"phrased" poems
Never again,
Never ever again,
Will I ever type my work up!
I'll save myself from computer err
By handwriting my poems.
Then and only then
Will I put them to the computer!
The self hatred,
The hate for technology,
Increases as my rage boils over.
Realizing that all the words,
All my emotions and feelings,
So thoughtfully phrased and typed,
Are lost,
Is a feeling like no other.
Rewriting the words,
Trying to remember exact phrases,
Is just painful!
Never again,
Never ever again,
Will I ever type my work up!
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 6:35 AM UTC
A panacea,
the band aid word I
slap on conflict
A solve it all
Acronym for nothing and
Diffuser of
All scenarios.
the more politely phrased version of
The mafia's cry.
But no matter how you slant the saying,
It's still salient- and a parched, bleached lie.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 10:36 PM UTC
the people whose job is to
understand the multiverse
can't figure this world out
rid·dle ˈridl/noun: riddle; plural noun: riddles
1. | a question or statement intentionally
phrased so as to require ingenuity
in ascertaining its answer or meaning,
typically presented as a game;
a person, event, or fact that is difficult
to understand or explain.
"the riddle of her death" [puz·zle
ˈpəzəl/verb: puzzle; 3rd person present:
puzzles; past tense: puzzled; past participle:
puzzled; gerund or present participle:
puzzling
1. cause (someone) to feel confused because
they cannot understand or make sense of something:
"one remark he made puzzled me"
synonyms: perplex, confuse, bewilder,
bemuse, baffle, mystify, confound;
faze, stump, beat, discombobulate
"her decision puzzled me"
perplexed, confused, bewildered,
bemused, baffled, mystified, confounded,
nonplussed, at a loss, at sea;
flummoxed, stumped, fazed, clueless,
discombobulated
"a puzzled look on her face"
baffling, perplexing, bewildering, confusing, complicated, unclear, mysterious, enigmatic, ambiguous, obscure, abstruse, unfathomable, incomprehensible, impenetrable, cryptic
"his explanation was rather puzzling"
antonyms: clear
think hard about something difficult
to understand or explain;
"she was still puzzling over this problem
when she reached the office"
| [ ] think hard about, mull over,
muse over, ponder, contemplate,
meditate on,
consider, deliberate on, chew over, wonder about
"she puzzled over the problem"
solve or understand something by thinking hard;
synonyms: work out, understand,
comprehend, sort out, reason out, solve, make sense of,
make head(s) or tail(s) of, unravel, decipher; informal: figure out
"she tried to puzzle out what he meant"
noun: puzzle; plural noun: puzzles
1. [ ], [ ] ( );
a game, toy, or problem designed
to test ingenuity or knowledge;
short for jigsaw puzzle (see jigsaw)
a person or thing that is difficult to understand
or explain; an enigma:
"the meaning of this poem will always be a paradox"
synonyms: enigma, mystery, paradox,
conundrum, poser, riddle, problem, quandary;
"the poem has always been a puzzle"
late 16th century (as a verb): of unknown origin:
synonyms: puzzle, conundrum, brainteaser, problem,
unsolved problem, question, poser, enigma,
quandary; informal: stumper
"an answer to the riddle"
verb/archaic
verb: riddle; 3rd person present: riddles;
past tense: riddled; past participle: riddled;
gerund or present participle: riddling
1. speak in or pose riddles.
"he who knows not how to riddle"
solve or explain (a riddle) to (someone).
"riddle me this then"
Origin
Old English rǣdels, rǣdelse ‘opinion,
conjecture, riddle’; related
to Dutch raadsel,
German Rätsel, to read
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 12:19 AM UTC
Sarcasm
Discreet words confuse,
Hidden phrased ruse,
Foolish trickery,
Ridiculous mimicry,
Idiotic comprehension,
Obvious ironic intention.
--JacobDexterCoffey--
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 7:56 AM UTC
Albert Ross was at a loss.
He couldn't gloss
over the dull fact hanging
lifeless like the near-homophone
about his neck.
It's a pretty neck,
this long and slender neck,
with the impeccable lines of its smooth cylinder
broken only by a smallish apple.
Eve would've refused it.
To sea. To sea.
There he'd see
with its wide vistas
the feathery visage of this polar white
visitor riding astride his black cloud.
"Rain, would it please you to rain?
Are you allowed
to open up and drown me?"
Is how he’d phrased it
in his mind, countless times.
The hardest rain would be welcome,
but this constant threat,
this ponderous yet,
this threaded pendant swinging
as fast and steady
as a winged pendulum might,
was not. It tightened,
that knot deep in the pit of his stomach.
He'd done no harm.
Harm wasn't his to do,
or undo. The harm came before,
at the hands of a father,
who gave him such
an ill-spoken name,
and the Father before him.
He, ages before him,
deigned to make us this world
where a bird’s no more
than a bird or any man
with the want of a soul.
Apr 6, 2011
Apr 6, 2011 at 1:10 PM UTC
"if it pleases my Lord? Yes it pleases thee"
made famous by the English
formal gibberish saying nothing
well phrased for max words zero knowledge
this is ingrained in there offspring
Jackal smile and fancy words
the goose that could lay no egg
alas injustice is a good egg
penny wise pound foolish
the grandest motto ever
how proud can you feel, wallowing in mud and smiling
being led by the noise, following bread crumbs
who is the real servant and who is the master?
i know you have lost control
you serve the master you choose, thought it
would have been an envy apparent
you wee outsmarted, not outgunned
but know this my master owns it all
creator of all
master of all
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 2:35 AM UTC
A day will certainly come
As sure as we breathe
When our creator will ask of us
What we did to aid the oppressed
On that day
As surely as who created you
Created me too
It will not be about religion but humanity
When carefully planned and organised jets
Launched rockets
To bomb populated refugee camps
Schools and apartment blocks
At a defenceless opposition
Without an air force or navy
Heavy weapons or artillery
Command or armour
**That's not war
It's ******
It's cold blooded massacre**
As a woman shot in the stomach
Gives birth to a cold blue baby
And a world across oceans changes channels tuning in to the next world cup champion
It was never about taking sides
Israel vs Palestine
There is a truth
To which we must remove the blindfold of ignorance
Searching for a voice of right
Amongst the cries of pain hatred and anger
The sign in a city
Where there is too much to see
Finding peace amongst people who are not ours
Because I see hypocrisy of nations
Who stand for human rights
But only when the human shares a matching ideology
I see hypocrisy amongst media
Where a million wounds and shades of blood
Are inked into black and white letters
Today I read 'An Israelian was killed whilst a dozen Palestinians died'
They turned humans into numbers
Quantitative data
They couldn't possibly de-sensitize it any further
I mean look at the verbs in which they phrased that
I see hypocrisy amongst Muslims
Who stand equal and united
Yet they too turn backs when the interest is not beneficial
And the pitiful nation falls divided
Whether it is a prayer
A strike, a boycott or vigil
A protest or petition
Maybe even a donation
There's a thousand ways to help
But very few who do
So what did you do?
Was it out of sight out of mind for you?
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
I remember when I first met you, there was a spark. I loved you, and though you didn't swing that way (your being gay and I being female) I wanted, above anything else, to be your friend. Over the span of three weeks, we ditched the "getting-to-know-you stage," as you phrased it, and I told you everything. I needed to tell someone everything, and I never realized that you didn't tell me anything of your own. Friendships, like all relationships, must be give-and-take. Rather, it was give-and-be-taken-from. But I didn't care... I needed to have someone know. And you listened to my depression and my problems and gave advice that was logical rather than what I wanted to hear, and I loved it. And we went to parties—my first, actually—and danced and held hands and I pretended. When I broke down on your shoulder at one in the morning you asked if you should come over, you offered to be there when my leg had been bleeding for an hour. But now it's gone. After four weeks of pure bliss, something went wrong. I don't tell you things, because you ignore me. I get along better with your friends than I do with you. And I hate it and I cry myself to sleep over it. Because I need you, not only to cry on, but as a friend. As a stable rock to lean on.
And you're gone now, like I will be soon.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
There's a secret sorrow
Summoned in pockets of his lost love
for roses and yellow speckled daffodils
The last night she cried he asked her
To fight for a blue moon
Bruised with ashes of failed stars
Caught in methods of paralleled insanity
She whispered things
Long strings of infinity
Phrased into meanings
That made his soft hands cringe
Before yesterday the universe was basic
A long attempt to run the saviors to a purpose
But his last breath
One that edged its way into a sprint
Caught the corner of her world on a purple heart
The end of the hero.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 2:32 PM UTC
Restless days,
torturous nights.
Thinking.
Always thinking.
Click, click, click,
always clicking over in my head.
Snap to one image,
snap to the holiday you gave me,
snap to the dinners and treats,
you temptingly placed before me.
Fading hopes,
nightmares rising in the daytime.
Thinking.
Always thinking.
Click, click, click,
I confide in you what happened.
Why I’m always cold when
you reach to touch me.
Why I always patiently wait
for you to want to touch me.
Why I always wish to say
something but I hardly whisper instead.
And how it broke us.
Lasting, loving smiles,
darkening gazes and empty silences.
Thinking.
Always thinking.
Click, click, click,
I shared as much as I could.
I gave you whatever was
left over, still mine, not theirs.
You fell for me, I know you did.
Showered me with silken kisses,
steamy nights,
in all my curves
you found something beautiful.
Me on top, you
lulled me with sweet words.
I was like no other.
Fanciful dreams,
a bruised and aching reality.
Thinking.
Always thinking.
Click, click, click,
You made me want you, so badly,
because you believed I was good.
You handed me golden platters of
worth, passion;
I could finally acknowledge the shape
confidence takes.
It walked beside me.
I was foolish to place this charge in you.
Click, click, click,
Snap.
You promised you would always
be there.
You phrased such blissful melodies.
You wanted to be with me through anything.
You said that.
Why did the tide turn?
How do you go on pretending,
deceiving yourself,
when you said those exact words.
I heard you.
I heard you every night onwards.
I don’t believe you wanted to lie to me,
but you did.
You tore those stitches out,
thread by thread.
When you walked away,
leaving me turning to stone
in the freezing night air.
It whipped me, beat me and still
you didn’t look back.
Only now can I go to sleep,
knowing I don’t have to see you
imprinted
behind my eyelids.
I don’t crave you anymore.
Is it the same for you now?
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 4:56 AM UTC
I hate myself
every little thing
the voice in my head
often reminds me
I should be dead
I hate myself
every tiny detail
my body my face
everything I wish
I could easily replace
I hate myself
every thing I do
I talk too much
and think too much
and wish I could find you
I hate myself
every thought I think
I imagine images
of a happy version
of you and me
I hate myself
every word I say
The words that pour out
the way they are phrased
the words I shouldn't have said
I hate myself
every little thing
I wish someone cared
I wish someone could see
this invisible me
I hate myself
every small wish
I wish to die
I wish to sink
but I never do
bc I'm scared to go through
I hate myself
for being so weak
for not being able to fix
the broken thing that is me
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 1:17 PM UTC
SHHHHHHH!
Silence conveys
Society Plays'
Rebellious oppositions'
taking position.
Disposition
Could you listen?
Defensive?
No
Chanting
No
Raving
All the labels keep us
Phrased
in moments of wonder for sure, a bit fazed.
Cured by clouds of HAZE
influenced by the world
Touché
Sep 6, 2021
Sep 6, 2021 at 12:32 PM UTC
The prompt says,
“A person whose life you’re curious about.”
I shall use this as an opportunity to mention
******** next door.
That is his name.
He knows I mean him.
You never ******* talk about anything
And you always say I lie to you
And so what if I do?
What good is it to tell you the truth
When you never tell me anything
And I have to worm it out of you?
Why does it matter?
It just ******* matters
Because I want to know you!
And yeah I like you like that
And yeah *** with you would be quite nice
But who cares?
You haven’t told anyone else
That you’re on a break with your girlfriend;
You never really talk to anyone else.
And yeah you just friend-zoned me
At the same time as throwing out the double-entendres:
You should be in a bed,
You said
A bed, yeah, I noticed
How you phrased that
So I left
And you followed me to the door.
And I don’t think you understand what I want from you.
But yeah I do find you attractive,
And yeah I’d quite like to **** you,
And yeah I was trying to creep you out by saying that
But so what?
Because you said you don’t know what you want
And again, why tell me, tell her
Surely.
Is there something you want from me?
But you said no
And yeah I think you lied.
And yeah you said I’m a good friend
And I think that’s a lie too.
And I’m waiting for us to fall out again
Just like when you apologised
And I asked why
So you said next time you wouldn’t bother.
And then you didn’t reply
When I said you’re not any more special than anyone else.
And it’s just like when I said I didn’t think you liked me at all;
You got offended.
And yeah I like you
But so what?
I’m not trying to get in the way of anything;
Do what you want,
It’s your life,
I’m just curious.
And why text me of all people?
Of course I don’t know
But did you text the other girls
So much over the holidays
Really?
Decide what you want.
You know what I want.
I don’t mind being friend-zoned
If that’s all you want
But I don’t think it’s all you want.
I just think you need to decide
If you do ‘love’ her.
And did I have something to do with it?
Was it on the 5th?
Is that why you were mad at me?
Why did you take it out on me?
Yeah I can be over-sensitive
But you can be a ****
Sometimes you’re such a child.
And you say I need to grow up
But so do you.
And, God, I’d really like to do you
Which is why it’s so ******* complicated!
So yeah I’m trying to get over you.
And you ask what I’m thinking and it’s nothing
But you don’t believe me
And why not?
It’s the truth.
And whenever I’m around you
Yeah you ******* terrify me
Because I’ve never wanted someone this much
And you’re only next door
And did I ever tell you I love your hugs
And the way you smell
And your hands
And isn’t that really ******* creepy?
But at the same time
I hate how you patronise me
And tease me
Just because I’ll react badly
And yeah you’re a bully
And yeah you treat me like **** sometimes
But somehow I forgive you
Because when everything's fine,
It’s really fine.
I just wish you weren’t so much of an ****
Or at least I wish I knew why you’re so much of an ****
And basically, that’s what goes on in my head.
Every time I see you.
Your turn.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 12:45 PM UTC
the world is a dryer.
if there is a washing machine section within our universe, I am unaware of it.
I don't work that rotation. I work the dry shift.
tumble low heat, fluff, repeat.
repeat.
in almost every dryer known to mankind, some contraption serves as the lint trap. collect all of the lint and excess laundry fluff as it goes through the dry cycle.
in this world, in this universe; if the human race consists of the articles of clothing in the dryer, I am the lint trap.
it sounds almost cutesy when phrased like that. dryer lint is fluffy and soft and the combination of all the different fibers of the various clothing.
I'm the trap, though. the filter.
I must absorb and filter the excess fiber from every article of clothing. if the entire human race is in this dry cycle; I absorb and filter their raveling ends.
it's ******* exhausting.
here's a better analogy. have you ever had your stomach pumped?
they handle this differently now, but when the doctors, nurses, and staff working in the ER would get a patient who swallowed an entire bottle of ****** with a ***** chaser; or a new mother's young son swallowing her bottle of sertaline, they would get to work. one hand activated charcoal, the other hand with a large suction tube.
activated charcoal is what neutralizes the bottle of ****** or the bottle of Zoloft. the charcoal can absorb **** near anything. it pulls out stains and poisons, neutralizing and absorbing.
this is where the tube comes in. the charcoal is harmless on its own, but the ER staff is in a hurry to console (get rid of) the screaming mother; to move the seventeen year old girl with the ****** ***** chaser to the psychiatric unit, and continue their night.
insert the long tube to suction the charcoal out of the stomachs of the two children. this is often haphazardly shoved down the back of the throat, down the esophagus, reaching the stomach. flip the switch, undo what peristalsis cannot. it's not pleasant. gagging, rough, foul, I've been told.
the body is working in reverse order. vomiting may be easier. the suction tube is fighting the natural flow of the body. the esophagus is attempting to push everything down down down, and the tube is fighting back.
I am the activated charcoal found in every ER across the globe. I absorb the poisons that human beings put into their bodies.
I can pass someone on the street, and my activated charcoal soul absorbs the negativity, the poison, the hatred, the emotional chaos from that individual.
I often wonder if the person feels lighter, noting the absence of the venom that once crippled them. I never ask. I just keep my gaze down and ignore the tempest ensnared within my activated charcoal lint trap.
there are others like me. activated charcoal hearts, lint trap souls.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 3:28 PM UTC
Allow me to project my insides
Beside your ear.
Certainly you can
Determine how the
Emptiness within my body
Forgoes the exuberance
Gathered on the surface.
Haphazardly phrased fragments
I speak
Just to be heard, even faintly.
Knowing my words
Level worlds,
Monopolize hearts,
Negate negativity,
Omitted from the explicit.
Perfectly formed fractures
Qualm me as they
Reverberate through my body
Slithering their way
Through Timothy's
Universe.
Viciously assaulting
Where they fit best.
Xenobiotic and almost parasitic
Yarns about a
Zealous life not yet lived
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 6:43 PM UTC
is it too much to ask
for someone to look for me
when i run and hide?
but what i think of as love
would probably be
better phrased as hunting.
so, please, pursue,
rifle in hand,
pull me from my burrow;
at least i'd know you want me.
pretty as a picture -
strung up, throat slit -
anything's better than hiding,
better than a fear
best described as paralyzing.
Oct 18, 2021
Oct 18, 2021 at 1:49 PM UTC
i am made of...
thought...
ink and pen and paper... and so much more.
scribbled phrases on diner napkins.
post it notes stuck to walls.
scrawled doggerel in bathroom pens.
phrased ideology in lined notebooks.
spinnered words on lazerprinted A4.
scraps of inklings, on ripped butcher's bags and wrappings.
condolences in funeral books.
ideas capital lettered on cards,
pinned to cork boards.
epitaphs stonemasoned
into granite blocks.
fury arranged just so,
on parchment.
newsprinted with loose blurry, black ink on broadsheets
scribed by pointed stick on
firm wet sand.
notes on heavy cards, of love
and light bright shiny stuff.
discarded sentence startings, left crumpled, lost in a bin.
loss, written with red wine on white table cloth.
art, etched on vellum anciently old, suprisingly relevent.
tapped into tablets both stone
and techview.
blue and red markers squeaked onto white boards.
daubed on canvas with a fine sable brush.
tatttoo-ed upon ones flesh.
carved into wooden school desks.
pressed into moist clay by delicate fingernails.
marked so deeply upon a soul.
chalked to cement,
to stay for...
but a short season.
written for some very, (un)important reason.
courage to speak, sing, whisper, shout, cry, laugh, observe and ponder.
this is me....
i am a word written down.. any word, any word.
i am undeniable, desirable often incomplete
always open always waiting
for some one...
......just like you ...
to open your heart let me in
to recognize a new start
to have a play, a scribble,
doodle, pen jive. to become
alive.... to thrive,
just begin with a single letter.....then another,
go on be brave...
..........grant me liberty....
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
Simple thought.
Beautifully phrased random line.
Expansion on simple thought, no rhyming.
Abstract theory.
Troubling question.
Simple thought.
Pretty words.
Really abstract thought that doesn't belong!
Super elusive sentence structure.
Less invasive thought.
Something overheard from the people next to you in Starbucks.
Simple thought.
Simple thought.
Pretty word(s).
Super confusing theory to leave reader with no choice but to call this poem a masterpiece.
Sep 24, 2011
Sep 24, 2011 at 8:25 PM UTC
His courtiers all, were blind,
though their eyes seemed
quiet normal, full of glint
ay, there is the rub,
On his proud countenance,
the king plastered for ever
an expression of thoughtfulness
a make believe, a clever construct,
Wasn't it the curse of the lineage?
"May the powerful suffer
the constant fear of fall,
unless courageous to fulfill
the karma truly assigned
without fear or favor"
Every successive king
would ritualistically burn,
his copy of leather bound parchment
written this in lilting Latin verse.
"Bullshit,what would
the evil genius of the universe
would think of me, am I
just a pusillanimous *****
the thirst for war runs in my veins!"
Sneering he lets out a war cry
perfectly pitched and phrased
in the tradition of heroes of yore!
It sounds odd even to himself
"No escape from the rut" he murmurs
Everybody pretend not to see
the big ***** in his armor.
who would take arms against
the kingdom's sea of troubles?
The king was in fact a lonely being
fear alone kept him company,
in person of the lord, his man Friday
in an armor that made him seem fearless!
Dame fear was his true consort
the queen only a substitute, wearing crown,
she was truly appreciated
only when she acted as his tranquilizer,
helping his worries galore go to sleep,
employing complex strategies.
Her favorite one for the final lap
was a lullaby that goes thus,
"Uneasy lies the head
that wears a crown"
in his nightmares regular,
mighty empires crumbled.
So he did the best he can
not anything for love to spread
but to consolidate destructive instinct;
he invented weapons,
went on upgrading it
day in and day out to freeze fear
blacksmiths, knights,
horsemen, cannons, guns
his fear took many forms
and he used them to feel powerful
while trembling with fear.
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 7:26 PM UTC
I once knew a girl
who lived in fairytales
and who walked in dreams
always keeping her feet planted
firmly in the clouds
I once knew a girl
who understood how to hope
who could comprehend
that in every dream
there is reality, because realities
always begin with possibilities
which are nothing more
than delicately phrased aspirations
nothing but dreams.
I once knew a girl
who learned how to fall gracefully
in pink satin shoes and wrapped in humor
an impenetrable armor
an armor meant to hide the pain
and protect from cutting words
that slash like swords
and bite like monsters
and leave a soul broken and bruised.
Because she believed that the pen
was far mightier than the sword
but when the sword is what’s accepted
when it is what’s expected
the pen doesn't seem so strong after all
and doubt spreads like wildfire
consuming the mind, burning the soul.
However the heart is not so easily persuaded
and human determination
is almost always victorious
and it is the best of people
who are always hardest to destroy.
I once knew a girl
who walked in fairy tales
and lived in dreams
carrying a pen
and telling stories
so that she could be free
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC
creates our universe
our gods
makes armies clash
defines our world
always again and new
names everything
we then can talk about
lets politicians sound as if
they were our saviors
lends voice to protests
also well-phrased obedience
articulates all complicated laws
and sometimes even makes them clear
makes us hate people
or fall crazily in love with them
more difficult, it seems,
is to find words for our hearts and souls
how to express your love
appropriate to the occasion
or to describe a painting by Degas,
Rubens, Kokoschka, Michelangelo,
the impact of a symphony
or a performance on the drama stage
to catch the words for what we feel
is much more difficult
than to imagine those for what we see
it is the poets’ challenge to give shape
to all the hopes, loves, fears, and phantasies
in our lives
so we can make the power of the word
the power of the world
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 3:56 PM UTC
the apple is pupil plus cornea
or maybe the magnetized pole
in pacific sea, pinhole
or some sinkhole in a shelf
of split ice. my flamboyant
sadness smells of citrus
and paint thinner. what if
i painted my future kid’s walls
that color. what if i could
talk to the three-letter word
that is one letter. a hole
in a hollow is also me
and an eye and the middle
of the riddle. and the eye is echo
not rhyme, linked like a low keen
from sea to sea, or a fruit
bruised perfect blue. beginnings
can be magnetized, too. i try
not to think of ice when i’m
with you.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC
it's strange
the way brain waves
can roll up
onto someone else's beaches
and still feel at home
like the tide-pool-rejects
were all they'd ever known
like the nervous tics beached on the sand
were once their own
as if we had shared roots
at some point but branched off
i see patterns in you
which i thought were mine alone
geographically isolated, we still situated
ourselves into the same niche
brought thought processes
up from where
they were etched into our bones
perhaps we're the same species-
mine a shade stranger than yours
but still with similar history
you said i'd been in your head
since that night we tried to talk
i stumbled over my words
and you said you thought better on paper
you said i knew your thought process
but how you phrased it made it
sound like i'd been on your mind
well, you've been on mine
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC
Pianos cried
Sad, this lonely figure on a gloom ridden street,
head low, looking for diamonds in a dumpster
Chasing dreams in slow moving express lanes,
tracing graffiti on the edges of his skin,
following a blood trail hoping for orange juice
Once upstanding, a real community guy,
a giver, not a taker of sunrise gestures and hot coffee
Tossing an alarm clock no longer needed as
each day was something to look forward to,
slumber happily abandoned for the love of his life
Now duct taped shoes, silver on black scratched soles
worn from pacing in low signal zones, bad areas where hills
and valleys interrupted service, beeps meant voices straining
to hear over the high rise shadows,
while twenty dollars bought enough gas for two days
Fancied himself a poet a long time ago
Phrased emotions in sunny side up stanzas
Mornings and evenings reveled in inked harmonies
as two hearts sung a duet of rhymes in cursive cadence
so song like, pianos cried when left out
The only melodies these days are off key assumptions
stored behind locked doors of closed businesses,
offering desolate concrete steps for liquor bottles
with brown paper bag wrappings and unpaid receipts,
where he finally returns to sleep, to dream about her
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 6:07 PM UTC