Sunday, April 30, 2006

screamo

It's you, isn't it?
Turmoil inside
and you're the culprit.

I lay prostrate
on the floor in utter darkness.
Sudden insomnia
plagues my existence.
I inch closer to the speaker.
I can't turn it up.
The man inside
screams from his audio prison.
My heart joins in anguish
as my mind replays it over and over

you take her hand,
knowing i am more beautiful
dressed as a man I may be?

He inhales sharply
to scream again;
the full power of his voice
blasts through the speakers
and I strain to hear it.

you spin her into arms
in perfect rhythm
as my heart beat quickens

His lungs have failed and
his heart is way past beating
the song fades
and the speaker dies
and I remain motionless on the floor.

you finally push her away
as choreographed.
Everyone joins the dance.

Dutifully, I crawl into bed
for the last few hours
of the night to carry me away

the green of her dress
matches too perfectly
my mood, like some perverse
mood ring.

Mourning is coming.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Rejuvenated (Press)

And I lie there
under the gray sky
with a calm life that seems to quietly walk inside it.
And the silence,
the still presence,
allows me to hear things miles away.
The soft, moist grass provides a comfort
not found anywhere else.
I feel replenished
by the silence of the world
as though from this lifelessness
I am rejuvenated.

My eyes can rest in the tranquil gray lighting.
That beautiful unique smell
which comes only from the water in the sky,
fills and clears my nostrils.

And I lie there
relaxed
calm
alive
as soft drops of rain dance their way onto my body.

Heartbreaker (Press)

I know she's done this before
and what's been said of her sort of makes sense,
but it's not really her fault,
things don't quite match up to her agenda,

and she doesn't have the compassion or heartlessness
to go along with things,
and give a well-intentioned lie.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Orphan-press

Big Brown eyes look up at me
Small Brown hands hold mine
While we walk
I think what more can I do?
Harsh worlds surround us
Soft words are used
No communication is needed
I think what more can I do?
So small and wise
So cute and alone
While I sit and look
I think what more can I do?
Brown in White
Hand in Hand
I think
To see so many
To help so little
While I watch
I think what more can I do?
Big Brown eyes look up at me
A look no one can resist
While small brown hand hold mine

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Untitled (Press)

I'm restless.
My feet ache to pace the newly-mowed grass
and I can no longer keep pushing this desire away.
I tuck my small, blue ipod into my front pocket,
arrange my journal, folder, and recently removed flip-flops
underneath my jacket, and tread softly over the grass,
bible in hand, following my feet as they lead me across the park.
I can see the other people there
sprawled out, all alone, sitting, standing...

and yet I ignore them as I cross quickly to
the cloudy water of the lake.

Perching carefully on a rock sitting half submerged in the water,
I dangle my fingers off the edge,
skin lightly trailing through the water.

For some reason, this action has soothed my restlessness,

and I am again able to open up, and explore Your love...

The music changes, song to song, and still I sit,
hands alternately stroking pages, and the murky cold water.
I talk to You as I sit.
Hesitantly at first, scared to open up and
acknowledge
myself, my actions, my desires, my thoughts...

but soon discover a borderline-obsessive need to spill-

spill everything, spill thoughtsdesiresactionsself

I'm done and I feel a sense of...
peace? acceptance?
as if all I'd told You was nothing new,
and You'd already forgiven.
The rock has turned cold, and I jump up and
run,
carelessly and without a destination
stopping
when I reach my own grassy hill,
and throwing
myself down into the grass and staring
up at the newly forming clouds.
A need for sharing comes over me so sharply
I gasp
slightly and my face is suddenly plunged into darkness
by Your shadow as You tower over me.
As though You can read the half-formed request
in my mind-
request, or need, I haven't quite determined-

You lay next to me, on top of that hill,
under the
scarcely clouded sky, and together we lay in silence,
a silence in which we share everything,

a silence I am loathe to end,
but must break,
as the distant shapes of all the others
stand up slowly,
ambling over to chat with one another
as
they head back to the bus, back into the present,
and I must follow.

Saturday, April 08, 2006

Time (Press)

Much more is needed
She says, as the efforts fall
D'clining, like whispers

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Untitled (Press)

Your footsteps echo mine
as we walk slowly along the sand
and behind us trail two sets
of faint footprints
casually disappearing under the
waves' desperate fight to claim the beach.
The salty water caresses
our bare legs, still pale from the
long winter months, and we both
screech when the occasional over eager
wave splashes our clothes.
You stoop and pick up one of the many
sea-worn rocks and heave it into the tide,
as if with this one motion you rid yourself
of any and all of your worries and fears-
the ones that so frequently replace
you light, carefree laughter with a
silence louder than the oceans own song.
I stop to draw randomly in the sand,
intertwining names, drawings and dreams,
and you take this moment to wade deeper
into the icy, salty water, until it
darkens the bottom of your shorts and
you shiver at its cold, comforting embrace.
I come and stand beside you,
sharing in your quiet reflections.
Moved by the warm tears racing down
to cling to your cheeks, your chin,
I slip my hand slowly into yours,
sqeezing gently, and I turn around
to claim the warmth of the fire,
left to burn indifferently
inside a ring of rough-hewn stones,
and leave you standing there, alone.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

The Sad Truth ( bless)

A sad but hopeful mother sits crying on the bed.

Outside it’s raining with a death upon a bed.

She cries not for her self but for the child she lost on that bed.

While the night unfolds and the stories are told, she will sleep on that

deathbed.

She thinks not of what she’s lost but of the many more because of the

bed.

It’s a hard struggle and she will see her death upon that bed.

Monday, April 03, 2006

Oh my romeo (bless)

I know you are out there
I miss you where ever.
I spend countless nights crying over you.
When will I see you again?
I wish you could feel me
Feel my heart cry out for you to come to me
I am waithng
I miss you my dear

Life just isn't the same anymore
I went to grocery shopping
and I started crying over the memory of you
Come sve me my romeo
Juliet is crying out for you

We are stuck in the notebook

I will never stop loving you
I can't go to bed anymore without crying 311 tears over you

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Reverie (Address)

Address: Does this poem make any sense? Should it?

thousands of images
pass before my passive eyes
as my mind dreams them up
as only it can
because reality will
never present me with
such hopes as this
restless creature does -
my soul sleeps fitfully,
living in this second
existence, unparalleled,
jumbled, and shrinking
as I surface back to life
and the realization
that my thoughts
will lie dead and useless
but I cannot bury them.