Author: Jared Abraham

At least until the drinking started

poetry

“It’s so nice to be together
but to not feel like we have to talk,”
I found myself thinking
whilst driving with old friends
to whom I had no idea what to say;

and I all but convinced myself
that this was how it should be,
trying to not recognize the probability
that our friendship had passed away,
and that only a faint semblance remained.

Death of a Poem

poetry

There is a poem
just beneath this surface
of jumbled thoughts
and nonsensical moments,
banging against the walls,
burning the roof,
huffing and puffing
and threatening to blow
my mental house down
(as well as my mind);
but in the end,
the walls, they hold,
and the roof, the roof
is not on fire,
and the poem slowly grows silent
succumbing to the stronger force
of indifferent apathy,
dying along with its
potential beauty.

perspective

poetry

i’ll never fully understand
but perhaps i see more clearly
than yesterday,last week,
last month, last year;
the anger is gone (mostly),
departing with the worry,
departing with the gloom,
departing with the doom,
and while i’m not calm
at least i see a glimmer
of understanding,
at least today.

waiting is the hardest part

poetry

the days have turned into weeks
and still the call hasn’t come,
leaving us in limbo
with only unanswered questions
of who, where, when, how,
why won’t this change!

and so the waiting
turns into pacing,
and the pacing
turns into gnawing,
all of which i hide from you
putting on a strong face,
and never realizing that
you don’t need my strength,
only my trust.

Interview Thoughts

poetry

I stand there
then sit here;
all the whilst
you judge me
and i judge you:

do you like me?
do i like you?
do i pass your test?

why should i let you judge me?
how should i answer this question?
do you want the truth or a lie?

do you want to hear that i
really only want a paycheck?
do you want to know that i
love being off in the summer?
do you want to hear that i
really don’t care?
do you want to know that i
was once kicked out of uzbekistan?

probably not,
and so i’ll tell you exactly
what you want to hear
and i’ll expect as my just reward
the bestowment of the job,
no lie.

That’s Shocking!

poetry

this week’s been
one of those weeks;
full of surprising ups
that aren’t really ups;
full of angry downs
that aren’t really downs;
and topping it all off
was the realization today,
bursting upon me in a flash,
that what i thought was a fart
had more mass to it
making that the shitty cherry
to top off this horrible week.

Texas Thunder Storms

poetry

the day was dark
damp and dank
with rolling,
rumbling,
crashing,
shocking,
shaking,
reverberating thunder
and flashes of lightning,
so bright,
lighting the night,
jaggedly stretching
from earth to sky,
briefly burning into my eyes,
remaining burned in memory
long after the darkness returned
and consumed the light completely,
so that only the damp and dank,
the dark remained.

Hookie

poetry

I’m not sick,
and yet i’m home
as my class begins
in exactly 1 minute,
and while i sit,
distracting myself,
it still does not work
becasue in the back
of my mind all i can do
is think about the mountain
of papers, of work
sitting just to my left
beckoning to me
calling to me
convincing me to work,
despite my laziest misgivings.