“Where I Lay”
Mountains of water,
Relinquished in the face of adversity’s apex
From a plummet, hell bent on landing skyward
A wayward zephyr strumming the riotous wheat
Drumming upon the rosary,
Eternally embedded in my cheeks
Streamlined resistance of glaciers conform to
The heat of petroleum sweltering the limits of green…
Toppling, crumbling, and crushing.
“Abandoned”
Not the coast, not the shore,
And not the sand, not the seals,
Make me better
Or reveal.
Like light beaming down,
I
Only
Forsake
Beauty
For
Expansion.
The beauty negated;
Like a prom queen with a cold sore.
Come beneath,
This umbrella
While I, lather sunscreen.
We’ll swim,
In the tide, in the moon, until
Eyelids don’t open
And can’t see…
What I have Abandoned.
"Tug Of War"
I pull,
She hushes.
Behind a silhouette stained pane she’ll wait.
My grip—layered of splintered skin.
Moment, she feels mine,
And second, she slips away.
Not because—
My footing is not grounded.
But yet,
In the moment of solitude,
Only I can realize grasping.
No concepts,
Pure uncut irrational
She will, o yes, like this:
Tremble the ground I walk,
And turn away when I ask.
Vibrations just pushed
Now my calluses can’t hold
You jaggedly
But don’t let go,
We’ll both fall.
"Looking At The Unbearable"
Truth has died
And the sun burns away at my eyes
Looking beyond achievable and obtainable.
Something like a fist
One cannot look at this
Overnight illusions slip through
The cracks of fingers while
Dreamers carry throughout their day.
This always happens
They’re happy. They still run
After what it means to try.
And I sit and stare at the sky cry on me and wonder why—
Are the skies gray and music blues?
And still; dirt underneath my fingernails
Speaks out just like one day forever:
Scratching the surface of untouchable
Phobia of staring bright too long,
And now I can’t see it to ponder beyond?
Because to know where I have came;
Is to know where I have gone
And to know that I’ve dreamed
Is to know that I’ve slept.
And to know that I’ll fail
Is to wreck a dreamer’s dream.
"I Told You So."
Dear 100 years into the future,
I’ve placed in you my trust:
That when this letter arrives,
You’ll hear the echoes
Whispering chants
Of a lesson learned untold
Or of a broken heart
That shouldn’t be.
Placed in you is my trust,
That you’ll know more than I do.
And the weather now is cold:
And your skin will stick to it, like mine.
Moments have been stolen,
And I’m stealing yours now.
And when you look back,
You won’t see me.
You’ll hear me;
And I’ll tell you:
I told you so.
"My Sunny MAY-DAY"
Meet me down in the middle of my spiral,
And I’ll show you underneath my rugs
Where—warmth will get us talking seamlessly,
And Sunday nights are chilly and deprived.
Underneath the arch of my smile:
The downward curve, and the milk
Yet to breach the brim of what I call “keeping it together”.
And on the window seal of my soul,
Water steeps…then evaporates.
Recycled cycles of cycling through sickles of seeping…relapse.
Two steps back, I’m fickle.
Blessed underneath this rock,
Leave it unturned,
So I can remain unburned.
Leave me away. Or join me astray,
Into this man’s Sunny May-Day.
"Man Not Mad Confronting Articulation"
Enjoyment at its finest, entangled with truth
Searching for the right word, worried.
Worried my first person yearn will be void
Having I strangely in tune with creeping paranoia.
Searching for the right word, worried.
Paranoid my feelings are diminishing
Having I strangely in tune with creeping paranoia.
Fading away from my grips with articulate
Paranoid my feelings are diminishing
Slipping through worm holes of what’s right and not.
Fading away from my grips with articulate
Verbing what’s there and tired with pronouns.
Slipping through worm holes of what’s right and not.
Soliloquies daily—kicking myself as if too try, or
Verbing what’s there and tired with nouns.
On the plank, that’s on the edge, that’s on my tongue
Soliloquies daily—kicking myself as if too try, or
Philosophy I’m discontent; psychology I’m struggling.
On the plank, that’s on the edge, that’s on my tongue
Satisfaction just around saliva’s corner.
Philosophy I’m discontent; psychology I’m struggling.
Putting into words silent discussions of a madman
Satisfaction just around saliva’s corner.
Quiet down man not mad, what’s on your mind.
"Men’s hearts failing them from fear and the expectation of those things which are coming on the earth, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. 27 Then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. 28 Now when these things begin to happen, look up and lift up your heads, because your redemption draws near.”
Luke 21:26-28