Give you everything I am,
Let you in
Practically give myself to you
dragged it out for just over a year
and you choose to tell me now
Good fucking job you cunt
Fuck you

Everyday is a struggle to be better
Speaking up against morons
Achieving other accomplishments not keeching off old success
Something new letting go of the old
Found someone new don't want to make the same mistakes
Success with hardwork not expecting a hand out
Change because nothing stays the same
Pursue your dreams never give up on them
Never settle for less or be denied what's yours
I've learned to not rely on anyone or hold your breath
Lost in my work not making time for what I love
Id pursue love but want a sure thing not tryong to hurt or hurt others
Its easy to not care harder to care when you get use to things slilping away
Working hard to get it all back hoping to reclaim all that was lost

He's out of bed
and out of sight.
I lay with my back turned
to the night.
The sheets still warm,
I hold the loss.
It isn't sleep
if his feet don't toss.

I'll love you
From silky smooth
To wrinkled,
From sane
To senile,
I'll love you
From sandy blonde or brunette
To ashen grey or balding white,
From twenty/twenty
To glaucoma,
I'll love you
From hushed whispers
To hearing aids,
From skips and hops
To rascal scooters,
I'll love you
From fast food and coke
To ensure and depends,
From broken fingernails
To fractured hips,
I'll love you
From baby boy
To great grandchildren,
From skydives
To rocking chairs,
I'll love you
From glitter
To pill reminders,
From off the lot
Until rusted into the ground,
I'll love you
From now
To forever,
From hello
To the grave...
APAD13 - 058 © okpoet

A nimrod sparrow
heckles a used
condom.

Normally, I have something to write
But today is poorly lacking

Too many arguments in just as many days
Comebacks are the things I'm saving

Did I mention virginity?
Want to see my V-card?

Let's call this high school baby,
I can be your point-guard

Sexuality and innuendos
Silence, is what I need.
Let's play horse, baby
I'll be your steed

I lay on my back
Grass blades impaling my thoughts.
Captivated by the night.
Belittled by the lot.
Of stars and starlight
A stellar sight
As I lay on my back.
In complete solitude tonight.

Perhaps I want everything:
the darkness that comes with every infinite fall
and the shimmering blaze of every step up.

So many live on and want nothing,
and are raised to the rank of prince
by the slippery ease of their light judgments.

But what you love to see are faces
that do work and feel thirst.

You love most of all those who need you
as they need a crowbar or a hoe.

You have not grown old, and it is not too late
to dive into your increasing depths
where life calmly gives out its own secret.

Rainer Maria Rilke / The Book of the Hours
(translated by Robert Bly: German)




S T, 20 July 2013

I woke up
the sun softly breaking through
resting on the wall,
i left my radio on
playing songs and songs
that i love
my hair is glued to my forehead
i feel it scratching against my skin
i look around piles of clothes
laying on the corner of my bed
empty bowls of  cheerio cereal
my guitars laying up against a wall
one that is laying on the floor
two burnt matches on the floor
a poorly painted zebra mask
and a yellow leaf that fell from its place
a lot of dried pieces fell off the dead leaf,
old VHS tapes against the wall
dirty dancing,breakfest club,ferris bueller , blues brothers
so much more
books piled in each other
dorian grey,to kill a mockingbird, a farewell to arms
i'm missing two books
i lent them to my friend
red ink from a pen on the floor
i had to keep the guitar cord at a certain bend to it would amplify
it gave in and exploded
a green paint mark on my wall
and a cut out mustache
an old keyboard of the 80's
sometimes it turns on sometimes it doesn't
notebooks of poems
and boxes of drawing i did when i was younger
a big jar with two dead roses
pencils and pens cross in and out
a little emptied out honey jar
filled with all my train tickets
my bracelets laying on the floor
except for the blue one my wrist
it never comes off
my camera lays beside the camera beg
drawings on the wall
and my hats on top of each other
and my sweaters all over the place
vinyl album covers
of the Beatles and Pink Floyd

My mom calls it a mess
i call it
me...

Sitting in an abandoned lot,
listening to the screeches of
seagulls and freight trains.
I am staring at a condemned building.
Condemned to have more windows broken and
be marked with unoriginal graffiti.
YOLO and RIP TGB.
Bricks crumbling onto broken glass.
I guess you really do only live once.

Construction tape blows in the wind and
it is strangely terrifying.
This forgotten lot where
there is "absolutely no tailgaiting."
An owners car will be towed
A police car drives by and just stares.

I'm just doing my part.
Forgetting about this lot and all the events that took place here.
The asphalt hums with the highway traffic.
Click Clack goes trashcan
rustling around the fenced-in area in the back forty.
Progression marches on and
the picture fades away to dirty signage and power lines.

If there is beauty in this lot.
I have forgotten.

We are the ones who paint with words
thoughts and feelings soaring like birds,
horrors, dreams and things of the night
indelibly scribed for your delight

furrowed brows are forced to think
in pastel shades and jet black ink
scrawled in haste in an hour of need
raw nerves scraped until they bleed,

there is no cure or magic pill
we lost our freedom to the quill  
slicing our souls down to the bone
to leave a legacy carved in stone.

Rainbow parking lot oil stains
After the rain
staring at the washed asphalt
and my fingers go numb
wondering how the hell
and why so sad
another long drag
so much for
trying not to be bitter