no, you're sitting at your computer reading this.  My point is, drugs are bad ok?

3.  Don't be that guy who thinks he's better than everyone else because he always "does the right thing".  You know why he's never made a mistake?  Because he doesn't have a real life.  His life is as real as a Ken Doll's unmentionables.  Yeah it's all smooth and shiny, but he can't have any fun with it.  What's the point of  having a life that can't be potentially ruined by terrible decisions?

4.  Take chances.  and I don't mean by putting "Piccolo Pete's Face Burning Tabasco" on your hotdog.  I mean walk up to the next girl you see and give her a passionate kiss the likes of which she hasn't had since 3 days ago when she drunkenly made out with some random dude at a bar.  Yeah, you may feel like you've just been kneed in the groin and/or maced multiple times in the eye...but you know what?  You just made out with a beautiful woman, and you've got a good lawyer.

5.  Don't take advice from people you don't know.  Especially some random person on the internet, those people are just shady.
More to follow, maybe.
JA Doetsch Jan 2012
Mary, Mary...Extraordinary
look at your passion flow
With sultry stares, your lust is bared
who am I to say no?
JA Doetsch Mar 2012
Two words to change the world?
Here goes:

Happiness is
JA Doetsch Mar 2012
He saw her in a moment fleeting
noticed that his heart was beating
she noticed him too, and gave a smile
more and more his heart grew wild
it exploded right out his chest
it made an awfully terrible mess
she took a look at her ***** laundry
pulled out a tissue while smiling wryly
She let him make it to first base
while wiping the entrails off her face
when they were done she giggled and smiled
and told him that though it had been fun for awhile
he was moving just a little too fast...
ripping his heart out was supposed to be last
A friend of mine told me that he had recently found out that a few girls in our high school (almost a decade ago...wow) had this game where they'd lead a guy on until he would ask them out, allowing him to take them out, buy them gifts, etc...and then decline and move on to the next guy.  It was a game to see who could reject the most guys.  The things you learn...
JA Doetsch Jul 2013
So
You've found a girl who can hold your gaze
You've found a girl with those sinful curves
                that    girl    with the     lips     that you want sayin' your name

Oh she's beautiful alright.  How did you get so lucky?

Maybe you're not as lucky as you think you are?

Does being
    luscious, limber, lavacious, and alluringly lustworthy
make up for being
    lewd, lethargic, and a lackadaisical liar?

So what that she's
    ogle-worthy, optically pleasing, orgasmically ideal
if she's
    offensive, ostentatiously ornate, and overbearing?

She may be
    vivacious, voluptuous, and sexually voracious
She's also
     vain, vapid, vacuous, a vengeful *****

Don't let her
   exotic, ****** efficaciousness
Blind you to her
  egocentric, evasive, envious  nature
  
Those lips won't look so   enticing   when they're spitting poison barbs into your heart


Wouldn't you rather  have a girl
Who is likeable?
Who is original?
Who is vibrant?

Who is enough to make you happy?

It's all you need

Do I have to spell it out for you?
Trying my hand at a hidden message within the poem, and also putting the thesaurus to work.

Note:  After re-reading, thought I should make myself clear -- This isn't calling out attractive men/women, it's more along the lines of "Looks are great, but if they come at the expense of a good personality, they're worthless."  There are lots of very attractive folks who have fantastic attitudes and are wonderful, lots of average looking folks who are not, and every combination in between.  There. I feel better.
JA Doetsch Jan 2013
One day, I asked a chef
how he made his food taste
so delicious

He said to me
"It's simple.  I carefully
mix spices with meats,
fruits, and vegetables,
then I combine them
in a particular order,
during which I apply
heat at certain times
and temperatures."

I was awestruck.

Then I asked a painter
how she created such
beautfiful images

She said to me
"It's simple.  I mix certain
colors together, then I place
those colors on specific spots
on the canvas in a particular
order using a various number
of stroke techniques."

I was amazed

Finally, I asked a writer
how he wrote such beautiful
and inspiring lines

He paused and looked far off
into the distance, contemplating
what wise advice to impart to me



Then he took a hit off his ****

"I dunno, I guess I just
write, like, how I feel
and stuff..."

"Totally", I replied, as I bit into a ham sandwich
JA Doetsch Feb 2012
Your once silky voice
has turned to gravel
to my ears.  Your
words are sandpaper
to my self esteem

Your personality has
been eroded by
bitterness.  It
sweeps away
all that made you
interesting, a raging
river of disappointment

Your skin is cracking
to the point where
I fear that any part
of you that I touch
will crumble to
the floor.  

If this keeps up
soon you will
be nothing but
a pile of sand

Another mess
for me to sweep
under the rug
JA Doetsch Mar 2012
Joel's mole dug a hole
in a grassy knoll....
the mole hit a pole
and started to roll....
he hit a troll
and they smoked the whole bowl
of mind control.  

The troll asked for a toll,
but the mole was on parole.  
Joel's mole has no soul.
This was not written by me...it was written for me on my 20th birthday by my classmates (and professor) during class.   I claimed that "Joel" was not a good rhyming word, and thus this was born.
JA Doetsch Jan 2012
It's all well and good
to sit and wait for your
knight in shining armor

Passing up all who
don't meet your
particular standards

However,
It might be good to keep in mind
that most men don't own horses
We don't generally have suits of armor, either...
JA Doetsch Sep 2015
When you look into my eyes
can you see the starry skies?
Soaring high above the clouds
as we cut ourselves from earthly ties

With your arms about my waist
we'll leave behind this lonely place
searching for the hidden keys
to unlock the riddles of time and space

So Allons-y and Geronimo
through the unknown vale we shall go
your fingers interlaced with mine
we'll dance the stars 'til they lose their shine
JA Doetsch Aug 2013
I'm off, I'm off to London town
come one, come all, let's drink a round
if you look for me here, I won't be found
Be ready, be set...I'm London bound
Going to the UK (London and Dublin) for 12 days starting next Wednesday.  Maybe I'll run into a few poets while I'm there.
JA Doetsch Dec 2014
As I look over the ledge
I wonder what it's like to fly
and though I know it's a foolish thought
                 I can't help but want to try

...It isn't that high
JA Doetsch Dec 2013
She loves me, She loves me not
She wants me

No, wait....

A second thought

Indecision
Tunnel vision

As she twirls the flower
between her fingertips
              her finger rips
another petal
         Watch it fall
watch it settle
Watch it settle to the ground
Where it never
never ever will be found

Can you see it?
the pile on the floor?
her wilted lovers
her lovers from before

She holds the empty flower in her hand
she simply doesn't understand

Why the spark is there no more
Why she is now so suddenly bored

He's no longer lovely to her eyes
She doesn't fully realize

Why things just aren't quite the same
and
Why she's the one
The one to blame
Feeling a bit 'meh' recently, but I've not posted anything in far too long.  This one might be slightly exaggerated.
JA Doetsch Feb 2012
Look!

See the multitude of orbs
of varying
              sizes
                   shapes
                       and colors

There are beads as well.
JA Doetsch Sep 2012
I found you hiding in your painting

I distinctly remember saying
that you reminded me of Monet

Beautiful without trying
          Elegant Simplicity

You said I was like Seurat

Up close a jumble of emotions and thoughts
that seemed to contrast, but then all made
sense when you took me in as a whole

That night, we drank our fill
we danced under the fresco moonlight
   Our colors bled together as our lines,
boundaries, and vision blurred

Perfect Chaos.  Dali would have approved.

But..your lips. Those perfect lips
dripping
in crimson red oil
contrasting pastel skin
remained crisp and vivid in my memories
They left their mark on my canvas

A smile beckoning, drawing me

That night, so long ago...

We painted a masterpiece
JA Doetsch Apr 2012
One train leaves Santa Fe going east at seven eleven
destination's unknown and the speed is irrelevant
Another leaves Boston at eight twenty five
We know when it left. When will it arrive?

If eighteen percent aboard are practicing Christians
and twenty eight percent are worshiping Krishna
what percent will be spared when the trains have collided?
Which subset will have a better chance of survival?

If there are five homosexuals with their life partners
and thirty two fundies with hate signs and markers
What are the odds that of the forty-two mentioned,
that ten gay folks survive.  Was it divine intervention?

If you factor and account for wind speed and sun
If you double check your figures (and carry The One)
Are those who climb from the wreckage unharmed
more righteous than the ones who lie dormant and calm?

How long will you stare silently at the equation
searching for a solution that leads to salvation?
When all is said and done at the end of the day
There are no survivors, so says F=ma
I think I may have misplaced the point in Albuquerque
JA Doetsch Jan 2012
Life is  an  amazingly  wonderful   maze,  when   you  t h i n k  about it.
You                                  start   at  the  entrance  n a i v e   and  unaware
of what lies within.         It's  easy to c h e a t in this maze, if  you choose
to walk the e d g e          until  you  get to the  end,  but h o n e s t l y it's
more exciting  just          to  j u m p right  in.  Sure,  you   may  run  into
dead ends                        every   once in awhile,  e v e r y o n e  has  their
dead ends, but it's           easy  for  you to  turn back around, r e t r a c e
your steps and go                             on.   At    times,   the   maze   makes
you   want  to  pull   your  hair        out,  but   for   the  most   part,  you
respect  the  challenge    that it        offers you.You begin to  r e a l i z e
that l i f e                                            isn't  about   finishing  the   m a z e          
it's  about        the path you take to get there. It's  about  The  t h i n g s
you do on       your way  there. It's about all  of the amazing  p e o p l e  
you  meet       while you're travelling.  I think people   forget   that quite
a   bit,   so       the next time you see someone racing through their maze
trying   as       hard as they can to reach the end, remind them that  they
are    only       doing  themselves  a  disservice.   Remind  them that  l i f e
is      what       make of it
                  **You
For the difficulty that life often shows me, that's one weak maze I made up there.
JA Doetsch Jan 2012
Last week I sold a bunch of my memories

to help pay the rent.  It was either that or my car.

I gave them 146  rarely used memories, they gave me $40.88…

I thought it was a fair deal. I mean, I wasn’t using them…

A couple weeks later I was curious

to see how they were selling, so I walked to the second-hand shop

that had made the deal with me.  I saw an elderly woman looking

at my memories.  She picked one up, stared at it disapprovingly, then

tossed it casually back in the pile.  She did this a couple more times, then

walked away.  I waited until she had left, then walked up and picked

up the one she was looking at.  It was a memory of kissing and elbows.

Whispers and smiles.

I stood perplexed with the memory in my hands, wondering to myself what

brought about the look of disapproval.  To each their own, I suppose…

I hung around that day, trying to get into the heads of

those who were looking into mine…with little success.

There were laughs, tears, and the occasional snarky comment.  I watched a memory of driving

down an empty interstate with the windows down on an exquisite summer day sell

for 28 cents.  I saw a memory of climbing trees and rope swings leave with an old man

who wanted to remember youth.   A girl with dreadlocks in her twenties took a fuzzy memory

of less than legal implications.

I came by every day until they were all but gone, only a few stragglers here and there;  One of a hospital bed,

another of a meatloaf dinner in January.

I really don’t like meatloaf.
JA Doetsch May 2013
You slowly walk down the avenue of normality
Ignoring the side streets and oddly placed alleys

Change, you feel, is strange and unnerving
You stay straight and narrow, no veering or swerving

You look at us weirdos and our strange machinations
you speed up your pace with much trepidation

You're so busy keeping to the road that's more traveled
that you are completely unaware that it's turning to gravel

You're walking alone, and the road has all but decayed
the streets that you passed up, now bustling highways

Your fear of the odd and peculiar, the offbeat uncommon
has led you to become alone, forlorn, and unwanted

Everyone's different
Everyone's weird

Everyone has secrets that no one will hear

You wanted to be normal, and normal you are
now you're a minority, among the bizarre
Wait, you're completely normal?  ******.
JA Doetsch Apr 2015
Lewis had taken his date antiquing.  It seemed the kind of sophisticated, adult activity that he felt would reinforce the fact that he was, in fact, a sophisticated adult.  Never mind that he knew next to nothing about antiquing...except that it was a thing sophisticated adults apparently did.

It was clear within the first twenty minutes or so that she wasn't really feeling it.

She was friendly and amicable, but it was clear that she was being polite for the sake of being polite.  It was the kind of polite that meant she wouldn't be returning his phone calls tomorrow.  For his part, he didn't make a fuss.  He played his role and continued the date as if it meant something.

He even went so far as to purchase an ornate mirror at the last shop they visited.  A mirror he'd probably never have even looked at on a typical day.

Lewis dropped his date off at her flat, insisted on walking her to her door (had to keep up appearances), and gave her a brief hug before going back to his car.  The mirror was wrapped up in the back seat of his small Toyota, making it impossible to use his rearview mirror.

He didn't even bother taking it out of the car when he got home.  Perhaps, he thought, someone would steal it and save him the trouble of pitching it.

The next morning, to his annoyance, it still filled up his back seat.  He had to go to work, and he figured he'd have to get it out of the car sooner or later, so he pulled it out and awkwardly managed to get it into his front door, where he left it leaning against the wall of his front hallway.

Lewis walked by the mirror almost every day for a week before he finally decided to hang it up.  He had bought it, after all...might as well make use of it.  He hung it up in the hallway and then largely forgot it existed.  It wasn't until several months later that he discovered its strange properties.

He had been running late for work, and in his hurry had spilled coffee over his shirt.  His initial annoyance at having to change was replaced with a sharp pain as the hot coffee burned through his shirt.  He was haphazardly unbuttoning the shirt while walking by the mirror when he stopped.  He looked again.  The coffee stain had disappeared.  Lewis finished unbuttoning the shirt and looked at his chest, where he found no mark or sign he had even had an injury.  Thinking himself crazy, he ran back to the kitchen to find that there was, indeed, spilled coffee still on the table.

That had been the beginning.

The power had gone quickly to his head, as power is wont to do.  He could change just about anything in his environment, so long as he was clever and could do it in front of the mirror.  The more he focused, the more accurate the results were.  He imagined that he was holding the deed to a mansion that was for sale downtown.  He found that not only was this the case, but the mirror had taken care of all the pesky details that would have otherwise conflicted with this.  He imagined his bank account filled to the brim with money.  Lewis imagined a whole new life for himself.  

It was at this point that he decided to test the limits of his new found power.  He stood at the mirror in his underwear.  Not horrible looking by any means, but definitely not an attractive man by most standards.  His hair, oily and unkempt, fell listlessly down on his forehead.  a paunch belly accentuated knobby knees and elbows.  His face was rather round and a bit pudgy, though fairly average overall.  He looked himself over disdainfully, and begin to concentrate.

First his stomach started shrinking, as if someone was letting the air out of it. It flattened, and abdominal muscles etched themselves into the skin.  The rest of his body followed suit, transforming itself into his ideal.  An alpha male.  A leading man.  At the end of it all, he stood in front of a stranger.  Even his eyes had changed.  They looked back at him through the mirror, full of confidence and a spark of defiance.  He almost caught a mischievous smile playing at his lips.

The change was immediate.  Between the money and the new face, he became social elite, hosting parties, attending events.  The mysterious newcomer, whose fortune seemed to have appeared out of thin air.  He relished every minute of it.  Instead of chasing people, begging to be noticed, people were begging to be noticed by him.  It was everything he ever wanted, until she came into his life.

She was an environmental lawyer for a large law firm.  She had it all.  Intelligence...strength...beauty.  Her name was Claire. She could stare right through him.  She didn't care about his power.  She didn't care about his charm.  The more he tried to win her over, the more she pulled away.  That, of course, did nothing to deter him.  If anything, it made him desire her more.  It was driving him insane.

Things finally broke down.  He was at yet another party, but he was no longer enjoying himself.  He hadn't been enjoying himself for weeks.  He sat at the bar, downing glasses of alcohol almost carelessly.  He saw her outside on the balcony, and he stumbled his way over to her.  He managed to slur out something along the lines of "Hey baby" along with some semblance of a crude pickup line, which earned him a martini hat and five red marks across his perfectly shaped face.

He drove home, managing to get his car mostly in his driveway (that poor mailbox never saw it coming).  He lumbered into his house, intending to fall asleep, when he walked by the mirror.  Suddenly, his inebriated brain had an amazing thought.  Why should he continue chasing her?  He had a mirror that granted him anything he wanted.  

He stood in front of the mirror.  Once again, he almost imagined that his reflection was sneering at him, but he put it out of his mind.  He imagined Claire, in all her perfection, deeply in love with him.  He continued to focus, as much as his mind would allow him, when suddenly he felt hands around his waist.  He turned around, and found her standing behind him, beckoning him forward.

She led him up to his room and laid him upon the bed.   At first, he was ecstatic, but as the night continued, he became uncomfortable.    She was wrong.  She was not natural.  She was focused fully on him as she had her way, but he was unable to meet her gaze.  Every time he did, her face seemed to move out of focus, like a dark shadow was covering her.  He couldn't linger there long, and it filled him with dread.  Eventually the alcohol took its toll, and he fell into a fitful sleep, with her wrapped faithfully around him.

The next morning, Lewis went back to the mirror and wished her away.  Then he panicked.  He called one of his acquaintances and discovered that the actual Claire was still alive and well.  It had not been her.  He felt relieved, but this quickly turned to depression as he fell into a chair, racked with guilt at what he had brought into the world, however briefly.  Unfortunately, he wouldn't get a chance to make any more mistakes.

The next night, Lewis found himself awake.  It was about 3 AM.  He hadn't remembered waking.  Nor did he remember walking down the stairs to the mirror, but here he was.  He stood and stared at the mirror, back to the man he had become.  He smiled that mischievous smile.  Wait.  He hadn't smiled.  Why was he smiling?  Lewis attempted to move away, but he was stuck in place.  The mirror version of himself allowed its smile to widen, and Lewis felt his mouth tugging upwards to accommodate.  The reflection raised its arm, and Lewis helplessly raised his arm as well.  

Lewis vaguely noticed the entire room he was in filling with a dense fog.  The rest of the world blurred out into obscurity except the mirror with the devilish face of Lewis's counterpart.  The reflection spoke, and Lewis's mouth moved along with the words.  "I sure appreciate you helping me out of there.  Hope you don't mind hanging out for awhile."  He flashed that terrible grin.  "I'll see you around"

Lewis waved goodbye, and his reflection stepped away from the mirror...leaving him in darkness.
Written very quickly, probably could be better.  Feel free to offer constructive criticism.
JA Doetsch May 2012
He's a real good kid, he keeps his head down
She's pretty and polite and fun to be around
but when they're together and ain't no one in sight
They get down like animals in the middle of the night

He's walking in the door
She's lookin' to score,
knocks him to the floor
says baby do ya want some more
yeah, do ya want some more?

There's a trip slip to the bed
dip as the fly unzip, hands rip
off shoes and dress
before too long it's a
***** hot mess
put the bed to the test
as we press
You hear him confess

I love it, love it when we do the monkey lovin'
With the nails, biting, pushin' and the shovin'
between the sheets is as hot as an oven
as we become one again and again and again and again

She wraps around his waist
and he's now lost in space
taste the sweat
don't waste a second
this place is heaven
while they do the dance
lost in a trance
their faces merge
as they're on the verge
oh they're on the Verge
yeah they're on THE VERGE
as she yells out

I love it, love it when we do the monkey lovin'
With the nails, biting, pushin' and the shovin'
between the sheets is as hot as an oven
as we become one again and again and again and again

They relax between the sheets
curling their feet
hearts catch a beat
their lips meet once more
before

zzzzzzzzzzzzzz
*Scratches Head*
JA Doetsch Dec 2013
I bet you thought I didn't have anything left in the tank.  Bet you thought that I was done giving mind blowing advice on how to approach this crazy thing we call life.  Well...you were wrong.


1.  Often cases, how good a story you end up with is inversely proportional to how good a decision it was that led to it.  Don't be afraid to make some bad decisions every once in awhile, because those are the stories you're gonna be telling for years to come.  Even when you know it's a bad decision.  Sure, you might wake up naked in a ditch on the New Jersey turnpike with a some blurry memories, a hangover, a tattoo of some girl named Francesca on your chest, and an ounce of black-tar ****** shoved up your ***...but you know what?  You started this little adventure at a black-tie dinner party in Santa Monica, so I'm willing to bet some interesting **** happened between here and then.

2.  Don't be someone who never breaks the mold.  When you're lying on your death bed and someone asks you to tell them about your life, do you want to lean over and whisper to them that you always did exactly what people expected?  That you carefully listened for society's cues on how to represent yourself at every point in your life?  **** no.  You want to tell them you broke off the road and went searching for the oddities that this world has to offer. You want to tell them that you gave the ******* to society and did what you wanted because, you know what?  It's your ******' life and you only get one shot at it, so you might as well make it memorable.  Being normal is boring as hell.

3.  Talk to everyone.  Talk to them about uncomfortable things.  Talk to them about their hopes and dreams.  Talk to them about their fears.  Just ****** talk to them.  Real conversations always leave you with something you didn't had before.  Real conversations make you think about your positions.  Get passionate when you talk.  Challenge their views and allow yours to be challenged as well.  Do you think you know everything?  Yeah, I bet you do.  Why aren't you out solving everyone's problems then, you selfish *******.

4.  Whoever you are, be proud of that.  If you're not proud of who you are, chances are you arent happy with yourself.  If you're not happy with who you are, change something.  If you're still not happy, change something else.  Still not happy?  Guess what.  Change another ******' thing. Are you happy?  Good.  Now change something else anyway, because an interesting life isn't built on stagnation.

I hope you've all learned something today.

Also, I'd like to remind you to never take advice from strangers on the Internet.  That's just stupid.
JA Doetsch Jan 2012
Are you ready brain?

Hmm?

Are you ready to break the boundaries of thought
and action?  Are you ready to create passages
that move even the heaviest of hearts?  Are
you prepared to exceed expectations?
Are you chomping at the bit
to create  breathtaking
pictures with words?
Are you prepared
to write?

No.

Fine.
JA Doetsch Jan 2012
Hey Brain

You again

Yeah...you ready to write now?

Nah

Seriously!?

Throw me a bone, I beg you I plead!
Don't make me grovel from down on my knees!
I want to write verses, stanzas, and rhymes
I want to write odes that span hundreds of lines!
You don't understand the depths I would go
if only you'd let my creativity flow
within me there's power of unfathomable wonder
I will rip apart planets, I'll tear universes asunder!
I want to dip my brush into the paint of my mind
and just go to town until my mind paint is dried.
Paint that will land on more than the canvas
the floor, ceiling and walls will be stained with this madness!

My mind is spinning with various hues
greens, reds, and yellows -- purples and blues
My heart's 'bout to beat right out of my chest
and trust me, dear brain, that'd be a magnificent mess
If I go too much longer, I may go insane
and start writing of kumquats who dance in the rain
with whom are they dancing out there in the rain?
Why, none other than the late Saddam al Hussein
and those kumquats are making Saddam a mite jealous
due to the fact that they have much better moustaches
And why do kumquats have moustaches you wonder?
I'm so glad you asked, 'cause they're from the Down Under
Yes those kumqats were Australian, but they're not long for that land
Tom Selleck just ate 'em.  Rhyme like Yoda, I can

See what you do, when you do this to me?
When the one thing you do is not a **** thing?

My apathetic brain, why must you sit here and fight
Put down your defenses, and
just.
let.
me.
WRITE.

Umm...you just...kinda did

Oh.  Thanks...I think.

*Whatever
JA Doetsch Feb 2012
Let's play word association, brain

Sure

Anger

Carrots

Vegetables

Parachute Pants

MC Hammer

Sub Prime Mortage

Are you even trying?

Nicolas Cage.  Oh wait...that one actually made sense

You can be an ******* sometimes

Says the guy playing word association with himself

...Touché

*Lenny Bruce
One could also submit Keanu Reeves, Eddie Murphy, and the entire US Congress in place of Nick Cage.
JA Doetsch Sep 2014
It's difficult to say when the spring finally ended

The only thing for certain
is that it did end, as we slipped
blissfully unaware, into winter and darkness.

From the highrise apartments in Chicago
to the mud huts baking in the African Sun
From the smiling skulls in the Paris Catacombs
To the open deserts of the great Outback

The wind whispered in the silence
past our giant walls, our empty monuments

past piles of leatherbound books
their pages continually flapping
as if begging to be read, just once more

The hard lines of the cities softened
as the carefully manicured lawns
grew out of check,
turning the skyline green


The human race liked to think we were driving the car
That we were in control
In reality, we were the child in the backseat
with the toy steering wheel

We expected to go out
with an awe-inspiring bang
with a roar of thunder
befitting our importance


Instead (or rather, accurately),
the planet ended silently and without much fuss

a mere footnote in the universe
JA Doetsch Mar 2012
We met a very long time ago.  We both were world travelers,
and we both desired a deeper understanding of our past.  We
met by chance, and it was not love at first sight.  I found her
to be far too passive and cautious, unable to see the thrill in
life.  She found me too brash and reckless, willing to put
myself above others to achieve my goals.  We both had our
points, I guess.

We kept running into each other.  It became a competition
to see who could leave the site with the most artifacts.  At times,
it was quite a heated battle.  Words were said.  Lines were drawn.
This went on for quite some time before we realized we could
do much more for our science if we worked together.  The
first few months were hell.  We spent our days silently
working in each others shadows.  We spent our nights
at opposite sides of our tent, poring over the data from
the day prior.

I don't remember the day it happened, nor the year,
but I do remember it was raining.  We were arguing
about the proper reference notation for a particular
discovery when she turned and called me a callous ****,
right before tripping on a branch.  I was about to
laugh and tell her it served her right, but just at
that moment, as her wet hair framed her oval,
tear-streaked face...

I truly saw her for the first time.

I think she must have done the same, because she
didn't say a word as I picked her up and brought
her to the first aid tent.  She bit her lip quietly as I
treated her swollen ankle.  We both knew it,
though neither of us would ever speak it.

Things were different now.

Our newly forged companionship breathed new
life into both of us.  There was no terrain, no peak,
nothing on heaven and earth that could stop us.
If there was something to be discovered, you had
**** well know it was going to be us doing the
discovering.  It was a golden age when I was by
her side and her by mine.

Our travels finally took us to the unknown during
one particularly muggy summer deep in uncharted
jungles in the south.  We had heard whispers on the
wind of a legendary artifact, one that had been cited
in ancient texts throughout the ages.  We didn't know
exactly what it was, but our nature compelled us to
find it.

We were laughed at, blacklisted by our own colleagues.
We started losing supporters, slowly at first, but soon
our funding was drying up.  Despite every reasonable
chance we had to turn around, we simply could not. It
was emblazoned in our DNA that we must pursue this
unknown thing.  It became our passion, only superseded
by our love for each other.

We did find it.

Eight years later, in the middle of the rain forest, in a spot
so remote that it had never had human footprints, we found
an underground system of caves.  We set into them, and
immediately found ourselves lost.  Traveling for what seemed
like weeks, we survived on moss and spring water.  Just as we
were about to finally extinguish our faith that we would find
what we were seeking, much less our way out...

There it was.

It was stone, approximately 3 feet in diameter, and sat on a raised
pedestal.  It had raised markings on its surface that resembled a
language, though no language that I had ever seen.  The regular
sound of water dripping into it was the only sound outside of our
ragged breathing.  It was a well.  It was our well.  I don't know how
we knew it, but at that moment we both realized that this was the
purpose of our existence.

As we peered into it, we saw what I can only describe as the separation
of time from space.  What I saw burned itself into my brain, threatening
to drive me mad.  The last thing I remembered hearing was a voice inside
my head telling me "At the end, it shall begin".

We woke up at our home, this vivid memory still fresh in our minds,
thinking that it had been a dream, until we saw ourselves.  We were
young again, just as we had been the day we had met.  Further
investigation showed us to be, for better lack of the word...Immortal.

At this point, the years feel like they flew by like rifling through the
pages of the book.  Empires rose and collapsed.  Weather patterns
changed, tectonic plates shifted, it all was mundane at times.  The
one thing that seemed to plague the human race throughout the
eons was the concept of hatred, which saddened us.  We were like
ghosts, sitting on the boundary of humanity, but even that great
chapter eventually ended.  I won't bore you on the details of how
the human race met its demise.

We walked the empty planet watching rivers erode into canyons,
as forests became deserts.  Volcanoes erupted, violently altering
the landscape.  Species continued to evolve, eventually giving way
to other intelligent beings.  They too built massive civilizations
on the planet that humans had once called their own.  They also
made beautiful arts that were a wonderment to our eyes.  They also
hated. All of them eventually ended up in the museums of their
successors, ancient bones the only sign they ever existed.

Five billion years later, the Sun enveloped our planet.  We did not
feel the burn, but we were left with the unfortunate problem of no
longer having solid ground to stand on.  We floated throughout
the universe, hand in hand. We laughed, we cried, we made
love in the place where no one can hear you scream (in ecstasy).
We couldn't speak, but at that point we didn't need to.  The universe
continued to expand, as we continued to float aimlessly.  We had
seen more than any intelligent being could begin to fathom.  We
remembered everything, nothing was lost to the haze of forgotten
memories.

Eventually, the universe slowly began contracting.  I won't even
bother telling you how long it took.  It waned down and down.
It became the size of a nebula...the size of a galaxy...the size
of a planet, until it was so small that it could fit inside of your
wallet.  We contracted as well, our atoms pushing together
as we embraced each other.  It shrank until it was the size
of a single quark, with us inside it.  2 minds occupying
an infinitesimal space.

The we exploded

In nanoseconds, we expanded destroying the emptiness
and filling it with light and heat and life.  We became
every atom in our own universe.  It was freedom, to
no longer be trapped inside of a body, but to just be.
There's no word that can properly describe it.

Billions of years later, our first intelligent life came
into existence.  We did our best to nurture it, but we
admit we are not perfect. We may have taken too
active of a role early on, giving miracles to those
who we deemed kind, and punishing those who
we deemed wicked.  Eventually we realized we
were doing more harm than good.  We retreated,
becoming mere observers of our own creation.

Hate still existed, but we also saw wonder and beauty
that far out shined even the worst souls, much like
light banishes the darkness with such ease.

People always think of God as some all knowing,
all powerful being that knows your soul and
passes judgement.

We sometimes wonder if they would be amazed

or disappointed

to find out that God is just two star crossed lovers
who lived just a little too long
This is way too **** long.
JA Doetsch May 2013
I feel like I'm chasing
   The shadow
      of a whisper
            of a lost memory
of a thought
    of a forgotten dream
           of the faintest glimmer of hope
JA Doetsch Jan 2012
We have a language, you and I
There are no words
They have no place

Our nouns are the soft kisses
down your neck
my hand brushing your hair
away from your face

our adjectives are the way
our legs entwine
how your toes curl towards mine
and how your arms wrap
around my back

Our verbs are found
in each others eyes
spoken through smiles
and punctuated with
gasps, whispers, and sighs

Our language
of touch
says more than any
spoken language
ever could.

Of course, like most languages
there are always exceptions
to the rule
You're allowed to say
I Love you
JA Doetsch Oct 2012
The boys, the boys, they can't help but stare at her
as she's talking, she's walking in iambic pentameter

She breathes in italics
Words fall from her lips
San-serif movements
Punctuate her hips

She writes, she paints, her dreams soak the paper
such beauty, such beauty, my willpower waivers

Her eyes tell a story
in which I want to belong
Only she knows the ending
as she has all along

I wish, I want, a new story to start
with her, with her, with all of my heart
JA Doetsch Sep 2012
There was once a rich and powerful man, known throughout the globe
for his accomplishments, for his wealth, for his power and his vision
He built his empire from sand and dust, with blood and bone

One day he desired to become immortalized in a fine painting

He wanted it to be the finest painting ever conceived -- painted by the hand of a god
He wanted people to look upon the work with tears in their eyes, staring at the beauty
that they beheld

He scoured the nation, looking for the artist that would create his masterpiece
day after day, lines formed at his estate as he took each one in
and sampled their artwork, and their sketches.

Weeks passed

None impressed him.  He became distraught

"Is there no man in this world who can possibly create the wonder that I desire?  Is there no man who can immortalize me in such a way that words could not describe the perfection?"

A voice crackled behind him.

"Well...no MAN can.  I, however, am not a man"

He turned to see a short creature behind him.  It was short with blue skin and orange eyes.  It's sharp teeth gleened as it smiled.

"What on earth are you?  Why are you here?"
"What I am is no matter, though you can call me Velnard. What I'm here to do is paint you"

The man frowned

"What is your cost?"

"I only ask that you never leave the painting that I've created"
"I would never leave it anywhere!  If it's as wonderful as I hope it to be, it would stay with me for eternity!"

Velnard smiled.

"Then we have an agreement!"
The man smiled and extended his hand, which was grasped firmly by a claw

Suddenly, a large canvas was hanging from the ceiling

The man looked around

"Where would you like me to stand?  Have you no paint?"
"Ah!  You can just stand there for a moment.  The paint will be ready shortly"

The man stood, regarding the small creature.  His hand was itching after shaking on the deal.  Minutes passed.  Neither party moved.  The man became impatient.

"Are you going to start?  I have other things to attend to today."
"I think you'll find that this is more important"
"Well then get to it already!"
"I already have"
"You've done nothing the entire time we've stood here!"
"No, the paint is nearly ready"

The man had lost his patience.  "This is ridiculous", he spat, as he derisively flicked his hand at the creature, motioning him to begone.  He heard a splatter on the floor and looked down.  On the ground, a foot or so in front of him was a droplet of pinkish-brown paint.  He looked around for the source, to no avail.  He stroked his chin thoughtfully as he looked at the creature.

"What are you playing at, Velnard?"

Only then did he notice something was odd.

His chin felt wet.  He pulled his handkerchief and wiped it off and when he looked down, the white cloth was covered in a similar pigment as what was on the floor.  He looked at his hand to see it was covered in paint.

"What trickery is this!?"

He wiped it away, only to find more.  He frantically wiped more to see the pinkish tint turn to red.

Velnard piped in

"It would do you well to stop that.  That's blood.  Well, actually it's paint...but it was blood."

The man was livid.  "What have you done to me!?"

"I'm painting" was the curt, rather emotionless response.

The man felt the oozing moving up his arm and to his chest and looked down to see his clothes starting to drip, no longer as fine cloth.  He lifted his leg, and it made a sickening sound as it peeled from the ground, leaving a black imprint on the ground.  The rest of his body was beginning to look like the Sagrada Familia.

He tried to yell, but his teeth and tongue were becoming more malleable by the second.

"WHAT HARVE YRU DORNE TER MEER"

"I'm immortalizing you, my dear friend!  You're just about ready!"

"THRSRSNORTWHRTIWRNTD"

Velnard cackled.  "Perhaps not what you wanted, but what you agreed to.  One should always read the contract before shaking hands with a strange creature."

The man started to cry, but his tears only served to smudge his eyeballs, making it difficult to see.

"Oh dear, you're going to smear your colors if you keep that up.  Anyway, we're at the moment of truth!  The canvas is ready"

The man struggled to stay upright as his knees slowly were softening.  His breathing became ragged as his insides started melting.

"You have a choice, my friend.  You can either stand here and melt into a puddle of you-colored paint, or you can use the last of your strength and jump into my canvas.  You will be immortalized and people will gaze upon your beauty and cry tears of joy.  Is that not what you wanted?"

The man's mouth was drooping as if he had heard some rather shocking news, his body now looked like a failed attempt at pottery.  He knew another minute and he wouldn't be able to move the few feet to the canvas.

"Tick tock" chimed Velnard

The man, in despair, willed his goopy muscles to make one more movement.  He dove towards the canvas, splattering himself across it.  A giant human-shaped splotch mark was all that was left.  The room became quiet.

Velnard walked up to the canvas and touched it.  The ink shifted and splayed until it became the man.  

He was glorious.  He was immortal.

Just as he was promised.
JA Doetsch Feb 2012
Dear 27 year old me

This is you when you were 12.

I know that you're probably
busy counting your 100 billion
dollars or hanging out with
John Travolta or something,
but hopefully you find time
to read this.

I'm sure you are now
the CEO of some huge company
and have a huge mansion on
the coast of France or something.

You're probably dating a super model
and have servants to wait on you hand
and foot.  Maybe even your own theme
park.  Who knows?  I mean even without
the theme park, you can't complain.

I'm sure some mornings when
you get into your flying car
and zoom off to your office
on the Moon, you wonder
how you got here.  You
wonder if you deserve to
be where you are today.

I just wanted to tell you
don't worry about that crap

Just keep being awesome.

See you in 15 years.

----------


Dear 12 year old me.

Stop writing stupid letters
and study.  You are not
helping our cause at the
moment.

Sincerely
15 years late, 100 billion short
It was my Birthday two days ago.  I wondered what I would have told myself when I was 12.
JA Doetsch Sep 2014
Is there a word for the disappointment felt when looking a picture that you had taken in a beautiful place?  

The work it took to get that spot, slowly trekking through hills and valleys, leaving mementos of sweat along your path.  The moments before you reached the pinnacle, the heightening excitement.  The absolute awe-inspiring majesty that filled your being, as you stood there slowly taking it in, wishing the moment wouldn't pass.  Praying that it wouldn't pass.  Taking a picture of it, so you'd always remember it.

Then, looking at the photo months later and realizing the camera could in no way do your experience justice.  The flat, lifeless piece of gloss before you could not store your emotions, the wind at your back, the thoughts racing through your head.  Those pieces of the experience are now mere echoes, reverberating through your memories.  You realize that when other people look at this picture, they will not see what you saw.  They will see a pretty landscape.  Nothing more, nothing less.

What a melancholy thought.

There should be a melancholy word to go with it.
Do you think that the act of taking a picture of something makes you less likely to appreciate it fully?  Without the picture, would the fact that you knew you would likely never see it again make it that much more meaningful to you?
JA Doetsch Aug 2012
When I look at you,
all of my
logic
common sense
appropriateness
seems to evaporate
as my primitive brain
takes the wheel

We won't take our clothes off
We will tear them off.
Rip them off
Ravage them
Destroy them
We will brutally punish the fabric
for getting in the way of our sins,
it will fall tattered to the floor
as we don new clothing
made of our sweat and fingers

Our lips will find one another
then they'll find our necks
then our chests
then our stomaches
then....we'll see
We'll draw maps of our bodies with our fingers
and then we'll explore them with our tongues.
Nothing is sacred
Nothing is off limits

I want to make you feel ecstacy
I want your legs wrapped around me
I want your fingernails digging into my back
Leave scars, I insist.
Our bodies will press together
cause fusion
cause confusion
I don't want to know
what is mine
and what is yours
I want to be
so hopelessly
lost in you
and you in me
that we might never find our way back
Why would we ever go back?

As the rhythm becomes more staggered
I want to be looking into your eyes
We're seeing stars and we're relishing
every single tiny little moment
every feeling
every fleeting sensation
until we collapse into
eachother's arms
too tired to move
swimming in a
river of passion

You still smell delicious.
I want you again.
JA Doetsch Sep 2013
When I was younger,
as our lips met
I was so eager
to free you
          from your fabric bonds
I was in such a hurry
to liberate you
         from the oppressive clothing
that was strangling your body
                inhibiting your beauty
                hiding the soft curves of your skin
I treated our time together
like a small child would treat a Christmas gift,
Greedily tearing away at the wrapping paper
to retrieve the object of his desire.

Unaware that anticipation can be just as rewarding
as the reward itself

My priorities have shifted
          I've learned

Let me just lay next to you
admire you as you bite your lip
   enticing a kiss.

    Just a small one

Let me run my hand down your arm
as my fingers find yours and
   i n t e r t w i n e

Let me watch as your eyes follow mine
into the place where no words
need be spoken

I want to listen to your heartbeat
                   There's no need to rush this.

I want to get lost with you in this moment

                 Just for a bit

Before we're lost in the passion of the night
JA Doetsch Feb 2012
Every evening I go to bed knowing
that there's no way I could love you
more than I did today.

Every morning you prove me wrong
You're always right
beside me
smiling as if to say
"I told ya so"
JA Doetsch Mar 2012
1.
When she kissed him
he lit up like a firework
shot into the sky
and exploded in jubilant splendor

She was not entirely pleased,
as he now rained down upon her.

2.
When he smiled at her
she felt as if the warmth
of a thousand suns were
inside of her chest.

Luckily there was
a fire extinguisher
nearby



Choose your metaphors
with care
I don't feel like making sense right now.
JA Doetsch Jan 2012
I've always had this empty feeling
in my heart.
I've tried many times over the years
to satisfy it


First I became a teacher.
What better way to fill my void
than by educating the leaders
of tomorrow?

I taught them.  I filled their heads
with knowledge.  Every child that
entered my classroom left with
an appreciation of what they
had learned.

Still, when I laid in bed at night,
I felt that emptiness in my soul
******* up my contentment.
So I stopped teaching

Next, I became an adventurer.
Clearly my last job, while fulfilling
was incredibly boring.  What better
way to fill the void than to feel
the adrenaline rushing through
my head?

I skydived, I wrestled alligators,
I climbed mountains, I pod raced.
I felt more alive than I ever had
before.  It was exhilarating.
Women loved me, men wanted
to be me.

Still.  It didn't fill the void.  I would
go to bed with women whose eyes
were just as empty as I was.  I would
wake up with plastic and rubber.
I stopped thrill seeking.

Next, I became an astronaut.
I clearly needed to complement
excitement with the satisfaction
of doing something good for
the world.

I studied the universe.  I traced
lines along the constellations.
My research was renowned
by scholars worldwide.  With
my help, the world entered
a new paradigm

Still, the void persisted.  

I became an architect
and built some of the
most mind-boggling
structures that had
ever been envisioned

I became a doctor
and found the cure
to the diseases of
humanity

I became a poet
and wrote words
that echoed
throughout the ages.

After all I had done
After all I had accomplished
After all the time I had spent

I was still empty.

           Then I looked up
           Then I opened my eyes
           Then I realized

All I had been missing

All this time

Was you.
JA Doetsch Jan 2012
There are voices I hear
that are unusually clear, it's quite an awful racket
What do you mean? I hear nothing
You don't?  I hear something
Me? I can hear only quacking

They argue and bicker
I swear I get sicker each and every day
I think you're crazy, my son
He's fine, Obi Wan
Guys?  These ducks are coming our way

The least I can say
is that on rather slow days, I listen to combat the dullness
At least someone's not bored
I'm a Sith Lord!
Oh crap! one those ducks has a cutlass!!

It could be worse I suppose
but they always impose on the moments of silence I cherish
Man, he wasn't joking!
Those ducks are force choking!
If we don't leave, we're all going to perish!

One day I know
They'll finally go, and my sanity I will gain back
Quack quack quack quack
Quack quack quack quack quack
Quack quack quack quack quack quack quack!


*sigh
JA Doetsch Mar 2012
You spot her on the dance floor
Her milky skin reflects the glowing
light of green lasers.  Her eyes are
closed, as she absorbs the beat. The
bass travels across the floor and up
through her legs as she tilts her
head up in ecstasy.

She is in a world all her own. She
drowns out the crowd, within her
own frequency she moves her feet
to the beat that the DJ creates. Her
hips sway, creating vacuums of
energy and drawing people closer
to her essence.

She sweats  away her feelings of
insecurity, loneliness, and regret.
The acid on her tongue does not
corrode her skin, though it does
seem to melt away her inhibitions.  
Maybe her clothes, if she's in the mood

She knows all the boys are watching
her. Maybe if she's lucky, there's a man
as well. Someone who can attune
himself to her rhythm and grasp
her complexity. There will be sweet
synchronization as they create sin
waves in between the sheets.

This is her release
Tomorrow
She will be a hair stylist
She will be a nurse
She will be a lawyer

But tonight?

She's alive
JA Doetsch Mar 2012
They say

that the definition of insanity, that is what insanity means
is doing the same thing over and over and over and over and over and over

again and again and again and ****** again


and expecting different results and expecting different things and expecting you to care

I guess you could say

I'm crazy for you
I'm mad about you

Or maybe I'm just a fool
Inside the head of a madman
JA Doetsch Dec 2012
This poem is reserved
for the love of my life
Its lines are only
placeholders
templates
for what is to come

There is no meaning right now
so don't go and search for it
These are cold, emotionless words
ready to be replaced with fire
when the time is right

This stanza will be filled at a later date
This line will be about her laugh
This line will be about the look she gives me (you know the one)
This line will be about the spark in her eyes
This line...mmm...will be none of your **** business.
It's a private moment
It's between her and I
The one with the reservation
to my heart

One day this poem will mean something
One day these lines won't be empty
Someday

But not today
Next page