"sidwalk" poems
They say where ever your birthmark is located on your body
Is where you were stabbed, shot, hung or whatever other means
Of death are plausible in your past life.
I have come to the conclusion
That I am not human.
I do not have a birthmark anywhere on my body
A patch of pigmented skin different from the rest
This is both englightening and very very very dissapointing
This means there was never a low blow to my calf, a karate chop at my neck, a gunshot to my ankle
Nothing to symbolize that I once maybe had another life.
A life where I was the cracks in the sidwalk
or the wind gently stirring up chaos on days when I just **** felt like being noticed
or maybe i lived out my seven year old dreams of becoming the sixth member of the Spice Girls
or even an NSYNC groupie
I will never know.
I never emerged from my mothers womb
With a scar baring my worth
I was never blessed with a kiss from an angel
As other mothers told their children
I was never born with a birthmark,
and while this is perfectly natural.
I am very dissapointed, beacause maybe I was never given a chance.
Maybe I was crushed before I entered the world
A womb filled with disgust and hatred
Maybe I preferred to stay as the cracks in the concrete or the wind
Because I'd rather deal with the simple casualities of life rather than the mess humans tend to create
Maybe I was never given a second chance because
I never made something of myself here first.
Or just maybe there is a possiblity that I'm immortal
and if that's the case.
You are all invited to my 106th birthday party.
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 9:12 PM UTC
Small children draw 'pon the sidwalk
Small-dicked men drive ****** trucks
A vagrant sleeps
In a shopping cart
His mobile home
Gives the finger
To social norms.
Apr 26, 2011
Apr 26, 2011 at 12:05 AM UTC
go quietly into distraction
twiddling thumbs in anticipation
of impending ambiguity,
set on saving sirens from substance
i worry about your heart
only now that i have
ripped it from your chest and
thrown it, beating and ******
onto a seedy vancouver sidwalk
at four am
you come to town and
say you would kiss me
if you thought i wanted you to
i wonder what more i can do
to make you hate me
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
~
The rains falls
not hard, more of a drizzle
this late Sunday night
leaning on the light post
across the street,
watching the light in your window,
glowing slats through mini blinds,
outlines of your silhouette,
damp steel seeping my jacket,
cars pass, wipers waving,
splashing in circular patterns,
glistening tire tracks,
straight lines on the damp asphalt
I stare up dreaming,
wondering if you know,
I am nothing without you,
my life is because of you,
so many years floating,
blurs in lingering dark shadows
curbs to sleep in, yesterday's news,
broken bleachers where others met,
and I watched, fearing never me,
darkness would be my hand to hold,
lunchtime falterings on tuna salad wishes,
a clean plate in line for desert,
they just ran out,
vanilla pudding disappointment,
and it was...
I flick the ashes from my Marlboro light,
as I notice the lamp in your room is out,
when did that happen, where was I,
and the drizzle coats my glasses,
a chill claims me as the street light flickers
and I suppose it's time to go
in these saturated high tops
squishing as I pace this sidewalk
of smeared chalk masterpieces
My heart breaks again, my life, this night,
every night on an avenue to the border,
is truly nothing without you,
an empty hull hauling cargo of the past,
an existence worth the lint in my pocket,
a poem folded and kept,
written for you in dreams pasted
on walls of white,
in a hallway of desire with your name
layered in patterns that mirror my heartbeat
and I wonder if you know...there is no other,
none that can compare,
none that could ever be,
no one will ever touch me, thrill me or
love me like you do and I will not be...
I will not be, I can not be without you
Turning to leave these shadows clinging,
sighing as I want you but the hour is late,
the rains fall harder, a liquid curtain
all but blocking my view, blinding me
when a hand on my arm spins me,
it is you, drenched, smiling, eyes bright
on this dreary night as you tell me
you know, you know and it is me
and you mean it, I can tell
We dance in the downpour, who cares,
it is us and we are in love, our song,
they are all our songs, you and me,
kicking puddles and laughing
with wet eye lashes, kissing,
soaked with love,
with devotion and sunny days,
moonlit nights and a lifetime with each other
on a sidwalk, a rainy night, a street light
and forever...you and me
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 7:45 PM UTC
A rose, a crack in the sidwalk,
rain clouds, heartache, tears.
hate destroys the rose. Death.
A trumpet plays, a crack in the sky,
the sun's warmth. A rainbow smiles,
birds chirp, the smell of rain. Love.
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 1:51 AM UTC