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I had a fleeting thought that people were like rain...

     We start in the clouds

          Are born into the sky

               We sometimes share ourselves with others

          and then we fall towards the ground
          forgetting to enjoy the ride on the way down...

                         At least we're sure to meet again in the puddles.
The throbbing headache and nausea
I can endure; I've had worse.
Right now I could cry,
such a raw hope consumed me
as I thought about you, desperate.
It was still dark for me then,
when I needed you. Now it's day.
It brings a true smirk to my face
to know you are nothing more
than a night of binge drinking:
a foolish part of my youth,
a consequence of boredom.
I could not hold your liquor,
I vomited all that bile you said to me
in the hedges outside. Don't fret,
this is not a bad memory, in fact
you might never be a memory at all.
I am well. I will drink better and
far more dangerous poisons.
I am today, you are only last night.
Poems are useless
Though some people read them
They’re either trying to be romantic
Or pseudo-intellectual
Or they just like it
When words
Are formatted

Words are useless
You can’t eat them
Or **** them
And despite what you may think
Words will not keep you company

Books are useless
Like clothes several sizes too big
You can only disappear into them
When you have given up on life
There will always be a good book
Lying around
Bitter complaints under an umbrella
I ignore them as I freely run
Through the invigorating shower of
Tears that freely fall down on me
Like the reawakening that I have always longed for
People stare at me strangely
But I don’t care because I know
Something they will never know
That running through the rain
Cleanses all your sorrows
And makes you soar as a
Bird soars freely through the
Unlimited heavens above
I am one with these birds who freely fly
Through this cleansing water
The rain, my soul cries out in joy
As the people who complain bitterly are missing out
On a true joy of life.
 Mar 2012 QuiverCoeur
In seas of
age and

As I watch newcomers
Drink to a new year of
Knowing tonight will be one not
remembered by morning

As I watch middle-aged couples drunkenly
spill over
Slur words like
Slop kisses onto
Not knowing which is which but knowing
that lips belong on such places  

As I watch old folks taking their toast of
Bundled up to face the cold on brittle
Thinking quietly to themselves if this
Will be their

As my head ***** with itself slowly
With wishes of being those who I observe
That satisfaction lies in the

Will be another one
To satisfaction.
 Mar 2012 QuiverCoeur
Silence  ( say it again a bit louder martin )
Do You Want To Hear My 10 Worder?
-How long is it?
10 words!
-Well I'm not listening to anything if you shout at me
I'm not shouting, I'm just saying that a 10 worder is 10 words
-Haven't I heard that one?
This is a different one
-A different one?
-Go on then

                                        You arch your hips
                                         Little nics
                                         Crumple on the floor

-Is that it?
Yes. Do you want to hear the longer version?
-Will you make me a cup of tea first?
(makes cup of tea)

                                         You lay there beautifully
                                          Inviting me
                                          One more thing to do
                                          Before we begin
        ­                                  You arch your hips
                                          Off they slip
                                          Little nics
                                          Crumple on the floor

-Mm, very nice. Have you seen my specs?
On your head
-Oh yes.
nics = knickers!
 Mar 2012 QuiverCoeur
Time stood stagnant as the darkness crept in and distorted surroundings faded
He thought about his first friend, how they’d met
On a beach collecting eponymous Herman ***** by the bucket-full
Her face and name were gone, but she was born August twelfth
His first ice cream cone, the way the green mint melty soup
Ran down his hand; he hated sticky fingers
The comfort in his veins made him cloudy, the track on his inner arm throbbed
He thought about the bully who’d beaten him senseless
For spilling lunch milk on his shoes
And that girl whose clumsiness he’d claimed as his own
Who’d watched without a word and like all left him loner
He remembered his excitement at the first patch of beard
And how he’d stopped going to church when his brother
Finally left that chair and learned to fly
His eyes now drooped to poppy slits, but the flashes were ever blasting
He thought about sleep, his sweet retreat always
And what it was like to have had a family
He remembered a lecture from a physics professor
About chess and universe particles
The eternal contained in the tangible
Infinity carved from wood
The sideways eight ways in which one can be a mortal
And how everything ends the same
The branches become the seed
Can it all be so simple, he wondered
As the apartment floor grew distant
He thought of all the times he’d ****** up
And how in his rearview mirror, he wanted to
Embrace those moments, love them and
Ask them to be godparents to his unborn life
As he kissed the light goodnight, his only regret was
Having so many
He thought of everything
He thought nothing
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