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Apr 2015 · 1.3k
Love Fort (10w)
Let us build a fort
and fill it with love.
Apr 2015 · 735
Not Everything Fits
Not everything written is perfect
Not everything said is truth
Not everything felt is emotion
Not everything lived is youth.
Apr 2015 · 493
Endangered Sleeps
Close to catatonic
Until the mind is released.
Freed.
Fallen.
Failing is what others see.
Matters of such matters only
Matter to those involved.
And if those are only figments
Of an imagination gone ary
Then why, do they come alive?
Shots in the dark do not damage demons
who dance in retinas of ruthless souls.
Fallen.
Failing.
Freed from fallacies these demons dance
In shallow souls of mocking crows
And only know what is foretold.
Until the mind is released from
Its shallow sheep that shudder in sleep.
Dive.
Only depth will bury the beasts
Will bring them to their ***** knees
Drain them of their energies
Of drowning in such simple pools
Of petty thieves.
Aug 2014 · 1.3k
Shiny! Sidetracked
Metal, glass, glitter,

all shimmer, so sparkly!

What was I doing?
Because I can, and
For the fun of it, why not!
Another Haiku!
...(see what I did there?)
Half way down in the dumps
Nearly in the gutter inches from the footpath
If I wished to stretch my fingers
Maybe I could help myself.
Instead, I stay, a stray at the side of the road
Laying low from you, happy to be rid of me
To spend our nights alone.
Aug 2014 · 13.8k
Sleeping Eye
The sleeping eye
sees nothing aside
from the sleepers dream.
It may be shut
for fear to wake
only to face
an assembled fate.
May we never know
as sleeping eyes cannot speak
but rest assured,
these sleeping eyes do very well weep.
Written 11 years ago, 11/20/03
Aug 2014 · 1.3k
Happy Haiku for Hilda
Sun shines through shadows,
water gives way to the splash,
sharing summers smile.
A fellow user (Hilda) helped me realize I may be lacking on the happier poetry here. So, attempt I did, to remedy this. Thank you Hilda for this rainy day to be reminded of happier states.
Aug 2014 · 657
(Oh Look!)
Another line calls for my
scribbles to lay as a Scribe
would perpetuate epiphanies-
diluted and resuited for the masses, only aft
direct dictation from Kingdoms and Monarchies.
The thought that came to mind when finding a space on lined scrap paper, while in the midst of needing to complete work.
G is for generosity, giving from a large heart to those in need.
R reminds me of her radiance, running throughout her smile of insouciance...
And A takes me to the earlier days of her being so animated
that N then becomes, naturally, the necessity to remember her this way.
Now dining with the divine, D reminds me of her dying
but M marks my memories with her mindful magnificence.
And for this, another A because she's just that amazing,
that her absence -although now abundant- is always
alight with her angelic life.
Prepared for the memorial service of Jeanette O'Brien Nov. 11, 1923 - July 2, 2014
Heart, Please stop pounding,
Stop reminding me that I am real.
Stop the flow of purity
I do not deserve such respect.

Knees, please give out
Beneath me I wish to lay
Take me out at my trunk
I do not need to stand.

Eyes, please close forever
I cannot see the beauties offered
They are invisible in darkness
I do not need to see.

Hands, please ball into fists
Drive yourself full force
Deep into the hardened ground
I do not wish to touch.

Body, please fall down,
Hands and knees in dirt
Eyes unused, heart slowing...
Already, I'm forgetting how to feel.
Dec 2013 · 1.1k
Prairies of Paradise
Oh prairies of paradise,

why do you dwindle in our grasp?

Do you not want to share in our expansion

of democratic duty?

What would you consider the proper path,

my plants scathed in acidic dew.

Do you feel the life leave the soil?

When your roots are outstretched for a water bed no longer located under you,

will you weep your petals knowing what is to come?

I weep for you prairies.





When smoke stacks stick from our lips

do you choke on the phlem expelled from our lungs,

tempting your wilted parts?

(There is water in there, just break it down with your

leaves and find the pieces you need.)

How rational do you view these rationalities?





Oh prairie please remember we care for your beauty,

but care not how it will stay. (How long will you wait?)

You have fought mother nature,

her winds and worst droughts,

but not knowing father time,

can you comprehend the offspring that is depleeting

and cheating you?

Will you weep when the bugs stop scratching your stems?

I weep as the bees leave and the beetles begin to belch

from their green guts after ingesting your roots...

for I know what is to come.

I weep for you prairies.





When blossoms are only pictures on walls,

you will unfortunately, be too soon forgotten.

I do not wish to deliver morose messages,

only to express to the winds in my ears

that I too, howl, and push through

(sometimes a destructive path, )

forever challenging and constantly changing.

Priairies, I too will one day wilt,

my memory too soon forgotten,

My prairies, I weep for you tonight.
When my heart beats
aggravated and aggressively
through my chest and clinks
my muscles, my blood flushes
my flesh and fools my mind
into thinking it is more than man.
When the words will not walk the plank
it isn't due to being dope or blank
perhaps it is my agitated state,
Flushed with flustered feelings
flooding forward and festering in the fetal position
inside my cells, banging the brains out of each membrane.
The last of my nerves being burned by a blessing
in disguise, as they often come,
When I bite my tongue.
Nov 2013 · 1.7k
Carrying Our Steps
We carry these heavy boulders
tending to forget to shrug our shoulders
Release the pressure of our endeavours
of daily drums we beat with rigor.
Pit stop before the brakes disintegrate
from the overbearing weight of worlds we create
and expect it all to stop when we wink at the stars.
Returning to rest, only a moment for our conscious cranium
then awake and get going, just as quickly as we killed the engine
only a few lonely hours before.
Sep 2013 · 507
Limerick 2
There once was a man named Paul
who wasn't much a threat at all
but when he met someone new
there was nothing he could do
he'd end up being kicked in the *****.
Sep 2013 · 577
Limerick
There once was a man named Armstrong
Who was known for writing heavy songs
Or did he blast through space?
Or was it he who won that bike race?
Perhaps I've remembered him wrong...
Sep 2013 · 1.0k
Jiminy Cricket
What if that bug you splat was not there to bug you?

That spider actually spoke until you smacked all senses out of its skin.
The fruit fly sang beautifully, at least the spider said so.
The centipede liked shiny things and tap danced Morse code.
The June bug loved to braid but its grip is so small, you hardly noticed at all.

The water bug was going for a run when you saw it slip past and you grabbed her fast and dunked her til she drown.
The sweet cricket was tuning his romantic notes when you pulled the window closed.
The bumble bee full of honey humbly bumped you, squealing you swat the sky until its wings were too damaged to fly.
The ant hill, nearly rebuilt seemed the perfect place for you to plant your foot, the colony cried as they began to drag their dead brethren in.

What if these were your genies,
The wishes you wished.
The friends you needed,
but were so quick to squish.
It is September 11
we are waiting on word from the White House
America waits as boots are polished
soldiers stand in salutation suited
so when the word is spoken,
there is no need to call for attention.

The students study in bliss
of yet being impacted by the shadows-
the cloth that covered the ground was thick
the death toll rose so quick
displaced children and debris
-it's not in their backyard so how much can they truly see?

The days are filling with images
videos being repeatedly rewound and replayed
the spirits breaking the last breathes leaving
so many souls were released
and so many are ignoring the news
afraid their brother, dad, or aunt may be on that first platoon.

A dozen years before
we were in a frenzy that felt something like this
but it was in our backyard.
We keep walking today, phones buzz with average chirps
but we are still waiting.
Silently, it seems we wait for the word to lead our weary flock.
Sep 2013 · 502
Losing Something
The fingers moved in short stints
shyly, hungrily, pulling up and down
unsure the direction to navigate.

The skin tingled and agreed to the warmth
the hands awkwardly dancing the hair standing
and knowing the sound in your head is the blood in your heart.

The drive to lose the game play of childhood fantasy
to commit to adult life before knowing it always is and always will be
a game in which we have plenty more to lose.
It's twisting with time
knotting my insides
like a diamond in the rough
that's too tough to find.
The potion wearing off
covering my eyes with the cloth
of sins and sinister thought
feeling finally caught.

My mind won't rest
so why lie with the best?
Clear skies will never clear these eyes
and silver linings only shine
somewhere in the back of my mind.
A fool is the beholder
of this comedy, divine.

— The End —