I'm tired.

As I browse through pictures,
I turn so jealous, so discouraged at what my peers do.
I haven't been handed,
a thing in my past, while others just coast on through.
And here I am, grasping,
my early years yet - already a figment of peoples' past.
But a word for my father,
who has taken things harder. I know this is nothing but me.
Shake my head, blink,
squint; dig fingers in, buried - until this soreness is rid.
And here is the thesis:
the reason I write. It feels like steering into a skid.

I Can Wish All You Want

There's a partition in the mind which grows amidst the static,
caused from over-exposure to our own thoughts and habits -
the culmination of being alive in these times,
so perfectly aligned with what we "want" and "what's right".
This pokes me awake, right at the edge of sleep,
where I wonder where you are and if you're awake,
do you think of me too? I know you cared once...
and once is enough to ingrain.
I know this is foolish, this wishing game.
We all grew up knowing our lives would just change,
mold, and grow old into wrinkles then dust -
even metal rusts.

But metal we're not.
We're broken and battered from this norm we all breathe,
shaky slip-steps up the stairs to the grave,
oh there's no reason to lie when your time wastes away - - ->

They say you can't feel,
after a certain amount of love.
They say you can't love,
like you loved your first one.
They made you believe you're one of a kind.
But you're not. Sorry. You're not.

In this cryptic place, there's hope in my state -
I know I'm still young and I'm not going away.
And I have plenty of love, for the one(s) I will meet or have met,
knowing til death -
my hope
won't let
me quit.

The cynic now sleeps,
pulls up the sheets,
up to her nose - she's uncovered her feet...
she shivers; it's cold for a heart.

It's cold for a heart with no heat.

Definitely

You might not know me, or say that you do -
but I'll ask this one question: Would you really want to?
But here's my decision; it came through the quick -
where the lightning strikes ground and we build houses of sticks.
"Run away with me!" See? The wind sings me to sleep,
"Get away from this town!" down, the roadway still speaks.
"And never come back." The trees lie a lot,
and when no one is near they mock all our thoughts -
of running away. Of sweet sanctity.
"All work and no play" bores the Hell outta me.
But, oh, Heaven help me! All cliche's melt away,
and those who don't know me let their sorrowed heads sway.
If life is a battle there's not near enough action.
If life were a movie it'd be 'Fatal Attraction'.
If life were a song, it'd sing itself hoarse.
Since life is a boat it will sure sail its course.

Why Do Girls Wear Chucks?

In my life, my brain still chews,
questions so truly cryptic:
Like, why does a girl look so smooth,
when you've both denied advances?
Is it the hair (straight), the eyes (bold),
which boil my blood to dust?
But of all of the things I wish I knew:
Why do girls wear Chucks?

Why is it such a mundane trigger,
as simple as a pair of glasses?
Or pair of shoes or brand of jeans,
which tend to tip my bias?
The girls that seem so far away,
regardless of what is "us" -
But why oh why... I have to know,
why so many girls wear Chucks.

Why don't women understand,
not every mans' the same.
In this age of copycat,
There's less of us enslaved -
by history, and immaturity,
true, there's some still stuck.
Hand in hand and heart to heart,
but your girl still wears those Chucks.

;)

Do They Serve Their Stated Purposes

Every thought of women.
Every lie a thought.
Almost any person,
dwells on what they're not.
So if every dream is empty,
and with every thought a dream -
seems to me we're all sleep-walking,
with walls between our needs.

How to keep this simple?
How complex the simple comes.
Nearly any person,
sure deserves more than their sum.
So when every day is darkness,
when the dark peeks way to light -
will your God give in on Sunday,
when portioning out your plight?

Oh, "You don't know how beautiful you are!"
The mind, Shakespeare to mouth.
~When I try to speak... the words... just won't... come out.

Oh, "If only you knew I love you; at the least for what I see"
And I see such beauty every day.
~'If only that guy were me.'

God.
Line after line on repeat.
Hope lost in the rhymes.
But therapy is important. See -
maybe you'll read my mind.

Read into me

Up front, you're a stunner -
a myth - a Man's dream.
You know...

The kind of girl who takes everything.

But below you're, just. Normal.
A word-twisting floozie.
- Please excuse me.

Do you think we're all dumb?

Well, maybe numb. Yeah.
But Men built these pillars.
Fought every battle.

You're a cynic. We know.

But you're doing damage.
To yourself and to others -
you see it.

I see through your lies.

At the End you'll be wishing,
that second chance knocked -
a third time.

Oh please stop.

You're just you. That's the crutch...

Some of the most beautiful people are the most ugly inside.
You're jealous of Sister and the body she pilots.
Some of the most beautiful people are the most ugly inside.
You fuck every bad guy that can't tell the difference.
Some of the most beautiful people are the most ugly inside.
Oh, fuck they'll all know it when the cigarettes age you.
Some of the most beautiful people are the most ugly inside.

Believe this.

A Women worth having is a Woman who knows it.

So sorry. ;) I wish I knew you before this.
Maybe I could have stopped it.
Maybe I'm hopeless.

Samuels' Requiem

(Sung)

In the light of dawn we bathed -
back to the earth, down deep through the sea.
From God's arms we're made and back to them we'll run -
and be locked safe 'till his Son returns.

There's no pain in this place -
my body gives way to stars and to space.
Dust into flesh and shelved back into stasis;
At night in your bed may you sleep, don't weep of me -
rest in peace.

These are the two pieces that I entered into Broken Plate. The first deals with my feelings toward knowing that a relationship will never work out and the second... well, that's pretty self-explanatory. Enjoy :)




...with you in mind

I’ll wonder why it is,
this wishing well wisp -
awaiting, away your days.

Friends tells you lies,
your heart just smiles,
even though your face can't make the shape.

You've cried enough nights,
your hurt has holed, coiled -
burrowed deep in souls' dark soil.

A good attitude acts, its
flimsy flaunting - your body scrapes,
weak and frail as your sanity spins sane.

We saw this begin. We won't see it end.
Human nature is flawed, and so are your friends.

Manic thespian sits. Weightless,
sick. With worry, regret – a stasis.
Of poignant nights void of touch and kiss.

Your past blurred by present events,
only smudged up your vision, hence -
the future needs little leverage to carve out its place.

Ha! I barely blip on the radar.
No land-ho! for this sailor,
“Keep traveling lone pilgrim, your port is at storm.”

Well, one day you'll see me,
atop mast with ship coasting -
below your eyes weep, but I can’t be forlorn:

Yeah, I saw this begin. I won't see it end.
Human nature is flawed, and so am I, friend.

...

The End

The long journey has come to an end.
You see;
Your last stop has passed by on the way to the grave,
And like the dog that’s gone astray,
You found your way back home again.

Touch the gravelly sand if you may,
Let the course grain shake you awake,
This is your home if you choose to stay,
The trees ‘round hang like sorrowed heads say:

“Can you not stay and make your bed,
Beneath my boughs to rest for all time?
No man or beast can stir you from sleep,
No force can take you while we stand guard.”

They whisper still, those wisps of smoke;
They tickle your ears and dance in your throat,
Look down and you see, a fresh hole dug,
He looks back at you dark, but reassuringly so.

The hole speaks low, and though he reeks,
Of fresh earth and moss, gently he speaks:
“Come forth my child, I mean you no harm,
Lay down for awhile, this is where you belong!”

Even the grass, brown in the dusk,
Screams at your ankles, to join them thus,
You can join them on the cycle of life;
Ashes to ashes, dust to dirt mold and grime.

“Join us!” the three in unison shriek,
You feel so compelled, but is it time for your sleep?

Is it really that time to lie on that cold muddy floor?
To look up at the sky and say goodnight to the world?


You look into the eye of the dark and with a sigh,
You say, “Sorry dude, it’s just not my time”
And you turn on your heel; dig it into the dirt,
And run from the grave that beckoned you forth.

And you startle awake to a hospital bed,
The taste of sterile air greets your aching head.

Your parents and loved ones hover over you and stare,
Of all the people; you were the most prepared.

The End seemed so peaceful,
So still, so serene,
So you will go back,
When it’s your time to sleep.