This is a completely new poem. It's very simple, but, I think, very effective.
Only you
Let’s get together
and share a vociferous
yawn of truth. If
the spirit is lacking,
force it. Make it
mean something.
Only you.
Don’t hold back,
you can grab,
split,
crack,
slither.
Only you.
Take the pill,
shove the flux.
It’ll make sense
if you try, just once.
Only you.
Croon it bigger,
yell it grander.
Just make a sound.
I know you can.
Only you.
I feel it crawling,
pulling,
seizing;
you did it.
Only you.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Rebirth
This ia actually a complete rework of the "Moonlight on University Drive" poem. It totally changed, but I like it; it has a different message now.
Rebirth
Machinegun fire of the mind
sending jolts of pleasure
through the slums
of my brain.
In the shantytowns
around my lungs,
it was common
knowledge: Death
is a fierce friend.
I heard a rumor
in the suburbs
surrounding another
ulcer; it couldn’t last
forever.
It was during my
expedition through
the projects adjacent
my aorta that I
saw it:
The tower built
from the bones
of indulgence will no longer
support itself.
The crash brought
with it all my happy
thoughts, crushed any
notions of fairness under
the bulk of reason.
The Babel of my
id was razed by you,
built by me. We both
saw it fall and the
calamity birthed
something new:
Us.
Rebirth
Machinegun fire of the mind
sending jolts of pleasure
through the slums
of my brain.
In the shantytowns
around my lungs,
it was common
knowledge: Death
is a fierce friend.
I heard a rumor
in the suburbs
surrounding another
ulcer; it couldn’t last
forever.
It was during my
expedition through
the projects adjacent
my aorta that I
saw it:
The tower built
from the bones
of indulgence will no longer
support itself.
The crash brought
with it all my happy
thoughts, crushed any
notions of fairness under
the bulk of reason.
The Babel of my
id was razed by you,
built by me. We both
saw it fall and the
calamity birthed
something new:
Us.
The ritual of birth
Another rewrite:
Today I finally found the nerve
to encounter my reflection.
Blushing beams bounced off my onerous edifice
and I didn't even care.
Split seconds spent sharing,
cool counterspells crowning
kings through keyholes.
It killed my feeble mind,
left it still twitching.
What should I do amidst
crashing cream-colored cretins?
The sickly stream of words
flowing without meter,
without match.
It's here.
Lying, standing, dying.
Is there an entomologist
in the house?
I think I'm being born here.
Today I finally found the nerve
to encounter my reflection.
Blushing beams bounced off my onerous edifice
and I didn't even care.
Split seconds spent sharing,
cool counterspells crowning
kings through keyholes.
It killed my feeble mind,
left it still twitching.
What should I do amidst
crashing cream-colored cretins?
The sickly stream of words
flowing without meter,
without match.
It's here.
Lying, standing, dying.
Is there an entomologist
in the house?
I think I'm being born here.
Prop 8
Here's a rewrite of the "Someday" poem I've been vworking on:
Prop 8
It's not easy
when you can't accept love. On occasion,
I'll say, "Sure,
go for it. What
do I care?"
The back doors
of my childhood
beckon. Love was
so simple, how could we lose it?
If we are no more than this,
no more than petty
misplaced anger;
what are we?
They fear it, fear what they should accept
without question.
Maybe it’s too hard for them,
and we make it too easy.
They're so quick to judge
us with old fairy tales, ignoring their our broken
reflections. Who gave them
this power, and why?
They don't deserve it,
at least not yet. Take
it away, please. Just
take it away. We'll all be ready
someday.
Prop 8
It's not easy
when you can't accept love. On occasion,
I'll say, "Sure,
go for it. What
do I care?"
The back doors
of my childhood
beckon. Love was
so simple, how could we lose it?
If we are no more than this,
no more than petty
misplaced anger;
what are we?
They fear it, fear what they should accept
without question.
Maybe it’s too hard for them,
and we make it too easy.
They're so quick to judge
us with old fairy tales, ignoring their our broken
reflections. Who gave them
this power, and why?
They don't deserve it,
at least not yet. Take
it away, please. Just
take it away. We'll all be ready
someday.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Poem 3
Someday
It's not easy
when you can't say yes.
On occasion,
I'll say, "Sure,
go for it. What
do I care?"
The back doors
of my childhood
beckon. But I can't;
What if they knew?
They can not, will not,
accept.
If we are no more than that,
no more than petty
misplaced anger;
what are we?
I would venture a guess,
if I could. The sameness
is easy, but where
does it come from?
We're so quick to judge,
ignoring our broken
reflection. Who gave us
the power, and why?
We don't deserve it,
at least not yet. Take
it away, please. Just
take it away. We'll be ready
someday.
It's not easy
when you can't say yes.
On occasion,
I'll say, "Sure,
go for it. What
do I care?"
The back doors
of my childhood
beckon. But I can't;
What if they knew?
They can not, will not,
accept.
If we are no more than that,
no more than petty
misplaced anger;
what are we?
I would venture a guess,
if I could. The sameness
is easy, but where
does it come from?
We're so quick to judge,
ignoring our broken
reflection. Who gave us
the power, and why?
We don't deserve it,
at least not yet. Take
it away, please. Just
take it away. We'll be ready
someday.
Poem 2
The ritual of birth
Today I finally found the nerve
to encounter my reflection.
In the mirror I found nothing
and I didn't even care.
Split seconds spent sharing,
cool conterspells crowning
kings through keyholes.
I killed your feeble mind,
left it still twitching.
Why do you blame me,
when it was you pulling the strings?
The sickly stream of words
flowing without meter,
without match.
It's here.
Lying, standing, dying.
Is there an entomologist
in the house?
I think I'm being born here.
Today I finally found the nerve
to encounter my reflection.
In the mirror I found nothing
and I didn't even care.
Split seconds spent sharing,
cool conterspells crowning
kings through keyholes.
I killed your feeble mind,
left it still twitching.
Why do you blame me,
when it was you pulling the strings?
The sickly stream of words
flowing without meter,
without match.
It's here.
Lying, standing, dying.
Is there an entomologist
in the house?
I think I'm being born here.
Poem 1
I'm going to be posting some poems that I write here. Please feel free to comment on them.
Moonlight on University Drive
Machinegun fire of the mind
sending jolts of pleasure
through the slums
of my brain.
Guilty corners
of my holding cell,
grasping thoughts
of trapped guilt.
The body of love
killing notions of
hereditary pain.
We made the choice,
acceptable risk.
It'll never happen,
not to us.
The tenets of law
reaching out,
touching the untouchable.
We didn't, but we did.
I would appreciate any thoughts anyone has about this poem. I feel pretty good about it, but I don't really write that much poetry, so feedback is much appreciated.
Peace.
Moonlight on University Drive
Machinegun fire of the mind
sending jolts of pleasure
through the slums
of my brain.
Guilty corners
of my holding cell,
grasping thoughts
of trapped guilt.
The body of love
killing notions of
hereditary pain.
We made the choice,
acceptable risk.
It'll never happen,
not to us.
The tenets of law
reaching out,
touching the untouchable.
We didn't, but we did.
I would appreciate any thoughts anyone has about this poem. I feel pretty good about it, but I don't really write that much poetry, so feedback is much appreciated.
Peace.
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