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L Gardener Aug 2013
If asked what I had done today
There's not much I could really say.
There were some routine things in between
But mainly just this one dream.
In my minds eye all day played
Some memories that have begun to fade
Where I get to kiss your sweet little lips
And trace your body with my fingertips.
It seems too good to be true
I almost don't know what to do
When images of you
Wont stop flashing through
Like a projection
Of perfection
On a reel
An unreal filmstrip
Teasing my other senses
Senselessly.
I take it back, it's too intense.
If you only knew.
Except you cant ever know.
This is just how it goes,
it usually keeps on going
by
From time to time
I'll write a rhyme
About a pretty girl.
Maybe talk about her eyes
And how they hold the world in sparkles
I look into and marvel.
I haven't said yet
A word
About how yours are hazel.
It's nuts.
An appraisal deems them priceless.
I wonder if today they were
a more green or more brown likeness?
As I completely drown
In
Them.
L Gardener Jan 2012
Go to sleep, stop doing this.
Stop ignoring the night.
It can see you.
Maskless in it's own dark,
watching you
Wide awake, rebelling.
Stirring up noises that
slice through the required
hours of quiet.

No one lives through the night,
and lives to tell about it.
At some point the barrier breaks,
and out bursts
comets, meteors,
darkness laced with
the celestial bodies of the stars,
contrasting.
Expanding and contracting,
rolling towards the center.

You are the center.
Magnetic you.
Growling and howling wind,
ripping through space rock,
comes closer.
Shrapnel spins in wildly
from all directions.

I see you trapped in the whirlwind
spirals from space.
I am the infinite night,
throwing satellites,
digging black holes,
blinding you.
Submit to me.
Give in to me.
Sleep inside the universe,
where it's safe.
L Gardener Jun 2013
Am I all good?
Can you dose me?
Ease the main pain
taken hold of me.
Broken me -
holding myself together
without choking me.
Falling asleep now,
and as I come down
I slip up on a dream.
Trip myself awake,
tripping on whatever kind of medicate
is flowing through my veins
and jolting awake my bones,
snapped like a candy cane.
L Gardener Feb 2014
Blue sky moon
awake so soon.
Why are you here
just a bit after noon?
Across from the sun
a tragic tale has begun
of the love you both must share
up there.
Unaware of the unlikelihood
that you'll ever truly meet.
Over a million kilometers
means the distance matters
and all that space must **** you.
Blue sky moon,
it's too bright for you here
but it's alright,
stars are near.
Though they must be just
a constellation prize
while the sun yearns for you,
it burns for you.
Blue sky moon,
I'd love to say you'll be together soon.
but this is untrue and a painful a view.
I'm sorry.
Time is cruel to me too.
L Gardener Feb 2012
Cold air presses itself against me eerily,
but it does not penetrate my bones.
There's been a dog barking for nearly
an hour now, and this where I am.
I ; free of nothing

I have nothing to say.


It's been like this for as long as I can remember...
L Gardener Sep 2012
If you think you're about to read something nice
think again.
This is the worst thing you've ever read,
written by the psychotic alive.
It had to be clarified he isn't dead
because he's actually rotting under my skin.
Oozing out like moldy cheese left in the sun,
sprouting hairs and covered in *****.
Everyone who looks at me pukes on me,
violently.
Getting it in my eyes, and up my nose,
until I choke on it and suffocate.
Dying repeatedly in a murderous loop
of zombie corpse mutation.
The third time dying makes me hungry,
I smell food in your bedroom.
Crawling across the floor in the dark,
you cant hear a sound,
my phantom ghastly body secret.
Underneath your bed I will be waiting till you sleep,
the moment your eyes close out I will peek.
Stare at you in the dark,
grin down upon you,
in shadow.
I am famished,
you look good enough to eat.
Everyone wakes up at the first bite,
screaming as blood splatters across the room.
Rip your voice box out while you're still awake
and kicking.
Reach my hand right down your throat
and ****** it.
**** your eyes out while I'm at it,
they're gooey and delicious.
Human beings are nutritious.
I work quickly yet painfully,
your nightmares should
be afraid of me.
I'm coming after you...
Even my poems like to celebrate Halloween...
L Gardener Apr 2018
she wishes for tears.
for egregious heavens…
some way home.
good and dead…
hopeless.
how to taste absolution?
beer and a velvet mousse.
and then consume one breath.
violent shiver became colors of waves.
some elusive fantastical reckoning.
my garden of take, always take.
wrathful water, take a risk.
abduct the heavens!
be over… be lost…
******.
bad mother and hiccuping truth.
and that perfume guilt leaves.
my, we grow up into lonely, silent, aging, memories.
L Gardener Nov 2012
A caveman discovering fire,
he can now stay warm in the cold and see light in the dark,
It feeds him and protects him, and he does likewise.

Electricity suddenly figured out,
the harnessing of lightening used to capture the suns impressive illumination,
Dark corners seen where shadows once resided.

Neil Armstrong's foot touching the surface of the moon,
as stars swirl around him,
and the Earth looks innocent, safe, and beautiful.

The first successful flight of an airplane,
finally feeling free like the birds,
and touching the once elusive clouds.

A heart surgeon looking at a sensitive beating *****,
knowing that rhythmic pulsing is necessary to sustain the body,
and caution must be taken not to hurt it.

Like a free-falling with a parachute.
Like a delicious appetizer, entree, and dessert all at once.
Like puppy kisses, or kitten purrs.
Like looking down from the top of a mountain.
Like every single sunrise and sunset you've ever seen, combined.
Like tearing up when you see people reunite.
Like meeting up with an old friend.
Like laughing until your stomach hurts.
Like that refreshingly calm breath after crying real hard.
Like holding a *** for too long but then finding a bathroom.
Like your first cup of coffee in the morning.
Like snow, a fireplace, hot cocoa, and a blanket.
Like a flower blooming.
Like the sound of the ocean.
Like a cool breeze on a sweltering day.
Like a good, long embrace.
Like a shot of hard liquor that warms your insides.
Like getting promoted.
Like finishing a creative endeavor.
Like your favorite sports team winning.
Like a baby smiling at you.
Like finding a good book or a good series.
Like fixing something properly all by yourself.
Like finding blue or purple sea glass.
Like mail with your name on it that isn't bills.

It's probably not like any of these things,
*it's probably a whole lot ******* better.
L Gardener Oct 2013
My dear girl, when will you learn?
Yearning for things does not bring them.
You start from square one over and over again,
like attraction is hopscotch.
That game was fun when you were a child,
but you're older now and should know better.
Remove your heart from your sleeve, please.
It's a fake.
Taped on and cut from red construction paper.
It's the wrong shape.
Simply a repeating pattern.
A garland of garnished emotions that were never real
strung out across your entire timeline.
Old habits die hard
but love is not a hobby.
L Gardener Jan 2014
Vain love,
a low blow
hung in the air,
an echo.
Throwback,
Go ahead, laugh.
Still trapped,
all my selves still overlap,
layered lives,
thicker skin,
various fractal faces.
L Gardener Oct 2012
I will shove all these letters,
all these vowels
and clever
spaces
down
your
t
h
r
o
a
t

*******,
eat my poetry.
Chew it around in your
mouth
before you swallow
all the
*******.

If you spit it out your dog
will eat it off the floor anyways.
This is the kinda **** that happens when I have really bad writers block.
L Gardener Feb 2012
even the strongest walls break down if beaten on enough,
starting out smooth and sturdy,
struck by forces of nature,
the barrier trembles and cracks.
the peak of the earthquake will bring it to the ground.
a destructed structure
no longer guards against any impact.
beaten barricade lying in ruins,
askew upon the earth,
scattered failure to contain passion.
exhaling a sigh of relief,
prisoners intertwine with by-passers,
leaving everyone breathless.
they must be captured and chained.
attempting to control these new sensations
only brings about the wonder
of unexplored phenomena.
in the location of defeat a door is erected.
a tribute to the knowledge of euphoria,
it remains unopened waiting
for lovers
to render it unhinged once again.
L Gardener Jul 2013
Slowly becoming the worst possible version of myself,
the ghost of Christmas past looks at me from every angle,
in disgust.
All the phantoms are just different types of me,
with different core functions all rubbing up against each other.
They're just trying to set fire to the original one.
Smoke her out.
The person who was once a child and believed everything
that made the world feel like it was full of white magic.
Convinced that there were fairies in the yard,
and that there was always a friend running along side the school bus.
There was, too, once another girl and a little older
who found out that she could draw,
and that when she did so a passion would hold her mind and her hand.
Her world introduced her to music and she sang,
only alone and loved it.
She has only ever sang alone,
so it was impossible to hear her real voice.
That's when the girl she was went away,
and hid.
Got really good at hiding, from everything and behind it all.
This fool with tired eyes has no right to use them,
doesn't lift a finger and yet yawns at the first sight of dawn.
Yawns in the face of the sun all day, and whispers with the moon,
all night.
Microwaves every meal and eats the radiation like a beast,
because there is nothing natural about her anymore.
She has become the same plastic that she uses and abuses,
and is suffocating inside her own demise.
There are slower, much slower ways
to end your own life.
Dying is a threat to live life when life is treating you with death.
It scares those who can't bring themselves
to rediscover their own core.
The white magic.
The child.
The hands that had passion.
L Gardener Jan 2012
Stripping down the heavy clothing worn by words,
we all stand naked in our misconception.
Ashamed of the nothing we wear in voices and faces,
covering with our hands the things we're most
embarrassed about showing, even to the ones love.
Underneath a cloak of conversation
we hide the truths that we can't share.
There are not enough words to explain what we feel
when we stand in front of a mirror looking at every
square inch of our own bodies.
And there is not enough clothing to silence the screams
of every atom in our skin when we speak to each other.
L Gardener Feb 2016
It'll be okay.
No it won't, I ruined everything.
You really didn't.
You hate me. Everything *****.
I'm sorry.
Me too.
But why? Just hold me.
Hang on...
She hates me.
I'm sad.
I don't feel good.
Smoke?
Okay.
Do this! Help me!
I'm at work again, but yes.
I love you, anything you want, anything you need.
Take, take, take.
What about me?
She's busy. It's okay. It'll be okay.
But now there's screaming and I'm trapped.
Everything feels scary.
I can't move. Or speak. But I have to.
I'm making things worse.
You're waiting.
I say the wrong thing.
We boil over, the *** and the kettle.
Foam and steam.
Frothing and violent.
Panic is so easily contagious.
L Gardener Mar 2012
Leeching, latching on
*******, bleeding dry
Knowing, what goes on
Laughing, while I cry.

and all the mighty words,
that sank when I fell down,
are rising up again,
with no translation to be found.

they're crashing into chairs,
stumbling into fights,
chewing through my eardrums like
hungry termites.

when you stop tryin' to fight it,
you stop tryin' to hide it,
they know all about it,
and you got nothin' left to lie with.
L Gardener Jan 2013
Rain, wind, thunder, lightening,
A watchful eye persists.
Gusts of air, invisible shoves
tormenting the tides.
Each wave exerts itself
testing the power of wind versus water.
At first they battle
but suddenly teaming up
they wreak havoc on everything
that has the ability to come to an end.
For while each force has the ability to remain calm
neither can ever cease,
Ever have limits,
Ever die.
L Gardener Sep 2013
"Did you count our hours?
Tally up tick-tocks?"

No.
The tick-tocks ticked me off.
I cracked.
I cracked glass faces.
Keeping track of mantles, walls, and wrists.
Time is so human it's creepy.
Watches watch you.
Hands move wiser.
That ******* glass face again
and this giant thing
looming in the corner is not
anybodies grandfather.
Trying to seem friendly while
it all slowly steals your life away.
Losing trick-track of our hours,
over and over.
L Gardener Sep 2013
I swear I'm not a Munster.
Don't leave me provolone.
When you asiago away I really Swiss you.
It makes me bleu to watch you leave.
People keep telling me it'll get cheddar.
I'm feta up with going to havarties.
Queso, maybe tomorrow will be Gouda.
L Gardener Aug 2014
If you wrapped your arm around me,
you'd feel my heartbeat increase.
Racing to catch up with the touches,
saving up to pay the price.
Giving me away again.
L Gardener Sep 2013
Pettiness, pity, pathetic abuse.
Loosen the noose.
Truth,
beautifully unsound and unsung.
Among few,
under moons,
wax melting,
minds meld.
Flexible clay forms formless and formally known
by
first
and
last.
Formerly born then you die.
Fell from mouths when questioned why
departing hurts so.
Tell all I'll see them mañana
or soon enough.
L Gardener Jan 2012
bits of stardust,
   that's all we really are.
oxygen,
   carbon,
hydrogen.

   at the surface of it all,
a velvety overcoat.
   bacteria inhabiting every inch of us.
600 particles of skin flake off each hour.
   you cant be all dead.

dig below the surface.
   45 miles worth of nerves.
hands,
   feet,
tongue,
   and lips.

ninety eight point six degrees Fahrenheit.
   on some level, we all inhabit the same skin.

what we do on autopilot.
   oblivious to the staggering task we leave
to two gelatinous orbs.
   spot and track what we desire.
hungry harvesters of light.

   hear and balance,
where we are in space.
   orienting brain in three dimensions.
up-down,
   left-right,
forward-backward.

   we wouldn't last
more than a few minutes
   without breathing.
ingenious multi-taskers.

   heart runs the show.
it's the boss,
   with the brain coming in at a close second.

and a highly coordinated series of f
                                                           a
                                                              l
                                                                l
                                                                  s
L Gardener Mar 2012
this new heart will love,
these new eyes will see,
and see how to create,
with these new hands.
full of new ideas,
breathing new breaths,
bringing something new,
to this old world.
inspiring new events,
changing the future,
this new life is,
full of possibility.
L Gardener Jan 2012
"starlight, star bright, the first star i see tonight
i wish i may, i wish i might, have the wish i wish tonight."
and a calm puff of breath scattering the seeds of a dandelion,
and every coin i ever threw into a well or a fountain,
and each eyelash that i found sitting on my cheek,
birthday candles, some of which i cant recall,
the breastbone of a fowl, snapped in my favor,
the unspecified commonality between these,
resemble a question that never had an answer.
this sort of hopeful inquiry always piled atop
a mountain of absolute certainty,
a peak charted as Belief,
highly elevated,
forever pointing up,
gently whispers from the clouds,
"never forget, always persevere"
because the rocks know us better then we know ourselves
and they are the proof that an Answer exists
L Gardener Feb 2014
Your words
seasoning my wounds
and shriveling up like salted slugs.
Foaming at the mouth
like a tidal wave
full of rage
ripped from a rabid sea,
ripe with redemption.
Oysters spitting out pearls:
A calming beauty,
an elegant innocence,
provoking upturned snouts.

Go to the store for roast beef
and then go home.
L Gardener Jan 2013
Mind numbing. Self induced dumbing.
Thumbing through a book that could change my life.
I just want to believe something.
Whatever thing screamed the loudest
in my immediate surroundings.
I need substance to lean on.
A crutch.
So dependent on a distraction.
From what?
Too much.
I want to pull the thread but I don't want the unravel.
Any thing that takes my mind off the fear
of an answer to the unquenchable query.
"Tell me the truth."
"Wait, no. Please don't."
If I know then I have to do something about it.
And I wouldn't even know what to do.
Too late.
I heard you.
At the end of all this I shall be deemed guilty.

Why didn't she help?
L Gardener Aug 2014
I convinced myself it wouldn't be different.
I would just be holding your hand sometimes,
to feel a bit closer.
Some moments would be ever so slightly sweetened
yet beautiful in their own right.
We would be sleeping side by side,
dreaming together.
Without being reminded we would be cared for.
I would be able to see what I love about life reflected off of you.
You would be my favorite shoulder to rest on.
I would be your friend. I would be your lover.
I would be
we could be
but you can't.
(I'd rather be your friend forever than lose the gift of your presence in my life)
L Gardener Sep 2013
Awaiting first whispers of winter,
wanting to know the winner
who won with a splinter,
a thorn in the side.
Hardly noticed the leaves fall
or you leave.
You left, right?
Flaked on plans made,
snowflakes made
higher than when the trees shed
but on the same path.
Routes like a spiral,
Roots like a spiral.
Viral downward motions,
contagious and cold.
Dorothy told Alice
they weren't in Wonderland anymore
because that ruby tapping
woke them up.
Haunting grins lingering.
"What, Toto?"
We did.
It's all done.
Around again doth winter come.
Never spoke we of the sun.
L Gardener Aug 2012
Subliminal signs come my way,
Even the way you lick your lips seems to say,
that you want me.
Some certain look in your eye,
and your body,
it taunts me.
Tell me I'm crazy, call me a fool,
it's just that I notice the way you move.
You think I don't see when you lean close to me?
Or hear you whisper so pretty?
Go 'head,
Shake your head no,
say you don't know,
that you do to me,
what you know,
is making me
crazy.
I can't help but pick up on your perfume,
or notice right away when you
hide your glance from across the room.
So dizzy crazy,
You won't admit it,
Give it up,
You've already given it away.
Come on,
and tell me,
you dig me, baby.
L Gardener Feb 2016
"Welcome home!"
Says your doormat, smiling up at you.
It's been a long day, though. You don't even notice.
All she see's is the bottom of your shoe as you cover her in dirt.

"Welcome home..."
Your doormat whispers from underneath the muck.
You can't hear her, you're too busy muttering about how terrible the day was while you fumble with your keys.

"Welcome home."
She tries one last time as you slam the door in her face
and leave her outside in the cold.

It's okay.
She'll try again tomorrow.
L Gardener Mar 2018
Sure.
On the surface it seems so selfish
until you look up synonyms for selfish
and realize that it is not
ego-centric, self-absorbed, self-centered.
I do not lack consideration for others,
I only lack consideration for myself.
Did you ever consider that?
I have no ego.
I am hardly a me.
When I say "I am" a voice inside me wonders
"Who is?"
I don't even know myself anymore
so I couldn't possibly be
centered around something
I cant even find.

— The End —