i like you fat and full of smiles
snuggly with little understanding
i like that your clothes are one piece
and your only need is sleep
(i can relate to that)
you can grow up
but dont grow old
poetry
My Father and the Reaper
poetryPart I: My father shot me, bang bang
I was created a girl, you see, and
wantin’ to be genderless was my sin,
“My daughter, I’m send you back to your maker.
Only he can make you whole for you’re unnatural.”
Steadfast was his resolve as he pointed the gun at me,
I didn’t wish to be a boy, you see,
but he shot me before I could tell him;
I wanted to be genderless.
I was the garbage can
rolling empty on the side of the street
one shot through my wasted heart,
nothin’ but pungent darkness.
Tell my father, he fostered and killed an empty vessel.
Tell him,
Tell him,
Tell him, I had yet to be born.
My father is not an evil man, you see
he is a simple man with ordinary values
uprooting all he doesn’t understand.
I wanted grace
a heart, not bruised or calloused
a mind, pristine and free
and eyes, innocent and clear.
So that I could feel like it wasn’t too late,
So that the day I’d finally be born and alive, I could say :
I am not my mother
I am not my father
I am not a girl
I am not a boy
I am human
***
Part II: The Reaper
Dark
Dark
Father, it is so dark.
Ah, 17 years old…
life had the promise of a bebop dance at the neon lights.
I thought there would be more days
Days when I’d breathe stardust till the break of dawn,
Days when freedom would cost 10 cents a piece at the farmer’s market
Days when I would needn’t stop for the rain or wait for love.
Fly me away
Fly me away from my own mind
Father, it is so silent.
my beautiful mom took the night train,
she promised to come back,
when the night is beautiful again
when the passing wind needn’t flirt with the outside, with damaged stars,
and plastic bags that always float one step further.
The reaper came from the bullet
and into darkness it took me,
to the place of the unwanted children-
dark and desolated.
The fabric of life and death is too coarse against my soul,
it rubs the good stuff away,
and soon I will fade into darkness.
Wish me back
Have Mercy, Father
wish me back
alive and well
So I can finally rest in peace.
Somewhere to go
poetryanother
dawn came knocking out my window
lawn of my dreams vanished, and
the bed threw me down,
time to find somewhere to go
no one is to blame, it’s all my fault
if i seem lame, i’m in a vault
i could have made an effort
i could’ve found me a cohort
for a life less lonely
time to find somewhere to go
another
callow walk in the streets
i felt so low, so mellow
the asphalt threw me down,
where can I go from here?
i need somewhere to go.
and hide before another dawn
would you welcome me,
for a while?.
the day after corn
poetryin the accomplishment
of a job well done,
i reveled.
haiku
poetrylike the morning mist
off these forty-five islands,
our worries dissolve.
olympic opening ceremony
poetrythe pride i feel for them
almost what i feel for us
and i like where my heart
has gone
And so I stare at the tv, at a loss for words
poetryi’ve been sitting here for
minutes, asking myself
what mood i am in so that
i will know what kind of
poem to write; but my
laughable self-knowledge
yet again fails me,
refusing to clarify
what meaning I should find
in this unstoppable lethargy
that has swept through me
for no foreseeable reason.
but watching mariano rivera pitch was awesome
poetrythousands stand
yelling as one
shouting about
a man trying to
hit a ball
over a wall
while I sit
soaking it all
in not feeling
connected to the
emotional surge,
missing the wave
as it passes me by
four thirty a.m.
poetrybeyond the cove
and the cliffs
echoes the lonely cry
of a nameless bird
while most still
sleep.
eh?
poetryfilled up but not what i’d call full
because i’m more a glass
partially empty
kind of guy
3 days
of 5
but
the rest
of the week
i tend to be slightly
more optomistic about
the things i see and feel and
all the places you go when i’m not
around to check into our dealings of sorts
1 Peter 3:15
poetrytally up your sins
just press them against your hand and look
the places you’ve shot and killed
poured over in blood
washed them “clean” with words of
valor?
short by ten thousand, a million, more
thick snow could not cover the black
you’ve made
press them against your hand and feel
madness at your things gone right
and accident – nay
i knew exactly what it was i done
and exactly where i find my hope
middle america
poetrysilent white giants
revolve slowly
contemplating these plains.
Now if I could find the next five
poetryjoy of joys
to find what
was thought lost;
to again be
able to watch
and enjoy the
first five ep
isodes of bat
tlestar galac
tica season four
haiku
poetryi have returned
from the other side of the world
bearing words.
burning
poetryspark and flame and ash alike
begin and end in heat
poke
spike
the things that keep our love
alive
or tear from us the things
burning
strive to find what fire can do
to all you own
everything new
thoughts after a nice short 20 minute run
poetrypassing as swiftly as it
intruded
i quickly find i miss it
my high
the buzz
of the drugs pumping
through my blood as i
take each next step
proceeding
slowly
forward
powered by
truly thinking
i can conquer the world
I’m a better person than you because I’m voting for Obama
poetryIn the act,
in the midst
of congratulating myself
on being a humanitarian
on being a swell guy,
I realized I didn’t do
what I was so proud of;
I didn’t stop;
I didn’t help;
I didn’t lend a hand;
I left a man,
walking on the road
in the 107 degree heat
and made excuses to myself
saying: Iwasn’tgoingveryfar;
Iwasabouttostop;hemighthave
stunk;hemighthaverobbedme;it
mightn’thavebeensafe;whatifI
waslate;someoneelsewillhelp.
Accusing myself with my excuses,
I realized that just because
I am voting for Obama doesn’t
mean that I don’t still suck,
just like everybody else.
the night when nine become one
poetrylicorice and spice baby
you’re nothing nice
that feeling you wont miss me
if i’m gone
your gone
but i miss you
`Cause tonight is the night
When nine become one
where snot runs down like tears
poetrydirt and cockroaches
haunt these halls
we so comfortably
call our home
NOTE:I will be absent for the next week or so as I will be in Virginia.
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