Tuesday, December 7, 2010

the traveler

:Intended as lyrics to a song. Mostly for my grandfather, to show that I'm still writting and think of him every time that I do:

With my telescope,
I can see far places
Lands and you
and 20 new faces

Come and gone
travel two steps forward
and one tot he right
we circle the globe through the nights

With your hands in the air like and airoplane
we will revise and devise with every brush of the wind
and then we'll hide
wrap the cool earth around us and nestle and wrestle with the pines

tomorrow's not
in our dictionary
we'll supply
father time with bribes of glass

In a small sailboat
you float the waters
I whisper to the wind
to blow you to my bed

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

2.bodies

It's the beat
that flows through you to me
that insatiable pounding of our bodies
up and down breath is heavy and you look at me with a smile
all the while
i cannot trace my face
i have lost composition and control
as you now hold the key to my ecstacy
it's beautiful, comfort in every movement
I shy away afraid of my own body but you hold tight,
sure of your actions
a look of pride upon your face
nestled too deep in comfort
I let myself do
not think but act
not for an instant hold back
that which I hesitate flies
the OO and AHH flitter to me
compliments on a new spectrum of language
We communicate through touch
never deceiving or tricking
you are mopeingin me and finding me
in a new place known as vulnerable
I have yet to be sure if this is wise
but my eyes can see that you with me is good and
this dance is free and flowing and
filled with peace and reprimand

The Wall

It is the wall
either tall or small
it stands
REgardless of sleet or ice
of strawberries and mice
through the bad seasons or the nice
weather that actually brings us togheters
which is why i write this
almost like my thesis
to the young to the old
to the meek soon to be bold
crack down that
wall where mistrust sat
laughing at
the soldier that you are back
agianst the wall
grip tight at swing
feel the power that it brings
whooosh and it falls
thundering sputtering remains
opening the domains
feel the righns loose hold and fall
all the remnants a reminder
almost like a trophy
the small fee that you suffered
all is open
all a token
connect the unspoken

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Cookie Culprit


O ho! I smell a heavenly smell
lingering in the air.
A smell so sweet, o what a treat
for this young debonair.
The culprit here, were the cookies there,
nestled in the jar.
My greedy fingers did only linger,
till it topled and fell so far.
Shattering, upon the ground
I quickly hid in fright.
This debonair had lost his flair,
for fear of his mothers might.
I left my hiding place to eat
the dinner my mother made.
One look at me and she could see
it was I who disobeyed.
As I would guess dinner I did miss
still I tried to state my case!
Alas it 'twas no use atall
the evidence was upon my face.

Monday, November 30, 2009

when i write you in


you are my unfinished poem
the words that i want to write
but can't seem to mold my lips around
the message that is left with a fragmented sentence
more commonly known as an incomplete thought
you are the misspelled word
the troublesome word that i've heard, o i've heard a thousand times but can't quite get my nimble fingers to relate it to the page
you are like the pen with no ink
the pencil with no lead
the inspiration with no release
you are the perfect utensil with no means of practical use
you are the ball of crumpled paper on the floor
the once good idea that went no where
that didn't quite make it to the trash can
could be picked up and reexamined
could be recycled
could be left there as a sign of what was
of what could be again but better
you are my unfinished poem
staring me in the

blindmanstrot


the Schizophrenic Actor plays the part on every page
deliberate & demanding
becoming first nun than sage

the Schizophrenic Actor knows not their own true form
mastered & martyred
their character is their norm

i do not speak of stage or screen
i speak plainly of human race
who gallop round without a sound
and never truly seeing

Saturday, September 26, 2009

The stench of solitude

My ass it hurts from sitting for so long
My mind goes weary
clearly theres something wrong
My ass it hurts from sitting for so long
o but here in my chair
there is only joy everywhere
My ass it hurts from sitting for so long
O But my darling
is this not calming
My ass it hurts from sitting for so long
Get up and move it
grove it and travel on