"zachary" poems
His name is Zachary James
But he's shouted at by many names
Running man or crazy jogger
Pushing all he needs in a stroller
Dodging cars like a game of Frogger
His passion for running is a benefactor
Of his compassion for humanity
Running across the country is insanity
Knows politics better than Sean Hannity
A motor city kid and an Eastern Michigan grad
Thought he'd run to correct a world gone mad
Our paths crossed on the vicious highway 322
If you're lucky, fate will send him your way too
I'm proud to host such a fine young philanthropist
But soon he'll run off into the mysterious mist
Yet he will jog on proud and steadfast
With our help reaching his goals at last
Run for the children and for the love of running
Run for life and eternity hereafter coming
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
He enters the room, smirk on that hideously gorgeous face. The *******
Walks by the young girls like he owns the swag of a thousand Biebers.
He is mistaken. Or are we?
"Push the air through your diaphram" he says with a sly grin, looking across the room at her.
She looks back. Defiance on her lips? No. Intrigue.
Their eye contact puts a weight on bystanders; The building pressure of a crescendo waiting to be released.
She breaks it. He frowns.
He is impressionable but very rightly so.
She sighs.
Victory sings an out of tune pitch.
He walks over, dragging Zachary's broken French horn behind.
Looks like this student will have to wait; His teacher is on a mission.
"Mission accomplished" he thinks as she sits on his living room couch, wine of glass in hand.
He resides in his bedroom, awaiting the inevitable.
He walks out to find an empty wine glass and an empty room.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC
When I attempt to think about my future, I know I can't. I know, I can only do what I can now to piece together my future like a puzzle. I want to get on T, I want to cut my hair shorter than my parents allow, I want more body modifications, I want to have a completely flat chest, but at the moment, I can't imagine what I'd turn into. A butterfly I'm not able to picture yet. I am at the moment, a small catapillar, not being able to pass for the gender I wish. She's. Hers'. That's not what I want directed towards me. I wants he's and they's. Male and neutral term are what I want my friends to use. Not my birth name, Kit. Kit Lucas Zachary is what I'll become when I get older and scrounge the money together to make that change possible. I must change myself and bold myself into what I want to be happy, even if that means I lose people, I can deal. If they don't agree with how I feel, they don't need to be in my life anyway. I can't say that I'm a boy yet, I can't say I'm pansexual yet. The violence that is occurring against my LGBTQ+ people locks my lips together to my parents, and possibly some of my friends, because I don't want them to be my demise. In this hick state of Texas. My chest binder must be put up due to high summer tempatures, it's too hot to have on so I can't feel at home in my own body. I hate my feminine face, and my father uses double standard, making me shave, making me feel naked and incorrect. I feel incomplete, like I haven't had my right growth spirt, my right puberty. "Oh yeah, she-" makes me want to put a bullet in my head, but it I pulled the trigger I know my family wouldn't understand why. "Hey girl!" don't look, don't turn, they aren't talking about you. But, once I'm an adult with a steady income, I hope to become the person I wish to be.
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC
Fresh wounds
Begin to fester
Tearing inward
Scars deepen
Transported from flesh
To the soul of a victim,
Specific pain
Catered to the controller
An intimate bond of blood to emotion
Crimson Consumption
Pristine Flagellation
Perfect Punishment
With each step
My youth deteriorates
Enticing me deeper into the void
To which I am held captive
l.v.s and z.w.b
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 2:56 AM UTC
*thinking oft of alighting into dreams
whose rides go through loftiest-clouds..*
Upon the gilt threshold, it appeared - a waiting carriage
and passing by, along the broken road, came Zachary
through gentle-haze, it struck him - the face of beauty
Came nearer.. only for disillusionment to take him by the hand..
Zachary’s lament falls on the thunderous roll of carriage
as it leaves the water’s edge..
ripping out his heart-eyeball and throwing at open lightning-sky
He chokes on dust-particled truth-beads piercing heavy-air, doubling over
Zachary, oh Zachary.. who are you?
too many ill-winds
blow rude-breathe
rack and shake your life-cage
try to unseat your heart’s-core
*a gentle-prayer comes across the way – and takes your hand – leads you to the side
it shows you how redemptive-answers lie on the light-ripple on the water
go quietly beneath and
you’ll find yourself..
in time*
S T – 15 Octogonic-day 2013
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 2:47 AM UTC
I can see you through the treehouse window
as you stand before the river, fist clenched.
"What's in your hand, Brother?"
"Sister, it is something so heavy,
I fear it will drown if I open my clenched fist."
I can see you through my phone camera
as you slouch before the river, fist clenched.
"What's in your hand, Brother?"
"Sister, it is something so precious,
I fear it will fly away if I open my clenched fist."
I can see you through the nursery window
as you hunch before the river, fist clenched.
"What's in your hand, Brother?"
"Sister, it is something still important,
I fear it will be lost if I open my clenched fist."
I can see you from my porch
as you kneel before the river, fist clenched.
"What's in your hand, Brother?"
"Sister, it is something so forgotten,
I fear it will disappear if I open my clenched fist."
I can see you along the shore
as you die before the river, fist clenched.
"What's in your hand, Brother?"
"Sister, it is something I should have let go
so many years ago"
I saw you
as you opened your clenched fist before the river.
A single pebble fell to the riverbed.
"Brother, Death's claws did not **** you --
Cupid's arrow did."
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 8:23 PM UTC
Growing up, you wanted to be a princess. But you wanted to be your own hero. Insisting all you needed was a bit of love
They say, "No, a princess cannot wear a crown and suit"
Handed dolls, cars taken away
They say, "Oh, that's so gay!"
They say, "Hey, ******
They say, "What a ***
They say to grow up. Be a lady. Get some manners; grow a pair
But then you do, and they stare. Bonded with tape; compressed, hidden away from sight
Zachary,
Tucked away in your pocket. Except that pocket is your skin, your bones
They say
If you are one of us, then do this. But you cannot. There is not enough testosterone; not enough muscle
So they laugh. Say you are weak, and a liar
They say
This is a phase. You will regret it. It is simply not possible
Zachary does not exist. He is not real. You are just young
You do not know
You are a female. Despite your protests, they insist anyway
They say, "Have you seen it? Is it a boy or a girl? Is it gay or straight? It's an it. An it. It's a monster."
They say, "I bet I can make you straight" with their glint in their eyes, that have already lowered you, to that of dirt. And then, when you get hurt, it's your fault. For tempting them, for being yourself, not
theirs
They say
You are nothing
They say
You will get hurt. And they are right They do not lie, but they are dishonest
Whispers pass you. Pointing from children, and mothers shielding their eyes
"Don't look at that, it'll make you sick"
Adults of authority, giggling and taunting
Hushing each other, to no avail
Putting you in classes where you don't belong
Making you cry, when they do not listen
The urge to scream, "I am human, too. I deserve comfort"
Anxious to speak up, fear of being dismissed
People misgender you
Call you a girl, if you are a boy
And vise versa
Call you sir or ma'am, when you are neither, or both
You are afraid to speak up. Say, "No, that is not me"
Parents who don't understand. They all begin that way
Not believing, and blaming themselves
Educate them
Zachary is here, standing on his toes
Wishing,
To be seen
To be acknowledged
No longer a scab you feel the urge to pick;
No longer skin you feel the urge to tear
Zachary is here
He has always been here
He is not an it
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
after Zachary Schomburg
Lost between the seconds I said. I’m lost
between the second I said I’m lost
between the pendulum
swinging between your thighs. There
are twelve kinds of people
& we are none of them
because I’m lost between the seconds,
lost between submitting
to the hands of your unwinding clock.
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC
Whack! Whack!
His mother’s heels click down
On to the hard wood floor
He claims to be Cinderella
His father looks down
And his first emotion is fear
For his young son’s life
It won’t be easy
He bends down
Picks him up and holds him tightly
“My beautiful son,
Be back before midnight”
Whack! Whack!
His bat strikes the baseball
For his first home run in Little League
His heart was never in it
But his father encouraged him
To try new things
And his mother is his biggest fan
He starts to notice
How tight baseball shorts are
They’re not very comfortable
Whack! Whack!
Towels leave bruises in the locker room
He laughs at his teammates
Running from his quick wrist
And wet towel
He’s the starting quarterback
And they just won states
He was voted
Homecoming king
Whack! Whack!
His heart duels against his ribs
The first time he kisses another boy
It’s nothing like the girls
There’s a new rush in his blood
His mind is in space
And his stomach in his throat
Whack! Whack!
He brings the axe down hard
Sunburnt metal splitting fibers
Sending woodchips everywhere
His father making him learn
The lesson that only hard work can teach
Nothing worth having comes easy
Whack! Whack!
The hammer comes down on the nail
As he finishes his daughter’s swing set
He watches through the window
As his husband
Hands her the first slice
Of her birthday cake
She just turned five
A number you didn’t get to see
They say when you die
Your life flashes before your eyes
They don’t say
It’s always your past
Whack! Whack!
His mother’s heels click down
On the hard wood floor
He claims to be Cinderella
His father looks down
And his first emotion is fear…
Whack! Whack!
His fists clench
Whack! Whack!
They come raining down
Whack! Whack!
He can’t seem to get away
Whack! Whack!
Why can’t you be a man
Whack! Whack!
Why can’t you be a man.
Whack! Whack!
Why can’t you be a man!
Why can’t you!?
You were his father!
And you
Were his mother!
You broke a child
When you were supposed
To build him up
So now the world
Had to bury his dreams in pieces
Shattered like glass slippers
You were afraid of him
While we
Would have loved him
His name was Zachary.
Zachary Dutro-Boggess.
I wrote your name
Onto a piece of paper
And folded it into a daisy
Because something beautiful
Had to come out of your story
Your birthday curled down
Over one of the petals
3 days before the day you died
You turned 4 years old
I wonder what you wished for
When you blew out your candles
I wonder what you wished for
When you first met God
Way too young
And he showed you
What love really was
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
and to think there was a time
before, when i
constantly
****** myself into thinking
each and every
*******
grandiose,
helium-filled lie existed beyond your
illustrated delusion
jaundice driven, I needed you like a
kidney stone.
lies planted,
messily
nested, the
open wounds
painfully festering
quit using me.
regarding a fragile
soul as a
tool
used, atoms feverishly
vibrating for a quick
wasted,
xanax head high.
yes I can finally see the letter
z
and not think Zachary
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC
The Fire Cycle
BY ZACHARY SCHOMBURG
There are trees and they are on fire. There are hummingbirds and they are on fire. There are graves and they are on fire and the things coming out of the graves are on fire. The house you grew up in is on fire. There is a gigantic trebuchet on fire on the edge of a crater and the crater is on fire. There is a complex system of tunnels deep underneath the surface with only one entrance and one exit and the entire system is filled with fire. There is a wooden cage we’re trapped in, too large to see, and it is on fire. There are jaguars on fire. Wolves. Spiders. Wolf-spiders on fire. If there were people. If our fathers were alive. If we had a daughter. Fire to the edges. Fire in the river beds. Fire between the mattresses of the bed you were born in. Fire in your mother’s belly. There is a little boy wearing a fire shirt holding a baby lamb. There is a little girl in a fire skirt asking if she can ride the baby lamb like a horse. There is you on top of me with thighs of fire while a hot red fog hovers in your hair. There is me on top of you wearing a fire shirt and then pulling the fire shirt over my head and tossing it like a fireball through the fog at a new kind of dinosaur. There are meteorites disintegrating in the atmosphere just a few thousand feet above us and tiny fireballs are falling down around us, pooling around us, forming a kind of fire lake which then forms a kind of fire cloud. There is this feeling I get when I am with you. There is our future house burning like a star on the hill. There is our dark flickering shadow. There is my hand on fire in your hand on fire, my body on fire above your body on fire, our tongues made of ash. We are rocks on a distant and uninhabitable planet. We have our whole life ahead of us.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 3:06 AM UTC
My cat's name is Zachary Binx, and I know for a fact he could kick my *** in a fight. His claws are daggers. They are needle sharp and feather light and designed to ensnare and then shred anything his long, quick arms can ****** He is fast; he is a predator.
But he has no idea, because his environment suggests otherwise. He's artificially coerced by domestication to assume that his survival is dependent on me. He is designed to survive on his own, but his cage suggests otherwise.
So he contents himself to the role of the housecat, sitting on the windowsill, feeling dull pangs of inexplicable deja vu as he watches the sparrows bathe in the dirt outside.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC
.Dear Geezus, I am six years old and I need some help.My momma used to tell me that if I ever got intoa pickle that I could call on you and you would help me.Well, I think I'm in a real pickle. Every time I get off the school bus after school,I walk into the house and I can never wake momma up,and she's always sweating real bad. I called 9-1-1 likethey told me to in school a long time ago last month. It didn't help.I always find her plastic tubes with pins in them and big rubber strapslaying on the coffee table.Sometimes when she wakes up she gets really, really mad at mefor no reason. I didn't do nothing wrong though.I am very scared Geezus!Can you pleeze help momma?I sure do miss her smiling.P.S. Can you take from me my pickle?Love,Zachary
Feb 26, 2010
Feb 26, 2010 at 12:43 AM UTC
Who makes roses cry rainbow
The iris of my eye.
You make me see ghosts,
And want to meet them.
See demons, and want to fight them.
See gods, and what to be them.
You let me be.
Set me free.
Took me to the kingdom by the sea
And just drifted away with me.
I melted with every word you said.
Fire met water with a bump on the head
And a spark of electricity.
You taught me relativity
On a stroll down sea horse valley.
You’ve been through life and death with me.
When the world ends,
It will be in Zen.
You and me sitting happily
Just relaxing counting Z’s.
As beauty explodes before our eyes
Stigma finally set aside
Truth revealed to the naked brain
Everyone else will go insane.
Now with nothing left amiss
You and I floating in bliss
Nothing left to do but kiss.
Cleansing all the doors of perception
More powerful then resurrection
The world we will create
They won’t be able to mutilate.
And we will sit upon a green star,
Watching our world from afar.
Sipping on the Milky Way,
And dreaming days away .
Earth can have heaven and the universe next door
We have all of time to explore!
Not afraid of a black hole
Absorbing my soul
When I’m on your arm
You’ll protect me from any harm.
We’ll pick up Felix from mars,
Go meow at the Dog Star
Until it retires to the west.
(Which we both know is the best)
We’ll camp on the sun for a century
Let the galaxy revolve around you and me.
As we slip into unconsciousness
To dream and reminisce.
Of when you started me acting quite contrarily
And talking so esoterically.
Of when infinity first began.
I love you MandleMan.
Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 5:44 PM UTC
The innocence of a newborn child
Is as pure as an angel
God's grace engulfing his body
Our love surrounding this child
Always with us
Their memories shine.
**In Loving Memory
of
Zachary Tompkins
1998-2010**
Aug 26, 2010
Aug 26, 2010 at 8:26 PM UTC
I haven't drank in ninety days
Way to go you fookin' saint
You haven't killed in thirty years
But St. Zachary you ain't.
Her husband sells used broken cars
I get to kick the tires
While he gets soaked at all the bars
I'm putting out his fires.
I'm pleading down to purgatory
As Satan winks at me
Though punishment be mandatory
I'll not burn for perjury. ;)
r ~ 4/27/14
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
Though it was not the day or the ceremony she may have expected, Heather Airth’s wedding day was a special one in an unexpected way.
The 19-year-old Kent resident and U.S. Coast Guardsman was scheduled to marry her high school sweetheart Zachary Hoydic on Sunday. But on Saturday, Airth was not feeling right and went to Valley Medical Center, where she was admitted.
With Hoydic, a U.S. Marine headed back to the East Coast where he is stationed on Monday night, it looked like the couple’s wedding may have to be put on hold, which would have been a problem because Airth is pregnant and the couple would like the military to station them together in the future.
“I was hoping I was just being little paranoid,” Airth said about going to Valley on Saturday. “But it didn’t turn out that way.”
It turned out Airth had a kidney infection, which because of the pregnancy meant she was going to have to stay at Valley at least overnight. Which meant that plans to get married may have had to be scrubbed.
But when Airth told the folks at Valley about the plans they had to cancel and asked if the chaplain could marry them, the hospital jumped into action.
On Monday, when Airth was released and before Hoydic had to fly back to his base, she was wheeled directly to the hospital’s healing garden where the hospital chaplain was ready to perform the ceremony.
“It was really pretty.” Airth said. “There were flowers and cake. It was not what I was expecting.”
The flowers had been donated by the hospital’s gift shop and the cake was purchased by the hospital employees. Communications director Lis Gillin said the hospital staff just wanted to make sure the couple could get married before Hoydic had to ship out.
“They didn’t have to do that,” Airdic said, thanking the hospital and staff. “It was really amazing they’d do something like that when they didn’t have to.”
So while it may not have been quite what they were expecting, Airth said her day was absolutely a special one.
“When I looked at him, everything seemed right,” She said of her husband. “I couldn’t stop smiling.”
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Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 3:01 AM UTC
They speak of
An immaculate sky.
White and bland,
Lacking depth.
It's a blank canvas
I shan't deny,
Here we are reborn.
Within the breath of love,
Is where you are kept.
l.v.s
Apply vibrant colour to bare skin
The cleansing light
Through a hollow shell
Slipping between the cracks
Light and transcendent
You lay me with gentle grace
Submerged in ardent passion
Have your light consume
What resides inside
Purify all that I am,
Together set free.
z.w.b
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 5:09 AM UTC
I cannot win
I am destroyed.
Built back up
Then recked again like a stack of bricks.
I am suffering.
Can you tell?
I know you see it.
My mood shifting hour to hour.
Dont ask me if im okay.
I nevr asked for you to pretend like you care.
Dont ask me what i want to do
Because honestly
I wanna run far away.
Dont treat me like i matter
We both know i dont
you've shown me that
I am suffering.
Is it that hard to see?
I write to ease my mind
But it ends up ignighting flames.
I have a storm in my heart.
Anger due to loneliness.
Whats wrong with me?
Why doesnt anyone love me
(Or if they do, tell me)
???
Tell me why the **** i am this way.
Why is everyone happy but me.
I want change
That's not over my horizon, is it?
Why am i always alone.
Alone is a captive audience.
Listening to my disparity just to matter
To someone.
My tears run dry.
Then streak down
Because they were forgotten.
What if i told you there was no tomorrow for me.
*** someone help this kid.
Because suicidal thoughts are the telling point of need for help.
Are you ******* kidding me?!?!
You should know i need help from the day you notice bruises.
Not by the day i say i want to end it all.
Mom told me she'd be there till the end.
But the day she found out her son had severe depression,
It was like she left him completely.
I wish she could see im gone already.
Her little boy,
Her little Zachary
Has died.
The day she overlooked dad's aggression, i was left motherless.
Her son needs help.
I need help.
So i write.
And you read.
The process we've done so many times before.
Forgive me,
Im struggling.
I know you see it.
*so,
Whats next*
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 1:29 AM UTC
Brown cinnamon glow ,
our hillside boisterous doe , telegraphs her moves by-
the early , jovial winter moon ..
Down tractor road , beside-
Zachary Creek , blend into the shadow ,
alert , curious and meek ..
Our favored evening dame
Slender and sleek
Strike a pose milady ..
Stoic and sweet ...
Dec 2, 2023
Dec 2, 2023 at 7:45 PM UTC
when she was in kindergarten
she drew a picture
a picture of a flower
and gave it to her teacher
she gave her an A
and hung it on the wall
that was the day
daddy was found in the bathroom
with an empty pill bottle in his hand
she was the one that found him
no one would tell her why
or how
because they didn't know
but now she understands
in third grade
she drew another picture
it was a picture of a tree
and a bird flying by
she gave it to mommy
and she hung it on the fridge
that was the day
charlotte ran away
no one would tell her why
or how
because they didn't know
but now she understands
in middle school
she drew a 3rd picture
it was covered by a sleeve
and no one hung it on a wall
because she didn't show anyone
that was the day
zachary stopped loving her
no one told her why
or how
because no one knew
but now she understands
and in high school
she drew a picture
of a broken heart
and a hand waving goodbye
but that wasn't all
she left a sculpture too
of herself
in the bathroom
same position as daddy
no one knew why
or how
but i understand
because maybe
i was her
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 1:24 PM UTC
"How long has it been since you've talked to him?"
I don't tell them of the
letter you sent
entirely blacked out
except for the phrases
"Dear, Emily"
"Love, Zachary"
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 4:15 AM UTC
This frost will **** me but still
we play out in the cold.
old memory,
it lingers hanging on to the tips of my fingers as the snows of yesterday melt away and the thought of tomorrow has come to stay,I still want to play,I never grew,never knew a happier time,
I cast my line back in history and catch dreams that I used to be and it all looks so good,I'll be cold never old and I'll play in the snowfalls,make snowmen,throw snowballs,come home to the fire,get warm,I should buy a postcard to send you,should package scenery to lend you,these happier times etch deep into my laughter lines and my eyes start to crease,
may the past never release me,let the police come and take me,handcuff me and make me a prisoner in the crumble,the rough and the tumble of my childhood,as I stumble,an old man,I make plans to build ships that will skip through this twilight and let the years become midnight at the start of my day.
Zachary Schless comes from Frankfurt,no less of a man for all that,
he sits in seclusion
his mind in communion with the ghosts of his youth and the truth that he sees,unlocks and frees him to do what will please him and thus he'll return to what he knows he must learn about himself.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 1:53 AM UTC
Loving you was like a car wreck in slow motion.
You saw everything through the eyes of someone watching from the outside in.
From the eyes of someone who would never understand.
Loving you was not tasting your mouth, but every word inside of it.
Loving you seemed to be agonizing, like watching paint dry, expect the paint is made from my blood and my hand is on my chest, trying to keep my heart from falling out of it.
Loving you was the blood from the barely beating ***** seeping between my fingers.
Loving you was when I finally let go and heard it fall onto the ground and the paint finally dried and I was dead.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
"If peace be welcomed yet unobtainable by permanence, and chaos unacceptable but inevitable, then let this world be...and it's inhabitants, things. Objects if peaceful, but 'people' if acknowledged by chaos. Humans."-Zachary Neal
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC