poetry

Dog Day Afternoon

poetry

I saw the doctor today
he looked into my eyes and
smiled. How could he?
He took a look at my finger,
my mutating thumb stared back at him
How dare he?
The old vivacious man thrilled to meet me
like I made sense, wind in the right direction
It is what no one ever sees
a girl in a chair facing the absence of truth
cold sympathetic eyes
mouth uttering empty words
“You’re a good girl”
Was I mistaken for a dog?
Those words were meant for pets,
the domesticated fools.
Maybe I’m the nature’s pet
fed with low-weight hope,
whole healthy lies and
juicy bones.
How long before I’m put to sleep?
How long must I wait for my free run in the park?
Until then
I piss on nature’s greens

Looking forward to inevitable awkward silences

poetry

They will arrive at six
and then it will begin:
she’ll feel strange,
in a strange place
with strange people,
including a future mother-
in-law, sister-in-law, and
of course me, a future, possible
brother-in-law, who will
enjoy sitting back and
soaking in the awkward
silences, and perhaps
even contribruting to them by not
contributing to the conversation,
which will fit in perfectly
with the lattitude permitted
to me by my laziness.

man

poetry

jobs to big for you
i can man tain
water too cold for you
can be held in my
man teen
you eat bananas
but i eat
man tains
you do things ten times
i do them to the man teenth time
and people are impressed

you carry a multitool
but i carry a mantool

and you drink beer
i drink maneer
and poop
manooer

i’m more manly and drink
man 2 – oh
while you stick with hydrogen
and my manercise
makes your pilates look even more feminine

i do one-armed man ups
and man presses in my sleep

but usually i only feel
mantastic when i’m around my woman

A Tribute to the New X-Files Movie, in Five Stanzas

poetry

I find myself surrounded
by Mulder’s mantra,
both on my computer’s
background and on my mind.

I want to believe
that everyone can think
that everyone is smart
that everyone is equal.

I want to believe
that I can help
that I can teach
that I can make a difference.

I want to believe
that people are good
that the world is good
that God is good.

And out of my want
I will make reality
I will choose my reality
I will believe my reality.

i’m the sieve and the sand success story and they’ll say “hey give me a chance to read that poem,” they’ll say…

poetry

what i would kill
to command this language
in the way you do
to bring to life the light
you’ve chased
(and yes i’ll chase it with you)

to have mastered the crescendo to
bring to life that which we have forgotten
taken for granted

your worship (whether you’re aware or not)
it brings Him glory as you have mastered
that which He created

set laws to govern
skill to feel
grace to
embrace
master

for a guitar
and a stage to lead people
to Him like you do
to glorify
the savior you dont even seem to
know
recognize
serve
bow before

but your gift
(so obviously supernatural)
brought forth from the sun
endowed by the father
graced with the spirit

if you only knew whom you worship
how you yourself would bow
prostrate
before His glory
waiting for eternal glory
you are

need an invitation? you must

her it goes (and what)
i would kill for your skill
with which you’ve been graced

waiting for attention
i’m not
yea
but His acknowledgment of who you are
and
amen

The Bad Summer Daze

poetry

O how many summer mornings shall be filled with anger

When cooperation can be the first solution ?

*

O how many summer mid days are filled with joy

While pain exists so deep within our souls ?

*

O how many summer evenings drag on in dullness

Without distraction or relief from all the hurt ?

*

O how many more days must I wait in the heat

While time continue to pass me by ?

I Have Died for the First Time

poetry

“I think of you as a brother,” SHE says

The words-like a spell-unlocked FEAR

Which attacked my heart relentlessly

To the point where I have now died my first death

*

I am dead inside

My heart bleeds profusely til the blood is no more

MY FEAR has taken solid form

And now exists to torture me

*

“I think of you not as a sister,

But something much more than that,”

I wish to say, but

My heart’s voice is being strangled

*

Did I speak far too soon?

Or did I speak far too late?

Did I release myself too quickly

Resulting in not relief, but the emptiness I feel now?

*

The Hurricane of Tragedy has broken

The Levees of my heart

Which suppressed my innermost emotions

Now the light which should guide me

To safe ground, has been Relinquished

And through the dark I must move alone

quality poetry? for the first time in weeks

poetry

rime:
fabled lake of western lore
blue, green moss of sandy shore
joy and smiles none the more
laughing at my face of bore

hike you:
loss came to me once
with blackened raven – ed poe
he stabbed it dead

limb er… rick:
although i never kicked him down
along the river did he frown
by brook and stream of moon so bright
bore he my burden in pants so tight
and smiled as he ran aground

cup lit:
epics are oft too long
to ever be made into song

tripe lit:
carp on log
and cooked with frog
smells like bog

and fine all lee:
on discovering chuck norris could whoop my ass
i discerned my calling was not to ask
him if he could or not.

The disunity of 3

poetry

creature born out of spite
contemptuous flesh of mud
How long before the garish sun
turns you to dust?
How long before the teary sky
washes you out?

contemplate him not,
Heed not his shrill cries,
abomination is upon him.

creature born out of grace
luminescent piece of heaven
The jealous moon turns pale at
the sight of you.
The wind weeps in awe at the
touch of you.

Revere him,
seek his warm soothing embrace,
God is on his side.

creature born out of a random drop
innocuous crack on the surface
Puppet in the circus of life
Pauper on the floor of the world

Trample him not,
feed not his ravenous sorrow,
time will spit him out.