if i had to pick one word
to describe my mom

it would be ineffable

she is beyond comprehension
her love has transcended
beyond every dimension
she exceeds every meaning i can see
i swear she puts the stardust
in the way my light bleeds
she is everything
beautiful about this world
weaved into a blanket of
incandescent vitality from above

i want to hug my soul so hard
for choosing such a woman
to be my guidance of love
she not only birthed me, clothed me,
and fed me as any mom innately would,
but she extended her heart in ways
that most humans on this earth never could
even imagine having the power to do
she lights up every single room
and leaves love dripping from
every corner too

she supersedes all roles she takes on,
and she continues to find ways
to make my life a dream
to say i am thankful
is infinitesimal in expressing
my gratitude toward all she has given me
in just my short 23 years of existing
she is truly beyond any poem or any rhyme
i could ever find— she is the most delicate
manifestation of the divine

i know not everyone has the ability to say
they have a mom that loves them
in this unconditional way
but we all have someone in our lives
—blood or not—
who has picked us up and guided us back
toward our light when the darkness attacks

and so if you’re still reading this
i hope you take the time to remind
this person from time to time
just how much they mean to you
even if you can’t put it into words
just hug them and tell them
they’re appreciated
because life is too short
and love is too sweet
to silence the drum
in our hearts
that they beat
tragedies Oct 2017
Happy anniversary.

Can you believe
That it’s been a year?
I can still feel the first time,
Your hands danced on mine,
A soft presence, almost shy.
I could barely pay attention
To the film playing on television
Because there, right beside me,
A story was already unfolding,
One that was far more fascinating
Than any other mystery.

And it was.
Here we are, a year later,
The story continues to be
The most gruelling mystery
Of two people ceasing to be,
Of you & I never becoming we,
Instead, a strange, foreign word
To each other’s vocabulary.
I thought we both saw ourselves
In this picture perfect future:
Lying together on crumpled sheets,
Watching Sherlock on repeat,
Reading poetry and drinking coffee,
A state of being indescribably
Happy.

We were never meant to be that.
Only a manuscript tossed in the trash.
We loved too little, and bled too much,
Too proud to break the silence.
Too scared to end the sentence.
So let’s scrap the ending,
And go back to the beginning:

Happy anniversary.
10.14.17
Lyn Senz Nov 2013
So look at, look at how she lays
her eyes so soft, like quiet days
and how I wish, she was mine
but we've run out of time

Oh Sarah, you've given up on dreams
and fell in love with rocks
but don't give up on me
Oh Sarah, I've waited for so long
now I can't believe your slippin away
my love for you is so, oh Sarah

how can I make it right
when nothing will ever do
until you tell me that your mine
my dreams just won't come true
and I have a dozen dreams
only want you here by me
don't leave


©1999 Lyn
An older neighbor of mine
did recently confide;

"Reckon I'm gettin' ready to die,
my mind ain't working so fine,
open my skull and what might 'ya
see, would resemble some surreal
Salvador Dali painted scene.
All melted watches and disjointed shit.

My legs are unreliable at best,
my back continually aches,
blasted headaches refuse to abate.

I shuffle along like some broke
down thing, balance sketchy at best.
My recall comes and goes like a
random weak spray from a garden hose.
Spurts, leaks running here and there,
No continuous steady stream going
anywhere, not unlike when I take a pee.

They took my drivers license,
said I was incapable today and
would be more so tomorrow.

I used to dream of things I'd do,
of beautiful girls I'd like to screw.
Now any dreams I can recall
revolve around food and that's
pretty much all.

I wake at around 6 AM each day
my body racked with pain,
eat some mush and sit in my chair,
fall asleep and wake 'bout noon.
Repeat some food, return to my chair,
turn on the tube, 20 minutes in feeling
like the world is a hopeless damn mess.
Take me yet another nap in my chair.

I used to care about lots of things,
now I can't remember why or where.
If these here are my golden years,
I'd rather be young, broke and naked
in the back seat of my '48 Chevy,
lovin' my Cheerleader girlfriend Becky,
now those there were the Golden Years."
He has no living family, lives alone,
his dog died last year. He took down
all the clocks in his house, gave away
his granddads pocket watch. He leased
out his farm, got rid of his animals. Sold
off his John Deere tractors to a neighbor.
Uses only two rooms in a big old house
with ten . He is alone as alone gets.
He's 86 uses a cane to steady his steps.
We would need to walk in his shoes
to know his pain, in a few years perhaps
we too will know what he means.
Could this be why young people
avoid old people, I bet it is.
Maxi Jun 2015
i live in an empty coloring book.
Just brought out the store, still in the bag
and I require every single crayon in your 64 pack to be filled in.
Completely.
Yet you could never color me properly,  never able to see all of me, I know that all of John’s lyrics were just legends
cause we would, never have been able to adapt in the environment we were set in.
I promise, we were destined...to fail.
But In this moment, at least try to stay in the lines..
maybe squint your eyes ..  take a closer look at how damaged my pages already are.
I never asked you to be neat...
I only advised, that you at least try to stay in the lines.
But really, who am I?...
Giving advice, but never take mine..  
living for the moment, when i should take time
I...move fast like smooth winds, grooving through the motions but
               I…move too fast
             and I  spread myself too thin.
    like, weak things & wheat thins, we could never break even.
             I'm tired of looking for happiness in the same place that I lost it.
I refuse to be a coloring book colored in with one color.
You live for the moment, ...but it’ll only last for a moment.
& I'm tired of being patient, so color me in.
shades of “is the sky black… or blue at night?”
shades of “I’ll love you to the moon and back”
Color me in shades of “did you know that violets aren’t really blue?”
Color me in shades of confusion.
Color me in shades of understanding, and sympathy.
Color me rose red.
And violet. Purple. Not blue.
Color me in shades of cliché.
Frame me in calming hues.
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