For 11 mintues there was silence.
No twitter rants no name calling tweets.
No fake nothing.
For 11 mintues the world was safe from trump tweets.
Wishing I could see the look on his face.
The world was free for 11 mintues.
#11mintues

maybe i should visit you
in that frozen wasteland
where you've waited
all these years for
warmth and spring.

or maybe i should visit
our garden of flowers.
alone i'd lay down  
on the grass,
ignoring the flowers
that beckon brightly,
desperate to be
remembered.

i'd close my eyes to
feel the soft whispers
of wind on my cheek;
words winding their way
in-between the twisting
air to replicate what
you gently spoke
lying on the
gentle earth,
both eons and
mintues
ago.

      how are you doing?
      just maybe, could you stay?
      could you be my companion?

      can we stay here for life?
      or at least until
      tomorrow?

the steady calm of night would surely
coat the ground with its coolness.
but i am fast asleep. brought
under to only wonder
when it was
i lost my winter
coat.

my throat was kinda dry.

my eyes blinked back grief

and "so soon"

seemed to be the only thing I could stammer out of the ocassion.

you were sad.

I knew it,

I could tell.

the hollow, casual sound of your voice

"no big deal

it doesn't change anything"

I guess I didn't brace myself well enough

Thats why everything crashed down on my head

we were crashing together.

so I was slow to pick up the pieces of your wreckage

and I had no clue what to do with mine.

I could'nt lose myself though

through the one-by-one pain

of having to say "keep in touch" to all your close friends

in such a short time span

I think you deserved to find me.

3 mintues on the phone

20 minutes until you leave

the broken face of your watch staring back at me

why would'nt it slow down for us?

rewind and take us back to our friends house

green grass, laughing, and kissing

things don't ever work that way though

You can only deal with it

and walk the rest of the miles when you crash

about 41 miles and 66 km

its not that bad love

just promise you'll wait for me

and won't mind my blisters when I get there.



.

I used to think that loving someone meant:
Loving them despite their flaws,
loving their body,
loving their eyes,
loving the way their lips move when they speak.

You saw them and loved the thing
they call a body.


I used to believe in love at first sight,
knowing right away,
when you saw someone,
that your souls were meant to mingle
as were your lives.
I used to believe you’d love someone fully
from that first moment.
That through the lens of your love
they would be perfect,
and your love would be all the stronger for it.

Now I know what loving is.

When I first met you
I knew you were dismissive
by your disregard for your appearance.
I saw your birthmark
and your imperfect teeth.
And judged you for it.

I heard your awkward laugh,
And your dismissal of things
that I thought
were important.

And I thought you were foolish and disdainful.

Your body was like those birds which stand
above the water they fish in,
and it was funny.

But we braved trials together.
And I began to know you,
to really see you.
I learned what it meant when you said,
“Eh.”

I learned your handwriting and the way you eat.
Ketchup. Everything drowning in
ketchup.


I saw you.

And before I knew it, I loved you too.
I didn’t see your birthmark.

I loved making you laugh.

I thought it was funny
and endearing
watching you fold yourself
into a Chevy S10.
In other words,
a tiny red truck,
for the layman.
We passed each other notes,
like kids.
We argued,
       all
                  the
                             time.
Now we
       “discuss.”
We eat at the same diner
       every
day.
The waitress brings our drinks
       right when we sit down
                   but not menus.
We sit and don’t talk, for hours.
       in the diner, on the couch.
But
in the car
                   while you drive, because you love to drive
                   (especially in the snow),
                   sometimes I think you talk
                               just to fill
                                           t h e s p a c e.
We drive thirty mintues
       to go to Olive Garden
                   on a Sunday.
                   In a blizzard.
The waitress gave us nine mints.
(So it was worth it.)

You texted me
       (at 2am)
       when your brother-in-law left your sister.
                   and you asked
me
                               what to do.

When I fall asleep in the car
to a ‘patriot’ radio station
you drive slowly
so I’m not disturbed.
You are ridiculous.
And I have also become ridiculous.
Half of what I say,
       are our jokes.
                   So none of it makes sense
                   to anyone else.

The same words fall from our lips
at the same time.
My hand is your hand
and now your thoughts are my thoughts
and we are sameness.

I think I know now what love is.

It’s not despite.
It’s not instead.
It’s not because of.

It’s seeing and accepting those flaws.
Until you don’t see them anymore.

VOICES

To hear ancient music in the pines
or the bright moon speaking on
a cold, wild night.
Voices flow with song and speed,
loud as a busy highway, soft
as transparent air.

Vine leaves speak in whispers,
palm fronds shout their struggles
with the wind.I eavesdrop on
the gossip of the waves as
the blue hush of dawn fills
the morning sky and gulls
recite their own mournful hymns.

So many voices translate
mintues into hours, hours
into days. So many messages
passed on in time’s quiet
mystery, and the language
of heart whispers its own
gentle secrets.

Centuries stretch into decades
Decades crumble to years
Years dilute to months
Months spoil to weeks
Weeks transform to days
Days pass through hours
Hours scramble to minutes
Mintues fall onto seconds

And it goes and goes
With a logramthic speed
While I stand still
To contort some truth:

Man made measurments meticulously made
May mark mere moments
But
With words witheld within
Wallowing waves wash white, "whys?"
Away.

And...

I speak in riddles as I should
When faced with nothing
But left with the word "could?"

Could of? Of course. Could I? Yes.
I could do anything, definitely
But no I would never
It is a hopless endeavor

And death ushers who it will
And brings their heart to a still
As we all look to how old
To comfort us
From death's hold

For his grip is unrelenting, arbitary, overreaching and perpetual

I had two hours of that wonderful stuff left,
"one hundred and twenty minutes,
seven thousand two hundred seconds
7199 seconds
.
.
.
.
I did this for around five mintues while I span
in a chaotic orbit of myself. Its amazing how
air burns as it hits nothingness like a cornered
beast knowing its time was about to end.

I couldn't believe that this was my final frontier,
corny I know, always wanted to say that.
I was pebble dashed by the exposed features
of god only knows. But unfortunately for them
decompression had expelled them.

I played with the voice command as it counted the
moments to my demise [French] 99 minutes quatre
vingt dix neuf minutes [Russian] 98 minutes
Девяносто восемь минут and so on till I got to
English, not American English what is that English??
And in a condescending voice I mutted as it continued
its saying, 89 minutes your so fu#ked, in 88 minutes
You going to be ******* vacuum, and not like a Dyson.

I giggled as images of what not to do with appliances
wondered in my thoughts. I stared on as she lay there
limp like a sack of potatoes. The flames now devoured
by the emptiness I was swimming within. Bodies in
frozen static forms wondered past me, like walking
down a street not looking at who was only steps away
oblivious to there features, not wanting to stare.

Can you whistle in a space suit? I never tried till now,
well you can, but my ears were ringing and then I
reminisced of that moment my door rang. That
day that changed everything, and here I am now
******* air like its going out of fashion.
"Live the adventure, see new stars explore the unseen,

Well we saw the planet but not the rings, peppered us
like buck shot. Not lingering like a tome of lost souls,
if this wasn't real I'd have thought it was a corny Sci-fi
movie but this is more realistic than I wanted it to be.

Then I heard that voice, no god dam way, out of all
the people to survive it had to be him, I shook my
head in disbelief. I turned on the speaker system,
"Paul where are you, "coming in fast, I swam in a
drowning manner only to have his crutch land
on my visor. "Are you for ****** real Paul, really,

I got him off my face and he was just mumbling,
dude shut up and chill, "Were going to die,
"No **** Sherlock, did i just speak that out loud.
Why couldn't it have been Lexy that survived
least I'd have died with a smile on my face.

Corny chat up lines lingered in my thoughts
"Hi Lexy do you come here often,
"Wanna walk the spaceman,

But Paul brought me back shaking me in fear,
I punched his visor like a jibber jabber his head
bounced around, god that felt so good.
Then he started crying, what the......
So i momentarily un fastened his visor. Before a
word was expelled he was a popsicle and silence.

I didn't **** him he was already dead, he just didn't
realize it. I  attached his air cord to mine, replenished
what was lost then kicked his **** to the galactic curb.
I played with this extra life how my expelling it and
flying around in playful bliss till that dam voice echoed
through my visor. "two minutes remaining,

Well play time was over what was it to be? cry like
a baby as i clung to the last gasps of air or just open
my visor and take in a mouthful or dark matter?
decisions, decisions...................................

Every time it's late in the night, and I go to check the time

It's 9:23...

When it's the last thing on my mind,  and I'm scribbling down my rhymes

It's 9:23...

Even when I'm exploring the stores to buy something, my receipt..

Reads 9.23...

When I ask when their birthday or anniversary is... My heart leaps

Most of the time, they say "9/23..."

While I'm in the car with my family, and a car passes by at the speed of the law...

Somewhere on the Licence plate, it says "923..."

When I press pause on a you tube video, and I go back to hit play... somehow it's paused...

At 9:23...

When it's early in the morning, and I go to turn my phone on to see the hour and mintues...

It reads 9:23...

When my friends are spamming randomly in emails, and numbers reach their limit...

9.23 is always in there...

Heck even when I have lost sense of time, and i'm having too much fun to care, and I ask what time it is...

They answer "9:23..."

Lastly... When I am doing Statistics in School, one of the answers on the list...

Is 923...


So I ask you... Why are you following me? You have haunted me enough for many years. Is it fate? Is it a clue? Is it an answer? I may never know. But please, whatever your reason is... please have it be a good one.
(I JUST realized... This is the 23rd poem I posted...)

and i wish there was another world this neverh appened
drin