"coaxers" poems
*time spent wishing people would be the things you'd like and long for them to be
time spent lining up chalky little yellow candies you'll never swallow
time spent dreading anyone reading this
and time spent hoping somebody does
they gave me a pamphlet at the doctor's office today
a litany on how i was smoking myself to death and a pamphlet that read:*
call 911 any time you feel your life is meaningless
*as if an emergency operator could explain
why you go to sleep every evening assured that you must rise come sun
assured of the strife you face by moving from your somber silent grave
assured that there is no recompense to speak of
only falsities created to temporarily blind cave dwellers*
marriage and love and jesus christ
*in enough words to convince you
has anyone ever noticed that whenever someone is on a ledge
all coaxers ever do is regurgitate false hope
to convince momentarily
never address the facts of meanings the why's the trees that would grow whether you sat beneath them or were never a thought to begin with
expected to sleep expected to rise sleep and rise sleep and rise until you are gone by no fault of your own
gone to leave holes in lives you could do nothing but desert
never address because if they did you'd jump
don't try to deny it, dr. hollywood
you'd jump*
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 4:41 PM UTC
i have an itch on my heart
i can't get to
unless i write about you.
people say we won't always wear smiles
i wonder why they think we can no longer afford them
who do they think they are
predicting the future like that.
i will not let myself be swept away in the winds of human nature
am i not more than a rock that is weathered and shaped with time?
i have my will
- to adore you, kiss you, feed your soul, wrap you in my own skin and call you home.
you have yours
- to make me feel valued, cherished, loved, happy, touch me in ways that no one else has
God has His.
- to make us happy.
and if we are His children,
are we not creators, too?
coaxers of smiles.
forgers of forgiveness in the fires of tragedy and heartbreak.
carpenters of karma.
what we say and do will follow us throughout existence.
we do not have to fit the mold of the world
although, you've always told me i would still be beautiful even if i was round
even if i went round the continents and stayed away for a very long time
you told me i would still be your "Jenny"
and i believe you
because we are creators
doers
masters of our fate.
i will love you until the holes in my socks stretch wide enough to be a ski mask
and even in our poverty i will slip them off and go to bed with you
you will always find a safe place here.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC