Saturday, November 23, 2013

Found Poem #1 - 37 Cliches 14/30

if actions speak louder than words 
and absence makes the heart grow fonder 
why do you add insult to injury 
by going against the grain? 

placing age before beauty 
like you are ahead of the game 
you stand all stage and glory 
your audience all ears 
while you air dirty linen 
become the albatross around your own neck 
treating it like it's all in a days work 
like it's all over but the shouting 
gotta make that almighty dollar 
you are more than all  work and no play 
because your apple didn't fall far from the tree 
and you never asked to be the apple of my eye 

so you came armed to the teeth 
demanding that I ante up 
and though I know you are not all things to all men 
you you are all things to me 

I'm at sixes and sevens with you 
at first blush and arms length with you 
your head as hard as nails 
us at each other's throats 
at loose ends 
losing our shit at the drop of  hat 
like we have found ourselves in the arms of Morpheus 
loving at a snail's pace 

I'm just an average Joe 
wearing I love you like tattoos 
while this emotion you avoid like the plague 
I have no ax to grind 
I'd just like to be taken at face value 
instead you mistake my artsy-craftsy ways 
for being asleep at the switch 

I am at my wit's end 
I know that not all roads lead to Rome 
maybe one day 
you'll find that as the crow flies 
I am and have always been
your ace in the hole

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Show 13/30

sometimes  it's in the revealing 
the removing of layers 
the hold
the clutch 
the step away 
the remembering where 
you were supposed to land 
despite where you ended up 
it's the love that washed over you
left you heaving in the aftermath 
set you ablaze 
left you finding what was  left in your ashes 
sometimes it's no more 
than the no more 
than the trust you let escape from your heart
only to find that you stepped 
where there was no footing 
loved one sided 

that is just the was it is  

all hope and forgiveness 
teeth bared as you give birth to disappointment 
sometimes there is only disappointment 
only "what if's" and "maybe"
shake yourself off 

try again 

love can happen again can't it? 
what if?

then there are the times 
when you over think yourself 
push yourself off course 
find comfort in lonely and suitcases 
in frequent flyer miles and the next destination 

sometimes there is a mosh pit 
resting just beneath your skin 
waiting for the band to crank it up a notch 
waiting for your faith to find its rhythm 
waiting to love 
because you like the way it makes your 
dusky skin glow and sing 
makes you feel all hallelujah 
and underground railroad 

then you reveal the only way you can 
look her right in the eyes 
hope for hopeful
bare your bruises 
bandage yourself back to the love you have always been 
and though the last one may not have noticed 
the next one might just surprise you 
show you what you've always known 
the removing of layers 
sometimes it's in the revealing

On the Porch at 69 12/30

my neighbor hates my muse 
my lingering on the porch in her full view 
as I type out my truth with two finger 
rather than the pen and paper 
my usual haunts 
she slams her door like an accusation 
like "how dare you create
while I sit and collect dust 
and complain about your parking
while watching you all free on your porch
from my porch"

she screams at her dogs sometimes 
their insistent barking pleading
for walks 
or attention 
or walks 
forced to sit in their own shit 
and watch me peck out poems 
while she screams like she forgot 
that dogs bark when they want to walk 
or want attention 

she stares sometimes 
Like now (she's staring at me right now)
and I stare back 
talking to myself the whole time 
arms above my head sometimes
locs flying free most of the time
sun kissing my skin 
while she sneers and slams doors 
Like now
which only makes me want to scream
" so what"
a joke she is not privy too 
and wouldn't get  
wouldn't care too
she only wants my invisible 
and fuck that 
it's a great porch 
that lives in front of a house 
full of words 
of poets 
of muse 

she just slammed her door 
it could be in fear of the boldness of my muse 
or because she doesn't have a muse to call her own 
to the tune of dogs barking 
who want attention 
or a walk

On Being Dipped Into Water 12/30

my Achilles heel 
has a head full of flames 
skin warm to the touch two big eye 
that see everything except what is right in front of them
a nose that breathes in rejection 
exhales misnomers wrapped in false hopes
a mouth so full of lies they believe they are the truth 
a chin that juts and struts 
peahen to my cocky 
shoulder with so many chips on them 
the foundation is doomed to collapse 
arms that stretch albatross 
wing span that squeeze so tight 
you wake from sleep choking on past mistakes 
a heart that beats on "what ifs"
and if the beat turn "what if not"
no blood will flow to the lips  
I tried to kiss back to life with my own
it has a back that can hold the weight of me 
as we gymnastics our passion 
on every wall and the ceiling 
but turns willow when forced to accept 
certain realities 
two legs that open for me 
accepting the prosthetics of me as truth 
wrapped around my waist
hips bucking for my attention 
and two feet
that walk in opposite directions
following a future 
that can never be seen
with her two unfocused eyes 
unaware that she will never get there 
wearing those shoes

Monday, November 18, 2013

Still Life With Scissors 11/30

forgetting you is not working
your face shows up in my coffee
so I suffer cup after cup in silence
with my memories and shaking hands

your shadow etched itself on my ceiling
there you drift at night discrediting my new lovers
mocking their steaming skin
your name on the tip of my tongue
confusing my orgasms

I can forget you for a time
if there be ocean and sand
jelly fish and tides
when you be far off in the distance
an island I cannot travel towards
me on the shore
waving good bye to the war between us

I can move away from you

with the ocean in my face
the salt in my eyes
remembering my gills and scales
releasing the weight of you
I can forget you at the ocean

but in rush hour traffic
you return road rage
a balled fist in my throat
an articulated fuck you
held hostage in the roof of my mouth
eyes everywhere at once looking for the exit
a way to make the lies stop
changing lanes to the tune of your mood
no signals
just acceleration

all the things I loved about you
I still love

so I question if I even know what love means
I mean is it love
when someone accordions you
into every success they’ve never had

Is it love
if they can only love you behind closet doors

is it love
when you make me feel clean and filthy
between blinks

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Caution Tape and Anchors 10/30

Their tongues don't frighten me 
I have known tongues that lie and linger 
tongues that flap and roll 
wave and wag 
some of those tongues 
only pretend to care 
as they lick the salt 
from my skin

I have no patience for mundane 
it is not my style 
I love the flash and sink 
lift anchor and sail away rough waters 
things or ideas and sometimes people 
fail to move me to magic 
they are sometimes dismissed 
move along there is nothing to see here

These hips have known hands 
grab on hold tight 
enjoy the roll and wiggle 
navigate the waves
 it will make sense in the morning 
or it won't 

there is no fear here 
only tongues 
and moving magic 
and these hips 
come closer 
don't worry I don't bite 
unless you like that sort of thing

AU 9/30

undeniably beautiful
inherently valuable
waiting the whole time for this moment
beauty built in my structure
feverish desire
richly deserving
molded into circles
placed on fingers
no beginning no end
unless it was never meant to be
wrapping me around your finger
doesn’t make magic happen
where there is no true spark
I will move you to heat and will
under no circumstance tarnish
but you have to realize
all that glitters is not me
and I cannot repair your shitty relationship
or bound you one unto another
I know how precious I am

so make sure you have found
the treasure in each other
before you involve me

pretty shackles
does not a marriage make

Monday, November 11, 2013

Maybe 8/30

maybe it was the only thing we ever wanted
maybe we moved too fast used poor judgment
fell into something we were not ready for
maybe it was the right thing at the right time
your voice in my ear
the way we layered
hung on every word
the way I made you laugh from a genuine place
the way that frightened you so we had a fight
that made no sense and ended with us rocked by love again
sweat and lust and your eyes
maybe it was the way we talked after your first time with me in daylight
exposed to God and all of her angels
maybe we were so right for each other
that we shook our own foundations
placed our own minefields just below our surface
blew ourselves apart
rather than fall in the love we looked like

maybe it was the one thing we wanted from each other
to love elastic
stretch ourselves around the terrain of our curves
hold on for dear life
look us directly in the eyes
kiss us on the mouth
enjoy the happy we were becoming

maybe I’m not afraid anymore

maybe I’m hoping you are not afraid anymore

maybe one day
dressed in our worthy
our confidence
our switchblade smiles
our never been happy like that
we will find each other
it will be the only thing we ever wanted

Thursday, November 07, 2013

Lessons 7/30

Once a week she drags her bones
from the warmth of her bed, 
decorates her body,
her temple of hope and everlasting joy.

Bible tucked neatly into purse she walks
head high and mighty into her temple of God.

She prays and sings, praises and speaks in tongues. 
Thanks God for the love in her heart
the love she has for man kind.

Tambourines still chiming in the middle distance.

Tomorrow she will call me a faggot.

Tomorrow she will call me a faggot
in front of my son.

Tomorrow I will have to explain to my son
that there are two Gods.
There is one God who loves unconditionally
and then there is the God those who cannot love
without judgement
believe in.

The second kind of believer thinks the
way they believe is truth,
and their truth is the truth.

Believe they were sent to smite you because
they doubt their Gods abilities,
doubt their God will see it the way they see it.

"Look" I will tell my son tomorrow.

"See how she works her magic hate.
See how she holds the slurs tightly between her teeth
the same place she keeps her prayers  
and Hallelujahs." 

Tuesday, November 05, 2013

My Uncle Passed, We're Waking Him 6/30

There is a body on the porch.
There is a body on the porch all still and dead and death.
It is blocking the door facing the driveway. 
It is there fancy and obscene she wants to kiss me. 
It seems wrong. More wrong than the wrong we planned 
before I knew about the corpse. 

She is my boyfriends sister. She was sent away for bad behavior. 
I am sure it's the behavior we have been behaving since her return. 
Since her brother suggested I meet her become good friend. 
I met her and we are more than good friends. 
Our sleepovers serve us more than him. In the future
I will remember this as a sign of things to come. 
I am not worried. 
I want the kiss but right now  
I can't get coffins out of my mind.

She wants to kiss me. Her brother is down the hall.
There is a body on the porch. My body is a stop sign.
My sandpaper skin once soft covers itself in goose flesh.
Her hands read the braille of my body. 
Feels the, "No we can't! There is a body on the porch." 
She uses her hands, warms the cold in me. She kindles  
and persuades knows I can't resist, loves the idea of seducing
her brother's virgin girlfriend again and again.
And again.

She assures me that her uncle on the porch is all still
and dead and death. 
"He won't mind." She coos and caresses.
Her hand slid up and down my parted thighs.
"I have a plan."
Her warm mouth on my budding breast.
Her fingers hide themselves in my wet.
Distracted I forget about the body on the porch
because her body makes full contact with mine.
I open for her.
She tastes everything.
We do more thaan we've ever done before.
I am an exposed wire shocked by my boldness.
I taste a girl for the very first time and I am alive. 

I come to terms with the fact that the wake is not until tomorrow.
Tonight, I will learn her body and no matter how hard  
or loud the orgasms come we won't wake her uncle.
He's on the porch.
He's all the way over there.

Monday, November 04, 2013

Truth Serum 5/30

The whiskey helps forget you for the moment
the color the same shade 
as that spot on your neck 
that place that begs for my kiss
teeth scrape skin
we cuddled in the dark 

the way the bottle fits in my hand 
is like the way you fit those times 
your orgasms wrap around my fingers
the crash of it explode on the walls

the way the liquid pours 
the taste of you on my lips 
the burn as I swallow 
the slow grind of release 
skin slicked with sweat and promises 
music blarring through the speakers
a fire burns in the hearth 

the whiskey helps forget you 
when it reminds me
reassembles your speech
more honest than your best honest
the coat hanging on the hook
pockets full of holes
watch me fall through
ignore the sound of me

I blame the moon 
the way it sits in the sky watching 
holding all the secrets within its glow 
how it sees what's coming and gives no warning

Sunday, November 03, 2013

33 Years Ago 4/30

Today I will ask if I can go to the movies 
with a boy I like. Today you will insist that 
I go to planned parenthood, self medicate my need 
to lose my virginity.

When I explain that I am not interested in sex 
that it is just a movie with a friend, 
you will quote Corinthians 6:18 

"Flee from sexual immorality. Every sin a person commits 
is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins 
against his own body."

You will remind me about Eve. 

When I mention that it seems like Adam actually broke 
the rules you will call me blasphemous demand I get saved

Tomorrow you and your second wife once mistress 
will watch porn until you orgasm, punish me for overhearing 
remind me of my sinner ways. 

At church you will force me to talk to the pastor.
I will tell him everything you believe I am 
not brave enough to say. 
I will ask, "Who are the sinners here?"
He will not answer.  I do not question his bravery 
but I make sure we have an understanding. 

I smirk as the pastor's sermon speaks 
of giving in to the flesh. Congratulate myself for 
being his inspiration. Throw up in my mouth a little 
when you and your mistress turned wife
Amen in harmony. Catch the pastor's eye mouth the word 
while your former mistress catches the Holy Ghost. 

In her holy dance, she makes the same sounds she makes during 
orgasm. I wonder if her God approves of all the ways
she comes.

Saturday, November 02, 2013

On Being in LA 3/30

I am here without you.
I am here without you and I am not surprised.
I am here without you and I am not surprised
because when I was with you, it was like I was not.
Why should this be any different?

There were so many plans made those last
months with you. So many plans that sounded like
movement like next level. That sounded like I want you
to go to LA for the first time with me. I am here without you.
I am here without you and I am not surprised.
I am here without you and I am not surprised
because when I was with you, it was like I was not.
Why should this be any different?

We will travel together so I can show you my past.
Too late I remembered I was also your past
trying to force fit into a future a false fantasy of tomorrow.
The lies lulled us past the other lies and I am here without you.
I am not surprised.

That time you said you didn't know how to deserve me
all I heard was you will see LA without me. What I felt was,
she is so full in love with me, instead of the push out
of your life you meant. I believe and still do, that love
in whatever form, can grow inside itself.
Why should this be any different?

I am in LA without you. In a place where we could
have landed safely, held time hostage and doubt at bay.
I am here without you because we were a conclusion
we were both too ill informed to jump to. The way we fell
away from each other before the embers burned themselves
to ash. I am here without you
and I want to be surprised.

I am here without you and I want to be surprised
because when I was with you, it was like I was not.
Why could't this be different?

Knowing the answers does not stop my heart from beating
to the tune of, I wish you were here.

Rocks in My Pocket 2/30

there is a soft behind your eyes
it wants normal and sanity 
it wants to stand in the rain 
so the tears don't show 
it wants everything 
and nothing to do with it 
it holds all the broken pieces 
calls it art and throws it around 
a simple act of faith  

there is a soft behind your eyes 
it pleads for acceptance 
for a place to rest easy
a garden with overly fragrant flowers 
that will cloak the pain make
it pretty and more pleasing 
than the blues embraced by birth rites 
and bad decisions

Friday, November 01, 2013

The Place Behind the Trees 1/30

Proof that she still dwells here 
the citrus of her kiss lingering fog 
her eyes orbs of wonder and questions 
like what are you doing 
why don't you understand 
there is no truth between us 
no future 
burn the bridge
keep on walking away

I keep leaving you 

you keep coming back 

a dilapidated dream 
no longer holding interest 
no longer looked forward to 
call me all the names 
you tucked in your teeth 
scrawl them on a tombstone 
anchor it in the cold 
that is our departure 
a tribute to a love that failed
a thing that would never come true