Street Corner Streets so empty, an eerie silence Trash blows across the vents, lifts slowly Grey and Black, strangely metallic and cold A breeze leaves a chill and the mist rises And there on the corner is the sage Hair hanging like branches, held up by a greasy glue Hands encrusted, coated in slime and filth Dark blue eyes, blood-shot and dry As I walk by he raises his claws and beckons me He probes my soul and senses my distress His words so smooth with beauty like a melody How he can tell I can not begin to know In front of me he stands up, dew falls to the ground His stained shirt and torn pants make me step back He makes a wry smile with mossy, yellow teeth With his fingers he points, let him take you, not yourself Manic I am no king of two nations, I can not rule both I am no god of two universes, only one worships me I am not a driver of two cars, I must drive one Nor a baker and an iron worker, a vegetarian and butcher, nor alive and dead, I am undead I can not be on Earth and the moon I can not swim and die of thirst I have no dream yet I am in space Without hope yet faithful, shielded from desire yet unarmored from the world I am falling yet standing I am strumming yet tone deaf Seeing though I have no eyes Devoid of Consciousness though awake, feeling pain though numb, I can not choose and be alive
Silent Night The air is cool whether by my emotion s or the night I am surrounded by a serene tranquility, an undying calmness It is the last moments for me to endure and enjoy The perilous task ahead beckons to be finished My eyes close, my body breathes, no longer to be A dream of a candle that has been snuffed out No longer mighty, nor ever were, punily pathetic I reach for the finality once more, I sigh Destined to end but the deadline extended again The roaring of my heart is like a lion, but without courage I collapse, as cold as the night air, or rather my soul Styx Styx flows daily and rightly, uncontrollably Surrounded by light, flanked by purity, yet hollow The core, the depth is darkness, the soul flawed Passively failing into disrepair, addicted to its own death Without hope, but always hoping, without faith, but true Darkness triumphs evermore as the soul longs to leave To be sent up or down is not its care, only to be gone Maybe to a place where pleasure and laughter are free The rimmed halo, glistening and bright shudders at it The crusted horns, clawing and biting flee from it One simple action, one desire brings so much pain One simple action that should bring so much pleasure
With Both Hands I sit and instantly my pulse sharply rises My face is calloused, stern, apathetic, perfect I pull the scraps and place them in front of me I receive plastic in exchange, I am ready The two icons are tossed at me, I glance Numbers, colors and shapes with such meaning The others glare and stare like piercing arrows I throw my plastic in the middle, it is greedily eyed The scraps are flopped into the center Livelihood is thrown into the cauldron I throw my own sweat and tears as another ingredient Another scrap is turned, fear is creeping in What do the others possess, what do I need We pull, prod, infuriate; Give me a sign The last scrap slides into view; brief silence The last plastic, the toiled treasure, is thrown The icons show themselves to be liars and thieves One sits and looks with a smile, the fox among them My grin is devious as I toss my scraps and collect the plastic Defiant, haughty and satisfied I wait for more Always more Hope A glance, a look, a touch, some hope All I ask for To hold, to care, to love, desire All I want The warmth, the smile, the laugh, peace All I need
Rise Patterns in the mist, patterns in the mist. Rise, Rise Patterns in the mist, patterns in the mist. Rise, Rise Do we see what we see Or only what we want to see Do we see what we see or only what we want to see For the world we live is changed From our perception arranged Done Deal Life is not a done deal with the outcome sealed It can be changed and warped to suit the idler Split apart into parallels all drifting into one Then they do not become parallels but angles All coming towards one point, the focus In that focus is your God, the universe Change it with your free will if you must It is the center of everything and anything Shall I? As the net rises with the fish So Shall I As the sun sets with night So Shall I As the flowers bud into bloom So Shall I As Life continues through everything So Shall I As the world unites with peace So Shall we As the earth becomes one So Shall we As tolerance is with merit So Shall we As love makes miracles So Shall we
Sinking It spins around like a tornado but with the allure of a carousel You both fear it but find it oddly desirable and elusive Calling to you you walk closer and inspect its oddities Unusually dark, shafted, sharp and completely jaded Smack it, burn it, warp it, torch it, beat it, clean it You can not escape it now, it has become everything in you You are living by it but forever dying by it Grabbing hold of anything you fight away But its too late, the hold tightens You spiral, sinking Self-destruction Blackness O, ok Don't avoid the life put in front of you Do what your told on your cue Listen up and don't shed a tear I got your life for you right here Tear yourself apart trying to stop me But I'll be the one, the mystery Conform, reform and out-preform Lke living life under chloroform
these are great! What a relief from the typical poems that we see on here. All very well done, with purpose and excellent word flow.
Hummingbird A warm night among the many houses of congregation rouses my curiosity and need for brotherhood. I enter the area of excitement and activity, so much going on; it is almost overwhelming. I glide into the hive of movement moving so slowly when everything else is moving so quickly. I observe what is around me when I see her standing there. We catch glances and exchange smiles but I see so much sadness in that beautiful face. Someone that pretty should not be sad. She is friendly but troubled and I go to investigate. The small talk and interview begin. She is like me, unable to smile at the world that she is trying to enjoy. Surrounded by happiness, joyful debauchery and blissful ignorance we can not truly smile. Without this we can not truly live and we feel the emptiness. But now there is a togetherness, not dependence but a sense of completion. The wonders of understanding and mutual struggle. I extend my hand and she touches it. I feel the warmth in her hands and it rises to my heart. I can feel again and it is enchanting. We exist again; we are again. She leads me away to a better time where I will gain a sense of fulfillment with my new found desire to live and love. Why hasn't this happened yet?
I've been writing some short stories instead of poetry recently. 84 in 34 Stepping through the dark street and slinking through the alleys on his path to the convenience store. He Steps through and browses the sodas coming up with a Mountain Dew. “Hey, two peach papers and a pack of Marlboro.” “6.50 sir.” He is Eighty-four in the year 2034, skin of a sixty year old, third heart, seventh set of lungs. It seems God does not want him on the Earth, but science strands him. A modern day Frankenstein but this time Man is triumphing. He snatches the merchandise on the ground and walks to the poorly-lit parking lot. Looking over his shoulder, as if guilty, he lights the first two cigarettes simultaneously. His smoke flows upwards in lofty patterns that make him ponder his hard life. He’s endured coal mines, wars, aftermath and cancer three times including his bout now. There’s a look of sad wonder in his eyes as he ponders his life. Thoughts creep through his head asking about the various actions and occurrences and why they happened. He can’t figure out; but fate or destiny he postulates. Unscrews the Mountain Dew and glances at the yellow green liquid. With a sigh he takes a swig but not after hitting it with some vodka. He tries to forget his life and live in the present but always reminisces. He does not want to but that is his nature. Has life gotten worse or is he simply unlucky? The Earth obviously does not thank us and is she pushing Karma onto one person. Martyrdom without a cause is a cruel way for this man. Four cigarettes discarded, half a mountain dew sloshing in his stomach and a cruel past are all that becomes this man in his moment of epiphany. He isn't even aware as he forgets the past for this brief moment. He enjoys his drag and watches the smoke circle as he steps back into the alley and disappears.
Theistic Thesis Left in the dark I wander around Missing the light since it's holy I don't devout nor believe It is not there; it's been proven Miracles don't actually occur Someone tricks themselves Tired or stressed out visions Superstition makes a mockery Worship is inevitable to some Those they worship cannot resist Greater and greater forever The one at the end is infinite The list becomes long and narrow Becoming a sloping triangle The name at the end is not long But it has existed forever Dreams can not display it Religion has not found and used it It is unimaginable in the end It is everything but nothing
I particularly like this one I just wrote. Intelligence is bliss I am the intellectual The Anarchist mind on the offensive Swift words, taunting repartee I see a perfect world I am the intellectual The billowing thunder in the sky Striking thoughts, wondrous applause I see the tired world I am the intellectual The pacing speed of my heart Boiling blood, dreaded truths I see the corrupted vision I am the intellectual The dirtying slander through power Caustic desires, trademarked lies I see the faulty system I am the intellectual And I will not be stopped Pigeons The streetlight shines on the black pavement casting an orange shadow Lost souls, tired souls, elated souls and the rich have walked under it It has watched great sorrow and lit the scene of lovers’ passion It sleeps in the day and awakens in the night to cast its glorious glow No one thinks twice of the happenings it has scene, the world it knows It has been cursed, kicked, perched upon and used as a bulletin board Dogs have used it as a bathroom but it simply does not care But how I wish it could speak its wisdom from its experiences to me The moments it has seen, the dialogue it has heard, the rough hands it has felt All of this becomes a reminder that we need to sit down and watch the chaos
Little Girl Little girl with the needles in your arm What would daddy say about you now Little girl pushing everyone away The dark makeup glows around your eyes Pulled a trick just to get a hit last night Fell asleep staring at the walls of some motel Being used like the substance you abuse Little girl please don't run away from me Blinked twice to realize you were there Lying on that moldy couch all alone Haven't felt love since years back The knife begins to look very friendly She carves her initials into the wall But worse, also into her writhing arm Control the pain so you have something Used the knife to end the pain forever
Red Glow The sun casts a shadow as it sets on my childhood I lose sight of everything I once knew and learned Old thoughts and visions cease to exist, unwanted The dark night is reflected within my own self I become a recluse, still childish in my actions Trying to become something I am not, so foolish But a glowing red begins to shine across the Earth Optimism resurfaces for me as the sun rises again
The Siege Jagged buildings like gnawing teeth cut the sun that bleeds the morning. Concrete cracked and crumbling sit in their foundations with blown off heads while giant wounds in their sides caused by artillery that weave an endless thread Streets are littered-- rifles, photo albums, corpses, cribs tanks, cars, shit-stained pants, teddy bears, a bloated stomach near an outstretched hand of a toddler hoping for one last touch from its own mother. Once bustling, now empty-- The city will be filled again and the battle remembered as a National holiday while those who died get a pitiful moment of silence
Perfect Fit We lie like a key in a lock a perfect fit My hand slides across her hourglass shape caressing, massaging, just holding Our eyes closed we both focus on feeling each other Her warmth puts me at rest I am calm and content But, My God... She is Beautiful! Eyes like a mountain pool Frame like an hourglass Smile to melt me in my shoes I grab her flip her kiss her I can not begin to describe the feeling she stirs within me Longing A sinking feeling washes over me Irrational fear that things have gone wrong I must hold on to her
Without Me Everyday I dream about the emptiness inside My life looks like withered grass dying in the sun I keep saying how things will change with the tide All I dream about is how my time is done So life can go on as planned without me Life can be changed without me There will still be peace and happiness And everything in between I know the world will still spin Even if I'm not around They say I’m young but I feel ninety seven I can’t believe my own thoughts The path in front of me leads to heaven I hope no one hears the shots I was suppose to be a rich man, raised right and true The expectations for me were so far away Now I see myself as gone with a life I blew Time goes by so slowly in such a strange way So life can go on as planned without me Life can be changed without me Originally a song, but condensed into a traditional-style poem.
Chico Nights I don't know how I do it How I forget those lips of hers How I can forget her beauty to dine in my own feast So alone at the table and incredibly unhappy I feel the guilt of being away from her A guilt which is hard to understand I yearn for her touch her smile I desire nothing more than her happiness but I feel like I cause the opposite I want to see those beautiful lips in that smile I long for so much I want her to feel warm even when I'm not around Automotive Dreaming My keys clank in my hands as though they were clapping I am in a hurry once again to pack my bags Clothes, toothpaste, toothbrush, deodorant The well-seasoned drive back to my beautiful girl is about to happen once again I'd drive 150 MPH if the law would let me and sometimes I try to I just try to get there as fast as I can My car roars with every press of the gas pedal The breaks whine as I am forced to slow down or stop as if they were sad it'll take just that much longer My mind races through thoughts of the past week my regrets, my triumphs but mostly it just thinks about her I'll get to hold her! Finally! There is nothing that can cause a smile on my face greater than that thought
Family Reunion A piece of plywood divides the house Straight down the center The men and women stare at each other and then blankly at the wall They don't understand what has come between them They are confused, dazzled by the new wall They try to tear it down but begin to tear apart each other They grapple and fight The aftermath shreds everything but the wall It will always stand
Field of Dust A field of dust and brush is populated by a boy, almost 14 He sits cross-legged with his guitar which is strum, strum, strummed The only tree uprooted but not willing to die gives him some shade He lounges, his hands leaving his guitar to catch the falling leaves The songbook, of religious reference collects scattering dust on the ground His hands play The G, A and E of a popular song he hears in church Callouses form on his fingertips, he hopes to be a great player But he always sits calmly, rationally, knowing he'll never be anything So he picks up his bible and relies on God to show him what to be He knows he'll be average, marry and raise a family Stuck in a small town or if he's lucky some suburb The ruffled pages of his well-read bible shine gold on the edges He cannot truly understand the words that he reads so there he sits Quizzical look on his face, eyebrows raises, mouth slightly gaping He is bored and always trying to find something to interest him He takes a long look at his bent, black bible and tosses it to the dust