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Tark Wain Jan 2017
If all good love poems
rest on metaphors
Then I'll write with one
that you could've searched
the world three times over for
and never found before

like the last puppy
lying on its on back
in front of a convenience store
the one that was unaccounted for

that little crease on the windshield
the one your wipers could never reach
or that annoying kid with ADD
the one your teacher could never teach
(me)

time is at once infinite and definite
life is short, yet is the longest thing we'll ever do
why must we lust for forever
when we know a dinner for two at 2 would do

Prince and Princess charming aren't walking through that door
which makes me question what we believe in happily ever after for
and I won't become a cynic
and if only a writer that could never write is deemed a critic
then i'll drop my pen
and drink all the ink in it

love is a four letter bubble
what looks to be
a meandering ascent into nothingness to those outside
but is a self sustaining world to those who inhabit it

what good is an art
if one can not master it

face it
a critic's a poet and a writer
that could never quit
778 · Jun 2014
Living Out of a Suitcase
Tark Wain Jun 2014
They say home is where the heart is
so I guess this is my home
although I can’t sleep in it
I live through it
It’s been mine for forever
well not forever
or even before I can remember
there was a time before this


I had a house a real house
but it was not a home
my father wasn’t around
my mother was but her mind was not
I was alone
so I left
I was 15
with no idea of what was next


It was fun at first
it was me, my bear, and my suitcase
the first night I slept by a pier
peered across the water with no fear
when I woke I up
it was me and my suitcase
my bear was gone
along with my childhood


from that day on I’ve been walking
and searching
but searching for something
you'll never find
is the very thing
that will ruin a mind
and so with every step my heart breaks
because I’m living out of a suitcase
756 · Jun 2014
Oncoming Traffic
Tark Wain Jun 2014
Two men sat knee to knee in a bar
One troubled one not
the second turned to the first and said
hit me man what do you got
the first was slow to speak
he pushed around his drink
and finally recounted the memory
that pushed him to his mental brink

the first recalled
he was driving down a road
and a woman began walking at his car
slow as a toad
she pranced in the middle of the lane
like she owned it or something
like a 40 mile an hour speed limit
was all she needed for protection

the first explained
why he couldn’t shake it
no matter how loud he honked to end her trance
he simply couldn’t break it
did she mean to die?
is that why she greeted oncoming traffic with a smile?
does she know how quickly it could end
that life is not a trial

the second calmed the first
maybe she was lost
maybe she was simply crossing
maybe she’s a daredevil
the second poured out two shots
and the two took them together
the night would progress
they’d forget the incident for forever

as the second drove home
he noticed something flickering in his headlight
stopping short he rammed his horn
as a woman skipped away in fright
he had almost killed her
she had almost died
the second man got home and collapsed
dialed the first then cried
746 · Jun 2014
A Beginning
Tark Wain Jun 2014
I was happy and healthy and then you left me
I tried to move on I tried to do better
but whatever I did I could not
forget your smile or touch
I haven't eaten much
but I will be ok
hopefully
741 · Sep 2014
Sound
Tark Wain Sep 2014
When the strings stop strumming
Where does the music go?
741 · Jul 2014
War Simplified
Tark Wain Jul 2014
There were ten boys in a room
numbered one through ten
they all lived peacefully
until the moment when
number ten took a liking to
number seven's suede shoes
three defended ten while
six and seven made a truce

ten shot a rocket
with questionable aim
after which we find
number two had been slain
eight and nine shot back
with a sling shot blast
while ten used four
to cover his ***

four perished, as one
came to his aid
spraying blindly
over where four laid
when it was over
only seven and ten remained
while one fell over exhausted
his resources drained

seven looked down at his shoes
which after the fighting were no longer new
he took them off one by one
and handed them to ten
deciding the war was no longer needed
ten thanked seven and walked away
to the corner and turned around
he'd fight again another day
738 · Dec 2014
Waiting for your call
Tark Wain Dec 2014
It's 2 am and i'm expecting you to call
but why should you
we haven't talked in ages
it shouldn't change now

I wonder if you miss me
which is stupid
I know you don't
you told me you wouldn't

you said you had to forget about me
that you had to move on
either find someone else
or some thing else

maybe you didn't mean that
but what's the point of thinking that
if you didn't mean it you would have called
before 2 am rolled around

I can't write vivid poetry anymore
I think so logically now
I see every shade of black and white
but i see no color

I'm broken
I'll admit to myself
I'd never tell anybody else
but i'll admit it to myself

is that what you want to hear?
that I'm broken
that you broke me
I think you'd like that

maybe I should just tell you
but if I did that then you'd know
(Wow you're a genius)
I can't let you know

It's possible you have the same thoughts
that you won't tell me I broke you
you're stubborn like me
that's why you shouldn't call
732 · Jul 2014
A Lover's Lost Time
Tark Wain Jul 2014
Coffee stained sweaters
swollen bit lips
mistakes that stayed forever
wounds that never healed
apologies told
relationships mended
now that I have you
I'm reminded by how it ended

I search for tones in your speech
quivers in your voice
hints in your texts
movements in your body
I can't forget how we failed
how we might make it this time
and why either is
just as likely as the other

Do I love you?
Or am I just used to you?
730 · Nov 2014
A Plane
Tark Wain Nov 2014
Three kids sat side by side on an airplane
First was Jerry
he was six and loved coloring books
he loved how he could make anything
any color he desired
next was his sister Lisa
she was 9 and loved the way music sounded
when she put on headphones
and listened to each note
Lastly was Clara
she was 17 and hardened by the world
she loved her brother and her sister
and not much else

I wanted to end this poem sadly
but the family i've imagined is now so real to me
that I must let the plane land
719 · Aug 2014
Man on the Bus
Tark Wain Aug 2014
There's a man on the bus
who I had never really noticed much
except for knowing that I hadn't noticed him much
I think we all have those people
he always had sunglasses and a coat on
even when it was hot out he'd be all covered up
he intrigued me
and I wasn't sure why he just did

one day I stayed on the bus route
yet the man remained on the bus
I thought nothing of it until I did it again
the man never moved
so I tested him
each day waiting longer and longer
never once did the man
leave his seat and walk off the bus

it intrigued me
where could he be going
where could he be coming from
did he have a wife?
any kids? a job? a life?
I had to ask him before I began to crack
it turns out he was just
the bus drivers coat rack
715 · Jun 2015
I Paint
Tark Wain Jun 2015
I Paint.


Not on a canvas of course
My hand shakes much too much for that
No
I paint in my head.

Masterpieces

Shimmerring towers of impunity
Castles of future conquests and quests.  
I paint everything.

I paint you

You're a lot nicer in my paintings
Maybe I'm just a good painter.

Anyway
These paintings are so realistic
So vivid.
So lifelike.

I see no reason why they should not exist

Because for one I am a great printer.
And for two I am realist.

So I set forth with my brush
Set upon bringing my art to life.

And I am always so close
The broad strokes each stringing together in a cohesive tone.

But still
If you approach it like a Monet
And examine it dutifully
You see it does not match my original masterpiece.

But how is this possible?

I am a great painter

This I know.

Shouldn't I be able to bring my simplest machinations into fruition?

I am a painter sure

If you belive that an architect is a construction worker

I am a painter

But I only build frames
Not Buildings
714 · Sep 2014
Dear Your Name,
Tark Wain Sep 2014
here is an anniversary letter
addressed to you
I think ours was last week
chances are this is past due
consider this my vow of affection
for what I write in these next 30 lines
will be my most sincere of words
even if I spoke a billion times

you are not the last thing on my mind
before I go to sleep
or the first thing
when I awake
I do not lust for you like Juliet
your Romeo I'll never be
but Romeo is dead
and I'm as happy as can be

I've loved before
and trust me it's no fun
constant musing about the future
how this one is really "the one"
it's a trial as old as
the woman who's teeth no longer function
love is love is love is...
love is much to do about nothing

and then I found you
with brown eyes and brown hair
simple as the letter k
eyes that looked but didn't stare
maybe you love me
although I hope you don't
maybe you'll think of marriage
although I hope you won't

In Conclusion
I'll bid you adieu
I am not in love with you
and that's what I love most about you
711 · Oct 2014
I Thought About It
Tark Wain Oct 2014
I don't like to think about it
I hate it
I try not to think about it
But do you think trees try to fall down
things happen
regardless of whether they're planned
so last night I thought about it
even though I didn't want to

it kills me
I didn't want it to
I assumed it wouldn't
but trees spend all their lives above the grass
that doesn't mean they think they'll ever touch
I thought about it
and I hate that
and I hate that I hate that I thought about it

I hate that I love you
I hate that I don't fully believe that sentence
I hate that you can feel something
but not be aware that you feel it
I wonder if trees know they'll grow
they always do
but I wonder if they know they will
Is it possible to not know the inevitable?

I wish I could unthink the thought I thought
it kills me
how the thought of you with another man
makes my stomach turn
but the thought of me with another woman
doesn't carry the weight to lift a scale
were trees previously just one branch
until they realized they had other options

I'm using a tree as a metaphor
because I don't want to talk about myself
because I don't want to make this about me
I want the world to cause my problems
but if i'm being honest
which I will be
I am the root of my pain
I just don't want to think about it
690 · Jul 2014
Bandage
Tark Wain Jul 2014
A bandage can only do so much
it's the body that heals
don't cover up your problems
solve them
668 · Jan 2015
50 percent
Tark Wain Jan 2015
I'm done
I'm tired of it
I'm tired of chasing you
I'm tired of acting like having you would mean I have everything
50% of marriages end in divorce
and people might use that to describe a decaying nation
or use it as irony in a gay marriage debate
but that's not what I see
I see 50% and I think that love is a myth
I see 50% and I think about all the " I do's"
that were supposed to mean forever
but only meant right now
50%
50 ******* percent
that's a coin flip
667 · Dec 2014
We are living in Hell
Tark Wain Dec 2014
There are ****** people in the world. There are ****** white people. There are ****** black people. There are ****** mexican people. There are ****** asian people. There are ****** short people. There are ****** tall people. There are ****** smart people. There are ****** dumb people. There are ****** people that act nice. There are ****** people that don't care. There are people on this earth that would punch a disabled child in the face in order to hear them cry. There are people that **** because nothing great was on tv. There are people that **** for money. There are people that **** for power. There are people that would **** a woman and leave her on the side of the street for someone else to deal with. There are people that would beat a child's head in just to see what's on the inside. There are religious people that do awful things. There are non religious people that do awful things. Some people would cut off a cats' paws one by one because they liked the way the purrs changed. Some people would do it regardless of the purrs. There are people that would hack off a mans testicles just to see his face after he realizes what has happened. There are people that just want something for the mantlepiece.

To disagree is stupid. These people exist. Which is why it makes no sense to talk of peace.

When we are clearly living in Hell.
655 · Jul 2014
Boxes
Tark Wain Jul 2014
It's crazy ya know
how everything I own
can just be wrapped up in boxes
trophies and awards
pictures and accomplishments
all tucked neatly away
my favorite pens and pencils
stuffed into burlap sacks

it's almost like it wasn't real
the first 18 years of my life
like it was all a game
that no matter what I did
I'd end up here
the only difference being
how many trophies
were neatly tucked away

like my whole life has been a checklist
like I was nothing extraordinary
there is nothing more dehumanizing
than being able to put everything you love in a box
it's just weird that it's over
it was always going to end
but I never thought it would be OVER
that's all
654 · Aug 2014
Infrequent Reminder
Tark Wain Aug 2014
Sometimes I have to remind myself
that just because the years have changed
it doesn't mean
the person has
650 · Jun 2016
You Used to Love Me
Tark Wain Jun 2016
You Used to Love Me
Shouldn't that mean something
How can you look at me like I'm nothing
Like I'm a leftover
of a meal you never ordered
like I'm the fifth leaf
of your four leafed clover
The one you wish you could forget

You Used to Love Me
I know you did
You told me
I was the peanut butter
you were the jelly
you would lay on my belly
and tell me anything you wanted
because I was everything you wanted

You Used to Love Me
so why do I find it so hard to talk to you
I used to tell you everything
now I doubt I could tell you the time of day
you look through me
not at me
What am I to you now?
A walking memory?

You Used to Love Me
Sometimes I think
This is going to be hard for me to say
but
Sometimes I think the past is as fabricated
as our predicted futures
We can rewrite narratives as we see fit
to fit the story as it unfolds

You Used to Love Me
I say it over and over again
constantly unsure if I am lying to myself
maybe each lie
is another knot in the bow
I use to wrap up our time together
You Used to Love Me

I think
646 · Nov 2014
Word Choice
Tark Wain Nov 2014
I am fascinated with language
with the architecture of words
the way they shift their shape
how a single switch can swing a tone

I am obsessed with possibilities
and those within language are bountiful
this all leads back to my reservoir
the place to which these words flow

that of course is my brain
a non-consenting center of my musings
tasked with taking on
my desires that lie within

the alphabet shocks and disturbs me
26 letters should not be all we need
to script our thoughts
because let it be known

I have searched


rolled every rock in my mind




and I am yet to find any iteration of those 26 letters







that properly describes the feeling of waking up next to you








again
640 · Nov 2016
No, I Don't Miss You
Tark Wain Nov 2016
I can hear you bellowing from a room that rests just outside of my imagination.
My skin crawls
as the wind quietly whispers
begging me to open the window
so the thoughts that once crowded my head
can slide back into bed with me

Nothing ever hurts as bad as it did the first time
each sip of the bottle is easier than the next
as I slip back into unconsciousness

I can hear the rain
hammering on my roof
relentlessly
again and again and again
wishing that maybe the next drop
will be the one that breaks the camel's back

melancholy memories make me muse
perhaps I lost a piece of me when I lost you
and if everything
God willing
must end up right
than Perhaps it makes sense
that you visited me tonight

I feel the flames
sneaking past the floorboards
devouring my oxygen
encapsulating my space
occupying my attention

When the past comes knocking on your door
remind it why
it doesn't have a place in your home
632 · Aug 2014
Goodbye to Goodbye
Tark Wain Aug 2014
The poison needle dances around my skin
like a cobra taunting its prey
it makes slight contact then drifts away
but I know it will return
I close my eyes
and wait for it to strike
I can't bear to watch
as my body falls under its spell

your lips dare to touch mine
while your eyes avoid the same
you want to touch me
not feel me
we're wrong for each other
we've agreed as such
but lets forget about the past and the future
if just for tonight
621 · May 2018
A thought
Tark Wain May 2018
When you left silently
it reminded me
why it seems to be
I don't revise my poetry
619 · Jun 2016
That's Okay
Tark Wain Jun 2016
I lost myself in you
and that's okay

when does the rain
become the ocean?
or the bread become
the ****?

it's all semantics isn't it really
isn't "myself" just my minds interpretation
of its known realities
balanced against my own fantasies
and furthermore if myself does not exist
then it wouldn't be able to be lost

clever

A mind is a beautiful thing
and it's great at convincing itself of things
it knows to be untrue
I lost myself in you
of that much I am sure

How did I lose grip?
when did I let myself get comfortable
why did I
it always ends the same way
in as much in that it ends
but you were supposed to be different
and even though I knew that to be untrue
my mind convinced itself of that

and that's okay
617 · Jul 2015
I've Seen People Jump
Tark Wain Jul 2015
A lot of people jump
I've seen it
they climb up on the railing

and they jump

they fall forever
in reality it's only a few seconds

but in their heads

it must feel like forever

do you think any of them regret it?

Answer

When the water is washing over them
and the tides engulf their lungs
and the salt stains their skin
and the pressure bursts their eye ***** open inside of their head

do you think they regret it then?

We all die William.

there's no sugar coating that
no amount of my preaching will make that ok
I get that
I can live with that

But if my belief in religion
and in turn my belief in you
keeps one person away from this railing

that would jump over it otherwise

well then that makes it all


seem real to me.
Tark Wain Nov 2014
Please keep your protests peaceful.
Please keep your lives separate,
Feel free to make them equal.
Please remember that although you believe you are the same as me,
That you will always be three fifths.
Please forget about slavery,  
Shame on us for being so upfront.
Please make your way towards the free seat at the back of the bus.
Please drink from your specified fountain.
Please marry your own.
Please work twice as hard to receive half as much.
By all means fight for what you believe is right but,
Please keep your protests peaceful.
598 · Jun 2017
A man. A rose. and A Grave.
Tark Wain Jun 2017
A man placed a rose over a mass grave
and said to me
take all the Evil in the world
and make Art out of it
592 · Sep 2016
She was the type
Tark Wain Sep 2016
She was the type of girl that read books no one had assigned to her
She refused to take the sidewalk if the quickest path went through the grass
Her eyes were the color of mud saturated with rain from the night before
I loved her and that was the biggest mistake I'd ever make

This isn't a poem about how girls are evil
or how the world is rigged
it's just that when I saw you I believed in love at first sight
and maybe that was wrong of me
589 · Jun 2016
Brain Wrap
Tark Wain Jun 2016
Glossed over pasts plus
Time tested epithets
That indubitably do define
The way you left me that's

Not to deny the truths that do lie
On the static sitting stone
Which are truths I refuse to uncover
Which tend to typify my own

Lack of anything resembling intelligence
I know if you missed me you would say it
Yet it remains categorically impossible
For me to even meagerly admit

That the starry eyed tongue tied
Deliciously delightful strikingly beautiful
Girl I fell in love with

is no more
Tark Wain Jun 2014
A mom said wait until your dad comes home
to the army kid silently waiting in calculated anticipation

A mom said wait until your dad comes home
to the bad kid waiting nervously on the couch

A mom said wait until your dad comes home
to the outgoing kid that had never met his father

A mom said wait until your dad comes home
to the baseball enthusiast who couldn't wait for tonight's catch

A mom said wait until your dad comes home
to the kid who only saw him when the law allowed

A mom said wait until your dad comes home
to a 21 year old man who was about to meet him for the first time

A mom said wait until your dad comes home
to the kid wondering if he'd get at least a comment tonight

A mom said wait until your dad comes home
and someone cared
#life #family #special #meaning #emotion
584 · Sep 2014
Dada Why
Tark Wain Sep 2014
Dada
Dada why is that man yelling?
that man on the corner
with the shirt that says "Jesus Hates You!"
why is he yelling Dada
he is there everyday
does he sleep Dada?
does he do puzzles like me Dada?

And why does he yell louder at you Dada?
Did you do something wrong,
did I do something wrong?
Do I need to say sorry?
Why does he hate your rainbow shirt Dada?
I always thought it was really pretty
Why does he tell you to die Dada?
What is death? Is it fun?

He must get lonely on that corner Dada
I get lonely in my room sometimes
he must have nobody to play with
Can I be his friend Dada?
Can I stand on that corner with him?
I'll meet so many different people Dada
And maybe just maybe
that man will tell me why he is yelling
Tark Wain Nov 2016
I wonder about the rain
A good deal more than any sane person should

The way it falls
the inevitably of it
down
down
down
and then
crash
And just like that
It's as if it never existed

What if we're all just raindrops
falling for what mistakably
seems like forever
and then
boom
nothing
the only thing left
being the size of our splash

Memories become
molecules we happen pick up along the way

It must be hard
when you're falling
to think of anything but the ground
who cares about where you fell from
or the places you've transversed
when the only thing in front
is solid asphalt

What I'm saying is
What if we're just raindrops
inevitably falling
and if that's a fact that will never change
what good does it do
to overthink
to stress
to doubt yourself

When in the end
we're all just a splash on the pavement
577 · Jul 2014
Dear God
Tark Wain Jul 2014
If you don't reply
you don't exist
if you do reply
you're not who they say you are
570 · May 2017
Untitled
Tark Wain May 2017
I would value you
I know you must have hard that a lot
and have grown accustomed
to it not being true

I know that trust is like a spotter
at the bottom of a ladder
and that you've been climbing Everest
and not the wall to a roof
so the comparison isn't apt
No I don't know anything you
and so my words ring hollower
than an Oak tree on a dry summers day

I would value you
not as price on a tag
but as a bird on a nest
because your presence makes being here
worthwhile
and when you're keen to fly away
please heed my plea that's true
I Promise I would value you
569 · Jun 2016
The Birds and The Bees
Tark Wain Jun 2016
The father knew it as soon
as his son walked in
it was his first broken heart
and it had been torn thin

so the father followed after
stomping feet and slamming doors
this was the big one the one
that shakes young men to their cores

The father entered
and dropped to his knees
it's time I tell you son
about the birds and the bees

Heart break like this is normal
but a love like yours was pure
even though you will have many
of this one's meaning I know you're sure

love, real love, is everything
it is a cataclysmic spastic
smattering of everything you held true
suffocating as if you were asthmatic

It's not that love is hard
it shouldn't be
in fact that's how I knew
your mother was the one for me

but somethings aren't meant to be
so when it came time for the power's that be
that took her away from me
the falsehood of love was clear to me

love as if you'll die tomorrow
because you might as well should
because a life without love is silly
stupid, and no good
567 · Jul 2014
And If
Tark Wain Jul 2014
And if a picture was worth
a thousand words
then my actions
should speak a thousand verbs

And if actions speak
louder than words
then let my speech
rise loud like a thousand birds

And if birds prove
it's possible to fly
then I can tell you
how I love you and why

And if a broken clock
is right twice a day
then maybe there's a chance
I can find the words to make you stay
561 · Aug 2016
Untitled
Tark Wain Aug 2016
You remind me of my eyelids
because when I close my eyes
all I see is
You
559 · Jul 2016
Can I Believe in Memories?
Tark Wain Jul 2016
A woman once told me
That when we remember something
we remember not the actual moment
but rather the last time we remembered it

A moment
at least in theory
is pure
it represents a certain truth
one that cares not for arguments
nor perspective nor point of view
if we remembered moments I wouldn't be skeptical
but we don't

I've lied before
in fact I do it all the time
I've lied to old women and girlfriends
to my father and kids on my street
whose to say I wouldn't lie to me?
A moment is concrete
but a memory?
That can be anything I want it to be

My life is a story
as is everyone else's
depending on the narrator to find meaning
in anything
What if everyday I stumble upon the answer
but it isn't the one I desire
who's to say
I haven't forgotten and tried again

What exists?
by that I mean exclusively to me
If I'm the architect of my own reality
how do I also serve as the destruction team?
What's the point of building a home
if I was always meant to sleep outside?
If a magician can actually use magic...
Doesn't he become something completely different?

Objectivity is lost on me
its well meaning contribution out of reach
I have just one tool with which to understand me
and unfortunately it's my memory
555 · Dec 2015
That's A Feeling
Tark Wain Dec 2015
A team of black doctors
working to save the life
of a KKK member

That's a feeling

A man shot dead
attempting to stop
the **** of a woman he didn't know

That's a feeling

A man not getting a job
because "He Was Mexican"
even though he grew up in Maine

That's a feeling

A Muslim teacher
stabbed by a student
who didn't want to be taught by a "terrorist"

That's a feeling
545 · Jun 2014
Fork in the Road
Tark Wain Jun 2014
I came to a fork in the road
I took it
for a few steps
then wandered back to where the road split
I wondered about the repercussions
how each affected life
finally I took the first
which lead me to my wife
544 · Jun 2014
A Butterfly
Tark Wain Jun 2014
I killed a butterfly today  
then tried to write a poem  
I don’t know why I did it  
It died without a home  
It struck me as compelling  
as I recalled what my parents used to say  
be mindful of your surroundings  
a flap of butterfly wings can change a day  


I thought little of it then  
yet now I obsess as I reminisce  
if a butterfly flap can change so much  
what of the absence of it?  
Have I sealed my fate to infamy  
or paved my way to riches  
but maybe if I **** another?  
my unforeseeable fate switches  


But what’s a butterfly to me?  
it wasn’t much before  
now you expect me to believe  
it holds the key to what’s in store?  
Free will must exist  
at least as long as I believe it to  
foolish of me to think my dead butterfly  
could have some affect on you  


Yet I sit here thinking  
of thoughts I’ve never had  
a liar I would be to tell you  
that I haven’t changed a tad  
It did not have a name  
and I did not have a reason  
yet as I blankly stared down  
I felt as if I had committed treason  


So I sweep away the body  
and leave the room to clear my head  
if my hand’s never clapped  
this butterfly would not be dead  
so be wary of the change you bring  
the waves you choose to make  
that butterfly could have changed a day  
and not believing that was my mistake
541 · Aug 2014
Reasons
Tark Wain Aug 2014
Everything happens for a reason
Said one man to another
that’s ******* you know he responded
and even if that was so
should it be some consolation
should I be amazed by the worlds complexity?
should I applaud the interwoven madness
if the one left out is me?


Does a bull admire a matador’s technique?
Does a building admire the strength of a wrecking ball?
Tell me why the system is great
why I should care about the meaning behind it all
what you have is what you love
and I could never love a theory
I believe in the material
because it’s the only thing my eyes can see


Tell me why my wife died
Was it to save a thousand lives?
because I would **** a thousand more
for one more look into her eyes
Maybe her death
somehow saved my life
well one day I will die
without the comfort of my wife


That’s all it really is my friend
a celebrated rain delay
God’s in his high chair
choosing who will go and who will stay
but eventually we will all leave
despite all the magic this universe has to offer
you believe in faith sir
but sadly I am bogged down in fact


The man was choked up
as he searched for words to answer the other
I did not know your babies mother
but my son did
She pushed him to safety from a car
taking the impact that was meant for him
so while I'm sorry for your loss friend
there is a reason behind everything
536 · Jan 2017
Ethereal
Tark Wain Jan 2017
You are not the roses' thorn
an overused trope in poetry
a metaphor beaten so close to death
that I'd be shocked to see it walk

You are not the sun's rays
beating down on me
constantly reminding me
of their presence

You are beyond words
You are beyond definition
How am I supposed to say with 26 letters
that which I couldn't say with a thousand

You are ethereal
You grace is unmistakeable
You are not of this world
therefore we could never be
524 · Aug 2014
Fuck This Wall
Tark Wain Aug 2014
**** this wall
this godforsaken tower of bricks
with my every move and motion
the mountain stretches and shifts
I step right
it follows
I step back
it swallows
I turn my head up and wallow
at this wall that controls me
it's not that I can't move forward
it's just that I can't go anywhere else
this wall is just a road block
so I must get off this road
and where the new one will take me?
nobody knows
521 · Jul 2014
To Write a Love Song
Tark Wain Jul 2014
To write a love song
you need to love
with a feeling as pure
as the white fur of a dove
clean as a whistle
sharp as a knife
with the vision of a psychic
to make her your wife
518 · Aug 2016
What if We're Raindrops?
Tark Wain Aug 2016
I wonder about the rain
A good deal more than any sane person should

The way it falls
the inevitably of it
down
down
down
and then
crash
And just like that
It's as if it never existed

What if we're all just raindrops
falling for what mistakably
seems like forever
and then
boom
nothing
the only thing left
being the size of our splash

Memories become
molecules we happen pick up along the way

It must be hard
when you're falling
to think of anything but the ground
who cares about where you fell from
or the places you've transversed
when the only thing in front
is solid asphalt

What I'm saying is
What if we're just raindrops
inevitably falling
and if that's a fact that will never change
what good does it do
to overthink
to stress
to doubt yourself

When in the end
we're all just a splash on the pavement
515 · Dec 2014
Why I Am A Poet
Tark Wain Dec 2014
I do not want to be a poet
it is too hard because
it is too easy
excuse the confusion
what I mean to say is
anyone can write poetry
good poetry is provocative
but think about it

thoughts are provocative
words are provocative
living a prerequisite for both of these things
IS PROVOCATIVE
to live is to experience
to experience is to have stories
and to share those stories
is to be a poet

the saying goes
if you put a team of monkeys in a room
for an infinite amount of time
you will eventually acquire all of Shakespeare's writings
but then again
keep the monkeys in the room for just a minute
and you'll leave with something
that at least resembles poetry

So why write?
why put pen to paper,
finger to key,
or even thought to mind?
Because if I don't no one will
I mean they "will" but not like I can
because although everyone is a poet
I am the only me
505 · Jul 2016
Words I Like
Tark Wain Jul 2016
I find my calm not at the finish line, looking back at the distance I've traveled, but in the moment, on the run, out of breath, looking forward. I don't know where I'm going, and I guess I hope to God I never get there—I'm happy as I am: Chasing something eternal and ethereal. The world is not—will never be—enough for me and that's just the way I like it.
504 · Jun 2014
A Butterfly
Tark Wain Jun 2014
I killed a butterfly today  
then tried to write a poem  
I don’t know why I did it  
It died without a home  
It struck me as compelling  
as I recalled what my parents used to say  
be mindful of your surroundings  
a flap of butterfly wings can change a day  


I thought little of it then  
yet now I obsess as I reminisce  
if a butterfly flap can change so much  
what of the absence of it?  
Have I sealed my fate to infamy  
or paved my way to riches  
but maybe if I **** another?  
my unforeseeable fate switches  


But what’s a butterfly to me?  
it wasn’t much before  
now you expect me to believe  
it holds the key to what’s in store?  
Free will must exist  
at least as long as I believe it to  
foolish of me to think my dead butterfly  
could have some affect on you  


Yet I sit here thinking  
of thoughts I’ve never had  
a liar I would be to tell you  
that I haven’t changed a tad  
It did not have a name  
and I did not have a reason  
yet as I blankly stared down  
I felt as if I had committed treason  


So I sweep away the body  
and leave the room to clear my head  
if my hand’s never clapped  
this butterfly would not be dead  
so be wary of the change you bring  
the waves you choose to make  
that butterfly could have changed a day  
and not believing that was my mistake
500 · Dec 2016
Mornings in Las Vegas
Tark Wain Dec 2016
Roosters would be crowing if any were around

Instead


Car horns blare in their place
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