Words are just a representation of every day experiences and I hope to share a few of mine with you.

Monday, January 25, 2016

And they answered; this one

Who is the greatest poet of them all
Sheds shackles and casts shadows tall
But does not overbear the learning ones 
And false life livers he will shun 
Who's fingertips radiate light of Suns 
And feels their work has just begun 
This great writer is not well known 
Under bushes, trees, and branches has grown 
Raised not by this world but the world by them 
Their spine gives shape to every stem 
By them the flowers grow and bloom
Their readers read and escape sure doom
Words may be sad but bring a smile
Cause tears to leave and so too guile
This word they make a better place 
To the top five they do not race 
Syncopated heart and pace
Each line permanent, do not erase 
This writer is a quiet voice 
Not excellent by mere choice 
A gift is given every now and then 
This gift is shown by ink and pen 

Friday, January 15, 2016

Their Churches

People in their churches 
Sit and sing to gold and man 
Saying "My God is a good god who cares"

Idolize their lives to grey 
Contrary beliefs turn their heads away 
Libraries grow and bibles hit the ground

Love and greed both read the same 
Self interest is a playful game 
But not to the bodies who've fallen 

But by all means 
Play on 

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

Facade

There is no sound 

Only the sound of walls 
The nakedness of the dark. 
Phallic and catatonic I'm still 
Appropriate 

Revelation through light;
No consumption for days 
INappropriate

Monday, December 7, 2015

High Hopes


A soft cry comes from the other side
Silvery sweet like keyboards never could 
When I got called in by the campus 
You never left the portal 
Real people keep updated 
Wether they live 4 minutes or 4 hours away 

Long dark curls always smiles
Politics seemed dreary 
A sad revelation of the world 
Growing older and darker 
No skin cream for this broken skin 
But she's got high hopes 
High Apple pie in the sky hopes
Breath takes second, near her apple pie 
No Marie calendar easy bake preservatives 

Hand made 
Easy trade 
This world for the hopes of Andra Lee 

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

nostalgia


sleep sweet
sweat steep
wake cry
repeat

sleep street
run eat
clean freak
future bleak

we're too old
we're not old at all

learn drinks cash
friends hide plight
crash hard bloody
hospital takes sight

words crumple still
heat beat slows
forks pierce skin
needles hug toes

we're too old

we're not old at all



***************************

Poem for Poem

Write about me and I will write about you

For old times sake

And for nostalgia


Comment if you're interested





Sunday, September 6, 2015

Severance

I'm pulled to the eye 
The flight of a one winged fly 
But please remember me 
When you're half asleep 
And your thoughts smoke, spiraling 
Remember that field of space 
A rather ambitious race
Beside the stones, stumbling through the air 
Where we embraced temptation 
The grass relinquished from its ovation 
Our shouldered threads strained 
Neglecting the future pain, it would bring 
To never hear you sing 
And sit in silence, flowing like gravy 
Watching the dog lick myself up of the ground 
I feel so round, as if I will never end 
Then a sharp bend, pulls me away
Far from today, you'll find me there

A handful of hair
Shoes filled with dirt not feet
Eyes replaced by spoons
Some creature I will be

But please 
Please remember me 
Fondly 

Sunday, August 2, 2015

Happy Birthday From: Loops Of Apeirophobia



The evil had spread 
My scar tissue it's bed 
Carried by tubes of red
Ever soon I'll  be dead
My limbs made of lead
A counter clockwise head
Couldn't read the words the bible said
Eternity and dread 
Marked exactly one year ahead 
The signs I had read 
To my memory had wed 

The fear of goodbye

With few in the sky
Stars rarely pass by
And away with my heart fly
Scattered thoughts brain fish fry 
Cohesion evasive knots untie
Loose and malleable let out a sigh

To disguise the pain inside 

Tell me it's okay my bride
Or sooner run to another thrill ride 
I'll have my arms at my side
No need for companions, I've tried 
Come and go double the tide 

Until all the sand's gone now 
Furrow of a brow 
Take my bow
My future to endow 
But it's all a surreptitious vow

And I wonder how the chicken got in my brain 

Sunday, July 26, 2015

Selenophobia.


At once I was a werewolf
No longer can this form I take
For you my moon had gone away 
Never my true form could I make

The window shades in front of thee
In forms of men and absent apology 
Formed my inquisition for the whereabouts
On what other wolves might your beams shine

With lack of light from a creatures care taker
The fur and teeth had gone
Now covered up with coats of clear 
Shoes of not and mitts of grit 
On a cold and sloping shard of moon
A lonely man will always sit 

Monday, May 25, 2015

Word Vomit

I feel like I am standing on the edge of a cubicle world 
And the timeline of civilization is running under my toes like a movie 
And when graduation comes into the frame 
It only reads "up to you"
"Up to you"

And I think that's what scares me most 
No matter how my life turns out it will always be only my fault and nobody else's
And that kind of pressure is enough to make the world turn round again 
The only thing about round
Is it never starts or stops 
Which means lots of time for decisions 
Lots of time for revisions 

Time is a one way deal 
And once you give it away you can never take it back
I'd say I spent my savings well on the past few years 
I'd say I made an investment 
I wouldn't trade the people 
The dances
The teachers
The classes 
Anything 
I wouldn't even trade it for a beard like Kyle and a mind like Anis 

Because sure writing is great 
And it's always there when you need it 
But the acting of the stories you tell are what really matter 
The adventures and monotonous Netflix marathons 
Whatever you do 
Do it well
And with a purpose 

Act deliberately 
---------------------


I hope at least one of you will miss me as bad as I'll miss all of you

I hope I helped at least one person

I hope 

Friday, May 15, 2015

Oh How Subjective The Wrists and Minds of Men

Existence, subject to time and reason
Never to influence another 
But through some off shot memory

So trivial is the exploration of its meaning and significances
But how sweet its indulgences
When one can free a mind from its dictates

Ensnarled by the minutes and passing moments
Can I not yet realize the time ahead?
Or does my feeble mind choose instead
To focus its talents on that which is present and certain

Even if only for a fleeting moment at a time

For each passing experience 
Is subjective to its ancestors 
And do not exist until the moment they do
And the moment after their fore bearers, cease to

If living by each transpiring twitch of the hand
Will comprise my life
I choose instead
To rid myself of awareness
And so too the leather chains on my wrists 
Adorned with circles of gold and silver

Only to prey on mans predispositions
To become enthralled 
In the trivial 

 

Sunday, May 3, 2015

Reagan The Curtis

To be completely honest I have unwarranted prejudices against your blog
I just remember your posts and slams being happy
And as a teenage boy that wasn't ok
Where was the sadness, the anger, the resentment?
And now that I have more thoroughly assessed your blog I see its beauty
The magnificence in your continuous positive outlook is what makes this gold
Along with the stellar imagery you have in each poem, its amazing

Although I just spoke my adoration about the constant positivity I would like to see a bit of variation
I mean once you find a good style for yourself its gold, so don't stop
But it never hurts to experiment around
I would love to see your capabilities in other tones of writing

Your work has mad flow, its clean plumbing
Reading your pieces there weren't ever times when I thought
"ooooh that a rough verse" or "this needs revision"
It's easy to tell that you put a lot of work into your writing, and that's awesome

I love that you make this blog your own
I can tell the writing is you
It matches your persona and temperament so well, well done

The metaphors you conjure are on point
I love how some are a little far fetched too, just adds to the depth
My only critique would be to perhaps diversify your vocabulary a bit
I have always loved words and maybe you will too
Maybe you won't
Sometimes simplicity is just as powerful




Favorite lines: "Like a six minute silent phone call is everything and nothing all at once and nothing is worth everything so long as someone else will appreciate the static with you"

"Paperweights are supposed to get along with gravity
And physics never quite applied at 18"

"I forgot about the sun"
That one is my all time favorite


I hope some of this was useful
I hope none of this will be taken negatively or offensively because your blog is awesome
I love your background
Keep on writing for you and do your own style

It's what you do best


Wednesday, April 8, 2015

THE ROAD


The post apocalyptic ash runs down my shower curtain
Staining the undersides of my toenails 
And through the holes in my footwear I am reminded of the end of posterity 
Familial bonds decayed from disinterest and egotism 

I condemn myself 
I condemn myself
I create myself 
I condemn myself 

Walking and breathing
Then stoping and heaving
Falling and leaning 
Only to wipe away my face;
Streaming

Bonded by our pinky fingers 
We forged a bond that could only be broken by the final temptress
The black veil
And she came far too early 
Taking you slowly she taunts my dried eyes 
I tuck the white handkerchief away
Not yet 

The washcloth tied around my Adam's apple isn't much more than empty promises 
I broke the small ones
And the big ones caved that much easier
Apologies reverberate in my skull 
But easily deflect of yours
And the sharp edges are sending the mash-up out my ears 
It's no wonder hearing evades me 

Trees won't fall on you unless you let them 
That's just the statistics
But if they do, you'll see the eulogy of the passers by 
Etched into their bark 
And I am hoping I'll find yours 
Reading;
"Walk to stay away, stay away from the ranks of the breathing dead"
And so my feet bleed 
But at least I am not only breathing 









-Special thanks to Cormac McCarthy for the basis and title of this poem. 

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Entreatment.

New life is introduced in floral prints and grammatical marks of inquiry 
Engulfed in uncertainty, denial, but mostly estrangement to prior constancies 
My limbs transcend the barriers placed by the stigmas my own mind has conjured

It's sweet and fast 
Like blowing out dead dandelion heads
And the final seed is always left for the second burst of wind from my lips
It serves to remind me of every job left half done 
Every job where "thorough" and "detail" were left on the couch 

It's silent, however the fingers puzzling across my skull
Are leaving a trail behind as treacherous as Sherman's March to the sea 
And when I look it the mirror the lines inter-tangle and wrap around each other
To form the eerie shape of a mouth
Crooked and cracked 
And with every furrow of my confused brow
It seems to utter the words "trust me" 
Trust me it says 
Trust me 

Investing such emotion into my own cognitive processes is uncertain 
And something I rarely do
But maybe this time I can do it

Because she told me to 
I

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

What I Want



Ubiquity in two minds that fit like nails in wood
Irrevocably close 
Constancy in the surrounding population
Like train schedules 

This train station is covered in IOU'S 
Signed with borrowed pencils
And even if you took them down their radiation shadow would remain
This environment is toxic 

Coughing up raspberries, like jam is being rationed
My raw throat wants companionship 
And so do my arms 

The floor is lined with spoons 
And the mirrors are replaced with them too 
That way it won't matter what we look like
Because we won't be able to tell
I know I look like a human being and so does 
Everyone 
Else

Everyone

Else


Serenity in acquaintanceship
And self worth to match the filters on all our posts 
I think we all need a heavy dose of rationality 
The way we tattoo status on our foreheads 
Is enough to make the neighboring states wonder how we are surviving 



Truly I don't think we are 


Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Perception

 









Greeted by serenity, we exchange feet
Sublimation walks into my person
And I let him occupy

The mountains personify me
"Living" they analyze 
And hanging upside down I smile back at them 
From ten feet up
"Different" they whisper 
"This one sees with its limbs" they conject  

Pouring from my ears 
Blades of grass lye beneath me
Encircling it 
Cushioned crater 
Carpenter's cutout
And the hands that made it, omniscient 

And at the other end sits a crouched figure 
Or standing
Depending on the figure 

Floating down or falling 
Indistinguishable now
Figure proclaims its presence
Then wets my completion 
We spar our way to supper
And at night he tells me of the other side

And how I'd like to go there
It seems

Certain 


Thursday, March 5, 2015

Perfect.

Every drop that fills your frame 
Is exquisite, and ostracizes my limbs into shame 
The curls in your hair, on the end of your toes
And the freckles slipping down the tip of your nose 
Create a race so rapid and quick 
Often my fingertips need awakening from a needle prick

I'd like to ask you about foreign countries and constellations 
Or perhaps we may critique facial expressions then plan a vacation
To places in mentality of lasting significance 
Like self-actualization or cherished times of remembrance  

I bet you'd smile when your sad just to spite the tears 
I'm sure you scoff and laugh at your childhood fears
And replace them with things that may not exist
But their relevancy to you is enough for my help to enlist
In the salvation of your fingers and tender mind
Darling, there aren't many left to of your kind 

Above any aspiration or beautifully lit dawn 
I wish to see you without makeup on

Then I'd hope and pray 
That I would have the nerve to say

Darling you look the best today

Thursday, February 26, 2015

11•2•14 2•25•15

Today was supposed to be another day

And how I have made it this far, I can't say

Tiptoeing shoes are still far too loud

I'd really like to be someplace else, perhaps dreaming in a cloud

And today is grey inside and out, Amy I know it's  just for you

Whether kicking or crying, I know you'll make it through

We don't understand why and most never will

But a precious, tender heart, is something never to kill

For Terik, and Hunter, and all the ones still here

I love you, I need you, now life without you, is the only thing I fear

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Passive Repressive

Tightly sewn between words spilt from your mouth
And the ones kept dormant with doses of fear
My perspective about the whisperings has been condemned 
The way the eagerness left my spine and slipped out the cracks in my heels has left my jawbones an eerie muted shade of purple 
Interwoven with swelling cyanotic veins I can feel my mouth locking shut
And I let the television characters carry the conversation 

It's quiet

Monday, February 16, 2015

Selma (Freedom assembly post)

Her name was Selma
And she wore 1965 on the INSIDE of her sleeve
Tucked away from the view of the outsiders
But all the locals knew the old patch well enough
Each stitch was stained with their own blood

And Martin Junior loved her so very dearly
But when her father became too handy with the switch
He knew the only place for him was fifty miles down the road

At night, he dreamed of parades
Full of reds and Browns...

Yellows


And dark purples



Bruises and blood puddles
But come morning, he found the papers had published his midnight thoughts
Determined to let the whole world know his thoughts
He made his mind into a printing press
And he slept twelve hours every night

He dreamed dreams of smoke and shields
Guns and guards
But also of pens and paper
With presidential seals as their rosy red cheeks

As the printers ran dry
His vocals became his forefront
And one day, Martin Luther told all of Washington about his dreams
And as the accolades and awareness grew
The resistance become more fierce
Until the day it layed him down cold

But I hear even in heaven, they have telephones
And I'll bet the first thing he did, was give old Selma a call
And tell her about his dream last night
I would bet they talked about how "men like him" didn't fit anymore
And I'll bet he used his every last quarter on that machine

As phone wires turn into cell signals
And marches turn into drives
Our midnight experiences remain unchanged and unhindered
Do not take for granted that which comes in the unconscious

But instead
See what you can do
When you have a dream







Monday, February 9, 2015

Homage.

From behind the window of your cigarette butts
It's hard to focus on the pain
Focus on the pain
Focus on the pain
Focus on the pain

It's so incredibly difficult to place an I.V.
When you have got me waking like this
So please, leave me alone for two minutes
And I can help you for thirty

It's been nearly three months
Too long for anyone to be gone
And three months is most certainly not long enough to build a shrine
Or anything worthy of what he was  IS
Go ahead and try
It will crumble out of self pity

The surrealism fogs my mind
I can vaguely see my clouded judgement
Constructing a casket of its own
Soon to be layed down
The wood is a dark red
The color my fingers turn when I hold on for too long

Absent greetings and shallow eyes compose my state of being
Someone please bring a shovel
And dig out my heart, lungs, and mind, so I will know they are still there
Because I think they died when he did



Forever in my thoughts and heart
11.2.14

Sunday, January 25, 2015

Evolution of Living Circumstances

The empty thought processes became apparent on the crippled wallpaper
Floral designs suffocated with the anxieties of tapioca minds
The consistency of the air became more like bark
Impenetrable from the years of acclimation
The incessant barrage of hatred and malice that ripped through it 
Eventually became the backbone of the intangible 

Carpet lays beneath the inordinate amount of stalagmites 
The ferocity of the bleak emotions perspires and collects on the already moldy ceilings
And passing through the V-shaped walkways 
One can hear the tension of the rock tombs
Wherein lye the aspirations of the young children who used to run in their place 

Crevices emancipate the ancient workmanship of doorways
The rudimentary invention of pivoting portals have fallen
Far more difficult entrances entrance the eyes of wandering adolescents 
But for those who venture to believe the welcoming nature of such vicious openings
They soon rest at he threshold of what could have been 
And for the ones who have yet realized the danger of change and transcendence between realms of comfort
And those of animosity 
Clean feet remain on the opposite side of the bloody walkways

Containment cells take the place of areas once deemed bedrooms
Decorated with the nightmares of its prior inhabitants
The very paint dances upon the edge of the conscious of those that enter
Fallen leaves ferment in the excretions of failed ambitions 
Alongside the rotting self confidence of twelve year old girls
The odor created intoxicates the most trained minds
And in a state of nausea and euphoria it's victims lye in a pool of disappointment 
Given so graciously by their fathers and brothers 

Toothbrushes trace the eating habits of the family inside as the comfort calcified food crushers 
And sadly find no place to go as the pantry wains 
Pillows become replaced by books
No time during the day to study, evokes a disparity to learn 
Instead the hours of daylight are spent barricading defenseless lungs and hearts  
And in hopes of education, feeble minds attempt to soak up knowledge during slumber

The ideal location of inhabitation is perhaps on the other side of grocery store receipts
Or adoption papers
Perhaps even the echoes of a jury's convictive consensus 

For now one must make do with beaten sandals and cans of food claimed by botulism