tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45933376479540505872024-02-20T13:44:35.658-05:00the mind's generous follies.poetry and peace.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.comBlogger104125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-73770625320023569672013-08-16T17:22:00.000-04:002013-08-16T17:22:22.306-04:00while we waitviolently purple, the pages this time.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
my pages are prepped for adventure,</div>
<div>
my pages are patterned for poetry.</div>
<div>
i should have said that before.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
the pen + the heart have met, here.</div>
<div>
i have been waiting for this moment.</div>
<div>
the far-off eye-catch. the initial hello.</div>
<div>
it's only a matter of time. let's dance while we wait.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
oh, the spin of thought that makes me</div>
<div>
has been set free, allowed to play with others,</div>
<div>
called on for its opinion. criss-cross the color wires</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and i'll have a helping of humble pie,</div>
<div>
ankles relaxed into flight</div>
<div>
while the hand + the head do the work.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
08.2013</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-11922950108373187922013-07-22T18:38:00.000-04:002013-07-22T18:38:40.755-04:00all he is notthe bathroom wall is so receptive<div>
as i ramble aimlessly to no one.</div>
<div>
this charade has gone past the breaking point,</div>
<div>
i tell myself with an air of dubiety,</div>
<div>
trying to convince myself of the opposite</div>
<div>
but failing miserably at both</div>
<div>
at the same miserable time.</div>
<div>
maybe he doesn't, maybe he does</div>
<div>
has become a sour mind game</div>
<div>
with no clear conclusion or consequence.</div>
<div>
maybe he will, i plead with my heart,</div>
<div>
knocking halfheartedly on its fragile doors</div>
<div>
and knowing it's on the brink of wholly shattering,</div>
<div>
leaving me to pick up the pieces</div>
<div>
to this glorified mismatch made in haste.</div>
<div>
maybe he won't, i advise the realist soul;</div>
<div>
we know he's been broken before</div>
<div>
and we know he's not been</div>
<div>
as diligent as perhaps he should --</div>
<div>
and yet his imperfections matter little</div>
<div>
when his charms unravel.</div>
<div>
the game, the game, it weakens; it unhinges me</div>
<div>
from all it made me see</div>
<div>
down the street from rationality.</div>
<div>
typical or true?</div>
<div>
the past makes me wonder</div>
<div>
if the present is what he needs</div>
<div>
or if it's a consolation to his quest for stability.</div>
<div>
the light flickers and so does the clock;</div>
<div>
too many nights for him</div>
<div>
are probably a good indication</div>
<div>
of all he is not.</div>
<div>
in too deep now, i wonder, clinging to what i am,</div>
<div>
where from here?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
such incessant wonderings</div>
<div>
keep me awake even more nights.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
09.2006</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-24307290036575471622013-07-12T18:33:00.000-04:002013-07-12T18:33:22.494-04:00off the mapi knew a place once; it was wondrous, magical for me, which was most likely enhanced by my youth, but i think if i still knew it today it'd hold the same intrigue.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
it was a little Pocono cabin in a concealed corner of the planet more often than not run over with snow, for we only ever frequented it in the winter; it belonged to my grandfather who had in fact built it up himself, rock to wall, as a haven for family and friends of family and their children and sometimes pets. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
no one really could tell what town it was in, but i'm pretty sure it was somewhere between White Haven and Blakeslee, Carbon County, Kidder Township or something. the exact blip on the map was irrelevant; people went there to escape, not to be found.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
the street was private, a small development but not like the overdone ones in the Philadelphia suburbs. it was nearly hidden from view just off the exit, past the Ramada and that little restaurant that kept changing every year to something new and odd-sounding like The Fern, as if that would make me want to eat there. down the street from Jack Frost and Big Boulder, the two biggest ski resorts around. adjacent the dam that i so loved to explore but couldn't ever get to because the roads were flooded, as the signs had warned they would be.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
so many years i have to remember there.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
there was the time when Howard and Kat's dog jumped on my brother when we were kids in the middle of the night and he screamed bloody murder out of fright. then the next day he and i were poking around the bedroom and we found a trapdoor to the basement beneath the floorboards, but it was too dark and cold to bother exploring. we still reveled in the fact that we'd found it, our own paradise lost.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
sometimes i got to sleep in the bigger guest room when Howard and Kat weren't up and i felt like a rightful queen with the king-sized bed and the private bathroom with two chambers and the full closets and nightstands with random items in their drawers. i loved that i could stand in the kitchen and the living room at the same time and that we could watch television while we ate, a luxury we never had at home. the fireplace was always roaring and my father delighted in stoking it every half hour or so, a nervous habit.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Mom never came to Big Boulder with us; she wasn't much of an outdoor person. she'd catch up on her reading and Dad would take Tom and i to ski or snow tube, whichever we preferred (and i hated skiing). one time when my cousins were up for the weekend with us we all went tubing (little effort for the fun). Joe went off-course and slammed into a tree but he was fine and it led to uproarious laughter. my dad and his brother and nephews wanted to make it over the big snowbank at the bottom. it was a frigid night and everything was icing over -- just the momentum they needed. they hopped in double-rider tubes and got running starts and raced in adjacent lanes on the way down. and over the top they did go as onlookers stared in awe at a feat not many had accomplished.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i remember watching the Daytona 500 on or around Dad's birthday the year Dale Earnhardt crashed into the wall; we all thought he'd be OK, that it hadn't looked life-threatening on screen. he died, though. i vowed to support his son from then on although i didn't follow NASCAR that closely to begin with.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
the stone driveway at the cabin, when it wasn't ridden with knee-deep snow, was littered with daddy-long-legs and garter snakes and behind the house were woods with trails as far as the eye could see and i never knew where any of them went.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
the thing about living on a private street in the mountains is that when it snows there are natural sledding hills all around you. i was always a bit of a wimp when it came time to do it but the sleds were unsturdy and i didn't know how to steer them and i was afraid of crashing into frozen snowbanks and breaking my arm or worse. but it was good bonding time with my brother.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i always liked when it wasn't that snowy and i could walk down to the private lake -- the one reserved for residents on the private street -- and walk the trail around it where wild blueberries grew; my mother and i would pick them and put them in pancakes the next morning.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
there was so much i adored about that little cabin off the map in Pennsylvania and there's so much i miss about it now. before he died my grandfather sold it to a stranger. with it went the magic of my old haven that i would never have again. my heart aches to know that someone else -- and a slew of renters to follow -- is now enjoying my grandfather's handmade refuge and all the wonder it contains.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
they will never be able to appreciate it like i have.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
02.2010</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-27278666678623761022013-07-05T20:20:00.000-04:002013-07-05T20:20:11.868-04:00like sandlike sand through fingers<div>
i fell from you, not sure yet</div>
<div>
if i meant to fall</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
07.2013</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
[written in response to the prompt <a href="http://haiku-heights.blogspot.com/2013/07/haiku-heights-262-sand.html" target="_blank">"Sand"</a> over at <a href="http://haiku-heights.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Haiku Heights</a>. xo]</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-35849979955416932852013-07-04T19:53:00.000-04:002013-07-04T19:53:52.136-04:00hostage hearta recluse.<div>
i believe that is the word</div>
<div>
you more often than not</div>
<div>
choose for me, perhaps</div>
<div>
because you don't see my emotion</div>
<div>
until you call me one.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
a recluse, indeed.</div>
<div>
ought it offend</div>
<div>
i'd throw it back but</div>
<div>
the truth to it is that i do not</div>
<div>
share nearly enough of myself with you;</div>
<div>
green and gambling on the passing of trains,</div>
<div>
that's what you make of</div>
<div>
my folly</div>
<div>
through a world that will not forgive</div>
<div>
should i not dance in its melée.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i have no use for what's written:</div>
<div>
i want to break the lines</div>
<div>
and make the loudest of waves. and also</div>
<div>
i want to give the explosion of love inside</div>
<div>
of me</div>
<div>
away.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
there is a reason you cannot see</div>
<div>
my head and my heart: there is</div>
<div>
good reason why no one can see.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
they are flawed and brimming!</div>
<div>
they are mad and forlorn!</div>
<div>
they are in sync and evergreen!</div>
<div>
it is too much for strangers to handle;</div>
<div>
you can't handle them, dear brother.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
you must be considerate of</div>
<div>
a heart held hostage</div>
<div>
and a brain on overdose.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
surely your faith must extend beyond</div>
<div>
the paper doll girl</div>
<div>
to what she is</div>
<div>
when she has form</div>
<div>
and breath.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
you must let the recluse be</div>
<div>
a recluse</div>
<div>
around you; she doesn't</div>
<div>
know you're knocking,</div>
<div>
in pursuit of her hostage heart...!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
06.2011</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-33932364354750686772013-07-01T19:25:00.000-04:002013-07-01T19:25:28.668-04:00when the makeup and masks are gonewhen the makeup and masks are gone<div>
unkempt girl doesn't believe in</div>
<div>
the woman everyone tells her she is</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
unkempt girl</div>
<div>
throws salt over her shoulders</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and tries again tomorrow</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
08.2011</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-7844935590893551012013-06-30T20:30:00.000-04:002013-06-30T20:30:22.990-04:00no one is my warrioron days like this<div>
the mirror doesn't know what to do with me</div>
<div>
and tries not to scream, in fact,</div>
<div>
avoiding shattering both of us at the same time. i</div>
<div>
wish i'd been born with snakes in</div>
<div>
my hands so i'd have an automatic release</div>
<div>
from the ugliness of such states of mind.</div>
<div>
i'm not anyone's heralded warrior.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i do battle with myself because</div>
<div>
no one is my warrior, either.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i think it's somebody's holiday now</div>
<div>
but i've been anemic since September</div>
<div>
so don't expect my sympathies; i</div>
<div>
usually stay in bed after the war:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
some days it's entirely too much effort</div>
<div>
to put my boots on correctly.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
04.20.2012</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-46421989193093087542013-05-12T17:43:00.000-04:002013-05-12T17:43:01.681-04:00she knew the cityshe knew the city wasn't<div>
actually floating</div>
<div>
but that's how it seemed from</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
the windows</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and she liked that best. she</div>
<div>
hated the mess.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
04.2013</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-6252989734558799612013-03-17T17:26:00.000-04:002013-03-17T17:26:11.843-04:00live again (Connor's song)carried on high, the news<br />
of you was a welcome circumstance,<br />
not expected but certainly<br />
not to be denied, for it had been<br />
only years since we'd had anything worth being<br />
remotely elated over.<br />
<br />
though you were to be the first of your kind, you<br />
had potential to be the greatest,<br />
or at least unique;<br />
maybe you'd bring some sort of<br />
a new outlook on this life,<br />
something worth hanging around for.<br />
<br />
but even the most hyped expectations would<br />
undermine the value you bestowed, and<br />
right on time;<br />
mostly we were just grateful you<br />
arrived and renewed a long-lost zest for life that must have<br />
needed your charms to live again.<br />
<br />
01.2010Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-80584135004186424732013-03-15T15:32:00.000-04:002013-03-15T15:32:20.417-04:00something therehidden from view, her heart was evolving;<br />
what was this feeling here and now?<br />
<br />
she didn't believe she could let love in<br />
like this: what else was she to do?<br />
<br />
she thieved a glance, peering out at him<br />
unawares: was it supposed to feel so invigorating?<br />
<br />
the heart she possessed she knew she could not fool;<br />
how was she to betray it now?<br />
<br />
she returned to the comfort of sheltering tree<br />
musing, intrigued; was it she who'd learned to love him?<br />
<br />
04.21.2010Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-40190754116703987622013-03-11T20:25:00.000-04:002013-03-11T20:25:13.517-04:00i could get losti.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i could get lost in a graveyard,</div>
<div>
in the company of</div>
<div>
only</div>
<div>
stone sentinels, markers to set each place aside</div>
<div>
so that God can distinguish them later</div>
<div>
when He summons His souls for their reckoning.</div>
<div>
the names carved in</div>
<div>
stand for mortal remembrance,</div>
<div>
a name, a legacy, a life;</div>
<div>
recognition among a sea of thousands,</div>
<div>
tombs tumbling and tumbling</div>
<div>
eternally</div>
<div>
into the folly that death affords.</div>
<div>
the paths winding through lay themselves out</div>
<div>
for me attentively,</div>
<div>
enhancing the trance</div>
<div>
induced by</div>
<div>
such diverse history,</div>
<div>
still life upkept</div>
<div>
in marbled cherubs and crucifixes</div>
<div>
preaching epitaphs</div>
<div>
only heard</div>
<div>
by those who stop</div>
<div>
to care for a stranger</div>
<div>
for a minute or so,</div>
<div>
breath offered up where it hasn't existed</div>
<div>
for years.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i talk to them sometimes,</div>
<div>
the graves, the dead,</div>
<div>
when no one's around;</div>
<div>
less to communicate with a ghost</div>
<div>
than just to acknowledge a presence,</div>
<div>
to eliminate the eeriness of fatal silence</div>
<div>
and to reiterate to myself</div>
<div>
that life is short and finite.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
it may sound gruesome but</div>
<div>
cemeteries are one of my favorite things.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
ii.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i could get lost in a library</div>
<div>
where ink-stained pages beckon,</div>
<div>
portals to places that have</div>
<div>
in one way or another</div>
<div>
emerged</div>
<div>
from some sort of thought in time</div>
<div>
that stuck around long enough</div>
<div>
to warrant a permanent remembrance.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
a story for the masses, a story for the fantasies,</div>
<div>
one for me and one for the next</div>
<div>
and always right where i left it;</div>
<div>
like the finest of feasts</div>
<div>
i sample the menu</div>
<div>
and absorb the pages bursting with flavor,</div>
<div>
pen strokes washed down</div>
<div>
like wine.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
it is the most reciprocal relationship,</div>
<div>
trading time for a tale or two,</div>
<div>
oils from skin transferring into page turns</div>
<div>
and dog-eared placeholders.</div>
<div>
i'd not dream of defacing</div>
<div>
the sacred marginal meadows</div>
<div>
as some in academia would advise;</div>
<div>
the only words worth their salt</div>
<div>
were set, neat with justification,</div>
<div>
ordered by author</div>
<div>
to remain</div>
<div>
so each that comes after me</div>
<div>
might have the same fair offering.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
in their categorical home</div>
<div>
they are so many enigmas</div>
<div>
shelved for whenever;</div>
<div>
i kidnap a desolate corner</div>
<div>
and begin one</div>
<div>
without a look back at the world</div>
<div>
that's already abandoned me once or twice.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
it may sound childish but</div>
<div>
libraries are one of my favorite things.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
iii.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i could get lost in a trainyard,</div>
<div>
down on the rails</div>
<div>
that make no clickety-clack sound</div>
<div>
without an engine to caress them.</div>
<div>
my shoes are left to forgotten dirt piles</div>
<div>
as bare toes meet iron,</div>
<div>
and i could teeter all the way</div>
<div>
into the next town</div>
<div>
following the one predestined route,</div>
<div>
balance beam calisthenics</div>
<div>
only for me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and should a resonating whistle</div>
<div>
warn of an oncoming traffic jam</div>
<div>
i'd gladly return to rocky terrain,</div>
<div>
broken up by wooden planks at intervals</div>
<div>
exact and unchanging,</div>
<div>
continuous.</div>
<div>
neither threatening speed of passing train</div>
<div>
nor conductor's shouts of disapproval</div>
<div>
could shake me from gravely ground there alongside;</div>
<div>
magnetic, majestic, mine.</div>
<div>
i'd watch for the patient panorama at the end --</div>
<div>
the serenity of far-off horizon,</div>
<div>
steam bellowing from the front,</div>
<div>
caboose growing smaller with distance,</div>
<div>
postcard perfect</div>
<div>
though less chaotic in such regard;</div>
<div>
in closer perspective:</div>
<div>
hair being tossed about from such velocity,</div>
<div>
that old clickety-clack returning</div>
<div>
but much louder than remembered,</div>
<div>
paired with the roar of engine and wheel,</div>
<div>
car after car after car.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
then it's long gone</div>
<div>
and it's back to</div>
<div>
my juvenile reverie,</div>
<div>
lonely track welcoming me again,</div>
<div>
glad for some in-between company</div>
<div>
to pass the time --</div>
<div>
both of us there</div>
<div>
to pass the time</div>
<div>
not doing much of anything.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i hum the rails an easy tune,</div>
<div>
a serenade for myself</div>
<div>
in a moment when thought gets lost</div>
<div>
in reality</div>
<div>
as i get lost in dreams.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
it may sound lonesome but</div>
<div>
railroads are one of my favorite things.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i could get lost.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
05.2010</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-86304365755438302122013-03-03T21:23:00.000-05:002013-03-03T21:27:01.291-05:00exhale my own<div>
muddy-sensed, i try</div>
breathing in through undead eyes;<br />
<div>
exhale my own breeze</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
03.2013</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
[written in response to the prompt <a href="http://haiku-heights.blogspot.com/2013/03/haiku-heights-211-breeze.html" target="_blank">"Breeze"</a> over at <a href="http://haiku-heights.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Haiku Heights</a>.]</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-46051425190758432802013-03-03T19:59:00.000-05:002013-03-03T19:59:18.272-05:00heart's too bigheart's too big<div>
can't love you</div>
<div>
too often stolen</div>
<div>
too often held</div>
<div>
it's betrayed me</div>
<div>
i follow it</div>
<div>
knowing it's wrong</div>
<div>
can't help that</div>
<div>
heart's my life</div>
<div>
i'm not bold</div>
<div>
just another idiot</div>
<div>
caged-up bomb</div>
<div>
possibly i'm jaded</div>
<div>
self-destruct button</div>
<div>
still in tact</div>
<div>
do not press</div>
<div>
red red red</div>
<div>
red blinking red</div>
<div>
capital letter words</div>
<div>
do not press</div>
<div>
but of course</div>
<div>
you will press</div>
<div>
yes you will</div>
<div>
ignore the warning</div>
<div>
you'll ignore me</div>
<div>
you will press</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
04.10.2012</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-73929026817869506452013-02-27T15:27:00.000-05:002013-02-27T15:27:01.657-05:00followmy skeletal feet are still dappled with sand.<div>
the beach wouldn't let me leave it behind</div>
<div>
and oh, do i know that feeling,</div>
<div>
even too familiar. don't leave me behind,</div>
<div>
i'll follow.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
it takes awhile for me to bloom,</div>
<div>
a corporeal flower arriving late to springtime tea.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
with sandy toes i'm knocking; i hope</div>
<div>
you don't mind that i've lost my shoes.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
08.2012</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-1480259813391784702013-02-25T16:33:00.001-05:002013-02-25T16:33:59.779-05:00sometimes a bit furtherwhen you refrain from wiping the tears away<div>
they drip-drop, soft, down between each breast</div>
<div>
and sometimes a bit further if you're lonely.</div>
<div>
they'll dry on their own from the heat of the</div>
<div>
ache. on chest and cheek</div>
<div>
the pain might burst into ugly puddles if you let it</div>
<div>
but you can't begin to heal if you won't</div>
<div>
let yourself be broken, isn't that</div>
<div>
what they always say?</div>
<div>
all-right, all-right,</div>
<div>
goes the beat-beat of the handsome heart --</div>
<div>
he forgot to wear his tails</div>
<div>
but you still pine for</div>
<div>
him to hear you and maybe</div>
<div>
catch those tears for once.</div>
<div>
but soaked in salt and simple sickness</div>
<div>
your breasts can only heal</div>
<div>
and give you back the edge</div>
<div>
your eyes have let go of:</div>
<div>
be like the wind and know where you're going.</div>
<div>
easier said, but those tears</div>
<div>
at least will dry on your shirts</div>
<div>
or in the naked air, eventual.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
09.2012</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-65392681926354949282013-01-25T13:50:00.001-05:002013-01-25T13:50:45.104-05:00accessoryi met him unexpectedly<div>
someplace we both wanted to be.</div>
<div>
he claimed to be a friend</div>
<div>
of a friend</div>
<div>
but turned out to be much more in the end.</div>
<div>
his face could erase</div>
<div>
all the empty space</div>
<div>
in my head</div>
<div>
and replace it all with humility instead.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i didn't like what he did to me,</div>
<div>
or maybe i did;</div>
<div>
it was too early to tell</div>
<div>
and i was sometimes independent,</div>
<div>
but my heart knew me well.</div>
<div>
i found myself stumbling over him,</div>
<div>
dangling from him,</div>
<div>
and soon it became clear</div>
<div>
i was into his ways,</div>
<div>
and so went the days</div>
<div>
as i took it all in stride</div>
<div>
and for once, vowed not to hide.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
he didn't require words</div>
<div>
to dutifully inquire;</div>
<div>
just needed a beat</div>
<div>
and a place for hire,</div>
<div>
a full-blown choir.</div>
<div>
he struck my every chord</div>
<div>
and i'd beg someone's holy lord</div>
<div>
to keep him in my weary life,</div>
<div>
by His will or by his own accord.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
a long time ago</div>
<div>
i cared for one so</div>
<div>
but he turned out to be</div>
<div>
naught more than shadow.</div>
<div>
he haunted my nights</div>
<div>
and it took an end-all plea</div>
<div>
before i could break free.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
this one knew the time</div>
<div>
and without reason or rhyme</div>
<div>
was nothing with which to compare</div>
<div>
the desperations of despair,</div>
<div>
for he knew me and although</div>
<div>
i couldn't really say</div>
<div>
i was his favorite show,</div>
<div>
it wasn't hopeless as long ago.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
he brought me to my knees</div>
<div>
with the greatest of ease</div>
<div>
and still i was unsure</div>
<div>
if maybe i was tangled in something</div>
<div>
more than my heart could handle</div>
<div>
or just kindling a new candle</div>
<div>
of adventurous aspiration.</div>
<div>
could be my damnation</div>
<div>
or my salvation.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
come what may,</div>
<div>
he was perfection</div>
<div>
and his aura in its reflection</div>
<div>
told me not to fret,</div>
<div>
that he wouldn't sell his soul</div>
<div>
for anything alive</div>
<div>
or objectified.</div>
<div>
he made a vow</div>
<div>
and i didn't understand</div>
<div>
but i know it now --</div>
<div>
he won't drag me down,</div>
<div>
make me cry, steal my crown.</div>
<div>
he'll be</div>
<div>
an honest accessory</div>
<div>
and i shall then be</div>
<div>
valiant exclusively.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
08.2005</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-41459560556484232892013-01-15T16:42:00.000-05:002013-01-15T16:42:10.815-05:00checkerboard friendsred and black, checkerboard friends.<div>
here we go.<br /><div>
i'll be light and you'll be dark</div>
<div>
like our souls</div>
<div>
and the first move will be mine</div>
<div>
because you always prefer to have the last word.</div>
<div>
diagonal pawn</div>
<div>
i am</div>
<div>
calculating my next move</div>
<div>
and then it's all mind games and ticking off turns.</div>
<div>
back and forth</div>
<div>
ping-pong</div>
<div>
on the fence and on the move.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
the shape of an L for</div>
</div>
<div>
the nobleman that you are</div>
<div>
but you can't fool me.</div>
<div>
i'll take the straight line to the end</div>
<div>
to get a piece of myself back.</div>
<div>
you'll return it because you have to.</div>
<div>
those are the rules.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
the king seems to have all the power</div>
<div>
but his moves are limited,</div>
<div>
and therein lies your mistake.</div>
<div>
it's truly the queen,</div>
<div>
i,</div>
<div>
who has all the power,</div>
<div>
command of the board now.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
watch me as i defeat you</div>
<div>
thought by thought</div>
<div>
word for word</div>
<div>
piece by piece,</div>
<div>
swimming</div>
<div>
fluidly through the madness</div>
<div>
across numbers and squares</div>
<div>
and the awesome force of your hand</div>
<div>
can't do a thing</div>
<div>
because the control paradigm has shifted;</div>
<div>
i had to crouch to your level and</div>
<div>
play this despicable game with you,</div>
<div>
a game you've gotten good at over the years</div>
<div>
but haven't quite perfected.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
off you go to a comfortable corner</div>
<div>
where hiding has become a futile excuse</div>
<div>
to all you are,</div>
<div>
but laid out here in front of me</div>
<div>
in plain view --</div>
<div>
checkerboard friends,</div>
<div>
checkerboard life --</div>
<div>
i can see your thoughts</div>
<div>
before you can voice them,</div>
<div>
what otherwise might evolve into insult or injury.</div>
<div>
and for the first time</div>
<div>
the flaws in your thinking are apparent, too,</div>
<div>
the flaws in the righteousness you claim,</div>
<div>
the flaw in the plan</div>
<div>
and now you'll offer a waltz for peace,</div>
<div>
one-two-three,</div>
<div>
one-two-three,</div>
<div>
ample chance to trip me up</div>
<div>
and then make your final kill.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
but if you'd been anything close to sincere</div>
<div>
you'd have seen</div>
<div>
the trap i've been setting for you</div>
<div>
from the get-go.</div>
<div>
i'm here and you're over there,</div>
<div>
hand outstretched for a dance</div>
<div>
but in the midst of your inaugural bow the queen has triumphed.</div>
<div>
ivory over ebony,</div>
<div>
good over evil,</div>
<div>
woman over monster.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
a whispered farewell now</div>
<div>
for you</div>
<div>
and some sort of closure now for me</div>
<div>
in the form of</div>
<div>
checkmate.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
here we go, here</div>
<div>
we go.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
02.2010</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-12926436433626726752013-01-12T14:39:00.001-05:002013-01-12T14:39:51.169-05:00at nineteenwell, well<br />
it's a fine time for rustling up feelings<br />
of dogwood summers<br />
i left behind for you<br />
back when i was wide-eyed enough to do<br />
such a thing. and<br />
i left a lot behind for you.<br />
but we're not untouchables.<br />
i laugh that we were ever considered so<br />
in such web-crossed minds as<br />
ours at nineteen.<br />
i didn't quite know what to make of you.<br />
<br />
i chose my wave not knowing<br />
it would turn me black and blue<br />
and drain me of the rest of my color,<br />
transfused into your veins<br />
when you were finished with me<br />
(so you could go on living<br />
and i could become parasitic, pathetic).<br />
<br />
how i tripped over you.<br />
your play-thirsty lips were begging<br />
to be slaked<br />
and i did not want<br />
to leave them parched<br />
but i did<br />
and immediately wished i hadn't<br />
for i lost you then<br />
right then.<br />
<br />
ignorance is not any sort of bliss<br />
when it comes to you and me;<br />
i spent months as your shadow,<br />
dumb and matching your moves<br />
but always a minute behind. when<br />
i let my voice mix with your broken harmony<br />
i also found that i was jaded.<br />
how does it feel, i wonder<br />
to know that you're the one who jaded me.<br />
i have known many versions of love<br />
but yours was by far<br />
the most brutal.<br />
<br />
i want back, if anything<br />
except time and some tears,<br />
the faith in love i abandoned<br />
to breathe to your<br />
he-loves-me-nots.<br />
<br />
06.2011Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-22817771567808837262012-12-29T14:34:00.000-05:002012-12-29T14:34:09.194-05:00intentionali wonder if you're all happy<div>
now or if you're defending lives</div>
<div>
you've gotten accustomed to, lives</div>
<div>
you ended up with but never</div>
<div>
actually chased down, lives</div>
<div>
tethering you to the place where</div>
<div>
you grew up, where we all grew up.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i wonder, as the flame still alight for you</div>
<div>
in a corner of my heart finds a</div>
<div>
bit of new air for rekindling --</div>
<div>
i wonder if this is the life you had imagined.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i hope you're happy.</div>
<div>
i hope that no one has called you names</div>
<div>
or judged you for being a small-town boy</div>
<div>
who had a child out of wedlock.</div>
<div>
i hope your marriages are stronger</div>
<div>
than your parents' ever were</div>
<div>
and that you didn't do it</div>
<div>
because it was the cool thing to do.</div>
<div>
i hope we've all moved past that notion</div>
<div>
of doing things to be cool.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i hope you aren't stared down in hallways</div>
<div>
or tripped in stores accidentally-on-purpose.</div>
<div>
i hope your shoes are always with-the-times</div>
<div>
and your hair, not yet graying.</div>
<div>
i hope you are making your own money</div>
<div>
and realizing how hard it is to keep it for yourself.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i hope you smile at more things now</div>
<div>
and that you've had to swallow your pride</div>
<div>
once or twice. i hope that</div>
<div>
for myself a lot, too.</div>
<div>
i hope that you don't hesitate</div>
<div>
to help someone when they ask</div>
<div>
and that you help them even</div>
<div>
when they are too afraid to ask.</div>
<div>
i hope that all of your struggles,</div>
<div>
everything you've lived through,</div>
<div>
have enabled you to learn</div>
<div>
about the kind of person you are</div>
<div>
now.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i hope you think of the people you've hurt</div>
<div>
with fondness, especially those</div>
<div>
you didn't know you were hurting</div>
<div>
and i hope you forgive the people</div>
<div>
who have ever made you leave the table</div>
<div>
to go cry in the bathroom.</div>
<div>
i hope you forgive the people</div>
<div>
who offered empty apologies</div>
<div>
just to make themselves feel better.</div>
<div>
i hope you never get tired of hearing or saying</div>
<div>
i'm sorry.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i hope we are contributing members of society now</div>
<div>
and that we think seriously about the future</div>
<div>
even if we aren't sure</div>
<div>
or don't want to know</div>
<div>
where it will take us.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i hope the diamonds on your fingers sparkle</div>
<div>
as brightly as your eyes do</div>
<div>
and that you remember how good it feels</div>
<div>
to be complimented sincerely</div>
<div>
by somebody you don't know.</div>
<div>
i hope you've found something lonely</div>
<div>
in this world to believe in.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
most of all, i hope that we don't forget.</div>
<div>
whatever it is that you still hold on to</div>
<div>
from then until now, i hope</div>
<div>
it stays with you, welding itself</div>
<div>
into the workings of your psyche.</div>
<div>
i mostly hope that you are</div>
<div>
better, stronger, kinder and humbler.</div>
<div>
i mostly hope that we have all</div>
<div>
changed from imbeciles into adults,</div>
<div>
into human beings who matter to somebody.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
that is all that i hope</div>
<div>
for all of you, whom i'd nearly,</div>
<div>
intentionally,</div>
<div>
left behind</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
08.2011</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-28315364403419138922012-12-12T19:31:00.000-05:002012-12-12T19:33:11.027-05:00wait around nowi'm leaving again -- why<br />
<div>
do i always feel like i am saying</div>
<div>
unnecessary goodbyes?</div>
<div>
life should be full of hellos and see you laters, i</div>
<div>
can't take finality like i can't take</div>
<div>
not remembering where i set my hat down at age twenty.</div>
<div>
well the way i see it</div>
<div>
<i>au revoir</i> means "until i see you again" anyway</div>
<div>
so let's leave it at that</div>
<div>
pretending i don't need to feel like</div>
<div>
a lovelorn desperado</div>
<div>
shouting across fences i got tired of sitting on.</div>
<div>
i never actually wait around now</div>
<div>
long enough</div>
<div>
to hear anyone answer.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
04.19.2012</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-49972488445325436802012-11-28T18:12:00.000-05:002012-11-28T18:12:30.787-05:00another shorehow freely we think we are immortals,<div>
our word most certainly each the last.</div>
<div>
today we threw out love</div>
<div>
and instead rode our high horses ably</div>
<div>
into the jester's parade.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i'd like not to be thought of like that;</div>
<div>
i held my wary tongue, wavering.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i know the limits of this, and i've received</div>
<div>
every bit of it on another shore:</div>
<div>
the piercing of a well-timed heart,</div>
<div>
the assassination of a beat-bitten soul.</div>
<div>
so i need a sort of puerile grace now,</div>
<div>
something delicate to counteract the</div>
<div>
greed of knowing what's best for everyone</div>
<div>
(you only ever know what's best for you</div>
<div>
and that's a fortunate science).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i fold in threes, triangle faces and fingers</div>
<div>
keeping me from lashing out.</div>
<div>
this isn't my desire, to mudsling, to steal the throne.</div>
<div>
i cried yesterday so i'm not a martyr now.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
11.2012</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-63522891044353350912012-11-22T15:07:00.000-05:002012-11-22T15:07:13.664-05:00a girl with a hearti'm caught in you,<div>
being tossed amongst your melée,</div>
<div>
and i used to think it might be healthy for me --</div>
<div>
i'm convinced</div>
<div>
it's so good for my soul to love you.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
should my soul, then,</div>
<div>
be splitting itself down the center</div>
<div>
in what can only be called a civil tug-of-war,</div>
<div>
shredding me</div>
<div>
in a juvenile game of</div>
<div>
to-be-or-not-to-be?</div>
<div>
a tragedy at best</div>
<div>
written for only your benefit.</div>
<div>
and suddenly here i am,</div>
<div>
naked in the glare of a rogue headlight,</div>
<div>
and i really wish you'd run me over,</div>
<div>
slam into me head-on</div>
<div>
and be done with it.</div>
<div>
it would be less painful</div>
<div>
than this.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i'd even venture to say</div>
<div>
that i wish you could hate me</div>
<div>
or that i could hate you</div>
<div>
even though i know</div>
<div>
it's not really in me</div>
<div>
to ever harbor such emotions</div>
<div>
or to let you know.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
so could you please just sever this thread</div>
<div>
that binds me so readily to you</div>
<div>
so that i can be free of all this?</div>
<div>
i'm coming undone at your feet</div>
<div>
and i'm losing myself</div>
<div>
over the pieces of us...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i can't be the done-up doll</div>
<div>
the pill-popping priss</div>
<div>
the mascara-smeared Marilyn</div>
<div>
you chase</div>
<div>
you drool over</div>
<div>
you claim will complete you;</div>
<div>
it's me,</div>
<div>
this, just a girl with a heart,</div>
<div>
or nothing.</div>
<div>
that is all i can offer,</div>
<div>
now or ever,</div>
<div>
and so i must request to be</div>
<div>
put out of my misery</div>
<div>
or else risk</div>
<div>
making a mockery of us both;</div>
<div>
be attentive and real</div>
<div>
or be done with me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
01.2010</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-15293270830453499342012-11-18T15:47:00.000-05:002012-11-18T15:47:18.450-05:00senseworld -- struck blind and deaf,<div>
no sense left to make some sense --</div>
<div>
judged me anyway.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
04.21.2010</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-32546478592228878722012-11-14T18:02:00.001-05:002012-11-14T18:07:18.504-05:00only oursyou're not sure when you stopped<br />
<div>
meaning something.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
well, since you asked,</div>
<div>
yes, i do miss the things</div>
<div>
that were once only ours.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
our favorite place to be</div>
<div>
was in the front seats of your car,</div>
<div>
you at unsteady wheel</div>
<div>
and me picking up your misses on the road.</div>
<div>
Matt Nathanson would happily serenade us</div>
<div>
and you and i would serenade him right back</div>
<div>
as if he could hear us through a one-sided stereo,</div>
<div>
but we always did him one better</div>
<div>
by harmonizing --</div>
<div>
you so loved those harmonies</div>
<div>
we shared.</div>
<div>
they brought his music to life for us,</div>
<div>
the too-true lyrics</div>
<div>
resonating long after the songs had ended.</div>
<div>
it was like</div>
<div>
this guy</div>
<div>
had taken our own lives,</div>
<div>
read every page</div>
<div>
and written about them,</div>
<div>
spreading experience, emotion</div>
<div>
across radio waves</div>
<div>
and bedrooms</div>
<div>
and iPods</div>
<div>
and hearts</div>
<div>
like the tastiest butter.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i still recall fondly</div>
<div>
the concert he gave at our school;</div>
<div>
at five bucks per head</div>
<div>
it was a fucking steal</div>
<div>
but he must have known</div>
<div>
we were broke college kids</div>
<div>
who'd wasted our parents' money</div>
<div>
on beer the week before.</div>
<div>
he asked what we wanted to hear</div>
<div>
and we told him</div>
<div>
and he listened and played it all</div>
<div>
into perfection.</div>
<div>
you got it all on camera</div>
<div>
and sent me the videos;</div>
<div>
i watch them now</div>
<div>
and as amazing as Matt was that night</div>
<div>
all i can think of</div>
<div>
is you</div>
<div>
because he was ours.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
the best day i had last summer</div>
<div>
was my 23rd birthday</div>
<div>
when you visited me in Florida</div>
<div>
and we spent it in Walt Disney World,</div>
<div>
a place that had seemed only mine</div>
<div>
for weeks</div>
<div>
and then opened up to accommodate you</div>
<div>
there in the midst of my dream.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
we rode Mission: Space together</div>
<div>
and Zach got so excited</div>
<div>
to be a part of the journey</div>
<div>
that he dubbed us Team Awesome</div>
<div>
and there we were,</div>
<div>
a cluster of young adults</div>
<div>
who'd been transformed by the magic</div>
<div>
into invincible kids.</div>
<div>
we had a superhero stance and everything.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
we rode it five times in a row</div>
<div>
so we'd all have a turn at each role,</div>
<div>
and that day</div>
<div>
all of it --</div>
<div>
the buttons on the inside that we couldn't wait to push,</div>
<div>
Gary Sinise as our trusty flight director,</div>
<div>
going to space and back in four minutes,</div>
<div>
all of it</div>
<div>
was ours.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
the night before you left</div>
<div>
in the hotel</div>
<div>
we were in bed</div>
<div>
talking about life</div>
<div>
and i cried</div>
<div>
because i'd been lonely and homesick,</div>
<div>
because it had meant the world to have visitors,</div>
<div>
because i didn't want you</div>
<div>
to go.</div>
<div>
you held me</div>
<div>
and cried with me</div>
<div>
and told me that you loved me</div>
<div>
and that at last</div>
<div>
you understood what i felt for you.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
it pains my heart to know</div>
<div>
how often you think of that moment now;</div>
<div>
i remember it like yesterday</div>
<div>
too.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
but somewhere in between the beginning and the end</div>
<div>
i got hurt</div>
<div>
and in turn you got hurt</div>
<div>
and the things that had been only ours</div>
<div>
disintegrated back into</div>
<div>
facts of life</div>
<div>
for everyone.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i'm not sure when you stopped</div>
<div>
meaning something;</div>
<div>
i don't think you've stopped</div>
<div>
meaning something.</div>
<div>
but if we've lost</div>
<div>
those things that were ours,</div>
<div>
much of the meaning</div>
<div>
has gotten lost, too,</div>
<div>
all that ever defined you and me</div>
<div>
has gotten lost, too.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
yes, i do miss the things</div>
<div>
that were once only ours.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
05.2010</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4593337647954050587.post-46500573376666542242012-10-30T17:01:00.001-04:002012-10-30T17:20:37.872-04:00WednesdayWednesdays are hard for some people<br />
<div>
but not me. i think Wednesdays are good</div>
<div>
for me and there should always be something</div>
<div>
to break up the week a bit. September 11th</div>
<div>
was a Tuesday and i once broke a man's heart</div>
<div>
on a Sunday. Wednesday is good.</div>
<div>
Thursday is almost-weekend but not weekend enough.</div>
<div>
give me mid-week sunbeams dancing over my floor</div>
<div>
or even the consistency of third-day rain when it's been too long</div>
<div>
without. i like Wednesday,</div>
<div>
it's some kind of momentum into</div>
<div>
things to come and i don't have</div>
<div>
to look back anymore. my</div>
<div>
grandmother passed on a groggy Saturday morning</div>
<div>
so as much as i enjoy sleeping late</div>
<div>
and bacon breakfasts with eggs</div>
<div>
i don't think i'll ever go for those, really.</div>
<div>
i'll have Wednesday please.</div>
<div>
it hasn't betrayed me so far in this life.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
04.11.2012</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07416300760517862018noreply@blogger.com3