Dying Sun

Warmth on my eyelids welcomes a new day
and you, create a reflection against my skin
pink carnations sit on the window sill
soaking up the sun, but desperately begging for water
I kiss you gently and grab the vase
my fingertips brush against you while the birds wish us good morning
I remember how much you loved the pink carnations when we got them
your soft, delicate hands so gently pouring water into the glass
the crinkles by your eyes because you were so happy
and because it was always too sunny by that window
you didn’t care though, sun made you smile
so even when the birds stop singing
or the carnations begin to die around you
I know that the sun will make you smile.

By 20, I hope that I am happy.
By 25, I hope that I am happy.
By 30, I hope that I am happy.
By 35, I hope that I am happy.
By 40, I hope that I am happy.
By 45, I hope that I am happy.
By 50, I hope that I am happy.
By 55, I hope that I am happy.
By 60, I hope that I am happy.
By 65, I hope that I am happy.
By 70, I hope that I am happy.
By 75, I hope that I am happy.
By 80, I hope that I am happy.

what is a man-made education
getting a job,
not working in your field,
as that degree, hangs dusty on the wall, yet
we passed the class,
we made the grades,
we're smart, yet we keep ******* up...
you know it, I know it,
we all know it.

I know you’re scared,
What is it, the 4th school now?
Time to make new friends just to probably leave them again.

You’ll be mad about it soon,
I mean, why wouldn’t you be?
Soon you’ll be overcome with dread each time the alarm rings.

For the first time, you’re shy,
How can you be shy after all this time?
You’ve had to do this more times than most this isn’t hard.

So you’re the new kid,
It’s a nickname you know well, right?
Trust me, it’s better than nicknames you’ll be called later.

I’m not trying to scare you,
Isn’t it obvious I only want the best for me?
Don’t forget how strong you are and what you’ve already accomplished.

Keep your head up, kid,
Do you really think life won’t get better?
Well, I can tell you first hand that this isn’t even that bad.

But it will shape you,
Just remember that at least, okay?
This 14-year-old hell won’t be nearly as tragic 9 years later.

seems it has been quite
quite longer than
eleven weeks
since we last spoke
i'm sure that on this early morning
you're only sleeping
but i'd like to share
some basic ideas
Perhaps you
can't forget it all
in fact

it might be the sad reality
that all you can do
is reflect on
a good old memory

the simple memories that you hold
and seem to also run through my head
even if i refuse, the inevitable rises
that i must accept those
precious hours
we had
and it seems that
i like to reference songs in
all of my reminiscence
through this incoherent series
of run-on sentences

to answer your questions
do you want answers?
at least now
after all this time
quite longer than
eleven weeks
since we last spoke?
or may i leave your questions
as mysteries of your poem?
the answers
can only be guessed

guessed
emotionally
or logically
we do know
what happened this year
and it seems that
i took you
as far as you could go
hugs are nice
so embrace the hugs
selfishness is a construct

you can't be afraid
to care for yourself
and explore
your desires
i'm sorry i didn't stay
why would an affair
be needed
to visit you?
well, i sure hope
my lacking presence
doesn't wrack your brain anymore

I know she’s home when her car is a mile away
It’s so loud and I can hear the music playing before she parks
I can tell it’s her by the way she slams her door
She steps lightly up the flights of stairs unlike the rest
Even careful when she unlocks the door and pushes it open
Sometimes she has a hat on, but most times not
She calls my name and I come into the room
I patiently wait for her to throw her bag on the couch
And to peel her coat off with huffs of irritation
She kicks her boots off to the side before
A breath of relief escapes her lips.

Finally, she takes notice of me!
She sits down on the floor.
I chirp with enthusiasm to show her my appreciation
She’s gentle at first and then she gets too excited
So she grabs me and I immediately remember every day before
She does this every day, but somehow I forget this part
I cry in protest, but she only laughs
Continuing to pepper me with kisses.

And now my brother emerges
I’m plopped back down on the floor
I try to get her attention again, but she’s moved on
In defeat, I walk away and sit and glare
She never picks him up like she picks me up
Oh wait, she picked him up
After more kisses he’s put down too
She stretches and smiles at us.

“Who wants food?”

I have this one
enemy,
who I hate so much.
I don't talk to her
during clases;
I avoid her during lunch.
She hated me,
I hated her;
we both hated each other.
I've done
no bad to her,
she's done
no bad to me,
but we just didn't mix,
and that
was clear.
I don't know
why I hate her so much,
but to me,
she always looked like
a bad image.
That was all until
my math teacher did something
against my will.
She sat us together;
my enemy and me.
I didn't think that I'd get through
that class,
but I did...
barely.
The next day
I hated my enemy even more
than ever before.
I hated her so much
I wanted her
to go straight
to hell.
But soon
something changed;
I'm not sure what,
but I could tell.

They keep laughing at me
Their noise flow forth from the DEPTHs of their throats
On their thrones they point their fingers
I see their diaphragms trembling in glee

hAHaha
So what if you don't like the real me?
hAHaha
I don't CARE
hAHaha
These aren' the colours I should see

...

They're not there.

I see the colours, the pictures
The words never come

Born to beg
Human touch
Ask of it
Sell myself for it

Inauthentic thrift
Fed winter's coal
Drinking the winter sleet
A conscious envelope

Sympathy divulges vanity
The mind is borne on spines
Beaten backs and chalk lines
The factory smog blanket

The film reel is tainted
Nullified by the future
Blood is upheld through drink
Or the scraps 'neath the kitchen sink

Mistress and minstrel
Colliding in such fashion
The green of grass but the soil
Which accentuates the home

The smoking pipe for the open mind
And love's ill script
Black soot of night, laid on wheat
The farmer's purple grain

The miner earns alone