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Jul 2014 · 1.9k
I don't
I don't want cruelty
I don't want pain without purpose
I don't want my eyes to water from a heart left dry

I don't crave some deliberate infliction
I don't long for hidden scars that never heal

I don't search for loaded words
I don't prepare for harmful intentions
I don't seek a path that pushes me underground

I don't look for confusion
I don't desire confined spaces
I don't enjoy advantage at another's disadvantage
And I don't give out points to those who play with dishonesty
Jul 2014 · 1.5k
The Aglet Dance
You and I are like the ends
of shoelaces.

Twisting and dancing
on the surfaces we know.

Sometimes our paths will cross
and one might seem higher
than the other.

Things always come around
as life leaves us the holes
to fit through.

This far into our journey
we seem so far apart.

Our dance through life will see
us collide together and
let the knot be tied at last.

I may end up on your side
and you upon mine,
but that is how two crossed threads
seem to wind up when they return
again as one.
A quick word
about Beneath the Surface
by Dream Theater.  

The song is beautiful
first and foremost.  Depressing
but beautiful.  But
it also scares me.  I don't want to
experience what it describes, but
I also have a horrible feeling
that it will eventually, inevitably happen.  

It'd be even worse
if it also happened to the other person
I'd be involved with.  Not only am I scared
for myself, but for them.
I don't want to be
abandoned, left in the dark
shrugged aside like a mute.
I hate to think that I'm capable
of doing the same thing
to someone else.  That scares me.
Jul 2014 · 759
Lost (by choice)
Ever become lost
until any desire to find
or be found
dies with the sunlight?

That shone world
suddenly distant,
further than
small dying memories.

Better to be
separate and away,
for I am not them.
I am not
you.

See, these eyes prefer
darkness,
the blank sheet challenging
to create light.
So shut them
to see.
Jul 2014 · 10.8k
Idiom
What's up is the sky
and I'm up for the stars
and down for a cave expedition.

I'm game for a used copy
since time is literally killing me
while I got pizza in one hand
and an energy drink in the other
so the tree that is my life goes
chop chop chop.

The only chip on my shoulder
is a potato chip
because I got a dozen for every dime I spent,
which is a drop in the bucket of change
I'm saving for Coinstar.

My son Jack has made many trades,
from CDs to movies to videogames to trading cards
and he just so happens to be a Pokemon master, thank you very much.

Resisting a piece of cake
is no piece of cake,
even when the recipe
--complete with a photogenic picture--
is comprised of over a thousand words.
Don't cheat on your diet,
the spinach is always watching
and that Rolex will feel so tight
you'll be praying for thousands
of slaps on both wrists.

When things get hot
you can bang against a clock
to see how long you last.
Just don't crack 'em up too much,
clocks are fragile devices.

My motor's a Cobia
yours is an Evinrude
but otherwise we're in the same boat.

Whenever I fail I don't go to the drawing board,
I get out my scrap book.
I prefer its texture and it is,
truly,
the first square.

When my frustration becomes too much
I might have to beat the bush instead,
after all
it can't be a sightseer forever.

Don't throw me a bone,
I'm not dog,
merely a curious cat
still on his seventh life.

I'd rather be close
than be stuck with a cigar--
smoking's bad and I hate the smells.
If I'm left with nothing, I'll cry like a wolf.
Wolves are hunters, wolves are survivors.
Jul 2014 · 460
We
We
We poets
we love depression.
We don't desire it
we just gravitate towards it.
We seem so naturally fit
we can hardly think of a better couple.

We hate the trap it sets in place
we can't seem to avoid slipping in.
We lack that single, moral strength
we see and crave so much of.

We are obsessed and
we are loners, and
we wouldn't change that if
we could, for it is merely who
we are, who
we end up becoming, not what
we choose to be, simply an effect
we see in the cause of life.
Jul 2014 · 403
Absent
Welcome to
this house
so long
so desolate,
no air
nor life
breathed for
so many years.

The way
to and from
seems so far
from an actual world.

Dust and cracks
abound collecting
as the spiders
desperate for prey.

No sounds
only chills
as winter remains
trapped
even within
the outward time
and ways
of summer.

The entrance is
vacant,
the past is
lost,
time here is
trapped.
Written while I had Katatonia stuck in my head.
Jun 2014 · 5.0k
Spiderweb
Paths have been laid
   far and short
   narrow and wide
   coarse and moist
   brown from dirt
   gray with asphalt.

Spiders lurk and creep about
   legs poised and fangs ready
   craving another injection
   to feast just a little
   further, just a little
      longer.

We are the prey they seek
   stuck in their strands
   reaching everywhere we walk
   catching us as we tumble and fall
   not for comfort nor salvation
   just the cold strings of wrapture
   before the color of blood
      the color of life
   is taken from us.
Jun 2014 · 4.8k
Rock, Paper, Scissors
Papers are flimsy, fragile
   so susceptible to time
      and harsher climates.

Scissors cut and divide
   thriving on irreparable separation
      to leave us in pieces and scattered.

Rocks are rough and tough
   facing--and looking--the worst
       while enduring every day and night to come.

My choice resides amongst the stones
   constant, long-lasting, dependable
      in the challenges that may have others call
      for support when they can't stand alone
   for maybe the times they lived were too much, too long
after facing the blades which cut them into small, segregated fragments.
Jun 2014 · 2.5k
A World of Boxes
This is my box,
home to contrived chaos.
I open and close it
many times a day.

Beside my box
are other boxes
bigger and smaller,
all of them surrounded
by an even bigger box.

And if you left this box
you'd see a field
of boxes
sprawling the land
further than eyes can see.

And how odd is it
--the mere idea--
that all these boxes
adhere to this sphere
we reside upon
like a collection
of living magnets.
Jun 2014 · 3.3k
Please Don't
When speaking
of intimate prospects
please
don't put the impossible
scenarios into my head.  

I do enough of that
myself.
Jun 2014 · 1.2k
lost at sea
the lone survivor is on
his raft at sea
creaking and swaying
in a tide that can't decide
calmness or turbulence

the sun is out yet
the clouds are endless
together in their gray
unison like a blanket
of dust

his eyes greet the waters naught
but opaque and black
were it not for the navy streams
from the poor muddled light
overhead
Might add to it.  Wanted to make a more metaphorical poem.
Jun 2014 · 1.6k
A Poem About Music
The universal therapy
a common, household medicine
crafted by collaborations of talents
and celebrated by siblings far
in distance, near in heart and mind.

If ever a religion existed
which all would embrace,
a movement to seize the fires
and conjoin hands
to spread and span,

If winds had a literal way to speak
to our simple minds,
if anything could drown us faster
than the rising expanse
of miles upon oceans
and make irrelevant
the laws of land, gravity and life...
Very much a work in progress.
Jun 2014 · 2.2k
Constipation
Get that **** out
don't let it stay in
building up, soiling
inside and rotting
like the mold on a loaf of bread
ignored on the shelf
for two weeks
too long.

Get that **** out
for what seems to come out
of your ******* to you
may just be that
lost, buried treasure
another has finally found,
and oh how they might worship it
your magnificent ****.
Felt like having a little fun.
May 2014 · 3.0k
An Escape
To all of the songs
that creep upon and seize me
vanquishing the world.
May 2014 · 1.1k
Empty Sleep
For me, dreams don't come
I must find them, create them
Or lay blank and stuck
May 2014 · 8.2k
Red Dresses
Something about women
in red dresses...
A vibrance, a radiance
an essence of vitality
basking bright youth
beyond all age.
The lines rendered
whether curved or slender,
sleek and elegant,
one with the material
one with the color.
May 2014 · 17.6k
Personality Quizzes
I know they're not
accurate.
The fact I frequent
creative results
may be
more or less
coincidental.
After all
who am I
compared to
Jon Stewart
or a Greek
philosopher?

But maybe
I don't care.
Maybe I take them
just for fun.
And who can complain
when they are compared
to Charizard
and Winnie the Pooh?
May 2014 · 1.7k
Caffeine
Coffee and tea
where would I be
without thee?

Half dead
still in my bed
whether or not
by one too many
a shot.
May 2014 · 14.1k
True Beauty
Anybody can feign beauty
on the outside.
But true beauty
comes from the inside.
May 2014 · 619
Liked From Radio
All I wanted was to be with you and suffer every day
There are no flowers on your grave
Willing to die and I will, after you for what I believe
Life betrays, but I keep going
And as long as I'm alive I won't be free
'Cause on time fate calls out to us.

In my dreams I can hold you, and I wake so alone
It's not too late for me
Things I must die for
Soon I'll be knocking at your door.

Walk me across the water
Shine your light, be the beacon of hope at night.

There's no time to waste
Our quest will last forever
Two hearts should meet
The wheels are in motion, together we turn them.
Am I losing all track of time?

Free to the end
It's a hard won place of mystery.

Realize our full potential
How can we ignite the flame while missing the true spark?

Gravity is finally giving in
Down to the detail
It's meant to be, I see the signs
Pictures of something we lived.

If you follow the flame you end up in the dark.

Let's imagine this beautiful paradise before us rise
Endless, our dreams carry on
Living in our hearts
Some say it's like autumn breeze
The night will be our day
Far beyond reality
And I wish the sun would slip away
Will it make me see?

I breathe as hard as you as I end my day
Now forever falling down.

Whatever dreams we're reaching to claim
Twist and shake
It will never come back again.
Inspired by "Life Story" from David Shields.
May 2014 · 4.0k
The Things I Wish I Could Be
The Things I Wish I Could Be

I wish I could be
one of all instruments;

the singer whose voice
transforms his audience into a choir;

the writer who drops his reader's guard
making a beautiful decimation of every self-made fantasy;

the actor ripe with nominations
whose prestigious Oscar breaks him open before the world;

the photographer who captures moments worth infinite words
while instilling that perfect piercing silence;

the painter of elegant simplicity
or ponderous complexity in every brush and stroke;

the icon strangers seek for reason
looking upon for inspiration;

the husband who gives and comforts
appreciating the angel he's been bestowed;

the father wise and guiding
with enough laughs and smiles to last their whole lives;

the chef and the baker serving only the best
scrumptious entrees and desserts;

the encyclopedia of experience
answering questions obscured from the web;

yet beyond all things
I wish to greet death with a smile
knowing my life, however lived
was worth those years.
There are so many things to dream of being...
May 2014 · 4.2k
Sunset on the Docks
The sunset is beautiful
I only wish you were here
to complete the evening

If you were
what would we do?
Where would we go?
Perhaps we'd just stay here
sitting on the steps
standing over the water
leaning on the buildings by the docks
simply talking
about how life has been
individually, several miles apart

Familiar our exchanges might be,
no small thanks to
our fancy flatscreen devices,
I'd still want to hear each word
while we do whatever we desire
because you'd be here
and we'd be together
at last in person again
laughing, smiling, jesting
holding and stroking each other
poking and patting in this place and that
all while looking out at the sunset
although I wouldn't want
to look away even if I could
from those deep brown eyes
flowing with the tone of your soft skin
and the groomed lines of your elegant hair;
perfect as a pristine painting
whether afar or in the details.

I only wish
that you were here
beside me.
Just another fantasy by another hopeless romantic.
May 2014 · 1.2k
An Amateur's Plea
To truly write
and transform what was once
sheer excrement
into a jewel
that others treasure
making so many wonder.

How I desire to achieve such.
May 2014 · 1000
Blank
I must say
those of arts
writers and painters
so often trivialized
too often

how ironic then
for those who sweep us under
since we--
of words and lines
however similar or not
--are not the ones at expense.

Where's the magic
neither seen nor experienced
in reality,

and where's the escape
from your homes of present
but from us?
the minds who labor away
without showing
but upon the page, sheet or canvas.
May 2014 · 297
Day to Day
We so seldom stick with what we plan.
It's a reason many who attempt to lose weight
gain it all back again.
We're quick to desire and even begin a necessary change
but we're just as quick to revert and recede
back to the state and place we're currently in.
We become comforted by our mundane discomfort,
slipping further and further into lethargy
until all we have are words
with neither action nor thought to speak of.
life redundancy change lethargy world issue
May 2014 · 261
Before the Gray Rain
I enjoy this
overcast
morning breeze
it is cool
but not chilly
for if it was
I'd surely be shivering
shriveling in my skin
instead I am tranquilized
so my senses can escape
so briefly
but just long enough
to forget
and to breathe.
rain morning breeze cool calm ease
May 2014 · 302
Filter
If thoughts could speak
freely without intrusion
from our language
constructed as
a large structure
rife with walls
converging
top to bottom
side to side
echoes dead
or dying further.

During those walks at night
spontaneous and empty of purpose
I fertilize my best thoughts
the kind one doesn't simply return to
calling and commanding upon
like some song's familiar reprise.

How I could speak
if they simply came out
with need for neither pen
nor paper, just to save them
in their fresh purity
but when I come back to
the clear beautiful glass that formed
has been cracked
stained and collected dust
over the course of generations
or so it feels.
May 2014 · 249
Sole Soul
I can breathe now.
The space once thinned
the air thickened
what was left
when it was shared
or stolen,
who can tell the difference?

I can speak now.
Where words were once vessels
heavy, bulging, bursting
and not a one
would not crash and break
when brought before you,
by choice
or coercion.

I can think now.
Every notion that could be ill--
that was ill--
needn't be fretted over,
their truth and honesty
can bask in the world
of my mind, where
my thoughts are the plants
that need nourishing
and my mind can finally bring out
the sun again, while my escape
and freedom brings the rains
breathing health and breeding growth.
May 2014 · 318
That Fantasy
If the screen were to expand
subvert and swallow the world
who would come with me?

If I had the choice--
if we had a choice
which would we take?
An interpretation of Vulcans and Klingons,
a blockbuster's version
of outlaws in the Caribbean,
maybe a future soon to be
where computers speak
as if they were the ones we love.

Past troubles could break away
for that new start
so many of us so often want,
as if renewed from our resignation.

Goodbye, cruel world,
for we seek a fantasy.

It is an illusion.
We are ourselves a story
and no story is without conflict,
we can face and resolve our own ourselves.

Don't let the escape steal your mind
allow the challenges to stake their claims
and stand forth, showing your face
in all its terror and fear.
May 2014 · 486
My Pit
It is one of those days
where I get stuck
in my pit

struggling to climb
needing to escape

Soon may be too late
late will be too long

Can someone lend me a rope?
I shan't hoist myself
not yet.
Send it so you may
safely descend
not to stay
only to visit
so I have company's comfort
here in my pit.

Maybe then they'll understand
why I slip so suddenly
and help me remember
there's always a way out.

The time will come
when the climb is
self-attained.
But I can't
not now.  

So the rope might still reside
lost to shadows only I could be
seeing.  
I just hope you carry a glimmer
of what's left of the world's lights
so this climb
and (m)any others
will be eased.
Then will come my ascent
yes, this time my own
when I won't need another
for each gradual advance
back into that
twisted little reality.
There are some days my mind becomes my worst enemy, my biggest obstacle.  Days I only want someone to be there.
May 2014 · 2.7k
Off Pair
In a world of birds
you're the queen of swans
and I'm the common crow

how I wish
we could be a pair of cardinals
May 2014 · 847
Tired Drive, Tired Day
The same doors open
from bedroom to bathroom
and house to car.  
A poor vehicle, it's body stable
yet barely in service
so poor--
cracks and scrapes,
half a grill missing,
the brand and emblem since eroded
and long withered.

A turned key
brings either exhausted
startles or sputters
congesting from the engine.
Or is it just the ignition?

All familiar moments
from the same minute at the same turn
initiating the redundancy to follow.
So that car--my car
shall endure
upon my abandoning
from the minutes before morning's end
to early evening's last light
swelling from the sun's sultriness, creaking
where wheels meet brakes
and they the axis, springs and suspension
as the thin cold does to frail human fingers.
May 2014 · 2.2k
Satellites
I stepped outside long ago
if only to step some more.

This cool wind
so unlike Florida.
A welcoming to
embrace.

It'll be gone far too soon.

My neck finally tires
hanging like a bowling ball
tied and held
to one most old
and weary rubber band.

My eyes come up
on a night everyone knows.
We all have a color
coating our pupils.  Mine are blue
and guilty of ogling
even if this common sight grows
sadder and sadder
until it becomes
truly sad.

Many bright dots
freckling the sky--
and what body isn't
without imperfections?
--so much ours
so many.
Too many.

Those builders
of our own time
those without grasp
of selflessness
have such themselves.

Stinging night's veil
both by presence
and prominence.
with naught subtlety.

They shine beyond all
that have ever shone.  
Illuminating
glaring and blinding.

We are not so receptive
down in the dark earth
where neon signs pollute our eyes
until the sun dusts it away
only so we cringe
and close them again.

What then can a satellite show?
Everyone has to start by posting something.

— The End —