Poems · writing

Peaceful Observance

I want to fall asleep in the sun

Full of warmth and comfort

Impeded by no one

I want to feel the breeze on my skin

Surrounded by flowers,

Pollen-headed bees tumble lazily in.

I want to watch their slow dance,

Entranced by their diligence, their inability to wear pants,

And on the tops of their silly-heads

Two little antennae bumble about

Looking around for the next bloom to sniff out

(Do bumblebees have noses?)

There are questions I suppose(s) that will abound,

Human nature itself is sort of tumbling around.

And in grief, I think, we know this,

Though when that familiar friend leaves for the summer

We pretend not to notice

He was never there.

Without a care, I lie among the roses,

Prick my fingers on the thorns

I will never pick them.

I watch the bumblebees tumble around

Poems · writing

Feverish

The orange blossoms on your sweet tooth yellow at me as I smile at you and I can’t gather these withering flowers with ugly dreams, nasty fiends, knocking at my door

What is it for?

Single melodies playing all around pretend to revel in its percussive sound

You know I’ll always be around

Until I’m not.

Who’s happy with their lot when all you are is what you’ve got

Distracted fingers memorize stop lights and bruises, alcoholic cruises melt into me and out of you

Liquid malnourishment

Find your tongue is spent working its way through the cash in my wallet

Blue rubber bands paperback hands jumping frogs and mildew incense

Innocence lost lost lost in every note

Feverish pursuit, bulbous trees taking root,

I’m too late.

Old stuff · Poems · writing

Thinking in Watercolor

My body is haphazard stitches and broken bones. Tear me to shreds, I no longer fear an injured heart. This one shattered long ago.

My skin is patchwork veins, open wounds, and I cannot keep my tongue from lolling out. Spitting, screaming, it has a will all its own.

My mind should be compared to drops of rain, pattering to the ground at random interludes of cloud and sky.

Because, like them, my thoughts fly and fall at random, never striking the same spot twice.

My feelings are composed of watercolors, bleeding into each other, until even the ignorant child who mixed them cannot tell the red from the green.

[2013]


I don’t know if I personally like this one too much. I just found it in an old journal and I added a little to the beginning

Poems · Uncategorized

Green

If you could think like me I’d tell you, but I’m not sure you’re alive

I’m sifting through these memories and it takes a lot of time

Jumping to conclusions, my meter’s out of whack

Searching for that tiny thing that broke the camel’s back

I know that somewhere lies the answer, hidden with lock and key

I apologize if you’ve ever seen that other side of me

Rough hewn edges sewn together

My memory is rough

You think now you’ve figured it out, you say I’ve had enough

The truth is I’ve worn a deep rut in the circle in my brain

Climbing out of that pit, dear, will leave you right as rain

It’s the falling that is hardest, some days I need my rest

Tumbling down, down, down, until reality is stressed

You’re all around me now, and I know I look a fright

But growing up a little will help us sleep at night

Clear the monsters from underneath the bed

My face turned its way to you as it gently said

“We knew not what we are, which is to say, I can walk you home today. And if tomorrow the sun shines bright, the moon will glow all through the night. And when that evening is the same, we can do it all again”

“Diligent” she calls me, yes. I suppose that’s true

Diligent for every day I’m locked inside this room

Fighting for peace of mind, struggling against myself

I’ll leave it up to other people to put me on the shelf