Interpreting Dreams Series Part 1
1/15/2014

I've got this idea
that the world has too many feelings.
Too many smiles that have turned upside down.
Too many tears that have gone unnoticed.

This couple sits at a table with a pretty white cloth.
Glasses of fancy carbonated water, bubbly like their first date.
But now, they hate each other.
They sit and complain about everyone in their lives.
and on their minds, they just hate their selves, not even each other.
They look at others with a scathing jealousy.

One guy takes a nap
He finds an electric taser in his dreams
He uses it to shock himself back awake, but then
he realizes he didn't want this moment to ever end.
Where dreams are reality and you don't have to suffer fraught with what's not.

She puts on her pearls
and then walks out the door.
She knows how she got them,
lies to herself, doesn't want to feel like a *****.
But still, she wants more.

There's something special about being the only one standing in a crowd.
Whether you're up on stage or in the middle of a pit.
You feel this sense that the moment is great
but it isn't amazing without another person to stand beside you.

They cried at a bus stop,
a family knowing
they had no money to celebrate holidays this year.
They don't need to, but it's the feelings that matter.
They cried.

We never know what we will find, when we look for something.
Our feelings are dangerous if we go looking for them and end up lost.

You are not cute Poem
3/5/2014

“You are cute.”

No.
Cute is a creature,
A little woodland chipmunk,
And I have news for you.
I don’t eat acorns or live my life in that wrong tree you’re barking up.
I’m not the poster child of a PETA campaign.

No.
Cute is a bow on a neatly packaged gift.
One with some fancy pattern.
And I have news for you.
There is nothing neat about this package, nor is it seasonal,
It won’t arrive on your doorstep for a special occasion.
I’m packaged with so many deep layers you couldn’t have it open in time for next year’s Christmas.

No.
Cute is young and unprofessional.
A little child playing with toys.
And I have news for you.
I’m not your toy.
You can’t pick me up to play, at your convenience, to then drop me on the floor forgotten.
And I’m a grown *** man – nothing cute about hangovers, hair loss, bills to pay, and unwashed laundry.

No.
Cute is not what we should aim for.
Cute is a one-liner and I am a Master’s Thesis.
Cute is what you’ll say before you cruise me online, ***** me, and then you’ll try to use me.
I’ll tell you what is cute though – you feeding me such a shallow compliment,
When really you should be treating me to the five-course conversation.
Ask me about my credentials darling,
Bachelors Degree with double majors,
working on law school and a PhD.

And finally, No.
I’m not ‘****,’ ‘***,’ ‘*****,’ ‘tool,’ ‘trick,’ or ‘****,’ either…
That’s only on Tuesdays.

My Lighthouse Poem
4/4/2014

You make my toes tingle,
I never noticed them before.
You're like my hit single,
in my mind every time I walk out the door,
to start my day.
You brighten my soul
and one touch makes me feel a million different ways.
One more positive than the other,
but each heading in the same right direction,
to you.

I can't wait to trace every single millimeter of your body,
like I am on a treasure hunt.
And all I can find at each spot I come into contact with is golden beauty.

Your words are pure and unadulterated,
like the low sodium soy sauce and fresh ginger with sushi.
Ooo, there's just something in your smile,
and no it's not spinach.
It's a reflection of a happier me,
knowing that I could be with you and be happy.

I'll call you my lighthouse,
and nobody will understand.
They'll think I was a lost ship,
and that you helped me reach the sand.

Really it's because you are a stable structure,
out at an emotional sea in a dark sky night.
Really it is because none of the others compare,
to your special kind of shine bright,
with that light,
that I'm fixated on.

On our first date we played bingo and shuffleboard.
On our second date, sushi and tarot cards.
Who knows what crazy adventures any future dates will be,
but who really cares when they include you and me?
Yeah, that's right, it's enough with just you and me,
my lighthouse.

12/30/2013
I Met the **** Hater

Have you ever seen someone so beautiful
that you felt like crying?
Have you ever felt so utterly Disgusted by someone
that you wished they were dying?

Do you think I feel gay guts and gayness in my genes?
Or did society manufacture me - one of their gay liberal machines.
I'm not sure which is better,
Either  way you'll make me a martyr.
But I'll be your Hester Prynne baby
with my Big Gay Letter.

I cannot erase
that look on his face.
when he told me **** ****, Go Away.
I'll punch you in the face just for being Gay.

A separation of message and mind.
Hateful judgment is not hard to find.
When I stand in the shower,
or sit down on a park bench,
I'm a **** to him clear as gay.
It's like he thinks I ate some magic flower.
My girlfriends don't fare much better - to him called a bar *****.
This guy is the part of society that makes being gay scary to say.

He thinks Gays making out in public can't be allowed.
He thinks Legalized gay marriages should be disavowed.
He thinks Animal ***, *******, and ****** are because of gays.
He thinks Gay **** between two women might be more okay.
He thinks *** should **** more gay people.
He thinks Criminalizing ****** would make things more equal.
He thinks Adam's choice of Eve or Steve is all that matters.
He doesn't care about myself, or your heart's fragile rathers.

This man is the **** Hater.
Not a rare breed at all.
He could be your waiter,
or your teacher,
maybe even your sales assistant at the mall.

I Met the **** Hater,
while I made out with a guy at the bar.
The **** Hater was kinda old, yet strong and tall.
But I didn't fall
down.
or become dehumanized.
When I caught a glimpse of his face
and saw that utter look of Disgust
that I just cannot erase.
I saw it in his face - the **** Hater's
'**** Hate.'