It's Getting Heavy

The sky looks fake tonight
Clouds painted with pastels and a moon
Cut out from fabric
It’s a sign of things to come
And dreams we never achieve
Like wanting to draw super heroes
Or photograph emotions never felt
Instead I take crumby pictures of
The fear of getting caught
And realizing that the dream is over
And I’m stuck in a book store
Living my days friendless and fragile.

What I'm Worth

Oh, you are my soul, sweetly singing me to sleep with words that contain no syllables. When I ask "who's going to carry me home? Who's going to keep me from dreaming of dread?" I don't have to look very far, ooh just right above my head... Kiss me, sell me, sold, I'm yours.

It's Been Written In the Books We Love

I saw you pour like drops of rain. You said something about Jesus and I just silently ignored you. You could mesmerize me and memorize me, but I am just a myth. Paragraphs and sentences made up my relationships of the past. We exchange words with our lungs and not fingers and fonts. Birds of pink and blue swirl past my head as I drift off to something other than loneliness. Love? Lust? Too early to tell but I'm beginning to lose interest.

Repeater

Memorize, mesmerize. The myth.

Delight

My sister still cuts her own hair even though
Everyone tells her to change.
Once someone told my friend to get off their high horse
And she said to address her as "your majesty"
So that someone simply said "But ma'am don't you see
That no one can control our mother's beauty?"
I saw the big picture after that but it went over my friends' head
What do you expect from someone who's given up
Everything? Nothing?
Sometimes I can't tell if you're asking me
Or requesting me to go.
Sometimes making no sense makes you look smart
(as I'm hoping this will do)
I would like you to love to know
Nothing at all
But you're so fucking smart and I am dusting off my feet at your doorstep.

Demands from Miles Away from A Man All Out of Ideas to Swoon You

You were love and you were my fashion
In a year where I was lost
My regrets and your hands joined as one
And twirled through school dances while everyone
Stood on opposite ends dancing with envy
You were lust and you were my fashion
In a year where I knew nothing
Insipid calls and caring words
Were the next flights over my head
Out of hand, out of sight and just plain
Simple and intricate all at the same time
Years bled through my skin and apologies spilled out
I guess this is just one last “rest in peace”.

The Bitter Taste of Honey

There was a time in my life
When my age equaled four after the
Pluses and minuses
A girl I knew who’s name rhymed with a colour
"That you will never hear…"
I had us pegged as married in my dreams
Her hair was in pigtails and always smelled of honey
And cheap shampoo
One day she played in the wind with that dress I loved
I saw her twirl against the air’s current
It’s always swift when the sun blinds you
For fifteen years
Now she fucks anyone with something to swig, sniff, smoke or swallow
It was a Wednesday when I went to visit her
We caught up on old times, passed a pipe
And stained the sheets
Regret can be fucking suicide.

We Bloom

Once when I was six I picked from a field
A single flower that had recently blossomed
There was a bumblebee feeding off pollen when I freed the flower from the earth
The bee stung me in the index finger
I was humiliated and embarrassed so I ran for miles through the woods
I hid for days through weeds and trees
The search party couldn’t stumble upon me
When I went to my address
There were plenty of hugs and loud words
I cried and laughed and never picked another flower again
Sometimes splendor isn’t worth it.

Late Night Transmission to Saturn

I’m drowning in a pool of circuits and wires
Like a satellite I try to send you my signal of distress
But you’re rejecting all communications
“Radio! Radio! Can you fucking hear me?”
I cry out for weeks into blown speakers
I hold my breath until it explodes through dead microphones
Shatters the glass of the globe
Deafly shrieking “Danger, danger I’m screaming at the top of my lungs!”

The machine has failed; we’ve individually created our own paths.
Like a fork in the road, I’ve parted ways.
I remember when steel was skin
And how it felt when I would see you smile
Or when I pinched you softly
You would always giggle while barely whispering your inner pain
I should’ve listened
Instead I got lost in your Sunday dress and your dinner table manners
I never said grace.
I only laughed at your beliefs and faked interest in your talents.

One Day I Sat & Thought and It Was All Too Much

She had those jealous eyes.
The kind that would shatter your confidence and bring you down to her level
It’s always sudden when they plunge that knife inside themselves
Blood spilled past the fingers, past the wound
We’d put band-aids over it, but it wouldn’t heal
She’d pick at the scab, exposing oxygen to her insides
She wanted to breathe. She wanted to sleep.
The sun wouldn’t stop, so she wore sunglasses with every hour.
The seconds fell silent, the days screaming to be months.
I stood idle, laughing to myself.
“Oh sweet darling, I’m at your aid, I’d walk miles to heal you!”
I kept the medicine from her in a box my grandmother gave me
The rust on the key reminded me of you:
You know, aging, losing purpose… and just dying to be replaced.

It was like the old piano at my sister’s house that I always wondered about
One day I played it, placing my fingertips softly on the ivory
I pressed down and it was the sound that made me feel…
It made me feel ugly and beautiful. Loud and untuned.
Like an unfinished masterpiece.
I wanted to write notes.
I wanted to write that one sound that’ll make you cry.
Too bad I quit piano lessons when I was nine.

Songs Without the Word 'You'

We sat outside to the sound of swirling keys and drum machines
Wondering when the night’s lights would bend and appear
Our girls were popping birth control pills
And smiling at the thought of sex
Summer’s song is a soft one that kicks in at the end
This time I’m not singing along.

I just posted the first real thing I've written in a long time. I was reading the newspaper and was looking through the mother's day dedications and came across one by a man named Louis who's wife had passed on two years ago. She was a mother of nine. That's really all the details that were given but I was touched and decided to write a quick... I don't want to say poem and I don't want to say song... maybe story? Anyways that’s what the blog below is about. I like it.

Mother of nine, wife of one

Two years had come and gone
A man sits with 9 at his side
Smoking a pipe, hoping to rush the clock
Rocking away the years in a chair his daddy had carved
Seventy years ago
Where had the time gone? A lifetime had passed by him
Now he was waiting for his to pass faster

A priest had said, “Till death do you part”
Seeds planted and grown into beautiful baby boys and girls
Fields of memories with sunflowers shining down smiles

Souls fade like a candle your daughter had made for you
In the sixth grade
The wax slides gentle down an establishment meant to fall
You take it lightly and burn the wick over and over
Hoping your light will flicker and fade
Before the wax hits the base of the stand

Waiting for a god to say, “in life you will part”
Trying to follow her teachings and routines
A gentle kiss, a testament for all of us to lust for
Louis rocks while tobacco burns away the words never said
“I love you wife, mother and daughter”.