asf - Hello Poetry

asf Feb 2014

Is anyone out there?
Did you know that I'm a little embarrassed?
Even just one human being...

Of course,
you add all kinds of delightful things.
But me, I just taste pure; sweet; simple:
The way I have been known when no one is looking.

You need extra convincing.
I
hate
to
be
a
downer, and over the course of 5 days, Ocean.
don't let you be a hero and rescue.
EXTRA: I have worked so hard. Thanks.
Who make it possible?
You.

**~~a.s.f.

This is an erasure poem from an article about cranberries.

asf Feb 2014

Aware.

I pay attention.
I know what happens.
The suspense builds as the clock, smirking, goes from 11:59...to 12:00. It is officially afternoon.
The birds whisper me secrets from their safe points in the trees. They are hiding from the cruel smoke that swirls the city streets.
I'm alone. I'm walking.
I listen to people's conversations; their feeble attempts at small talk produces a buzz. I'm waiting for the right moment to jump in their conversation, eager for human interaction.
I am here.
I am there.
I am aware.

**~~a.s.f.

asf Feb 2014

Also January 17, 2014

How lucky are your
pants. They get to hug you when
you sashay around.

Wow. That last haiku
was super creepy, even
for a creep like me.

I don't want this right
now; this feeling isn't ideal.
I don't want a crush.

But, then again, your
hands are really soft and your
sweaters wrap me in.

Oh, what the ****, man.
I never meant for this to
happen. Why to me?

**~~a.s.f.

asf Feb 2014

January 17, 2014

inspiration hits.
Ideas fly at me head-on.
Get me some paper.

Your jawline; my God.
your smile when you know you
have said something right...

"You were really good."
Yeah, right. My poem could have
been a bit longer.

Substance is the thing
that we, as humans, live for.
We need that depth to thrive.

**~~a.s.f.

asf Feb 2014

not even worth it

so tempted to tell
someone: hesitation builds.
not that serious.

**~~a.s.f.

asf Feb 2014

Tall Glass.

milky white face. ****.
I latch onto your boy hips.
I'm catching butterflies again.

**~~a.s.f.

asf Feb 2014

11:03 p.m.

Tiptoeing was an acquired skill, when the floor shouted your secrets with every step.
Keeping quiet was some sort of talent, when the police cars outside, or the refrigerator downstairs had conversations that they begged you to join.

*
There's a baby crying next door.
It's so perfectly placed.
The sound of her soft cries through these walls couldn't belong anywhere else.

**~~a.s.f.