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 Dec 2013 matthew meier
Jason
there once was a pyromaniac
he lit himself on fire
he should have panicked
but everything was just brighter
he lived from day to day
yearning to add to the pyre
he knew it to be easy
with a touch it would spread wildfire
but he was no devil
he could control his desire
so he lived in agony
even when his need grew dire
he'd never intrude unwelcome
almost like a vampire
but he was far too kind and reticent
to trap a victim whom he would squire
he scared them all away
with apathy and satire
he was too familiar with the anguish
his fire would inspire
he wanted to protect the beautiful souls
from the harm of its ire
he let his fire burn him to the ground
leaving nothing to quench the inquire
he watched as his fire ashed
his wings and invisibly divine attire
he let it consume him
alone, entire
there once was a pyromaniac
he lit himself on fire
he was resolutely resilient
he drove himself to the pyre
but in his final breath
he heard no lyre
he was a fool
that no one could admire
there once was a pyromaniac
he lit himself on fire
i would have held his hand
together nothing could conquer us, not the world, not a fire
House plants are hostages
we take while we rob  
the bank of life for
all the experience notes we
can carry safely away.

We are using the funds
to build our vivarium
homes, microcosms of
the world beyond our walls
where we first glimpsed
the scheme.

The machinery of the world,
greased by blood and sweat,
remains beyond our control
while at large, yet
under our close supervision
we coax submission
out of our captives for
our own enjoyment:

selfish, ambivalently cruel
benefactors, dispensers of
our plants' waters of life.
 Dec 2013 matthew meier
berry
this is a poem dedicated to distance.
to every time i have wanted to kiss you, but couldn't.
to every time i looked at my empty hands and thought of yours.
to every time i was in a crowded room and secretly hoped that i'd find your face.
to every happy couple we see that inadvertently mocks our inability to be near each other.
to every time i've played your laughter over and over in my head to drown out the silence.
to every time you just wanted to hear my voice, but i was busy.
to every missed call and every undelivered text and every time your internet was down.
to every miscommunicated statement and every typo.
to every time that one of us was asleep when the other needed them.
to every time you wept and i wasn't there to hold you.
to every self-destructive tendency we share.
to every pill your mother has hidden and every razor blade i have flushed.
to every worry that plagues my consciousness whenever you take long to reply.
to every night we have been together through a screen, but alone in our beds.
to every, "i miss you" and "i wish you were here".
to every broken-record apology that never makes it better.
to every makeup stain that mars the sweater you sent me so that i could
feel like i was sleeping with you (and to the fact that it doesn't smell like you anymore).
to every hour, every minute, every second of difference in the time between us.
to every dollar i don't have, and every time i wished for your chest against my back.
to every, "why are you even with me?" and "you could do better".
to every spectator and cynic that has told us we'd fail.
to every doubt of mine and to all your jealousy.
to every ounce of water in the pacific ocean.
to every ******* mile between my head and your chest (i checked, and there are 9,752).

you will not win.

- m.f.
 Dec 2013 matthew meier
Jay
I hope you know
that I always manage to burn the popcorn
And that I always have trouble falling asleep because
I'm thinking of how things could be
I hope you know that sometimes I have
a patch of hair that can't be tamed
I hope you know that I sometimes get frustrated
when I'm trying to work on something
and I keep getting interrupted
I hope you know that I don't really drink coffee
but prefer Coca and Tea
I hope you know that I don't eat cereal
and most days I don't eat breakfast at all
I hope you know I can take things to heart
and tend to wear it on my sleeve
I hope you know I'm not all that lean
I hope you know that I sometimes clam up
for no reason at all
I hope you know that despite all of these flaws
I'm still trying my best to be a good person
and I'm still just not good enough
Walking.
 Nov 2013 matthew meier
Renae
I am not the best nor am I the worst
I've seen my share of my own mistakes
Like the next, I've lived this tragic miraculous life.
I cannot grasp the thought of the saying so profound expressed in beaming smiles,
fists in the air; protesting in justification:

"You only live once!"

It is not the beginning and end of what is purposed.
How could acceptance be comforting?
I do not accept it, I refuse. That would be too easy.
Too easy to get swept away in pleasures, forgetting realities that surround and overwhelm tiny boxes.
Tiny boxes containing worlds hidden and unrevealed yet exposed to the roaming spirit.
Every home, every sanctuary, every life
is a result of inevitable effects of action.
I resolve to count my blessings not just at thanksgiving but all year long
I heard an attitude of gratitude can alleviate some symptoms of depression
I consider it a blessing to have a roof over my head
It is also a blessing to have a bed
I also consider it a blessing every day my bank account is not in the red
It is a blessing to be well fed  
It is a blessing to have family
It is a blessing to have friends
If I keep counting my list might never end
My friends please try to count your blessings
 Nov 2013 matthew meier
Marigold
Salty water from the ocean's lips
kissing upon fresh raw skin
wetter than the shine of your eyes
when i knew you were holding back.
And i will sit upon the dunes
where we once sat
and write to you letters of love
soon to be lost in the wind.
Up on the cliff face
where five of us gathered,
slightly out of mind,
and soaked up the scenery.
We sat and stared
Juicing all before us,
Squeezing out all we could
Attempting to hold the moment forever.
But every moment ends,
as all else,
And eventually,
as the sun lowered his gaze,
we had to turn to leave.

You left what seems like a forever ago,
leaving only vague memories,
juiced and bottled
and stacked neatly in the pantry.
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