Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Conversant

Oftentimes there is very little for any of us to say

that is relevant or insightful.


Our nature forces us to fill in space with the sounds

of our voices filling the expanse.


It is no surprise then that we find the company and

conversation of others to be dull and lifeless.


What we rarely consider in these matters are the 

views other have of ourselves.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

marathon

My mind has run carelessly
through the fields
thinking of you.
It's legs have grown tired.
Now it rests in the shade of a tree bough.
The wind bends the grasses
like a wave
coming in,
going out.
It sleeps
waiting for 
what is 
coming next.

Monday, August 29, 2011

The Philosophers Hand

I walked up to his shop just as he had closed it up
for the night. He said he would open up for me if I
really wanted to look around. He unlocked the gate
and pushed it to the side, a rusty grinding sound
bled into the night. He flipped the light switch
flooding the shop with clarity. There were guitars
lining the walls. I had never seen or heard of most
of them. Pools of water were scattered across the
room looking similar to baptismal fonts you would
see inside a church. He stepped from the back of
the shop and emerged with a silver plate with a
hand resting on it palm up. There are illustrations
of the great classical philosophers standing upright
in their robes with one arm at their side and the
other raised upward pointing at the heavens. That
is what that hand looked like. I could only watch
in awed shock as he walked around from one pool
of water to the next. Each time he would tilt the
silver plate towards it as a few drops of blood would
color the water. "I guess you could say I practice
the black arts." he said before the  question ever
left my lips. "You need to open yourself to other
phenomena in this world." I couldn't help but
think of this as a beginning.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Refocus

Breath in and remember

you are still alive.

The summer is ending

the weather is warm

as people mill about the beach.

Smile,

it's the most natural thing

you can do.

Let the change wash over you.

Let go

Let go

Let go

and become the sea.
What is there left to do


with the ashes


smoking in the ruins


of what we once knew?

The Choice Was Made

Some men die like Gods


and


Some men die like Dogs.

Bruised Flesh

Bruised flesh

feels nothing

as the blood

stains the skin

and nerves fray

again and

again and

again.
SOMETIMES


THERE IS NOTHING


WORTH FIGHTING FOR


EVEN IF


YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE


STILL FIGHTING


FOR IT.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

an empty space

where there was

once a place.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Blasting Concept

THESE CANYON WALLS


YOUR voice A PENDULUM


S
  W               G
      I          N
        N    I
           G


BETWEEN STONE.


A sound
as faint
as the sun
setting
over the 
desert.

Her Name Was Katy

and we were at the bar

drinking

smoking

next to each other

as our group of friends

were oblivious to

one another.

I asked her for a cigarette

and she said

only if I can have one of yours.

No problem

I said

as I pulled out a pack.

We lit each other up

and began to make

the small chat

people like us tend to do.

Each word

each smile

was an invitation

to get closer

and closer.

We were judging time

by drinks,

cigarettes

and friends who had to leave

because of work in the morning.

Finally

we were left alone

as the bartender

readied to leave us both.

Riding a wave

of proximity we

kissed

as sweetly as

two drunks

smoking in a bar could

kiss.

So when can we see

each other again I said.

I heard her phone number,

Three

Two

Three

and I woke up

never hearing the rest,

wondering where she could be

as I heard a bird outside chirp

while I sat myself down

to immortalize those few

moments we had

in a world too good

to be real.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Sea(m)s


There is a sound I see
There is a sound I see
There is a sound I see
There is a sound I see
There is a sound I see
of the sea in me
of the sea in me
of the sea in me
of the sea in me
of the sea in me
as the waters bulge
as the waters bulge
as the waters bulge
as the waters bulge
as the waters bulge
against the seams in me.
against the seams in me.
against the seams in me.
against the seams in me.
against the seams in me.

Yes, I Still Love You

Love is the understanding that binds 


us both beyond any differences that 


divide us.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Future Cartography

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

You, My First Love

Turn to that first love

when the walls are

crumbling.


When dead end streets

with burned out light

posts are everywhere


and you are just looking

for somewhere to rest

before you hit nowhere.


That first love is there

despite all the broken

promises and half-thought


dreams of grandeur.

That first love has been

patient. Watching,


Listening from a distance.

Knowing that one day

you would come back


on hands and knees.

I sit here now at your

feet once more my love.
The Heart & Mind


are far more violent 


than any physical 


acts we could make.
The Past is a dead hand. 


The Present marvels at its own existence. 


The Future is born every waking moment.

Just On Hanging On

I'm not sure if you can hear me

but I'll go ahead anyway.

Well,

I know things haven't been that well lately

and you've been beating yourself up

over things you really have no control over.

You can't keep doing that

you just can't.

If you do

you're just going to end up in a bad way.

I've seen it before.

Don't do that to yourself.

I'm not sure what else to tell you.

I'm sure you've heard it all.

Keep hanging on.
Cryptomnesia
“when a forgotten memory returns without it being recognized as such by the subject, who believes it is something new and original,"

Monday, August 22, 2011

It All Goes Away

The anesthetic of a fool flows through me like

the waters of a stream

clear in sunlight

exposing the rocks

and fish swimming

downstream.

It numbs the mind

soothes the heart

and makes it all

go away.

bile

There is bile waiting to flow

from my throat and spill

down my shirt

at your infantility.

It's hard to choke it back

down so often but

we both know

this history too

will have an end.

An Early Evening Late In The Summer

The ceiling fan blows the air

through the office as the sun

begins to set over the beach.


Cars move slow through the

avenue as an ambulance cuts

through the illusion of peace


and calm in this beach town.
DO YOU THINK THE SAND 

EVER WONDERS WHERE 

THE TIDE IS TAKING IT?
_____

BLUE FOR YOU.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

A Fork in the Garden

There is a path that splits the garden in two.

The apple tree guards the fork

as you make the choice on

where your feet will follow.

Does the choice matter if you've never

been down either path?

Once you've made your choice

you understand it is a garden

you will never return to.

Does it matter which path to choose?

All things grow as they should

in the garden.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Sieve

My Heart

& Mind

have becoms

sieves sifting

through the

days.
Un Ours Seul.

A Form of Salvation

There is beauty in my life once more


when I hear your voice singing to me.
Our lives are filled with seasons,

with leaves growing on branches,

withering in the fall.

Friday, August 19, 2011

i found no answers while looking in your eyes

you found no comfort listening to my lies

let the world pass us by

like leaves dying in the fall

decaying on the forest floor.


Thursday, August 18, 2011

What do you dream about 
when you wake?

In the morning when you wake

There are no words left at the end of a day

there are only results of actions

left to judge our tasks.

In the morning when you wake

the words have come back

again, ready to do

whatever must be done to

make it through the day.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Howling Beast

the beast is howling deep

into the late hours

a sound mixed with pained

cries of

why not me

why not me.

beast

you are always

screaming

but I never see you

doing anything

to change

anything.

Deal

I'LL SELL YOU MY DREAMS 
IF YOU GIVE ME YOUR SOUL

The Cruelty of Routine

We have let ourselves find comfort in 

familiarity.

It has bred a complacent heart in me

that cares only for its routines.

This is dangerous.

This is deadly.

This can only bring about one end.

Whose hand gazes upon

and turns the wheel?

There is a change breeding

in my blood, 

in my lungs,

in my heart

that must succeed.


Tuesday, August 16, 2011

A Collection of Short Bits

pot-shot hopscotch
_____
god is a liar and so am i
____
this incongruity is killing me
_____
the years are carving away

my skin. Oh, how the mask

changes.
_____

sometimes we don't care for the cost

of our actions and do them anyway.
______

when our emotion is severed from the action
we let the violence of our hearts reign.

______

what we have known of each other and
what we know now are two different worlds.
_____

King of Hearts you are always lonely

in your castle waiting for the Queen

of Spades who left so long ago.

Monday, August 15, 2011

wrecks

it is always too late

to save what has

already been

destroyed.

The Means of Definition

what are you attempting to convey by the

s      p     a     c     i     n     g

of words or by their

infrequentratesofcompressionwithorwithoutpunctuation

?

Is symmetry a stated goal

or

are jagged lines an acceptable means

of provoking

critical thought?

I'm afraid it is all highly

irrelevant.

Hardly anyone will ever ask you

about your aesthetics...

but time and time

Again

EVERYONE

will want to know

How MUCH

you make at

WHAT you

DO.

Friday, August 12, 2011

RE: Time

time can be best described

as the means by which we

keep track of the order of

the passing moments.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

locationlocation

OH...

there you are.

I've wondered

where you've

gone, how

you've been.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Good Thoughts

Like two particles changing spin

across the infinite expanse,

sending these vibrations

to you.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

How We Change, How We're Always The Same

I can't hide these thoughts anymore.

There are tears, this is an end.

Dreams never die, they only change

and so have we.

There is grief in you, in me.

Lets live these last days together through.

Together forever...

yes, its true.
fill the emptiness with meaning?

how easy it is to say that,

how hard it is to make it so.

Monday, August 8, 2011

The Density of Meaning

All dressed down and everywhere to be.

_______

Must I hide all meaning behind dense metaphor?

_______

empty the bottle

fill yourself with life once more.

_______

I want to scream

meaning clear

from the roof

into your window

and say

say

say

everything

I've ever needed to

say.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

One Hot Afternoon Nap (Draft 2)

         I went to sleep in the middle of the afternoon to the sound of her voice singing to me.

         I could feel the heat grow as the fan recycled the hot air. A helicopter had been combing the neighborhood looking for a man they would find locked in someone's home. He was a petty thug like all the other wannabe badasses with rap sheets. When the police cornered him he emerged from the house with a woman in her mid-40's in his arms. He brandished a pistol and pressed it against her temple. Guns were drawn. Shots were fired. A few bullets hit him in the extremities while another pierced the flesh just below his heart. The fatal shot blew off a chunk of his skull. They both collapsed to the ground. Red oozed out across the ground like cherry syrup. She was never quite the same after that afternoon.  Covered in blood and brains she sobbed in gasping breathes with his body next to her. She had been grazed in the leg by one of the officer's bullets, but otherwise physically unharmed. The story would later make the rounds of the local news affiliates. 

         When I woke up the shooting had passed and the record had finished. The afternoon was still hot as police taped up the crime scene. At least one person would have that afternoon seared into memory.


"Don't Wake Me Up Cause I Will Want It To End When I Open Up My Eyes."

#1
The Illusion of Content.


#2
The Contentedness of Illusions.


#3
Its All Tears In The Shower.


#4
The Lingering Memory of You Wakes Me From My Dreams.

A Common Exchange

It starts out simply when you let a few

words out.

You hear them emerge from you in

varying degrees

of clarity.

That sound you hear

happens to be your own voice.

It always a little different

than what you hear in

your mind.

There will be some gesticulation

in order to emphasize a critical or

emotional point.

The person standing across from you

will take that moment as an opportunity

to respond.

You'll wonder if you look as ridiculous

when you speak.

You'll conclude that you couldn't possibly

look like that.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

It is never all darkness


nor 


Is it ever all light.

minor complications

a heart beating out of time

is always much cause for concern.

intense attraction to members of the

opposite sex can lead to fluttering 

feelings and a redness of the cheeks.

this intensifies when the desired one

is out of bounds due to prior

emotional commitments. 

at some point something must happen

on the side of the one looking to gain the

others affection. perhaps something is

awkwardly said in a moment of alcohol

fueled courage. that course is never 

advised. if the topic is broached while

sober the chance for success increases.

when the subject is broached there can

only be rejection or acceptance. at that

time new complications arise.


Hero's & Villains

We all take turns playing the roles of
Hero & Villain.
The night is a story that writes itself.

Friday, August 5, 2011

The mess becomes part of the process.

Know You

Crickets and a breeze

blowing through

the trees,

the only sounds

we needed

that cool

summer night.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Do the leaves suffer

as they wilt and fall?

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Logical Progression

pages make

the chapter

make the

book.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

irrational

your hand touching the wall of a darkened room


searching for the familiar in an unrelenting space



pupils expand as  blood quickens  


fear stands the hairs on your arms

Monday, August 1, 2011

filling in space

spider spinning its web


across the broken glass


the moonlight beaming through


/ hours /

/ hours /

invisible to the touch

we can only measure

passage in the faces 

we see

/ hours /

wherewherewhere

have you all

gone?