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You gave me a boat—
A boat made of paper.
You painted it blue,
I preferred green.
You poor soul, couldn’t have known

Oh, You gave me a boat—
I said it was perfect,
And I knew it was paper,
Yes, I swear I did.

But I put it in the water,
Even quickly named it June,
A quiet way to remember
The day you forgot soon

And I knew it was melting—
And I know you did too

But god gave me a heart
Gave you one too
Though yours is for beating
And mine is to feel


Still—
I went in the boat,
Oh, I didn’t want fighting.
A few feet later,
I felt the water flow.

I swam to the shore,
And yes, I saw you laughing—
But still, I swam to you,

For I could not call for help
Help from the warm murky water
No I will not anger you.
And I didn’t choose to drown,
For I cannot bear it.

Bear to see you suffer,
Like I would have for you.
Though you do not deserve it,
And not for forever— I hope
I swim back to you
nobody wants to hear my cries,
or the whispers of my aching heart,
I hope that maybe soon my heart dies,
so I no longer have to carry the guilt of things that I have not done,
I wait for the day I don't have to care,
can flea from every issue,
faster than a cheetah can even dream to run,
but even when my brain repeats,
like a broken record of all the things that once went wrong,
I wipe my own tears in the car's backseat,
because nothing in life is ever that significant,
or never should be, to me anyway,
but unfortunately you were truly magnificent.
I don't know how I feel about this poem so please please tell me how you feel!!
Star-crossed dreamers,
Bound together by thread,
Cosmic peaceful bliss-
But lover, that planet is dead.

The wind carries no laughter,
The sun has lost its heat,
Nighttime is silent and dark now,
Its life cycle complete.

The trees have all now rotted,
The soil has long turned sour,
It’s been months since April’s showers,
And May could never flower.

Lover, I must escape now,
The oxygen is gone,
I know you said you’d never be back,
But I was hoping you were wrong.

I planned to stay here,
To fix it in your absence,
So if you did return,
You’d see we could make sense.

Your rocket never flew back,
And lover, I know not where you went,
Trembling in my escape pod,
Hoping where you are, I’m sent.

I sealed this final message,
In orbiting satellite streams,
Hoping the words find you,
Beyond our broken dreams.

I know this was our ending,
And it echos through the void,
Now our world has perished,
Our civilization destroyed.

I can’t look out this window,
To watch our star implode,
But I feel it in my chest,
That sharp sting of letting go.

And while I drift away,
To somewhere perceived safe,
To long forget our planet,
And the evolution we made.
Just another point of interest blacked out on my astronomers map.
When I reach for free time
as an adult,
and quickly find it taken,

I remember that ambrosia
is only for the gods,
and mortals beware,

do not interfere
in anything
made for the gods.
I love Greek myths, but common. Where are days of nothing?
A shot of feeling,
A dram from your soul and mind,
Short and sweet, refined.
Eve
Which fruit do I desire?
the safe & bland, nutritious?
or the sweet & sour, succulent,
full-flavored
with danger, risks & hints of bitter?

Feed my flicking tongue the ****
Pucker my lips, Sparkling Serpent!
Raise me up
With your webbed glorious wings
Soar me high
Grant me harvest with a zing,
Pierce me with the blazing sword  
Tease with tempting words  
Then grace me with the safe and sweet
suckle me with your delights,
fine finish, soothing dessert
to settle once again this stormy passion.

The knowledge of your goodness
& your captivating evil, your naughty side
ignites my hunger for the nourishment
only You can satisfy.
So Mighty Winged Dragon,
take me in the garden
when night has fallen dark
Feed me of your fruits
until we see & KNOW & love  
that we are naked here together.

I, soul crafted from your side, request:
be my ride.
Bend with me that tree
of knowledge and that tree of life.
As they Merge, become as one  
let our souls & bodies, hearts Collide.
In this perfection we will no longer hide.

Come, my glittering Adym, Take my hand
We, Creators, can yet conjure
Perfection here within our garden mythical
Feast with me in Eden
with tastefully poisonous eaze,
I will be your soulmate & your temptress, Eve.
Originally published 14th Apr 2022 | Edited 26th Jun 2023 | edited July 23, 2025
My eyes stare at words
like vege and meat
on a cutting board,
cutting each to meaning
                               sound
                            meter,
sentences and syllables,
my OCD mind refuses to stop
revving the gas pedal
on my 1991 Buick LaSabre
before doing donuts in the parking lot
of a shut down K-Mart.
Regrettably, I’ve never actually done donuts in a car. I have been in a car when someone made the choice…15ish years ago.
I have been alive long enough to know places that have gone out of business. RadioShack, K-Mart—and the first one—Hollywood Video. There are others I’m not even thinking about, I know, but I used to love Hollywood Video as a kid.
BEEZEE 7d
Grief as an interlude.
The in-between performance.
Where shoeless days, wandering forests—
meet
black-dressed, paired farewells.

Where velvet curtains close and draw,
a symphony has long prepared
(for you).

Percussion slices into silence.
Clarinets hum in minor tune.
The bass joins in—they’ve been appointed.

Welcome to Grief’s Interlude.

The music plays now just for you.
Regret takes center stage.

What wasn’t said.

“What could I do?”

The music begins to fade.
I guess it’s time we see the view
from our heart’s balcony.

Crossing legs and leaning in—
anticipating more…
A special place for all our kin
is bursting from our core.

Cymbals reach the back of room.
The flutes play loud and low.
The composer pulls a handkerchief—
tears and sweat compel this show.

You feel so sorry.
You feel alive.
You feel memories—sharp and sore.
They’re taking bows.
The act has closed.
Another’s passing through death’s door.

Welcome to Grief’s Interlude.
Grief doesn’t arrive as a finale—it slips in between the acts.
This poem imagines loss as a performance
NOIR 7d
In the dimly-lit room,
Half covered with light and
Half consumed by the dark,
I lit my temptation with the fervour,
Veiling beneath the deco-ed curls
Of my late night paramour's
Circled love.
A little, though not ignorant,
I noticed the curled up
Hazy dreams of mine,
Dancing on the beats
Of my tinted,
Yet, pale sighs.
Tearing my skin off,
Naked I was, plucking every damasked petals
Of my aqueous thoughts.
Listening to the unrhymed rain-drops,
Singing in a rhythmical choir,
The mockery of the rhymed clock,
Seemed lucid and clear.
I tossed my ash-tray, burning my fear,
I tripped into my perpetual nightmare;
Getting ready for the concupiscent game With Tux on my grey carcass,
With cologne on my foul breath;
On my natal bed,
Shattering my pristine waterfall,
I was ******,
I was ****** to the liminality of hell.
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