Monday, September 11, 2017

What's One More Time

we've been over this before...

your mother's weakness -
your father's power
your nightmares -
because absence of lighthouses
the ticking in your pillow 
just your fear has won a scholarship 
to teach you you'll never have your hands
around its neck
your silence -
the way you hide when you can't run
your hair in your eyes 
cause you don't feel like smiling at anyone
your novels, your wine and your pens
are crutches, props and freedom
the news is a Hollywood sign you don't worship any
longer, your heart's too tired
your sensitivity 
because you released the elephants 
and everyone got mad for years
your locked doors -
you want a safe ending
exhale
and shatter until
the myths and the rumors and dreaming
don't want you anymore
no, you are not hungry
you're too starved for life to die
and we've been over this before
what's one more time
 
 
 

Friday, September 1, 2017

Sad Romantics

world falls apart
it's all going to burn

nobody's gonna sleep anymore
too many strangers, not enough doors
nights are ours
streets own us

we're dreaming of houses that broke
no where to go
in love with a reckless soul

we're just harlequin dreams
rolling around in mental romantic
occupancy
becoming a yellow love letter to the moon
we split our souls and conjure up
conversations with our guardian angels
asking
what shall we choose
who shall we be
the sad romantics are sometimes
speechless
running the hourglass down
leaving wonder and questions
for our own hearts to hallucinate
the answers we are denied

rock and roll will cure us
the sad mad house that broke us
will burn
but we will never wish to return
we'll be euphoric in our
medicated heaven that separates us
from a living hell
and who needs sleep
oh well

we'll run in the streets and pretend we
are fully clothed and desired
we'll electrify the angelic ones
with barbed wire hair
sad romantics with glass in hand
tear in our eye and nostalgia 
for a lover
we'll live in reclusive asylums 
writing poems about skyscrapers and
pavements 
walk down corridors that shun us
and on shiny streets slick with rain
the light will swallow our lonely footsteps
the sunsets will make us cry
our new houses now prisons
the sky is a dream
and we're all just meandering
we'll sit and wonder
become restless and we were sifting
miracles surely
but they turned into sawdust

one train ride away from mama and
sunshine to another somewhere
another sometime
but the skeletons are already in place
you will never be an angel
and the old books that you cradle
on rainy haunted midnights
smell like the tears of a saint
those tunnels can't take us back
those clocks won't kiss us young again
our bodies will remember
when our mouths forget to speak

and maybe the fairytales have died
or maybe they are in a cab disappearing
around a strange corner somewhere
beneath a winter moon 


I wrote this on a sleepless night in the summer of 2016. It became the title of a chapbook I wrote and published on Create Space. Although my little chapbook never found its audience it was on my bucket list to do. Success doesn't always have a dollar sign, it is the completing what one sets out to do.
So whether you are sad, lonely, romantic or neither or maybe life has taken so much from you that makes no sense at all and yet you are still brave enough to be here and live this life, this poem is for you.

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

The Taste of War

you shall not talk in bed
no whisperings of prayers
or poetry recitings
you shall not sing in bed
or chew gum or sleeping pills
you may not swing from the ceiling
from happiness or from woe
do not bring your pens to bed
or your store receipts and grocery lists
do not worry that you left the lid
off the jar of honey
or if the milk is out of date
do not think of rain or snow
or somewhere new to go
don't speak please
you'll frighten the tipsy mouse
you never admit you see 
no thinking of food or dirty laundry
or what you'll next eat
forget your debt and who hasn't repaid you yet 
and everything you're not good at
you should not think of the madness
that you're sure you suffer from
or who is out to get you
of all the places you'll never hurry to
or of the faces you'll never see again
not of the mosquitoes that will drain you thin
don't speak, don't think, don't worry for nothing
play your radio low
pull the sky over you
the star spangled one
no wringing of your hands
the memories in them are rented for a lifetime
don't think about your mother's silver watch
in a box
it can no longer tick its way out of anything
or of how you can't forgive yourself
it would be too dangerous 
to enjoy life again
and you enjoy the taste of war
too much to let it end
 

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

boy

the boy with the blue halo in his eyes
still reminds you
you never replaced him
your eyes would be liars
your hands would be numb
so you keep your kisses to yourself
the boy you remember is still in the forest
of your mind
you never left the spot he released
you on 

Saturday, July 29, 2017

Another Summer Wasted

I can't sing hallelujah one more time
one more hit of lonely
then I'll close my eyes
there's not enough white noise
to satisfy my mind
I'm breathing but that's not enough
to make me feel alive

one more wasted summer dream
is that the best I can hope for me
missing the days when I was younger
but I'll blank my eyes
so you can't tell I'm going under

my hands are bleeding 
but there's no injury to show
I haven't broken anything
and I'm so tired of repetition
my breathing feels more like a chore 

and I'm not crazy
I'm not lazy
sitting on my back porch star gazing
the passing of another summer wasting
It's just another summer I wasted





 

Thursday, July 20, 2017

Epitaph

summer was killing us
everything we were
the beautiful pulse
was editing an ending
and I was still in love with the
beginning

My love's name was Johnny. I was 18, he 21 and we thought we were forever. So from one July to the next a year proved we were too young and the world too heavy. We were not meant to be forever, but the heart never forgets. Every now and then he sneaks into my poetry without me actually being aware of it, this poem was us.

Saturday, July 15, 2017

You Should Have Loved Better

you are an aging beauty on canvas
the grooves of your favorite songs
always sticking
but rain doesn't explain or excuse itself
just hangs out where and whenever it wants
why can't you?

fires that love built
love that fire destroyed
but the sea says "I know"
and turns night fears into 
a sweet lullaby

the breath of that lover
that you never wanted to leave
rivers you run back to
for all the stories you were
remind you of pretty theatre 
bauble lights
but now they've exchanged
the old seats that belonged to
all the old lovers in your town

and now the hummingbirds
are quiet, escaping like pretty confetti of
old songs and laughter
then the sound of crushed wing

you disappear so easily
in quiet reverie
no one knows where to find you

you ate pills
but the pain remained
sleep was an addiction
and God sat by you as you escaped
sleeping
dreaming of your mama's
vintage red lipstick and her
restlessness
her cool aloofness
the detached
part that's became attached to you too
held hostage in elegant reflection
you see her face, never your own
you are fading and you allow
your lovers to own the way you walk
why?

but you're a dreamer
in slow motion falling into a moonset
in an orange dawn
where words are sacredly forbidden
because the steps to a heaven you
were sure of fell apart

you were beautifully adored
strangely broken
left alone to heal
have you forgotten how he left you
nine months pregnant
sleeping on a mattress in your sister's floor
you gave too much for nothing
'cause he never even flinched
his hands were too full of all
he was taking
you were just a second hand
used up heaven...

you should have loved better
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