Dammit, Chuck…

•March 30, 2015 • Leave a Comment

I just read a poem in a bookstore,
About poets writing poems,
And how it should or shouldn’t sound like a poem,
And how poets writing poetry apparently repeat themselves often,
Fuck, Chuck, you sure did use the word poem a lot,
Made it sound all dumb, feel strange,
Like tying your shoes with mannequin hands,
I don’t know what I’m doing now but it sure isn’t writing one,
Those things,
What the fuck does this sound like, Chuck?
Is it a poem yet?
I need to get this out just like you wrote about,
I guess that makes it worth my time,
though it will take up a lot of space in today’s pop up picture poetry pamphlets that pass as collections,
See what you did?  The mess you made? 
I was just looking for direction…

•March 29, 2015 • Leave a Comment

You put your left cheek on my right shoulder as the movie began,
I can still feel it there,
I nervously let my right arm fall into your lap with the hopes you’d hold my hand,
You did,
I can still feel it,
You smelled like a sensual fruit flavor I can still taste,
And a musk that left me dizzy,
I’m still spinning,
Right now,
Many moments later,
Every detail still fresh,
Every dreamed second,
I’m still sleeping,
I told you I’d be honest,
I don’t want to wake up alone,
And no morning since has been as beautiful as you.

•March 29, 2015 • Leave a Comment

it wasn’t what you said,
and it wasn’t the way you said it,
it wasn’t the tone of voice you used,
or the sound of your butterflies getting in the way,
it was the feeling,
the way you meant it,
that’s why you still linger,
I’m OK with that.

•March 29, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Goodness gracious, great ball of fire,
You know they’ve been writing about that fucker for thousands of years,
All its glory, its splendour, the power,
And all you can do is complain about how bright it is, just like you complain about everything,
And you wanna write shit…
you wanna be a poet, right?
Well a poet writes about life,
start living…
You wanna write music right?
A musician plays what they feel,
start feeling,
You want to be in love, right?
A good lover gives more than they are ever willing to take,
Start loving,
You wanna be a man, right?
Well a man is not measured by the length of his stride,
By the thunder in the throat or the scars that he hides,
start growing,
No, a man is not measured by what he does with his hands,
Or by infinite stories of conquered lands,
Start growing,
A man is not measured by how many fights he’s won,
or how few tears he sheds,
or how well he keeps his shit together.
He’s measured by the size of his heart, but you knew that,
Start growing…
They’re all so big,
Like skyscrapers that speak…

You’re so thin now…

•March 25, 2015 • 1 Comment

Someone spoke to me today and made me feel like I was dying,
Like every syllable was a last gasp,
An uttered regret,
And a chance for redemption,
I hate the phrase but I’ve been finding myself,
While everyone around me stares as though I’m engaged in the opposite,
Just because my frame now fits my heart,
Just because I’ve become a beautiful implosion of pale,
Because of the mangled worry bleached whites that break free from the tangles of thinned out thickets,
And how I sound like I’m always walking away,
And how I usually am,
Someone spoke to me today and made me feel like I was living,
Like I was doing something worthwhile,
Like I was earning badges of healing and courage that have been branded into my skin,
For all to see,
This one is a work in progress,
This one is a newborn star just discovering its taste for fire,
And a black hole,
With an indiscriminate eye for the light that others shine,
And boundaries that are always swelling,
Expanding and contracting with ever increasing wakes that swallow all I know and make it my own,
To learn from,
To grow,
To fill the shell in shoes that stands stranded and put wind at my back,
To help me walk,
Not away,
Not anymore.

•March 23, 2015 • Leave a Comment

The untouchable,
They’re mist,
So much larger than this little life in all the right ways,
Casting shadows over everything,
Leaving you with no choice but to put down your silly pursuits,
Walk away,
But I read your book, I saw that interview,
I heard the way you laugh,
You fuckin dork, I expect you to be better than that,
Writers, keep your words on my eyes and out of my ears,
And to all those rock stars, keep on playing but please stop saying…things,
Every time you heroes speak you become a little more like me, not fuckin cool, a geek,
I need you to be everything that makes a fantasy,
If you aren’t that great, then it means my excuses are useless and my time’s been wasted,
You had some winners, but a lot of it sucked now the store won’t gimme back my fifteen bucks,
You got bought then put on another shelf, Because I might be able to do better than that myself,
Please stop ruining all this for me and let me continue my idolatry,
I need to stay small, need you to be big,
I have to reach and aspire for something to be,
And I sure as hell don’t want to reach that high to find me


•March 23, 2015 • Leave a Comment

The end.
There is no beginning.
Beginning is the end.
The end is the beginning.
The ending.
The end is the beginning of the ending,
The ending is always part of beginning.


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