As if my feet had fallen, I was sacred as the floor
Ground me and do not wake me
I am not fallen to the floor
One million ways does sway me
I have been ousted from the floor
Rocket man through the bones of my feet!
Some sacred place did wait
I took
Like sleeping child’s
I wake
From whirring lights as driven fields
I took
And became so much farther everyday
I became away
Friday, January 30, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
I am a playful rock.
Silly stocked upon some shelf.
Layers telling you that I am not new.
But old wore and hard as a rock.
I had one bottle to let me go.
Or flow.
I had one choice.
The only ones I ever took.
I was a rock.
Rough or smooth or iridescent or nothing ,
As you walked upon me.
I pushed some flowers down.
Coming up through the heavy beams
I was your pet.
Playful and obscene.
Painted and then not.
I was a rock.
Asking silent forgiveness.
I was calmed by certain shores.
Over years.
I was sick in the middle.
Though you will never know!
I was again some graceful contempt,
clutched by teeth of claws or pins of hate
I was a no name.
Like a rock.
Held so high on wood tables.
Built by feeble boys.
And ravens thirst for water.
And crows who want the same.
All bottled up in square terrariums.
I was your rock, without beginning or end.
Without some purging minds.
I was all you needed to know.
I was the sand.
Running on like tired hands.
Silly stocked upon some shelf.
Layers telling you that I am not new.
But old wore and hard as a rock.
I had one bottle to let me go.
Or flow.
I had one choice.
The only ones I ever took.
I was a rock.
Rough or smooth or iridescent or nothing ,
As you walked upon me.
I pushed some flowers down.
Coming up through the heavy beams
I was your pet.
Playful and obscene.
Painted and then not.
I was a rock.
Asking silent forgiveness.
I was calmed by certain shores.
Over years.
I was sick in the middle.
Though you will never know!
I was again some graceful contempt,
clutched by teeth of claws or pins of hate
I was a no name.
Like a rock.
Held so high on wood tables.
Built by feeble boys.
And ravens thirst for water.
And crows who want the same.
All bottled up in square terrariums.
I was your rock, without beginning or end.
Without some purging minds.
I was all you needed to know.
I was the sand.
Running on like tired hands.
M.L.#3
My minds eye holds that image of you like some crumpled god fallen from the sky
I’m laying next to Jesus
And he is my debatable soldier
Wearing robes of sham
In neon
Pictures made of time
Soft spoken rhyme was unruly and eruptible lava
Dear man, other
My obvious lover
You are the spirit of a hidden time
And brought to me shade from a tree house
Of callused hands who’s mouth’s spoke of when
I feel you flow
In every pulse
I love you
Like colours of the in-between rainbow
Like the take away of everything
Cloth robes and spongy comfort
Drum bass and speakers who depend
Past
The long ones
You are the new one
Scratching eyes and healing
Cold paws of winter slowly creeping
And the chest in which our lungs were the breath of laughter
The glow of any light that held me captive
Was your face
as consuming as a dream
But I awoke to your face and dreamt of night to be the same
And miss me not my love!
For miss is for,
For miss is for
What we already know
And any word is a jumbled block
One corner to the next
And we are
We!
Us!
Two skin cultivators who may perhaps want more
And do
As I do
Shaded muscles
Our children are asking so quiet
Can you hear them?
I’m laying next to Jesus
And he is my debatable soldier
Wearing robes of sham
In neon
Pictures made of time
Soft spoken rhyme was unruly and eruptible lava
Dear man, other
My obvious lover
You are the spirit of a hidden time
And brought to me shade from a tree house
Of callused hands who’s mouth’s spoke of when
I feel you flow
In every pulse
I love you
Like colours of the in-between rainbow
Like the take away of everything
Cloth robes and spongy comfort
Drum bass and speakers who depend
Past
The long ones
You are the new one
Scratching eyes and healing
Cold paws of winter slowly creeping
And the chest in which our lungs were the breath of laughter
The glow of any light that held me captive
Was your face
as consuming as a dream
But I awoke to your face and dreamt of night to be the same
And miss me not my love!
For miss is for,
For miss is for
What we already know
And any word is a jumbled block
One corner to the next
And we are
We!
Us!
Two skin cultivators who may perhaps want more
And do
As I do
Shaded muscles
Our children are asking so quiet
Can you hear them?
I see colours.
Within
Blindest man holding a passive disdain.
Quiet bright lights.
Shadows cast heavy upon fallen ghosts .
Blur’s of a million years softly past,
So still,
I am a pond.
Opaque..
Hard then soft .
It is nothing.
I was born
As …
I said as I am to be these
Soft quiet claws on tightened floors.
Then again nothing.
Delicate crunches.
Velvet. Whores teeth.
Crawling
I am rising
we are ….
Soft dim lights falling from the roof
(inside)
Intertwined .then nothing.
Within
Blindest man holding a passive disdain.
Quiet bright lights.
Shadows cast heavy upon fallen ghosts .
Blur’s of a million years softly past,
So still,
I am a pond.
Opaque..
Hard then soft .
It is nothing.
I was born
As …
I said as I am to be these
Soft quiet claws on tightened floors.
Then again nothing.
Delicate crunches.
Velvet. Whores teeth.
Crawling
I am rising
we are ….
Soft dim lights falling from the roof
(inside)
Intertwined .then nothing.
A Day In Winter
What was I supposed to tell you?
That I feared this capital giant?
Or that my insides were like roller rides
In our silent morning riot
Could I tell you anything?
Would you listen?
Would we hold the grace of our faces
Like good Samaritan Christians?
Would it matter?
Tell me it matters
Whisper sweet something’s
Like rose breath on my nose
Keep me on my toes
On my back
Keep me lacking another
For I love you like no other
And the sweet system democracy that
Is you and I sleeping
On the steps of mediocrity
Pretending we were children
We kept each other warm on the nights of deep philosophy
I loved you like the midnight
When it used its hefty hush to silence
Our heavy tongues
And keep a touch of flesh to the open winter window
That I feared this capital giant?
Or that my insides were like roller rides
In our silent morning riot
Could I tell you anything?
Would you listen?
Would we hold the grace of our faces
Like good Samaritan Christians?
Would it matter?
Tell me it matters
Whisper sweet something’s
Like rose breath on my nose
Keep me on my toes
On my back
Keep me lacking another
For I love you like no other
And the sweet system democracy that
Is you and I sleeping
On the steps of mediocrity
Pretending we were children
We kept each other warm on the nights of deep philosophy
I loved you like the midnight
When it used its hefty hush to silence
Our heavy tongues
And keep a touch of flesh to the open winter window
Day One
If you thought I was a joker, I guess I made you laugh
If you thought I was a mystery, I guess I had you fooled
Because behind my eyes
I was as human as you,
Layer upon layer
Masks like skin that stole my breath
And shaded my eyes from the sun
But today was a good day
I have lost a heavy mask
My story finally begun
If you thought I was a mystery, I guess I had you fooled
Because behind my eyes
I was as human as you,
Layer upon layer
Masks like skin that stole my breath
And shaded my eyes from the sun
But today was a good day
I have lost a heavy mask
My story finally begun
Monday, January 19, 2009
John Eric #2
Tooth tips suck cells close to the skin and reek havoc on china glass skin
Seeking truth like a nomad
Searching dark dreams for difinity or peace
“Free Peace!` you said
No one should have to pay for it!
Pink and swollen lips in there only true form were wet and soft
And your sunken cheeks let my finger rivers trace you
As the pale blue ice fires light into your bedroom
And the slow motion stories play again and again
Over and over
The past nights trivial step stones were buried deep into mind fields
The thick clouds of green washed away
And the deeper greens turned into hate
I spoke anathemas to the devil
Hatred was no longer his
Now mine
The curious conception of concepts, ours
I still taste you on my lips, my hips still sore
And my bruises fading in mimicry of our dissipating ties
Seeking truth like a nomad
Searching dark dreams for difinity or peace
“Free Peace!` you said
No one should have to pay for it!
Pink and swollen lips in there only true form were wet and soft
And your sunken cheeks let my finger rivers trace you
As the pale blue ice fires light into your bedroom
And the slow motion stories play again and again
Over and over
The past nights trivial step stones were buried deep into mind fields
The thick clouds of green washed away
And the deeper greens turned into hate
I spoke anathemas to the devil
Hatred was no longer his
Now mine
The curious conception of concepts, ours
I still taste you on my lips, my hips still sore
And my bruises fading in mimicry of our dissipating ties
Just Another Skippy Play On Words
I wanted all the words in the world to mean something to you
but now I realise that this hasty disguise is your home and I have been running from a door of ill willed ideas threats of the sacred kind and dirt as rich as a Klondike bar
Run fast run far, I scream inside my weary head
Take notice of his bed and the stains that it has rested
At best I see a cultured frog
Hopping from tree to tree
And at worst I see you crunched inside your own humungous ego
Asking where the hell did I go?
I thought I was south turns out I was north and now I am creeping up hard to the east and the wicked wheat of my holy head is black and disparing
Poorest man!
In which I have forgotten
The man behind the mask was better off as the wizard
The lizard of conceptual thoughts
Wiggling across the desert land as if its home was the sand
The destination somewhere upwards and grand
And the trip as good as Jims
Coming out of the L.S.D. hymns to see peace
Instead you slid that snaky body from the swampy lands of your ancestors to start walking upright
Took flight and now you land on my doorstep asking forgiveness of the only woman who held a hungry hand and fed it as if it were a child
Wild you,
Who walks on feeble land and asks it to rise to his occasion
As if you were God
Back for a semi desert vacation
Well, hell
Come on in and I’ll feed you again because my place in this play is not hate
Its perception
In all it colourful forms
And the form of you across the table from me
I as easy to see as one human to another brother
so eat and
get the hell out
but now I realise that this hasty disguise is your home and I have been running from a door of ill willed ideas threats of the sacred kind and dirt as rich as a Klondike bar
Run fast run far, I scream inside my weary head
Take notice of his bed and the stains that it has rested
At best I see a cultured frog
Hopping from tree to tree
And at worst I see you crunched inside your own humungous ego
Asking where the hell did I go?
I thought I was south turns out I was north and now I am creeping up hard to the east and the wicked wheat of my holy head is black and disparing
Poorest man!
In which I have forgotten
The man behind the mask was better off as the wizard
The lizard of conceptual thoughts
Wiggling across the desert land as if its home was the sand
The destination somewhere upwards and grand
And the trip as good as Jims
Coming out of the L.S.D. hymns to see peace
Instead you slid that snaky body from the swampy lands of your ancestors to start walking upright
Took flight and now you land on my doorstep asking forgiveness of the only woman who held a hungry hand and fed it as if it were a child
Wild you,
Who walks on feeble land and asks it to rise to his occasion
As if you were God
Back for a semi desert vacation
Well, hell
Come on in and I’ll feed you again because my place in this play is not hate
Its perception
In all it colourful forms
And the form of you across the table from me
I as easy to see as one human to another brother
so eat and
get the hell out
My Gypsy Dancer
The grace of her feet
Wrapped in black silk
Danced on a canvas floor
Gold rimmed tea on wooden tables
Small winds and
Wisps of water breath
A mistress hair
Wild in reflection
Of a cabin window
Gypsy dancer
Wrapped in black silk
Danced on a canvas floor
Gold rimmed tea on wooden tables
Small winds and
Wisps of water breath
A mistress hair
Wild in reflection
Of a cabin window
Gypsy dancer
A Poem Inspired By My Childhood
I grew as I should.
With or without the hood.
Find me robins of the earth!
Let us play, we are a house.
Although we do not know of house
We just make our mud pies.
and hope
In wicked houses made of plastic.
Or bumpers with shit on display.
Or sailors with bars in the way.
Or ketchup all splattered on my face.
Like a baskin garden all hidden away and maybe hated by fretful mothers who I despised.
(Unaware of them)
Your baby is here underneath my bed.
Did anyone ask to check?
I remember your fevered tune.
Up and down
So I will not become an orchestra
To anyone.
Or anyone soon.
But only if they know
Then of course a certain course of asking may entail.
My baby and child of the one that may wake.
Go on,
Life,
One more is one more
With or without the hood.
Find me robins of the earth!
Let us play, we are a house.
Although we do not know of house
We just make our mud pies.
and hope
In wicked houses made of plastic.
Or bumpers with shit on display.
Or sailors with bars in the way.
Or ketchup all splattered on my face.
Like a baskin garden all hidden away and maybe hated by fretful mothers who I despised.
(Unaware of them)
Your baby is here underneath my bed.
Did anyone ask to check?
I remember your fevered tune.
Up and down
So I will not become an orchestra
To anyone.
Or anyone soon.
But only if they know
Then of course a certain course of asking may entail.
My baby and child of the one that may wake.
Go on,
Life,
One more is one more
Something I Cannot See But Can FeeL
I was living in a lovely white blur.
It mumbled milkmen like Aphex twins.
Cascading noise.
All around.
Wind chimes and static.
The past.
As tragic as it is for you.
Or me.
The tragedy.
Soft spoken air.
Surrounds me now.
Quiet whispers of ghosts.
Somewhere transparent.
They hide and sleep.
Or sleep and breath
and grunt.
White noise.
Black air.
Some despairing place.
The roofless home.
The cold that eats us
And the ones who lost.
I give my muscle like cloth.
It mumbled milkmen like Aphex twins.
Cascading noise.
All around.
Wind chimes and static.
The past.
As tragic as it is for you.
Or me.
The tragedy.
Soft spoken air.
Surrounds me now.
Quiet whispers of ghosts.
Somewhere transparent.
They hide and sleep.
Or sleep and breath
and grunt.
White noise.
Black air.
Some despairing place.
The roofless home.
The cold that eats us
And the ones who lost.
I give my muscle like cloth.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Things That Are Beautiful
6:30 in the morning when the city sleeps and my lover is close
Tears that seem to leak from the very sinews of passion
Expensive perfumes
A new dress
The first I love you
the last
Any morning sun that thrusts itself to the valley floor
When the rebirth of a season is the very air I breath
And spring is as holy as an old ghost
as new as the past
Union of body to soul
Or friend to friend
any kind of union
Any kind of mend
Small creatures and the surety of reincarnation in the eyes
Water that looks like glass
deep and green
The first time I will see my children
And all the firsts after
The haunting echo of laughter in my empty nest
The sweet ones I do not know yet
Every comfort of warm skin
to be given
to be taken by the moonlight
Discovery
Things lain to rest
Joy
New words and any understanding
Safe landings and heroic feats
Humanity driven by the moments of truth
by the seconds of death and life, uncouth
Silver
Gold
Diamonds
The fantasy of adornment due to riches
humbleness that proceeds
And the way it helps me see other souls,
lost as they maybe,
As brothers and sisters of one earth and one big idea
Compassion played out with a heavy hand
and an honest tongue
Questions with answers
Answers with questions
The big wide world of the in-between
the un-seen
The daydream of the boy I want to talk to
And the idea of love
Quiet, passionate kisses
Firsts of the body
The midnight palace
Dancing and eating
Never seeing things as fleeting
Just greeting all the new ones to be had
Kittens
lemons
Roses
The name Scarlett
Freedom
Canada
And hope
Tears that seem to leak from the very sinews of passion
Expensive perfumes
A new dress
The first I love you
the last
Any morning sun that thrusts itself to the valley floor
When the rebirth of a season is the very air I breath
And spring is as holy as an old ghost
as new as the past
Union of body to soul
Or friend to friend
any kind of union
Any kind of mend
Small creatures and the surety of reincarnation in the eyes
Water that looks like glass
deep and green
The first time I will see my children
And all the firsts after
The haunting echo of laughter in my empty nest
The sweet ones I do not know yet
Every comfort of warm skin
to be given
to be taken by the moonlight
Discovery
Things lain to rest
Joy
New words and any understanding
Safe landings and heroic feats
Humanity driven by the moments of truth
by the seconds of death and life, uncouth
Silver
Gold
Diamonds
The fantasy of adornment due to riches
humbleness that proceeds
And the way it helps me see other souls,
lost as they maybe,
As brothers and sisters of one earth and one big idea
Compassion played out with a heavy hand
and an honest tongue
Questions with answers
Answers with questions
The big wide world of the in-between
the un-seen
The daydream of the boy I want to talk to
And the idea of love
Quiet, passionate kisses
Firsts of the body
The midnight palace
Dancing and eating
Never seeing things as fleeting
Just greeting all the new ones to be had
Kittens
lemons
Roses
The name Scarlett
Freedom
Canada
And hope
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Tilted Box
One up and up beyond.
Like a curse full mother.
Or the dead of night.
Like easy words with heavy landings
Like leaning boxes, or dirty days.
Un cleaned carpets, or whores breath on some loved.
Some kind of tainted gift.
Sick child, unborn days.
Some kind of tilted box.
Like a curse full mother.
Or the dead of night.
Like easy words with heavy landings
Like leaning boxes, or dirty days.
Un cleaned carpets, or whores breath on some loved.
Some kind of tainted gift.
Sick child, unborn days.
Some kind of tilted box.
The Coy Fishes Are Shy Today
Coy fishes are shy today
We came to break the water
With our stones
We came to laugh into our hands
and smell the heat of summer greens
Or just to play
Without the signs of light
Although we were the day
We took our time as it was to be taken
Within our sweaty palms or shaded kisses
A cotton breeze to be the pallet colours
Gently moulding one
So all that is to take us, is the same on which we run
On beaten paths
past the metal of fallen tundra’s
To savoured lakes and here we play again
It was like glass that day.
A silent cup of reflection
Held up by sinuous bark and the excitement of the sky
We are children
In the makings of our past
Who knit the threads of tiny hands
Within the ones we have
You are my lover on this day in the summer
Small devoured hands of each other
We came to break the water
With our stones
We came to laugh into our hands
and smell the heat of summer greens
Or just to play
Without the signs of light
Although we were the day
We took our time as it was to be taken
Within our sweaty palms or shaded kisses
A cotton breeze to be the pallet colours
Gently moulding one
So all that is to take us, is the same on which we run
On beaten paths
past the metal of fallen tundra’s
To savoured lakes and here we play again
It was like glass that day.
A silent cup of reflection
Held up by sinuous bark and the excitement of the sky
We are children
In the makings of our past
Who knit the threads of tiny hands
Within the ones we have
You are my lover on this day in the summer
Small devoured hands of each other
From There to Here
I once disorganised my life.
Slowly and calm.
And now past dawns.
Are everyday.
Reaching for my bones.
Disease of my soul.
“I was a tightened soul.”
Said cores of me.
Said scores.
Inner scream was weak.
With strength of hell.
I hated it so much I lost.
The game.
But played into the crowd.
And now I am the sound
Of a daylight density
Deep into my ears it surrounds me.
Life.
In worried children
Will the sun come out today mother?
Like dying road men
Will my last one be today mother?
In the eyes of the one I love
Will you be here forever?
Again I woke
Unto this crippled play
Of dainty dreams
And dainty not’s.
My body falls up now.
I can doll up now.
With no more worries of the past.
How I kid the lasting
light.
To be such moulded predetermined castings.
Slowly and calm.
And now past dawns.
Are everyday.
Reaching for my bones.
Disease of my soul.
“I was a tightened soul.”
Said cores of me.
Said scores.
Inner scream was weak.
With strength of hell.
I hated it so much I lost.
The game.
But played into the crowd.
And now I am the sound
Of a daylight density
Deep into my ears it surrounds me.
Life.
In worried children
Will the sun come out today mother?
Like dying road men
Will my last one be today mother?
In the eyes of the one I love
Will you be here forever?
Again I woke
Unto this crippled play
Of dainty dreams
And dainty not’s.
My body falls up now.
I can doll up now.
With no more worries of the past.
How I kid the lasting
light.
To be such moulded predetermined castings.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
I guess it was a kind of silent forgiveness to myself
In which I felt better about desire for this man
desire, for lack of better words)
It was only time to time I saw him
But each time was like a war in my stomach
A war with no white flag
So to throw this away would be better, (I think)
for all involved
Than to spend another second wondering
what his skin might feel like
on my wanting skin
Or his words
brushed on my ear in a winter morning
Or fantasy...
providing me with the abcense of all things
Just another secondary love story
That feels like home when I see him.
For: R.
In which I felt better about desire for this man
desire, for lack of better words)
It was only time to time I saw him
But each time was like a war in my stomach
A war with no white flag
So to throw this away would be better, (I think)
for all involved
Than to spend another second wondering
what his skin might feel like
on my wanting skin
Or his words
brushed on my ear in a winter morning
Or fantasy...
providing me with the abcense of all things
Just another secondary love story
That feels like home when I see him.
For: R.
Thursday Night
Voices like indoor winds
That rise up to each other
Such as the waves of a common sea
All these lives
Lived, and here we quiet to listen
to an earth settled angel with a guitar
For: Maiya Robbie
Inspired by: Garnet Robbie
That rise up to each other
Such as the waves of a common sea
All these lives
Lived, and here we quiet to listen
to an earth settled angel with a guitar
For: Maiya Robbie
Inspired by: Garnet Robbie
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
How is it?
How is it?
How am I gonna get here?
What is it?
What do I have to do?
Do as I have done before?
Which time before?
So many times before!
I fear again is in the works
Deep tears and hollowed sorrow
Heap of a home
Down turn to rest me
Deep shallow
Seas as black
Urchins one eyed and yellow
How am I gonna get here?
What is it?
What do I have to do?
Do as I have done before?
Which time before?
So many times before!
I fear again is in the works
Deep tears and hollowed sorrow
Heap of a home
Down turn to rest me
Deep shallow
Seas as black
Urchins one eyed and yellow
My Cold Joints
My cold joints told me I could feel winter in a desert valley
And it told me how I should feel about spring
Unheated muscle weary of vanity’s toils
Typing. and laughing
At its own make.
two Other Things
I am as fierce as I need to be
In some animalistic state
Other times I am soft like the utter of love
Easily lofty and haunting
In some animalistic state
Other times I am soft like the utter of love
Easily lofty and haunting
some kind of progression
In the winter I am the winters child
And when I am to look I find
And when I am to love I bind
I live the life of privilege and pride
And of course the other
At times
I am always a child as I am, as I was forever
And the never
never is.
As the always seems to seep
Like pillow words on the weak
Ever so soft and suggestive
And when I am to look I find
And when I am to love I bind
I live the life of privilege and pride
And of course the other
At times
I am always a child as I am, as I was forever
And the never
never is.
As the always seems to seep
Like pillow words on the weak
Ever so soft and suggestive
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
My Dearest Sister Aphrodite
My dearest Sister, Aphrodite.
There is no way I could love my sister more.
She is the me I want to be.
She is my whole world.
My voice of reason.
My Little brothers best friend.
My laughs and my giggles.
She is the best joke I have ever heard, word!
She made me cry in the best way. She was my bright sun shiny day.
My lonely tears and my shoulder.
She is the best sister I have ever had.
Some days I look at her and cannot believe she’s real.
How could I have been so lucky as to have been blessed with a best friend like her?
She was a jell-o butt baby.
She was our saviour.
She taught us all a silent grace, that we could never learn.
She learned us well.
She is the one I cry for.
The one I hurt
I’m sorry sipster.
She is the little angel that hid beneath tree with me on lower bench. And watched a rain storm
She is the one that witness an unfair life yet walks with a presence we can only dream about.
She saved me from my stupors and my heart aches.
She was my martyr of the land shakes.
Dear sister
If your listening, I’m sorry I was a burden on you.
I’m sorry you did not cry on my shoulder as much as I did on yours.
I’m sorry that you ever hurt.
I’m sorry for throwing darts at you.
You are the pot head.
I am the slut.
She told us that she wanted us all to die holding hands.
She was the sand of a calm beach. And always reached for the truth.
I want you to know that we will live forever.
And to never be scared because I am your best friend.
And I will try my best to protect you until the end.
The goddess of love has taught me how to love without borders.
My dear sister.
Thank you for you,
I love you.
There is no way I could love my sister more.
She is the me I want to be.
She is my whole world.
My voice of reason.
My Little brothers best friend.
My laughs and my giggles.
She is the best joke I have ever heard, word!
She made me cry in the best way. She was my bright sun shiny day.
My lonely tears and my shoulder.
She is the best sister I have ever had.
Some days I look at her and cannot believe she’s real.
How could I have been so lucky as to have been blessed with a best friend like her?
She was a jell-o butt baby.
She was our saviour.
She taught us all a silent grace, that we could never learn.
She learned us well.
She is the one I cry for.
The one I hurt
I’m sorry sipster.
She is the little angel that hid beneath tree with me on lower bench. And watched a rain storm
She is the one that witness an unfair life yet walks with a presence we can only dream about.
She saved me from my stupors and my heart aches.
She was my martyr of the land shakes.
Dear sister
If your listening, I’m sorry I was a burden on you.
I’m sorry you did not cry on my shoulder as much as I did on yours.
I’m sorry that you ever hurt.
I’m sorry for throwing darts at you.
You are the pot head.
I am the slut.
She told us that she wanted us all to die holding hands.
She was the sand of a calm beach. And always reached for the truth.
I want you to know that we will live forever.
And to never be scared because I am your best friend.
And I will try my best to protect you until the end.
The goddess of love has taught me how to love without borders.
My dear sister.
Thank you for you,
I love you.
Last Words
If I had one thing to say at the end of my life,
One thing for the record of all who listen,
Would it be the injustices and hypocrisies ?
Or the ever falling presidency?
Would it be the a space between you and me?
All things full of glory .
Good, be it bad or nasty
Or the way you looked that summer dancing in the half light the moon gave.
Maybe it would be the time I spent wondering how heaven could have fallen so close to your eyes and missed your heart.
Or the time we laughed so hard I thought it would surely be the last
Will it be a weary and toiled breath of the weather?
Would I bitch about every letter
I have spoke written and read?
What children I have made and become?
The ill conceived will of an enemy
Or the undone plans of my past?
What will I say to end the time of being?
Will every fear be rested on my bed of guided souls?
Perhaps a fine redemption
One last go at the holy.
Or will it be silence
As I have sought so quietly
Through this loud and soulful parade?
One thing for the record of all who listen,
Would it be the injustices and hypocrisies ?
Or the ever falling presidency?
Would it be the a space between you and me?
All things full of glory .
Good, be it bad or nasty
Or the way you looked that summer dancing in the half light the moon gave.
Maybe it would be the time I spent wondering how heaven could have fallen so close to your eyes and missed your heart.
Or the time we laughed so hard I thought it would surely be the last
Will it be a weary and toiled breath of the weather?
Would I bitch about every letter
I have spoke written and read?
What children I have made and become?
The ill conceived will of an enemy
Or the undone plans of my past?
What will I say to end the time of being?
Will every fear be rested on my bed of guided souls?
Perhaps a fine redemption
One last go at the holy.
Or will it be silence
As I have sought so quietly
Through this loud and soulful parade?
Become
Each evening resting on the floor
In the time of the valley
When the moons were especially quiet
and the lakes were still
I had this contemplation within the world I know
Alone I took time to pull at my long gray beard
By the light of past dawns
And early mornings
I had to shed my skin
Rebirth my insect
and become some kind of holy
Jan 12/09 1154pm
In the time of the valley
When the moons were especially quiet
and the lakes were still
I had this contemplation within the world I know
Alone I took time to pull at my long gray beard
By the light of past dawns
And early mornings
I had to shed my skin
Rebirth my insect
and become some kind of holy
Jan 12/09 1154pm
A poem
I laid my hands upon this board as if they
Were the beaten skin of one more.
Tired tips of tears
Or so sick of the open lungs
My fingers asked me to leave no more
Within one lonely headshake
My tears were dripping in an upward battle
I hated the game
It was eating me
It was bright lights on the side road
It was the things I did not want
Taunting me
It was bleeding fingers asking me not t o write
…..anymore.
I hate the a through z
It is killing me
And all the friends who help….
May our help be so posthumously played that we are fame..
In our fame we conquered worlds..
Single worlds
My world
Un-fae-ked is my death beyond all measure.
I will have died and have gone home.
And I do not (nor will I ever miss)
For humanity is within my brothers as it is my crippled score of men
Such cae-ked wisdom skin…
Right to the tips of red white
And pu-shed up my kin
So hard to tell them of the tsk-tsk skin
(the tsk tsk upon my finger)
The shake off of a midnight binger
And the tabs and the tabs not
The easy’s and the friend’s not
He came around the pattern as he had lain before.
In my stomach crunch as no one had come before.
One space as it was home.
Was no ones home
So finish and come back such lonely pages.
Come back
Were the beaten skin of one more.
Tired tips of tears
Or so sick of the open lungs
My fingers asked me to leave no more
Within one lonely headshake
My tears were dripping in an upward battle
I hated the game
It was eating me
It was bright lights on the side road
It was the things I did not want
Taunting me
It was bleeding fingers asking me not t o write
…..anymore.
I hate the a through z
It is killing me
And all the friends who help….
May our help be so posthumously played that we are fame..
In our fame we conquered worlds..
Single worlds
My world
Un-fae-ked is my death beyond all measure.
I will have died and have gone home.
And I do not (nor will I ever miss)
For humanity is within my brothers as it is my crippled score of men
Such cae-ked wisdom skin…
Right to the tips of red white
And pu-shed up my kin
So hard to tell them of the tsk-tsk skin
(the tsk tsk upon my finger)
The shake off of a midnight binger
And the tabs and the tabs not
The easy’s and the friend’s not
He came around the pattern as he had lain before.
In my stomach crunch as no one had come before.
One space as it was home.
Was no ones home
So finish and come back such lonely pages.
Come back
My Dearest Valley
Popsicles,
Or in fact anything fitting would do
A Bartlet pear, soft with summer flesh
A soft ado
The quite storms of sandy sheets that brushed my midnight feet
A crackled lake on fire
A borrowed view
Clay hills on clay waters
Stolen fruit
The lake would call me at night
When the summer was my friend
Its sweet tune of a thirsty mouth
Telling me things I needed to know
Within the crunch of my shadow
I listened to the valley
Like my own voice
And on quiet nights like this
The crisp desert air was as glassy as the lake
I can feel her in my bones
This place to live forever is my home
Or in fact anything fitting would do
A Bartlet pear, soft with summer flesh
A soft ado
The quite storms of sandy sheets that brushed my midnight feet
A crackled lake on fire
A borrowed view
Clay hills on clay waters
Stolen fruit
The lake would call me at night
When the summer was my friend
Its sweet tune of a thirsty mouth
Telling me things I needed to know
Within the crunch of my shadow
I listened to the valley
Like my own voice
And on quiet nights like this
The crisp desert air was as glassy as the lake
I can feel her in my bones
This place to live forever is my home
Earth
Pale blue dot
We are!
In the all we are
we are nothing
(in the best possible way)
For if we, the world, are nothing
Why should we worry so?
Or dance to the brightest day?
Why the kafuffle of early spring?
To wonder of cleaning things?
Why the reach way around?When we know the end for sure is found?
Why day, as it appears to be and all that seems to be
The hour glass ants and the sand that seeds
And down, way down,
To pages of shiny women
Oh how we claw at skin unattainable
How very, very foolish!
We are time and we are wasting
Each tick each tock
To some silly Lego building block!
Foundations oh, so fret!
By carpenters and the men who know not yet
That green is him and I
The green of silky passer-by’s
The heavy sad we carry
Perhaps is lost in space
Like pigs, who fly.
Or torched underground where ice may lie.
Each crack of feeble walk
My mother’s back to lock
and break in some superstitious wake!
Eat earth I say!
For every time of day that picks at falling flesh
Earth, you may rest!
Rest hard in a guttural spin!
I live as you live and I do not live to win
Anymore!!
We are!
In the all we are
we are nothing
(in the best possible way)
For if we, the world, are nothing
Why should we worry so?
Or dance to the brightest day?
Why the kafuffle of early spring?
To wonder of cleaning things?
Why the reach way around?When we know the end for sure is found?
Why day, as it appears to be and all that seems to be
The hour glass ants and the sand that seeds
And down, way down,
To pages of shiny women
Oh how we claw at skin unattainable
How very, very foolish!
We are time and we are wasting
Each tick each tock
To some silly Lego building block!
Foundations oh, so fret!
By carpenters and the men who know not yet
That green is him and I
The green of silky passer-by’s
The heavy sad we carry
Perhaps is lost in space
Like pigs, who fly.
Or torched underground where ice may lie.
Each crack of feeble walk
My mother’s back to lock
and break in some superstitious wake!
Eat earth I say!
For every time of day that picks at falling flesh
Earth, you may rest!
Rest hard in a guttural spin!
I live as you live and I do not live to win
Anymore!!
A poem about Joni and Leonard and some other stuff
Black haired miss-giver
ANIMATED LOVE LIVER
Artemia-s
For lack of being “MYSELF”
Black man!
White women
Skin was the same
The same, the same
Hearty stomach full of booze.
I lose!
I Lose!!!
But haven’t I lost before?
In the quake of some quiet door?
In the glass of friendly martyr breaks?
I break!
But resume fitful fear upon a floor
The one that is that of one more
The grey I say!
It is not black
And so you ask (as I may ask myself)
To be a fearless rhyme
So here I am…
I touched a tip of fingers as it was a toe
And in between was a heart that said neither
The flesh nor the bone may break
So the heart middle may fake
This place
This commercial comedy
SO again here I again go
I saw her, you know
In a poolside 70’s
She passed me to the Leonard of my head to say
I wish I could go back in time….(so did I)
Clear blue of chaotic 70-’s swept
And I , of course, was left
O wake
To ask, oh heaven forbid, again
Of the wordless world that held her and him
ANIMATED LOVE LIVER
Artemia-s
For lack of being “MYSELF”
Black man!
White women
Skin was the same
The same, the same
Hearty stomach full of booze.
I lose!
I Lose!!!
But haven’t I lost before?
In the quake of some quiet door?
In the glass of friendly martyr breaks?
I break!
But resume fitful fear upon a floor
The one that is that of one more
The grey I say!
It is not black
And so you ask (as I may ask myself)
To be a fearless rhyme
So here I am…
I touched a tip of fingers as it was a toe
And in between was a heart that said neither
The flesh nor the bone may break
So the heart middle may fake
This place
This commercial comedy
SO again here I again go
I saw her, you know
In a poolside 70’s
She passed me to the Leonard of my head to say
I wish I could go back in time….(so did I)
Clear blue of chaotic 70-’s swept
And I , of course, was left
O wake
To ask, oh heaven forbid, again
Of the wordless world that held her and him
Sir Mew In Kitten Stew
I shall not make kitty stew
All the trouble to patiently brew
To measure the spices with care
To shave a small kitty hair for hair.
Mr. Wilcox
I shall not do the bare cat.
But the incessant persistent claws on the door.
Meows like I didn’t hear him before.
Eager side hopping and swatting and then,
He hides in the closet to do it again.
He sleeps on my stomach
Then pees on the floor
Oh, brave little kitty, please bother no more
Please go get a job, get out of my house,
In all these eight years never killed but a mouse.
Then, my sweet little sabre tooth, kisses my nose.
And with one, two three, four, five, soft little toes,
Is patting my face, two seconds before sleep
He helps usher my soul to the land of the sheep.
Oh the restraint that I show for the one named sir mew,
One more day goes by without kitty stew.
All the trouble to patiently brew
To measure the spices with care
To shave a small kitty hair for hair.
Mr. Wilcox
I shall not do the bare cat.
But the incessant persistent claws on the door.
Meows like I didn’t hear him before.
Eager side hopping and swatting and then,
He hides in the closet to do it again.
He sleeps on my stomach
Then pees on the floor
Oh, brave little kitty, please bother no more
Please go get a job, get out of my house,
In all these eight years never killed but a mouse.
Then, my sweet little sabre tooth, kisses my nose.
And with one, two three, four, five, soft little toes,
Is patting my face, two seconds before sleep
He helps usher my soul to the land of the sheep.
Oh the restraint that I show for the one named sir mew,
One more day goes by without kitty stew.
One Winter Night
I was clasping a winter night, the way it should be.
Gray and howling
I was one half of something else.
Staring at the moon.
Through a lonely window.
Past the clouds and the ideas.
Past the warmth to the sky.
And then back down again.
To an absent fire.
And a bed on the floor.
Cold and reflecting of recent flesh.
This winter night was creeping in the windows.
Seeping down the walls
Crawling on my chest.
I am this gray room on a Sunday night.
With soft glows of sitcoms.
On lonely screens.
And the pale orange of a Calgarian winter night in my heart.
In my dreams.
Gray and howling
I was one half of something else.
Staring at the moon.
Through a lonely window.
Past the clouds and the ideas.
Past the warmth to the sky.
And then back down again.
To an absent fire.
And a bed on the floor.
Cold and reflecting of recent flesh.
This winter night was creeping in the windows.
Seeping down the walls
Crawling on my chest.
I am this gray room on a Sunday night.
With soft glows of sitcoms.
On lonely screens.
And the pale orange of a Calgarian winter night in my heart.
In my dreams.
writers block
Writers block
My pen won't move
It is all that I can do to lose hope
Can write about love
he's too lost to care
Cant write about the frost shards
it's summer time out there
The lonliness is so far gone, that I've let go of holding on
The pencil hates eraser, you see
And the little rubber shaving are blowing free
From the breath of whiskey ridden me
My tortured soul is tortured not
My peach is ripe no longer rot
My soft right hand is growing weary.
Maybe I should just move to Siberia!
To say that in this trip I'd find the writings of a lonley mind.
For locked up, boxed up, thrown away,
is all my inspirational frays.
Poised and pretty,
Hand is steady,
Come on brain im more than ready!
dot, dot, dot...
Any second now
The thought's will be behind my brow
I'd change this place as i see fit
Just too bad my pen and paper quit
My pen won't move
It is all that I can do to lose hope
Can write about love
he's too lost to care
Cant write about the frost shards
it's summer time out there
The lonliness is so far gone, that I've let go of holding on
The pencil hates eraser, you see
And the little rubber shaving are blowing free
From the breath of whiskey ridden me
My tortured soul is tortured not
My peach is ripe no longer rot
My soft right hand is growing weary.
Maybe I should just move to Siberia!
To say that in this trip I'd find the writings of a lonley mind.
For locked up, boxed up, thrown away,
is all my inspirational frays.
Poised and pretty,
Hand is steady,
Come on brain im more than ready!
dot, dot, dot...
Any second now
The thought's will be behind my brow
I'd change this place as i see fit
Just too bad my pen and paper quit
Two things
Two things that do not know each other have never met
nor set the pace for two things that know each others face
nor set the pace for two things that know each others face
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
