There is an instant where you wanna cry. You want to scream. You want to yell from the bottom of your stomach and soul. And this is when you know you love or have loved somebody. When you look at someone. You see into their eyes. And you know. They are you. They are exactly who you are or were. And you love them you want nothing but to hold them. You want to shout in a carnal and cathartic agony until you feel that sense fulfilled. That sense that you have seen yourself. And can finally let go of yourself.
Category Archives: poetry
To the speaker,
I couldn’t help but
notice that little difference in your voice,
your ‘I’ swings low, into a lul,
almost saying, if not following a ‘U’
in its shape.
The ‘a’ appears almost over matured,
crafting a din like an ‘e’
but resounding like an ‘æ‘
forgotten in olden days and long past times.
As the ‘a’ strikes against the ‘m’
there is a hidden subject,
a small child between the letters,
something that smacks of an ‘l’,
but just barely.
In your voice I can hear
the ‘a’ reaching out to the ‘m’,
as if afraid to fall short- terrified.
and I can feel your tongue
reaching out to the roof of your mouth.
Like the tentative tongue of a virgin’s
reaching towards the labia
of a woman he doesn’t love.
the birds woke me up this morning.
in a mid morning daze
from a long night
needing to rest well through the dawn,
they woke me
and were adamant about keeping me that way.
trying to gather my thoughts
as i take myself out the door,
words like cars barely getting through the gate.
‘fuck’ slides through no problem
with its inborn confidence
but the word morning
seems to get cut off at the ‘m’
forcing me to shovel it up
from this early traffic jam.
all the other words are carrying out
but if I try to stop and look at them
they fold back on themselves
and i have to read them backwards
as i drive by
and carry it all around the corner.
She saw me then
and I felt ashamed.
A special sense of sensuality,
A feeling nothing else really gives
Of something no one else notices.
The amorous curves
Rise and fall,
Sway this way- that.
All breeding an intense admiration,
Akin to an adoration.
The tingling sensation starting in the soles of my feet
The tentativeness of a virgin
Reaching a hand towards the darkness.
Not too fast,
Don’t be too gentle…
But for heaven’s sake, be gentle!
At last reaching down to brush my fingertips
against the seemingly smooth surface,
like touching a black widow;
a wrong move or unwatchful eye
could be the death of me.
After the first few loves, you begin to have standards.
No longer will anything do,
Only some will start that tingle in your feet,
While others cause a rough ache and a flinch.
Driving along, when I see one I wish I had,
My hands grip the wheel a little hard,
Gritted teeth and a long exhale.
That vibration that fills my car,
But always starts at my feet.
On my back
drifting across the black sea
hand occasioning to dip and caress
the warm and inviting asphalt.
Knuckles bounce joyously inside fingerless gloves
as they stretch and interlace
the wheels beneath me creak and groan
but peacefully as they can.
Billy Collins words drift through my headset.
From far off, someone’s Black & Mild scent drifts into my breathing.
I am not offended, nor am I by the sounds of close cars that wash over me.
I am content with the world carrying on,
so long as I may have
this patch of tar
I’m glad to hear from you.
It really means a lot to me.
I know you’ve had your difficulties.
She’s been in the hospital.
He’s been troublesome.
I would’ve loved to say you didn’t have to.
But now, it means the world.
Through everything else
all the rubble
of a disrupted
You till cared enough to wish me
a happy birthday.
Now I wish you hadn’t
because I’ve waited to hear from you
because “happy birthday” is all you said.
And I feel selfish and ashamed
for never expecting more.
People stand the same,
As leaves of grass after a frost,
The past had chilled them,
While the shining future warms to them.
But even those bathed in the reanimated dew
Still look upon their brothers,
For as the hopeful sun rises,
There are shapes of darkness that drift across the land,
Holding some in the shadows for a little longer.
How dreadfully bitter it must be-
To look upon the future with a warm heart,
And look upon your brethren with a cold shudder.