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I let ivy try the trunk, green all winter
yet buds haven't come with warm weather
it'll rot and drop this summer
or next, if it's too dry

I'll pretend surprise
as I oil the saw again, strike teeth with a file
left on the old tool bench downstairs...
one last time, I think, as we're all showing our wear

it's still tall, met the sky once
when it left - I heard the sigh
but turned and went back to sleep
imagining nothing but cutting until morning
I'll sing of all the ways I miss you
and how this sorrow came to be
the verses, lies I should have whispered
the chorus, truths in harmony.

The melody will break the silence
and call your broken heart to me
to be repaired by love unyielding
to broken hymns in minor key.
Depression lies and makes us push those we love most away, sometimes so far away that they can never return.
The Sea and its salt were in my eyes, snow fell around me and perished in the ocean as I was supposed to as a sailor in 1897 but an arm held me there above where I could breathe and see, 98 miles an hour north on interstate 95 and look ahead 10 feet a stopped car, cut right and behold the exit I was directed to take, but this exit kept me still breathing My heart beats to the pulse of anxiety which is the eternal pulse of fear and suffering, Buddhist sit under a tree find enlightenment but the rhythm of life is to fast to enlighten thee, the current of electricity is to slow to catch up. So there you were standing on an old railroad switch station high above the tracks, whiskey shaking as the train came fast, This particular afternoon meant absolutely nothing to me then, I traded dignity to profit using the word absolutely more times than I care to count, profit I did but at what cost? I spent it all on horses or tables, drove through Lowell and then Worcester, then into Connecticut but was I really important then? Or  should I count the losses and weigh them as gains? Not now little bird, you will just break my heart again, little bird you will just run off again with something new and pathetic, little bird just jump out your window and fly to the pavement below, no one will notice but me, not the ones you chose after or in between.
2010 wells
I started out feeling a lot older than I should.  Twenty five years old and felt ugly and out of shape. No convincing me the cigarettes and anti anxiety pills had anything to do with it. I remember not so long ago when I was young, I could have swept any girl off her feet, had a good time with nothing at hand to use as conversation. Precisely delivering every word out of my mouth like a surgeon with a scalpel. I would drive pretty girls to the mountains; roll around in fields to grin wide eyed at their thighs. I was young. Complete with friends I grew up with who lived down the street, I honestly felt like I didn’t belong, if they were swimming I was drowning, if they were strong I was weak; when they were sleeping I stayed up shaking. Anyways everyone experiences some sort of solitude growing up. I met a young beautiful girl one night in the street, while she was walking by I said hello and she asked “what do you do around here?” I quickly answered “look for people like you.” It was a cool summer night when I had convinced her the next day to meet me down the street from the hotel her family was staying in. The Colony hotel, complete luxury and high life. Her name was Lilly. She had a strong British accent and I immediately loved her. We were standing on the porch of the Nonantum Hotel . People walking by checking in and out. We sat in the wicker chairs for 4 hours talking about life as if we had lived many lives before. I was seventeen, she was nineteen.  She told me to stand up and when I did she pushed her body against mine and we both pushed up to the post that ran up to the roof. She looked at me and swore to me I had to promise no matter how long, any matter of time pass, I find her so we can spend the rest of our lives arm in arm. She then leaned in and kissed me till I couldn’t breathe. Long passionate and full of emotion, she meant every poke with her tongue and curl of her lips. An older lady walked by and said loud enough for us to hear, “it must be nice to be young.” She had forgotten and I felt like we belonged in the movies as two lovers in a dramatic ending where the women cried in theatres and the men consoled their own heartbreak. We kissed for a while longer, and then I walked her up the street back to the hotel. She was gone, I’d never see her again, nor do I have any plans to find her now. I had the best part of my youth robbed as we all do, and I don’t think I could love her now the way I was sure I could love her then.
"Always become the one being hurt
Rather than ever hurting another"
Words I have strived to live by
The philosophy left by my mother

I've always tried to live my life
Standing up for what is right
Helping others no matter the cost
Being everyone's shining knight

What a horrible way to live

Even when I was on the verge of breaking
Even when the burden seemed too large
I always took it onto myself
And it was always free of charge

They all need to pay

But lately there is this voice
Echoing from the back of my mind
That is always fighting to take over
It wants to punish the unkind

Maybe I don't want to forgive

Tell me who is that inside me
Those thoughts can't be my own
Even when there's no one around
Somehow I am not alone

Just let me come out and play

I'm trying to keep it at bay
Am I past the point of no return?
But.... *'s my turn
I tried so hard to get this done before December was over :/
There goes the whole "post at least a poem a month for a whole year...."
Oh well.
ANYWAYS....this took a much darker/creepyer...twist than I originally intended....So....oops. sorry about that. I hope you all enjoy it though!!!!
This poem was inspired by the show Tokyo Ghoul....just...for the record. Anyways. Hope y'all like it.
so I brought my writer wife
(prominently pregnant)
to the hospital
and on her bed, she screamed:
"weren't" "hasn't" "couldn't" "shan't"
"aint" "hadn't" "you're" "isn't"
"aren't" "didn't" "wasn't"
"who's?" "what's?" "he's" "she's"

The doctors were confounded
and they turned to me and they said:
"What the hell is she doing?"

And I replied with double speed
and a violent sense of urgency:
*"Don't you know?
She's having contractions -
she's a writer"
I looked inside her head
Thought I'd see carousels, glitter *****
Unicorns juggling golden orbs
Glinting diamonds, chandeliered halls

But there was only sawdust, bits of straw
Knotted string, plasticene and beetles wings

Expectation is a foolish thing
A book,
just pages
on leaves, whitened-
river washed,
dried then wettened again;
tears of words
torn from a heart-
his then mine, and mine again.

A book
of poems, written verse,
la poema-
the saddest lines of all,
but not all, no,
not all; not always.

Pages of Odes;
oh, the odes
to fruit,
to wine
and song
of the sea and mermaids;
the pages sing his songs.

A book
of heights
and stone,
he took us there-
a shovel in the sand;
of monuments
and ships
of drunken men and love
once loved,
and loved again.

on silken thighs,
and a red dress-
on a dark night
the stars and moon did shine.

A garden-
he planted a *****
into our hearts;
his dog,
it died
loved too much-

A book,
just a book
of pages,
of poems
by my bed-
much read and loved;
his words ending
the saddest lines of all.

r ~ 8/15/14
|    Neruda
/ \
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