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it's elusive while
always near—restless nights spent
trying to catch it
a haiku
Big Sal Feb 22
The water on the runways bubbling as it suffers too,

A father at a young age juggling what the mothers do,

Playing dumb, days to duck, memory will come if it blows up the rhyme,

Waking up, take the cut, check to see the son if he woke up on time,

He runs up with a zoom on the one-day smile when,

The sun is in his in room as his son lays silent,

He takes him up his hugs as he breathes upon the breathing,

He wakes him with a nudge and then sees his son is bleeding,

Half the dream is live pacing with water bloodless in the hells roamed,

Panicking and mind racing, the father rushes to the cell phone,

While he cries in fallen hells with the one hidden meaning,

And he tries to call him help but his son isn’t breathing,

The wisdom of the house where the fun cost a friend,

He gives him mouth-to-mouth as his son coughs again.


I kiss my wife and kiss their heads,

I’ll give my life and give my breath,

A bit advice with bliss in death,

You never see it coming,

I miss the lights and **** the bed,

I live to fight and live to bless,

A friend of mine is missing next,

And dead or free and running.


Racing through the house as it thunders on the farm with hoops to slam and head below,

Wading through the crowds with a wonder in his arms like Superman but better bro,

Playing with guns at ease in a box of wetter shirts,

Begging his son to breathe as the coughs are getting worse,

The weather’s always something like the books in a peer review,

He never saw it coming as he looks in the rearview,

The one day he failed at the doors of necropolis,

His son’s face is pale like a horse in apocalypse,

He plays the game of life with the water bound for peering still,

He begs to stay alive as his father pounds the steering wheel,

Walk through truth and madness with a hundred sins today,

Caught in loops of traffic as his son begins to fade,

The rational will thank me with a coffin to hunt for,

He wraps him in a blankie and he walks him in the front door.


Muse of a rose where the hunt’s leading fellows,

Tubes in his nose and his son’s breathing shallow,

Kiss his eyes and more for me when there’s nothing there,

Live the life an orderly on a rocking chair,

The water wets the bones of the blind with the dumb laws leading,

The father checks his phone for the time and his son stops breathing,

The sadness in his eyes is a prize from the blind,

He panics and he cries as he tries one more time,

Bloodiest of bloods and every ring to wear,

Nothing that he does and everything to fear,

A fading joy’s pride to his moms in a better room to dance,

His baby boy died in his arms and he never knew the chance,

The man that ends an answer with a very fun painting,

He stands against the cancer with his buried son’s blankie.


I kiss my wife and kiss their heads,

I’ll give my life and give my breath,

A bit advice with bliss in death,

You never see it coming,

I miss the lights and **** the bed,

I live to fight and live to bless,

A friend of mine is missing next,

And dead or free and running.
Enjoy this poem written in holorime.
Mother Mary, Mother Mary, whisper in my ear.
Give me something tangible to touch –
Something audible to hear.
Send me a sign, so I know I am alive
I want to know it is not in vain that I let this world inscribe
This mark upon my soul. Give me a sign to make me whole.
Help me find peace through the chaos.
Just let me know you’re in control.

Mother Mary, Mother Mary, whisper in my ear.
I know each breath could be my last –
Yet, my death I do not fear.
I’ve been shackled by my questions
And I’ve watched them as they’ve grown.
I searched endlessly for answers –
When all along I should have known
That the answers I seek are not ones that can be found.
So I pray that you’ll whisper. I pray I’ll hear the sound.
I pray that death holds more than what we bury in the ground.

It’s been nearly twenty years, and somehow I still have faith.
But I fear the truths I know are lies; I fear that virtue is a waste.
Still, I wait for your whisper, Mother Mary, Mother Mary.
Despite how much I’ve suffered; this burden I still carry.
Because I trust this world holds reason.
I trust my struggle wasn’t worthless.
Mother Mary, Mother Mary, I pray I suffer for a purpose.
Sean Feb 6
Virtue washed away by a blood-diluted tide.
A drop of sin, dissolved, cannot be distilled.
And still, one sees a mirage of virtue from the haze of fear.
But impure water cannot be distilled.
When I was young boy
I never wanted love
I seeked something more

I wanted a partner
who will join up with me to experience
every ****** thing that life has to offer

We would often think that we ate all the wisdom in world
and then again fail together

Our egoes would crush and deepen
in sorrow times we would share the  light
and in marry times
we would respect the  dark

we would understand that life is far too
short for our mutual feelings to fulfill
that infinite we are not
and our bodies must go

Of death we would think
not always, but from time to time
sharing hands, resting our
old bodies in the living room

In the end we would often go to our long walks
alongside the river and smile and rejoice
because that is the ultimate happiness
knowing we lived together, sharing our virtues
and spreading them into the every situation
give life everything you have, don't hesitate to fall
KM Hanslik Jan 5
We break from these dreams without thought
"we can do anything," we cry
kicked in the back of the knees.
The bruises never show, but
we might hold out just a little bit more
might take things a little more slowly this time.

If all is well and calculated,
then aren't our errors just an altered path?
You see me as a stick figure,
another character that wanders by
familiar in my distance
safe in my unchanging rhythms.
But to each their own, I suppose;
we find meaning in whatever comfort we choose;
security blankets our minds and our homes
but I've run my fair number of red lights,
I've done things I'm not proud of.

You set straight lines around the things that I do and say;
when walls break down, you always ask why they failed,
never how to build them stronger.

And I am tired of this empty playdate
with the idea of "goodness" and "virtue"
I pick up the phone but your line is dead;
I continue to be a stick figure.
Cast a gaze up to the skies;
life is not found where feet lie.
Fading light frames deepest fear–
I say, "let the fear come near,
heathen beast, it cannot win!"
(Love shall quake before no thing.)
Then we turn to face the earth,
daring life beyond mere mirth.
Do we rot among the weeds,
or imagine finer deeds?
Deeds of wonder, deeds of awe,
knowing that we can be more!
More than threads of fate may deem–
choices! And a mind that screams
for the beauty of the world:
raindrops in the shape of pearls,
clouds that part and show the sun,
birds that sing and dogs that run;
blades of grass that pad my feet,
hyacinths that share their sweet
loving smell among the trees;
nettlestings on children's knees.
Should one grasp an old tree trunk,
look up from one's phone at lunch,
one might yearn for life anew,
no more breaths and time lost to
qualms that dampen virile fire,
love that stumbles on tripwire.
Is is truly love at all
living as though one must fall
under grief's bewitching spells,
buying lies the devil sells:
heartless, cryptic, gnawing, grim,
plans and projects lost to whim.
Surge with triumph, young and old!
Leave distraction in the cold,
wield your sword of mindful fight;
scream in midst of ev'ry plight:
"Life in bloom beyond a screen,
One of fairest things I've seen!"
On learning to become responsible for my time here.
Co-written with my brother, Alexander:
Patience is a virtue, it's one that I've thought through
The feeling when we're together is something oh so new

I feel it in the morning, when obstacles lay clear
And the hope that has been planted, gets me passed my fear

Tomorrow is uncertain, but that’s alright with me
Cuz being here with you is all I really need

Patience is a virtue, this I know is true
But how can I be patient when all I want is you?

Beanie Dec 2018
we are all waiting for something,
a plane to land,
a response to be sent,
a love to be requited.

waiting is the hardest part
of living in this world.

a virtue seldom valued,
is not a value i hold near.

impatience runs within me,
why not now?
i ask petulantly
as if the stars should hang in the sky
because i no longer want to wait for nightfall.
written for a boy i love, an ocean away.
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