though all things in this mundane world
are conditioned, subject to cessation,
and objects of impermanence,
i will be more than happy
to suffer on the behalf
of inevitability.

© Matthew Harlovic

i miss my sunshine
on a day like this,
she could lift my
spirit with
the light
of her kiss.
at night
we would lay
and reminisce
of a simpler time
when we were kids.

© Matthew Harlovic

stress builds up in the chest when you're left behind
to fend for yourself. when all else failed, you sailed away,
promising you'll return someday. but let me tell you my
friend, you're blessed. there's no need to dwell on the past
because at long last, my little castaway has found
herself back at the bay. but if you're gonna' stay
you better tie down. if you stray from the shallows,
you'll surely drown. this small town carries bigger lies,
there's much more here than meets the eye.
and i was worried sick about you,
ever since you left it was all i could do.
i can't control the tides, this i know.
but sometimes, it's so hard to let go.

© Matthew Harlovic

this morning i watched
a cigarette drop from
the pocket of a man
onto the floor of the
train. it rained earlier
and bits of dew and
dirt drained into the
cracks, but there lay
the cigarette intact.
i could have reached
for this man and told
him how he misplaced
the nail to his coffin,
yet i said nothing and
let him off coughing.

© Matthew Harlovic

i think back, i think back
but i never think forward.

© Matthew Harlovic

i miss having someone to confide in,
someone to provide a bit of guidance
when i'm riding the trident to the sirens.

© Matthew Harlovic

i planted forget-me-nots
to commemorate the loss
of my first love,
the rock to my moss.

© Matthew Harlovic

ive been depressed for years
the flex is weird

© Matthew Harlovic

you tempt me
with your temper
but i have a temperate
response to your tantrum
because a tempest like you
will attempt to ride tandem
if things do not follow through
like you planned them to.
  
© Matthew Harlovic

in a joking manner, he pulled my leg
out from under my mother’s womb.
sundered. i cried out like thunder,
beautiful view. magnificent desolation.
admiration flattered my mother’s frustration
with a standing ovation in a bedside vase.
faced with foretaste, greeted by starvation,
i was placed in my very own space station.
a part of a constellation and considered a sun,
i wondered just where i was from.

© Matthew Harlovic

you cannot equate my fate
with the likes of yours,
you cannot narrate
what i might endure,
you cannot gestate
the weight, nor labor,
because it predates
the state of our nature
but moving forward is
predicated on behavior
so i'll be a good neighbor
and do you the favor.

© Matthew Harlovic

I’m avoiding a void, Freud warned me of
by worming my way in to the apple of my eye
I know it sounds paranoid as above so below
ground zero dark thirty where I heard the well runs dry.
Hell, I wonder why I try to quench my thirst for knowledge
from any ***** puddle when I’m at a cow college
‘cuz nowadays I rather cuddle up with a good book
than be-fuddled by how to transgress, ring a bell hooks?
Well looks deceive and I can guess
by the wings you have yet to receive
we have come to the some of nothing
from something I thought we were far beyond
but maybe I was wrong at the end of it all.
You said it wasn’t my fault but then again,
Freire taught me how to lock
away my thoughts in a vault.

I’m hemmed in with Hemingway in the corner of the café.
We spend half the day laughing at our neighbors savoring
their lattes but condemning how they stray away from nature
‘cuz labor’s not their taste.
He says, “What a waste of time.
Do you see a better paradigm?”
I agree because I was scared at the time
to embarrass myself in front of an idol of mine.
I know it’s futile to rival a dead mind
but when they’re better than the headlines
I don’t mind if I never shine brighter than a dying light
‘cuz it only really matters in the end if I’m trying right?
but what am I trying for when I lost a friend to love and war?
Cut the ties, I’m alive.
Who was I dying for?
Who was I fighting for?
Who was I writing for?

Shelby tells me where the sidewalk ends
and well, he’s been a better friend than you’ve ever been;
ever since you left me and met he who shall not be named
nor blamed for this game you played against us.
Again trust was just a part of it all.
I was miserable like Margaret Hall.
Withdrawals always reinforce walls of remorse
and of course, I’m the source of all your problems
but who took the time to resolve them?
You weren’t forced to endorse any course of action
except follow the laws of attraction.
Perhaps gravity magnifies abreaction
or the severity of abstraction.
Yet Apollo would swallow
all his pride and passion
hollow out his home
and throw a match in.

© Matthew Harlovic

i like my women like i like my flowers,
down to earth and she was rooted to the notion.
she sprouted out from under the cracks of paper-white pavement
with tulips curled to the cosmos greeting morning glories
as graciously as angel horns. i was hung up on her like a hollyhock.
she was sweet, fragrant like a balm, mellow like a mallow but she
turned a new leaf and called out to me like coral bells.
i rose like a plume of smoke with whirling butterflies in my belly.
i looked into the iris of her baby blue eyes and asked,
“what’s up buttercup?”
she took a baby’s breath
and “forget-me-not”
stemmed from her bearded-tongue.
though knowing she spoke
out of honesty and passion,
i raised my candytuft cuff
and bade her a clarkia.
farewell to spring

© Matthew Harlovic