You
(Poets)

(like much of life)

we’re on the inside
looking out,

while longing
for someone

on the outside
to look in

I don’t know
whether I love you,
or if I loath you…

I guess I’ll just take
the middle ground,
and say,

‘I like you.’

The scratch on your face heals
as my attraction comes and goes…

What am I up to?

Making something beautiful,

‘I don’t care.’

Easy as that,
and I’ve turned it into something ugly…

Paint me again
the poor boy that I am;
laugh at me
and pour me a drink.

All in one Sentence
if you please.

All in one motion…

Emotions have brought me
from here—

—to there.

Like reliving every
eventful stare.

Was it you or I
who cared?

I seem to forget…

Thank me again,
and receive your tip.

I think we’re similar enough,
after all,
we’re cut from the same fluff.

And knowing that is—

Far—

Too—

Much.
*(rough)

A darkened tone breaks
the pink landscape.

A sleeveless vest
torn and frayed.

A face,
amongst others,
out of lace...

An exit wide open.

A back turned and walking away.

Cutesy fluff from wall to floor,
from ceiling to door.

Not a smile to be had.

Winds blowing me down...

I’ve come around,
witnessed,
marked up,
and then left.
(In my usual way)

A rain filled cloud
swept by
without releasing its load.

I remain dry,
but my ‘Plush Girl’,
I go on by...

Ignorant of what it feels like
to be inside
your denim disguise .

She waves in a far off land
One that I knew
Like the back of my hand

And on the ever changing wind
The bows flow in spiraling circles
At the tail end of a kite
That pushes forwards
With all its tethered might
As it swoops and dives
At the command of the breeze

And suddenly,

As if with great ease,

It's back to its stable posture

Sailing proud and feeling free

And I know,

Like the kite,

Where I to would like to be

Released from the hand
And sent forth to fly across the land
In hopes of where birds and clouds do tell
Drifting peacefully with messages for the beauty fair
Who stays and waits in a far off place
That she could hear the words uttered by a man
Left blowing for the wind to understand

(...)

And there he stands still.

Wondering...

Waiting...

All the while watching that kites proud flight,
At its greatening height,
Holding the string within his hand


Closed firmly

And

Grasping tight.

She waves in a far off land
One that I knew
Like the back of my hand

And on the ever changing wind
The bows flow in spiraling circles
At the tail end of a kite
That pushes forwards
With all its tethered might
As it swoops and dives
At the command of the breeze

And suddenly,

As if with great ease,

It's back to its stable posture

Sailing proud and feeling free

And I know,

Like the kite,

Where I to would like to be

Released from the hand
And sent forth to fly across the land
In hopes of where birds and clouds do tell
Drifting peacefully with messages for the beauty fair
Who stays and waits in a far off place
That she could hear the words uttered by a man
Left blowing for the wind to understand

(...)

And there he stands still.

Wondering...

Waiting...

All the while watching that kites proud flight,
At its greatening height,
Holding the string within his hand


Closed firmly

And

Grasping tight.

I’m sick,
can’t you see?

I’m unwell,
can it be?

I don’t understand
what the intentions are
towards me.

I feel like there are ticks
burrowing beneath my skin…

My mind exasperates the hate
and twists the praise
into disgrace.

Never good.

Never good enough.

Never great.

Like a memory
built upon a dream...

but real


and



without







escape.

Your cheeks become tight
After your tears have dried

During the times in your life
When you feel like no one wants anything to do with you

But this loneliness
Is not your final deliverence

You just have to wait through it
For your gracious comeuppance

I don’t think I can even write.

My brains switched off
and I’m all good night...

Naught eye
says sorry.

No harm done.

No contribution contributed.

No metallic frame to scrutinize.

No aftermath of pollutions memory to ridicule,
or another’s to brutalize.

I think it’s just faux diamonds
reflecting in a vagrant ponds eyes…

A capturing gaze
that leads you to malaise…

What else could portray

(the beauty)

that goes *undisplayed...

I’ll be flying smoke screens on Venus's ******.

At the drop of the letter orange
an orangutans purse strings pulls at my wallet.

A corpse's spindle finger pointing me in a direction…

Trees bending shadows to blind the day.

A wind whispering to me in a human tone.

A madness telling me to leave it alone.

I’m so at home it’s unknown
and overly underwhelmed.

I’m grabbing at the helm,
but it was holding me afloat.

I pushed down so hard
by the time I pulled back
it broke under the pressure
of not understanding how to cope.

A final rope cutting me.

A blackened fuel from a golf swing
placing my humanity upon the desert’s green.

I could believe anything
if I will accept my own lies...

A twisted frame from a mangled mind.

It’s only just polished time
that gave us away...

A reflection show portraying all others
in directions we now sometimes go.

A final stroll down a scars
burrowed walkway
leading me back towards
the one remaining vertebrate…

An amphibian brain
in a leader of men.

I didn't even point it out,
all over again.

I keep going…

Even though my meaning is misconstrued.

I truly believe that we are even.

A living life that’s unfulfilled.

I wait patiently for someone who
will come and be with me.

It’s not that rejection is my enemy...

It’s that my enemy is me.

I know you’ve heard it before
in a way that’s more familiar,
but what can I say
when I feel so similar.

Where is she?

The same place as me…

Tucked away out of the others
eye sight,
or already passed,
but too nervously afraid to say;

‘It’s not okay.’

‘I’m not you;
you're not me.’

The world turned without a pair.

It was us who interjected purpose,
it was us who tried to find reason,
it was us who wrote the meaning,
and it was us who gave in too easily.

A passerby,
or one in too many…

Could it be so frequent
that it was unnecessary to care?

Or so few that I lost it before
I even knew it was there…

I don’t know what to say about that...

‘Love lost people,
As war seeks lives.’

There I’ve done it.

I’ve crushed a rose
and lifted a bitter note
above an atmosphere
made up of a little more than sound,
but a little less than a passion from
something that somewhat comprehends…

I’m human and I don’t understand...

The sun shines violently,
I light where it’s been,
and together we wander.

We know not of,
Just yet,
Where each other roam…

And before it’s all over
I only hope we find one another’s
hidden home,

as we float towards
the final resting earth
within the icy stone’s storm,

traversing chaos’
insignificant unknown...

alone.

The place you’ve arrived,
dived,
and returned to the surface;

gasping for air.

It was all around,
but nobody cared...

until it was no longer there.

What a sparse remark to make
around something that can’t be saved…

Suddenly I feel like
I’ve been here before.

I followed emotions that
bring me to the floor.

Plastic and currents,
breaks and neck aches...

They relate to a lake
where swimming once occurred.

Was I here?

Am I there?

It’s hard to concur
when you speak
such sleek
negative
things.

I forgot as you chimed in on me,
or about my personality.

I’ve had a fill beyond the rim.

I've spilled out
and everyone can observe my ****.

Closing time passed,
and here I stand with nothing left to grasp.

The promise land was not mine,
but another’s who I blindly followed...

How much longer can I endure?

...I have not the strangest of clues.

The beauty that meets my eye
diminishes my supply.

Not an aspect of features
in her figure escapes my sight.

It’s the greater
that I can’t understand.

So powerful is the draw
I’m sketched a thousand times,
but I’m just scribbles within a frame
and, by comparison, she’s the real thing;
painted marble from head to toes;
crafted by hands that are not of this world.

And I, myself, already know
that moment's breath screamed past my grasp,
as my lungs could not even laps,
as if they were as desperate as
asphyxiation due to water deprivation…

But sub lines there’s a confusion,
and a resolve that’s a ****** resolution.

To write withered worried thought
and never to do more than trot
along on my way…

As if a gallant gallop
could save someday
that goes unmentioned.

There she is in time;
here I sit within
the primal nursery rhyme.

“Scared away…”,

It rejects to say,

*“You’ve not only wasted your lines,
but I’ve also wasted mine.”

Her eyes
are of nighttime skies
that deeply pool at the base
of a silhouettes shape.

Her form
is of the dreams
that the legend makers
should keep.

The way her hair falls down
and around her face
mirrors the waterfall
and stands in its place

while she showers under its spring,
time and time again,
in her elegance that has
learned all too well how to play pretend...

But does she know
the way back out again?

Does she feel the sunlight
that dries her perfect black strands,
or the way it cures the newly formed streak
that turns back in due time?

Does she feel the way
the rays caress her skin?

Does she know more
than only one way
to let love in…

A vast indifference is
a confusion causing spin

that an easily listening heart hears,
and with compassion can
put back in a safe place…

A warm embracing state
that no undertow can take.

A sorry call
when distance is installed,
and has well over stayed…

To be involved
with memories
of golden days,

which were actually
bright side
silver linings,

While on the inside
were filled with pain,
and the pressures
of the day…

But I cannot complain,
nor just give in,

nor ever give away!

And a chance
for gracious change
in all the signages
that cry out to be brave

in the face of all those fears
that have haunted like bad thoughts
over all those nasty years...

And if fortune does indeed
favor those who face their fears,

let it also favor those
who turn a wink
and a solemn covered ear,

So that they can try to escape
the horrors
that they neither want to see,
nor hear

...

Let love be thine guide
that's never so quiet
that it falls on deaf ears,

nor never so silent
that it ever becomes a whisper so soft
that only silence can hear.

One look away…

Wasn’t given.

It’s easy when it’s clear.

It’s easier when it’s not.

To walk away…

Regrets for a death bed.

Put a bullet in my head
so I can skip the bit.

Saying goodbye
thinking

I don’t want to die…

Well here’s here
and we’re all going over there...

Prove a point
that’s almost as old as time.

I think she came first,
but I can’t beat this out of my mind.

Something in the way she focuses her lens,
or captures with her eye.

Im beyond oblivion…

The last chance was spent thinking
of who she could capture next...
(What a catch)

And I’m the past tense.

So soon do we go bye
that it’s almost impossible
to recognize the beauty
before it passes.

They told me to stop and smell the roses,
but the roses have been set loose
and their out of the light before I’ve come to a truce
within my own mind,
or when I look up to the sky
to see the sunshine.

If too long gazed
the blaze will make me go blind.

Dressing up to something you want to be
(or something someone else wants you to be).

Before you know it
your something you never thought you’d believe.

A situation you never thought you’d see
like looking up at a smile to be had,
and held,
and kissed.

Next thing you know you’ve already missed,
as they pass by on their public transit.

For all to see.

Walk into the giving machine
with who you don’t agree,
but holds your fortune by the throat.

Digging a personal moat
becoming remote
and not giving back
until you not only ask,
but also make and take.

She’s here not there,
not waiting for me.

I don’t care unless there are three,
or one less - for you - I feel passion without a bless
and to attest I know that I will.

No bitter pills,
no sorry shrills,
and nothing to ****.

I’m back in the egg,
I’m in the void,
and I’m ready to be re-undeployed.

Even if I get annoyed
I know I’ll come back
to where I’ll be in the stack
and without a lack.

To all who are near
the joiner is clear

...

A flutter of her eyelashes.

Her flicker has forever lasted.

They’re pinned to pages.

Their feelings have flown away
with the last flutter of their wings.

In the index we are all in content.

Filling the pages with our individual faces…

***** we’ve all felt before
make it until the pages fold.

Kissing her in the darkness,
as the binder finds pressure between its hinges.

My larva sits in sacks waiting to be hatched.

A protein batch asks for it’s usual back
and cares so much about when it cracks.

It doesn’t think at all about the beauty that's about to be had
more than the flower it rests it’s legs upon,
or the skin of a fruit in its ripened state,
or now the rigamortus that it stills in its deathened wait…

Wait?

The beauty in what?

The obsessed,
as the butterfly net settles gently on top of another victim.

A classic beige villain cups and cards,
jars,
and pokes holes to breath.

The winged beauty is re-confined
in a place of un-metamorphoses.

Crashing into the walls
like any caged animal would.

Settling on a leaf,
while a female flips free in front of the reflections of light that plays on the atmosphere and condensation.

I clip myself and wash chemicals on my figure,
so I’ll never decay.

Suffer the stage with a name
and play the same pose that impresses without rest.

My cloudy eyes would cry if they could,
but they can't.

And all that I hope for now
is that when my counterpart ends
she’s staple to the page across from me,

so when that book is finally closed
we’ll be face to face
and our soulless remains
can finally embrace.

The eyes on the back of their heads are their friends
watching out for their best interests…

Or looking out for the interests given.

I started to believe that there was a difference,
but I’m constantly reminded that we are the same

only with opposite perspectives
that seeks the others reflection...

Two parts of a singularity...

Little Yang's big Yin...

Same-same, but not at all.

I’m over grateful for the dot that has been given
and where my portion transforms into a solo point.

The point where I become one with my other half...

A circle that goes around,

*always.

Sometimes when you reach out
no one will grab you.

Sometimes when you reach out
no one will have you.

Sometimes when you reach out
someone will receive you.

Sometimes when you reach out
no one will believe you.

Sometimes when you reach out
no one will understand you.

Sometimes when you reach out
they’ll forget about themselves.

I’d like to believe people
are the tip of the iceberg,

and underneath the surface is a
whole person being kept secret.

*(But kept too long and no one will ever receive it)

Their there when you need them…
Nice and easy.

But they don’t fit the taste,
they just fill the space,
and the real thing is hard to find…

I know.

I search around with nothing in my hands.

A seeking heart
and a troublesome mind
that doesn’t decipher wrong from right all the time.

Getting lost in confusion…
(A great delusion)

If instincts knew
I wouldn't get caught up in brands
one to seven,
seven through eleven,
and twenty four hours a day.

Heaven reigns semi supreme,
as if there’s a chance to get lost…

I can see over your love
to the aisle of her hate
and his getting in my way.

When I pay I put on a face.

As I go home I swing and sway
my waste
in front of everyone’s face,
while two the same age as me walk hand in hand.

And if I were to return twenty years now passed
I would see them the same…

I guess they’re more of the tailored type,
cut to fit and dry cleaned,
hand washed and air dried...

Mine cycles far to high.

Every look carries with it some thought implied.

I gathered and divided
all into the same bin
and I've got the corner store feelings
once again.

Could you love me for a day?
Could you play pretend?
Could you act as if our love will have no bitter end?

Could you love me for a day,
and then go away
never to see me again?

Could you love me for one day,
like we're the only two
swimming through eternities blue?

Could you love me for a day,
and then when you awake
get dressed and forget my name?

Could you love me for a day,
and know that the moment will last forever
in that time, and in that place?

Could you love me for a day?
Could you give me that piece of mind?
And I will try to be there when we die.

Could you love me for a day,
kiss my eyes,
and make me believe it's going to be okay?

Could you love me for a day?
Could you love me in just that way?

Could you love me for a day?
And I will let you escape.

Could you love me for a day
without a heart, or a cause to break?

Could you love me for a day?


Could you love me?



Could you…




...for, just, one day.

Humanity is a ****** up fiend
looking for it’s next score…

I think I just tore
whatever there was left to tear.

Please put me back in your stare,
I do not mind if you glare.

My righteousness was not enough to keep me here,
nor you there.

I wish I didn’t have to find it this hard to care…

...I could never be an untrue phrase;
you would lie to save your face
for a friend who will leave you
before your final days.

Do you care?
Not in the least.

Did I?
Only when I could gaze upon your personal space…

Fracture and harmed,
another passer by with something to say.

Everything is wrong,
nothing is left undisplayed.

Thank you for your time of day
I thought yours’ precious...

on the other hand,
mine IS a waste.

It would be a great big lie
to tell you that,

‘I don’t think about
what it would be like
to be with you…

To lie with you…

To feel your hair against my face
and hear your breath compete
against my heartbeat.’

It would be untrue
if I didn’t tell you,

‘I don’t want to go out
it would only diminish my interest
through all the distractions...

Disturbing my focus...

Bright lights and loud sounds;
answering all the questions of others
cycling around.’

I would have to return to the spot
where we once were…

Then I could begin to truly re-spur
the feeling of when we were just laying
and wish again…

‘...That nothing would ever change
that moment where...


                 you and I…

                
                                  ...lie in place.’

I don’t think it,
I know it.

The wind weeps
after it caresses you
and is forced by at the speed of breeze.

The air you breath
longs to be
used for speech-

just for the opportunity
to convey your meaning
in an utterance
formed from thee.

The sun takes pride
in the light it provides,
just so it can show you off
to all the passer-byes.

So how could you ask me what I think,
when I could only portray your value
with my toxic speak?

For when you disappear
from the world
it becomes but just a word;

*‘Meaningless’

There once was an old lady who lived in a shoe.
Unfortunately for her, before she moved in, it had stepped in poo.
Now when she invites people over to stay
they say,
"Your house smells like ****."
and then they go away.

The old lady cries,
"Why, oh why, do my friends leave
every time they come by?"
for you see, the old lady hadn't the faintest of clues,
that her house was actually a shoe
that had stepped in doo-doo.

Sipping inebriation to pass the time.

Desires of an almost,
but not quite,
criminal mind…

A mind of mine.

Thinking and thought out,
like the smoke screen that was blown about
by the atmosphere as it lifted off.

Finally a completed thought,
and it’s too late…

It’s stopped,
or not.

My mind returns to me in a song
that only I can sing along to.

Out of tune to you,
but in line with mine
and everything we all do.

I’ll sit while long ago should have been cut off takes my spot.

An engine turned on
leaves me to believe I’ve done wrong.

A thinking woman figures it out
and returns to remind me…

I’m a shell in my own personal hell
and everyone else knows better.

Remove a sweater
and lose the winter skin,
or hold onto and be tormented forever
in a city where if you know no one
you don’t know me,
and get lost in a world of infinite impossibilities,
and let the warmth surround me,
and breath the clean air…

The air where The Glitter Man
and I both agree.

And forever be free.

Sipping inebriation to pass the time.

Desires of an almost,
but not quite,
criminal mind…

A mind of mine.

Thinking and thought out,
like the smoke screen that was blown about
by the atmosphere as it lifted off.

Finally a completed thought,
and it’s too late…

It’s stopped,
or not.

My mind returns to me in a song
that only I can sing along to.

Out of tune to you,
but in line with mine
and everything we all do.

I’ll sit while long ago should have been cut off takes my spot.

An engine turned on
leaves me to believe I’ve done wrong.

A thinking woman figures it out
and returns to remind me…

I’m a shell in my own personal hell
and everyone else knows better.

Remove a sweater
and lose the winter skin,
or hold onto and be tormented forever
in a city where if you know no one
you don’t know me,
and get lost in a world of infinite impossibilities,
and let the warmth surround me,
and breath the clean air…

The air where The Glitter Man
and I both agree.

And forever be *free.

Weaseling in without even the need for sheep's clothes.

It matters not what I have
when I’m not the animal.

It’s not the contest I seek,
but the contestant.

Go all around and tell me what the price is to send forward...

I’ll tell you the answer,
but it’s not what you’ll want to hear.

It speaks to me within it’s greatest fear,

‘One, two, three, do you need more?’

I know the taste is poor,
but the toll is heavy.

Let me tell you when I’m ready.

It’s never enough,
or it’s too much.

It’s what I’ve come to expect
with such a sour note
when all you all ever needed
was an escape coat...

An article to point at and say,

‘There it is.’

‘There’s the fabric that will take our place.’

‘There’s the material that will wrap us in and wring us out.’

‘There’s the disregarded shawl.’

‘There’s the rag (the cover)
*That will take the blame for us all.’

Was it all worth being
blown away,
floating on by,
captured in a ray,
and then invisible
without a taste?

The ghastly dark lit place
plays positives
that would not exist
without their counterparts,
or a nagging nuance
that’s overstayed
and welcomes in
yesterday.

You can not hear it
after it leaves,
but only within
a memories dream
where imagination kisses
the glitter of the stars
and their time to shine
is spent on speaking their minds.

I still haven’t thought of an answer
to a question that I had forgotten...
(was never asked)

Before opportunity breaks preparation
and luck flees forever,
leaving usurped substance
behind in an eternal void,
I see the wind changing direction
and what I thought was lost
comes back again to greet me…

Once more
I find the thought,
and then go on
with the rest of my plot.

Was it all worth being
blown away,
floating on by,
capture in a ray,
and then invisible
without a taste?

The ghastly dark lit place
plays positives
that would not exist
without their counterparts,
or a nagging nuance
that’s overstayed
and welcomes in
yesterday.

You can not hear it
after it leaves,
but only within
a memories dream
where imagination kisses
the glitter of the stars
and their time to shine
is spent on speaking their minds.

I still haven’t thought of an answer
to a question that I had forgotten...
(was never asked)

Before opportunity breaks preparation
and luck flees forever,
leaving usurped substance
behind in an eternal void,
I see the wind changing direction
and what I thought was lost
comes back again to greet me…

Once more
I find the thought,
and then go on
with the rest of my plot.

Gone are the days where the sun shone its fearsome rays

Gone are the days where the music that was played would raise my troublesome heart

Gone are the days where her kisses turned my insecurities until they were secured

Gone are the days where she would lay upon me and our hearts did beat in their place

Gone are the days where looking ahead wasn't plagued with looking back

Gone are the days where sweet cares were left to dance alone in the night

Gone are the days now left dead in the purest of white lights

Gone are the days for they never really had the right, at all, to stay