Thursday, September 19, 2013
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Monday, September 9, 2013
on a styrofoam couch,
words try to pry themselves out from behind my teeth
but any movement, even the subtle purse of my lips makes a sound.
Feeling cramped, alone, unable to move,
I listen to the fans wave hello, or maybe goodbye.
No, not goodbye.
I won't leave,
I can't leave,
I never leave.
You placed me here,
planted mines in my heart
and dynamite in my skull.
If I move, speak, breathe,
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Submit to the continuous cycle
of the icy air
turning the leaves gray and lifeless,
the rain bringing back the buds,
and spring rotting into summer.
The tulips and the daffodils decay
falling onto a dehydrated path.
A path of change, of punishment
upon where your tiny figure stands,
filled with fear and remorse
curiosity and desire,
as your delicate hands shake.
A soul must find peace
within itself and its surroundings,
before breaking away from its temple,
and escaping the succession of time.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Feed me to the lions
like sweet fresh meat
on the bone,
laying in front of
wide open jaws
and salivating mouths,
screaming like women
Stripped clean and displayed
in front of my predators, nude.
The taste of cotton
and polyester, displeasing
to the prowling carnivores
who want flesh,
my raw skin, my soul.
They want me vulnerable
Monday, March 4, 2013
Prayers at Rest
Dragging my feet along the stone sidewalk,
nearby a cross stands solemnly
amongst a dirty grey sky,
looking dead in contrast to the dim lights glowing from inside the red glass windows.
Its arms hammered multiple rusty nails
into a wooden post stripped of any gloss stain.
The September winds and rain
won't destroy it's hold
even if the holy symbol starts to waste away,
by termites and spiders
hunting for new holes to sleep in,
a safe haven from the storm.
I don't sleep, I walk.
I know the sounds of the town,
the chime of the chapels clock,
the quiet ticks in between that keep others asleep after bedtime prayer.
I listen to the termites eat their weight in oak,
and see the spiders spin silk to catch the ones that chew themselves full.
The building stands tall, alone looking tired and old.
In need of callused, working hands and new wooden beams.
I slip through the slightly open doors, blow out the table of candles,
and put the church to sleep.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Untie My Feelings - I Dare You
The smell of something
warm and living,
in the company of another.
Both engulfed in a potent cloud of lust
when entangled in each others arms and emotions.
"Never provoke my anger or jealousy," she mumbled as she shook her head.
"I keep my feelings inside,
harnessed by knots, strings and ties.
Undo them and I'm afraid of what darkness you might find."
An old soul missing a lost lover, lies,
impure thoughts, grim memories.
"The dark can be friendly though," she said.
"The dark hides what scares you
in a cloak of cold black air.
It will keep you safe, us safe,
at least for now."
Friday, March 1, 2013
Too Far Lost
Barefoot in a shallow creek,
watching minnows swim up from under
when my toes turn over the rough gravel and smooth stones.
As I look down into the clear pool,
An old friend stares back.
Not usually getting the chance to see the cracked skin around my eyes,
the worry lines,
in a burning light as radiant as it is now,
seeing it break out of a barrier of clouds.
I only see them often displayed in old faded colors,
with blurred lines surrounding their shape.
Now, looking at the clear image below,
my tired eyes reveal the sadness of a lost soul
waiting to sail out to sea,
a crooked smile knows it’s too late to ever become whole.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
So I Can Remember
Please take a Polaroid picture,
and tack it to my bedroom wall.
So I can remember the blurry faces of us, happy,
in our white lace dresses
ripped nude stockings
and daisy made tiaras.
We left our blue canvas shoes over by the lake,
even though Momma told us not to.
She was afraid we would lose them,
which we did.
We forgot all about the shoes
as we laid in the grass,
looking for luck, dandelions and ladybugs.
We ruined our dresses in the dirt,
Momma would hate that too.
But we were just having fun.
Fun I wanted to remember from that Polaroid.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
The shed skin of a snake
laying in the grass
leaves behind a heavy presence
of two bodies.
One gone, one no longer whole.
All that's left is fragile.
A layer of scales, veiny ridges
and absent pieces of lost flesh.
Soon it will break down into flakes,
then into dust that will combine with the wind.
The skin will no longer linger,
the missing body growing a new,
but the presence of a wispy slither,
imprints a path of existence.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Drinking cheap merlot,
getting lost in a velvety mask of thoughts.
Filling each crevice behind the eyes
and the holes of the cork that lay on the cold metal dinner table
as they flow through the air and onto the paper.
Think about the pen, the ink, the words,
the permanent words,
the poisonous words,
the cancerous words.
The deadly phrases slowly take over your white blood cells,
your red blood cells,
your tissue, your bones, your soul.
They come from your mind and flow through the blood in your veins
to the tips of your fingers,
to the shaft of the pen,
to the strokes of the ink.
You write them.
You believe them.
You see them to be true.
They cannot be erased.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Here's and old one edited a bit. Enjoy.
The uncut grass is knee high now.
Within the field, I lose her for awhile.
I watch her tracks as she explores
the slender green blades that wave back.
She leaves a trail as I follow far behind.
The weeds sway as she passes,
innocent worms stamped into the damp ground.
A chance to explore on her own,
to feel free in the wind.
A chance to make friends with the grass, the weeds, the worms.
But she is my friend too, so
when I put my fingers between my teeth,
she'll always come running back.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
I've been working on this for a few days now. Maybe it's a little too dark or maybe its too melodramatic for some people. But I like it anyway. It's still a work in progress so I'll post a later version after I've worked on it a little more.
Enclosed within her own mind
when the panic hits
her skull caves in,
and the pressure within the back of her head
Look at me she said.
Look at me she screamed!
While spit and vile bits of bile
fly off the tip of her tongue and crooked front teeth,
staining the shattered mirror in front of her.
Pieces of glass and her sanity lay at her feet,
dispersed into hundreds of minuscule, beautiful shards.
She will always be cracked, and when she tries to put herself back together
she is left with pricked, bleeding finger tips
and red smears covering her reflection.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
I have a bunch of new poems and writing in progress that I am not ready to post. When I do post it, I think its dark and intense so tonight I've decided post something a little lighter. This poem is from my writing poetry class last semester. Enjoy!
A Mantis Praying Above
Barely did I see the mantis
resting upon the maple.
His wise eyes staring directly up at the morning star,
praying to Artemis
for another hour, another day, another month,
that the little blue jays beaks will continue to nibble the seeds
from the highest of branches.
He is praying that the birds stay perched up top,
instead of spreading their new feathers,
and venturing down to the territory
of tiny, helpless, nonwinged creatures.
Friday, February 22, 2013
as the men march off your tongue, burning the roof of your mouth.
You beg for them to surrender,
to cause no more harm to those innocent, even guilty.
But the words rolled off the tip too late,
for the men have already marched over your shoulders
down the ridges of your spine and off your toes.
that housed evil, their worse fear.
The flames touch the walls
and the once standing building unleashed hell.
Important enough for the men to lie in the graves
they dug for themselves with broken knuckles and chard nails,
There in the wreckage
grip charred wooden beams, boards and blades
stripped of all their strength.
They lay dead with the men
waiting to sink down to the inferno,
with the torches still lit, lighting their way.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
the lady bugs come to commit suicide by the sea.
They migrate away from the aphids
wanting to be in their own company.
Hoping the fish will save them
when a wing breaks, a leg breaks
maybe both, maybe all.
while the crayfish and the sunnies and the bass swallow them underneath,
only vomiting them up
when they jump out of the water
not wanting the wingless, the legless, the spotless
or anyone to breathe.