Monday, December 29, 2008

i've severed the strings
that hold the rest of you down
like big charlie browns
at a thanksgiving day parade.

and now i'm soaring,
higher and higher,
until the atmospheric pressure
pops me like a balloon.

you'd kill to get this high up,
but if you knew what i did
to reach this level of ecstasy,
you might end up insane.

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

closer

i stare up at the night sky
and imagine the millions of miles
between our galaxy and the next,
our civilization and the next.

how absurdly far apart we are,
such that we'll probably never meet,
never understand each other
or share parts of our lives.

it's then i realize
that you're not that far away,
and unlike the infinite universe,
you are here with me now.

not a burning comet
soaring in endless space,
but a shareholder of my world
that i can't wait to meet.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

paintings (edited)

I did this poem a while ago, but fixed some of the rhymes and language to make the meter a bit better.

This is the story about a young couple,
Their love, like all, was tender and supple.
They loved one another as all couples do,
But it's up to you if their love is true.

We begin with the very first day they share,
During which the man was searching with care.
For the poor woman had just lost her watch,
They couldn't find it anywhere - oh what a botch!

And then the second day was not any better,
Even though the man promised he'd love her forever.
For the woman had lost her only job,
And to his condolences, she only mustered a sob.

On the third day, poor fortune struck thrice,
And today her faithful man was so humble and nice.
For the unlucky woman's dog fell and lost its life,
He tended to her heart, torn with sorrow and strife.

The fourth day was ripe with such bitter sorrow,
On this day she cried from the morning 'til the 'morrow.
When the woman learned of her father's passing,
The man tried to comfort her, but was not harassing.

The fifth and final day was by far the worst,
Her man was gone and her heart seemed to burst.
She awakened all alone and with a scare,
Until suddenly she noticed a letter by the stairs.

Her one truly beloved told her to go to the park,
So she did as he said, while moving through the dark.
He said to look for a bench plain in sight,
And by the time she got there, the sun shone bright.

Standing before her were five separate paintings,
And they quickly rid her of all the week's taintings.
Quickly and noticeably, tears filled her eyes,
She started to weep, but these were different cries.

The first painting was of her, in the very same coat,
And in it she was reaching deep, pulling out a note.
She did the same, and made a startled sound,
For in it was her watch, and a note, "Look what I found."

The second painting was of her dear homestead,
And beneath it lay an inscription that read:
"Our love runs deep, encompassing a wide range,
Not even losing a job, can ever that change."

Looking on to the third, was a painting that did show,
A young puppy of one, in a store window.
Attached to the painting, was another note that did say:
"I've left his name for you to choose, that is if you let him stay."

The fourth was a portrait of her father,
But his visage to her, did not seem to bother.
For below his face, were words far apart, saying,
"He has never truly died, he now lives within your heart."

The fifth and final painting was of a woman and a man,
The woman looked at paintings, while the man held out his hand.
In the painting she was slowly turning, looking behind her to see,
Her lover holding in his hand a ring, bent down on one knee.

lost

While lost one day
I remember my childhood,
when if I was lost,
someone would take me home.

Retracing my steps, I walk past houses I'm not allowed to enter.
Dead end after dead end mock me at every turn.
It's starting to darken as streetlamps flicker,
and I stare at the stars - wondering who will take me home.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

dear self,

you have a lot to offer,
you can think positively,
you attract good things,
you aren't afraid of failing.

you swim in confidence,
you are most important,
you just need to be yourself,
you don't need to worry.

you hate the butterflies,
you like the unknown,
you love yourself.

Sunday, November 09, 2008

which socks today?
purple, orange, or gray?
yellow for a smile,
pink for the style.

red if i'm mad,
blue if i'm sad.
black if i don't care,
oh - which to wear?

white for 'just another day,'
brown to be cliche.
green for 'look at that!'
wait, what about my hat?
you are small.
insignificant.
your problems
are but a single ripple
in the vast lake that is the universe.

you will never have an effect
on planets light years away.
you will die,
like everyone else,
your life ultimately meaning nothing.

so take your worries of today
and let them be washed away
by the tide of enormity
that blankets all things in existence
and serves as our only common thread.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Saturday, October 25, 2008

more than some

i can run on my own two legs,
and that's more than some.

i can tell people i love them,
and that's more than some.

i can wake up with new goals,
and that's more than some.

i can buy food at a whim,
and that's more than some.

i can live a pain-free day,
and that's more than some.

but if only i loved myself more,
that would be more than most.

Friday, October 24, 2008

bliss

they didn't know why,
at such a young age,
how something like this could happen,
without any warning.

they didn't know why,
life veers this way some times,
putting our heads underwater,
leaving us gasping for air.

they didn't know why,
when they found him lying there,
his face looked so peaceful
and his mouth formed a smile.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

the umbrella

it's beginning to rain lightly
onto my college campus.
the trees become heavier
as the sidewalk darkens.

walking below that gray blanket
i come across a girl.
she has on expensive clothes
and her hair is simply immaculate.

it is her umbrella that gets me,
with a little pink handle
and clear plastic cover that surrounds her
all the way down to her waist.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Monday, October 06, 2008



This is a two-hour video that everyone needs to see.

Jesu

Tuesday, September 30, 2008



Sorry about the hissing sound

Monday, September 15, 2008

redux



a hundred years from now,
it won't matter what i did today.
because the world will keep on going
while i slowly decay.

everything i do right now,
will be forgotten over time.
the only impact i'll have
is right now, in my prime.

it's my only time to love,
laugh and cherish
before the time comes
when we all must perish.

if i could do one thing,
while i'm still whole and real,
i wish i'd finally stand up
and tell you how i feel.

:)

this is the kind of poem
i haven't done in a while,
but writing one now,
i can't help but smile.

a small glimmer of hope
that all will be as it should,
and everything that's inside
will finally be understood.

and even if it's impossible
for things to be that way,
i'm just simply glad
you made me smile today.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

hey you,
sit down
and do it.

no excuses,
start now,
stop later.

do it so i
know more
about you.

once upon a time

imagine when you die
you go on a really long vacation
for all eternity
somewhere in the sky.

everyone who has ever lived is there,
well - almost everyone,
and some say pets go there, too,
to this magical place.

your grandparents are there
(but are they still old?)
as is your best friend
(didn't they die young?)

on this vacation you relax,
and spend your days
in pure bliss and joy
without any worries at all.

but without electricity,
what will you do?
how do inventions prosper,
and who invents them?

wouldn't your family annoy you,
if you spent eternity with them?
oh - of course not!
this is a fairy tale, after all!

where there are no diseases
because a powerful unknown force
keeps them at bay....
and no one is ever sad
because a powerful unknown force
keeps everybody happy.....
where you never age a year
because a powerful unknown force
stops all concepts of time....
and you'll wait and wait
while a powerful unknown force
sends your children to this place....
where you don't need science
because you have faith
that everything will be OK in the end.

/warning\ wrong way

it's a lot like walking
up an escalator
the wrong way
for a long time.

you want to reach the top,
but you can't
run for fear of falling
or stop and give it up.

so what are you to do then,
when the top slowly shrinks
and starts to look
further and further away?

stop and wait?
let the top come to you?
continue to fight?
what are you to do then?

orange soda?

all the time i wonder
about holding it in my hand
until it gets warm.

pressing my lips against it
just long enough to know
i made the right decision.

but it might be best
if i didn't tamper at all
with the perfect Crush.

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

fly

probably my favorite poem i've ever written
a wish for a day,
the ability to fly.
a world in which to play,
through an endless sky.

flying for miles and miles,
my new wings so tired.
rows of cities like aisles,
as i soar on, inspired...

the wind carries me,
seamlessly like a dream.
the ground is gone, gone,
and the sun but a gleam.

but the best part of this trip,
isn't the sensation or the view.
it's when after all day long,
i finally land next to you.

atleast one will understand

i lie on my back
and stare up.
it's dark out,
and kind of chilly.

ever stare at ceiling tiles?
so many little holes -
like an ant hill
you ponder stomping on.

the floor is hard, cold,
and starts to make my ass hurt.
it gets warmer and brighter
as my a/c finally starts up.

i hold a book to read it
until my arms get tired,
then it's back to the tiles
that form pluses and crosses.

soon it's too dark to see the holes,
and i only see the smoke detector blinking
before the street lights shut off
and it gets kind of chilly.
if you google my name, some links come up with poetry from some other kid named stephen townsend.

none of those are mine. i only write poetry here.

Friday, August 22, 2008

'those' memories

i can swim through them
as quickly as you can
catch a disease from
drinking water in Africa.

they are like the undead,
plentiful, vivid, hideous,
reaching out over each other
and disappearing just as fast.

they give me chills,
make me toss and turn
and question my inner self,
my resolve to move forward.
if it feels like a waste of time,
that's because it is.
but fret not about it,
for time doesn't even really exist
and therefore cannot be wasted.

instead, think of time as a limit,
holding you back from your dreams
like a giant hill to a runner.
you can only do so much today,
tomorrow, in your lifetime.

the perfect temperature

it's too cold,
put on a jacket and i'm OK,
then it's too hot,
i get flustered, angry.

i take it off,
and soon it's cold again.
a vicious cycle
of such extremities.

when will it be just right,
when will i finally be content,
when will that perfect temperature,
finally enter my life?

what i let go

i've let go many times,
like when my child first
learned to ride a bike
and needed my guidance.

i let go of my fear
when those around me died
magnifying my living state,
illuminating unknown paths.

but of all i've let go,
i still dwell on just one,
and some days i live regretfully
in a world of what-could-have-been.

Friday, August 08, 2008

selling baby boy: in new condition

i'm selling my baby boy,
he's in brand new condition.
sure to bring you joy,
will be a welcome addition.

still doesn't have a name,
you can give him that, too.
laughs at baby games,
like when playing "peek-a-boo."

price is about two hundred,
he shouldn't be a bother.
has a cute little head,
and only needs a father.

Monday, July 14, 2008

pictures

my favorites are those of space,
of our planet like a blue scoop of ice cream
with patches of green like syrup
and sprinkles of white.

of assorted galaxies like jelly beans,
in red and blue and yellow,
with enormous suns we can't comprehend,
like a speckled jawbreaker to an eleven year old.

when i see one i think,
'wow, it's really big,'
and let all my worries wash away
before the monstrosity that is space.

high school summer night

lying outstretched on my bed,
it's a high school summer night.
just the boring sounds of crickets
and the whirring of my fan.
it's dark in my room,
but i still close my eyes,
so i can dream about you.

Friday, June 20, 2008

a misguided people

there are misguided people in this world
who've lost sight of human compassion,
and absorb themselves in a haven
that only protects the individual.

quick to analyze, criticize and denounce,
they fill their self-created void
with a misdirected annoyance or contempt
that is actually brewed from within.

the fundamental problem with them
is a refusal to love - often themselves.
certain souls must love them out of necessity,
lest we all succumb and become lost.

the precious

he told me before he died,
no days matter but today,
so take it in full stride
and let nothing in your way.

i delve not into prayers
or knowing all the answers,
it's for today i care,
he said before the cancer.

for what else do we possess,
if not the joys of today?
let not the future stress,
and cause fear and dismay.

wake up with a smile, he said,
you've been given the greatest gift,
so go on and plow ahead,
and allow the day to drift.

growing up talk

i told a dear friend
that responsibility
was more important
than plain virility.

it is the man, not the penis,
she trusts;
and for talks, she yearns,
not thrusts.

for when the passion wears,
and you must take action,
you may find you love her,
for more than carnal attraction.

recycle bin

never thought i'd see you like this (again),
but everyone deserves a final goodbye,
maybe this one is ours,
and this time there are no tears.

you can call it "summer cleaning,"
clearing out mental shelves,
deleting pixels and megabytes,
and making space for something new.

dragging the weight on my shoulders
and dropping it in the garbage,
yes - i'm really sure,
i want to move on with my life.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

goodbye, moon

i was watching Apollo 13
with my girlfriend yesterday,
when i realized something
that completely blew me away.

we were cuddling close together,
her head lying on my chest,
when a thought entered my head
i could never hope to digest.

and it was this:
"you are the moon,"
i thought quietly,
whilst we spoon.

that orb in the sky,
the men could never reach,
was like a forbidden heart
i was never meant to breach.

as i watched them float by it,
in a void of space and time,
i knew i was with another now,
and you were only in my rhymes.

the coolers

something about the coolers
is therapeutic, soothing,
so that when i enter one
i leave our world altogether
and enter a universe of cold
and humming and solitude,
a place where i can think,
stock milk and eggs,
and let the freeze
dissolve away my exterior,
exposing me to friendship,
and happiness and love.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

the boy

this is a story of a boy
who tried to impress a girl,
but ultimately failed
and lived on to regret it.

the girl, they say,
was impressed by marbles
of all colors and sizes,
thus the boy sought them.

he searched high and low,
in the dark and the light,
indeed - even in himself -
but he could not find them.

thus he had to let go of her,
like a kite in the wind
that was reluctant to fly away,
all because he had no balls.
all the time i fear
for the world we live in today,
where black and white exist
but nowhere is a gray.

popping pills for the blues
when life just seems too hard,
surgery gives us beauty
and also leaves us scarred.

what of the times before,
when a remedy was a friend?
instead of material waste,
on which we spend, spend...

to be a part of my generation
is beginning to feel like a shame,
and i keep on wondering
what force there is to blame.

perhaps that of creation,
or of our own temptation.
some believe in salvation
through a book called Revelation.

but me?
i'd rather not.
for a simple reason:
i know what i've got.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

every place in this world
offers new sights, smells, sounds,
experiences and people to meet.
if you seclude yourself from it,
you'll be none the wiser,
just an isolated, ignorant fool.
but if you see a half-naked man
burn his hands in a tribal custom,
then you've seen one percent more
of the world in which you claim to be a part.
therefore, i'm off,
to new sights, smells, and sounds,
to see just one more percent,
of that which makes us human
on a planet called earth.
both are but one of many.
rest in peace,
person i've never met,
but knew all too well,
like a brother
or best friend.

love is what binds us
and death is what
cleaves us in two,
until the fateful day
we are united again.

a life much too young
to be taken away so soon,
ascend now to heaven,
or whatever spiritual ether
in which you believed.
running away won't get me far,
so i choose to fly.
but what i expect to find,
i know not.
indeed, not even what i seek.

yet i need to soar away,
away from the nest,
on my own power -
with my own wings,
far, far away.

the journey will bring me back,
this i am all too aware,
but for now,
in this moment,
i fly - away.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

to a former best friend

i think we both knew it'd be like this.
you with your friends and beer.
me with my friend and games.
a past left to gather dust
in a place where the tumbleweed is gone
and memories are ever-fleeting.

it was fun for the time it lasted,
but i hold no hope for our future.
an abandoned friendship thrown on the roadside,
its thumbs cut and forced to hitchhike.
but i guess so long as we're happy,
we'll never need to see each other again.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

a failed attempt at humor

in may i'll be spending around 2 full days on airplanes, going from atlanta to LA and then LA to australia, and then 6 days later from australia to LA, to atlanta.

with all the recent security issues regarding airplanes, you'd think i'd be scared that a wire in one of the tires is going to get stuck and the plane will crash on landing.

or that the fact that i'll be flying over the pacific ocean, with virtually no safe locations of emergency landings.

but no - i'm scared of something else.

farts.

the average human farts 14 times in a day. (it's a fact, look it up).
the standard passenger boeing 747 can carry about 400 people (it's actually more, i'm being fart-generous here).

that's over 11 thousand farts on my combined air travel time. and there's no way that stuff is going to escape, either. you can't exactly crack a window. with stewardesses walking back and forth and people constantly falling asleep (which increases flatulence when you try to hold it in) i'm starting to wonder why they don't give you complimentary nose plugs to go along with the floppy pillow and blanket that was purposely created three sizes too small.

maybe i'll find another use for the emergency oxygen mask.

seriously though, folks, airlines have no business serving meat and soft drinks. and telling people to chew gum for their ears will actually make them swallow more air, which leads to more farting (again, they're facts).

nervous people with fast moving bowels also tend to fart more. and honestly, who wouldn't be nervous flying in an airplane thousands of miles away from any scrap of land that could remotely be considered an air strip?

i wonder if halfway there they make sure nothing is messed up, so if they have to they could at least stop by in Hawaii.

hopefully they'd serve beans there... (which make you fart, but contrary to popular belief aren't actually that smelly).

my fart-facts are quickly depleting (did you know fart noises are NOT creating by flapping of the butt cheeks?), so i'll end this soon.

right after i get this fart out.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

clench, clench, CLENCH
DO NOT see it,
close them tighter
IT ISN'T REAL
clench clench fists, eyes, toes, mouth, brain,
go insane.
tighten up,
like a spring,
a bullet.
let go, release.
swallow pills.
relax.
sleep.
be misunderstood.
i didn't want for it -
for us -
to be over...
not this soon.

why couldn't our leaf
have been carried by a wind?
instead of falling
straight to the hard earth.

i sit, i wonder,
what it was i did wrong.
what i should've changed,
how i should've been.

yet the pain has taught me,
life works this way,
in laughter,
and in tears.

it hurts to think of you,
an abandoned future.
and if i should forget you,
will you have existed at all?

Saturday, April 05, 2008

it's like a running shoe.
looks good, smells nice, fits snugly.
then it gets older, smells worse.
like a hot, moist cave of bacterial filth,
with new viruses being added all the time.
to cleanse itself of this filth,
it drains dead refuse, dead bacteria,
and dead spermatazoa.

Thursday, April 03, 2008

the man who played alone

there was once a man with no hands
who played like a master on the piano.
but he wouldn't play for company -
only if left on his own.
if you tried to peek in the room,
he'd stop dead in his tracks and remain silent.
so someone set up a camera,
to see how this man played piano
with no index, pinky, ring, or thumb.
some guessed he used his feet -
but he didn't play that way.
in fact, he didn't play at all
if anyone was watching him.
the media learned of this,
and covered the man for a while
before people lost interest
and the paper lost money.
walking by his house one day,
i hear the sound of the piano
emanate through his house,
and realize it is quite a fine tune.

---

It is the sound of his music that is amazing, not the mystery surrounding how he plays it. Enjoy what life hands you in the way it hands it to you. Don't alter what needn't be altered.

power

i spend a lot on band-aids
for various scratches and bumps.
and i've lost count of how many times
i've fallen down the steps.

i wear long-sleeved shirts and jeans
but can't cover the marks on my face.
the thick makeup hides most of it,
but he still calls me an ugly whore.

a spot on my head hurts
that didn't hurt yesterday.
i wonder if i bumped it in the night
or if he hit me so hard i forgot.

take me out

take me out to the slau-ghter
take me out to the war.
buy me some ammo and hand grenades
i don't care if-i-die-in-a-raid
'cause it's root, root, root for the big guys
if they don't win it's a shame.
for it's one, two, three hundred dead...
and we are all to blame.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Poetry in a WWI dugout

On our way through France
I say to my best friend
"What d'you think's our chance?
Of making it to the end?

He didn't say, he didn't know
and in the dugout we lay
thirty feet below, below,
left to wait and pray.

The hospital beds are red,
lingering with dread,
"Fight on," our sergeant said - I thought:
some day we'll be "millions dead."

Many went crazy there,
driven to insanity.
artillery shells and bullets fly
before we're forced to spree.

I kill a man from fifty yards
and never knew his name.

The pounding sound drives my friend insane
and he runs across No Man's Land.
I have no emotions, no hope,
for him.

Suddenly,
I WANT TO DIE,
when...

the artillery's
stopped,
i must run
to
the machine gun.


---


This poem starts out with an ABAB rhyme scheme, but quickly disintegrates. The poem itself matches with the emotions a soldier in a WWI dugout was likely to experience. At the beginning of the bombardment, the mental state of soldiers is relatively stable. As time goes on, and so also the poem, it begins to crack. The poem loses its rhyme scheme (as the soldier loses his mind) and thoughts become fragmented.

The third stanza in particular notes that "some day we'll be 'millions dead.'" This refers to the fact that today we read back over wars and proclaim that "millions died" in battle. But we know nothing of those people, nor do we think about how the deaths of each and every one of those men affected their families. We simply call them "millions dead."

The narrator of the poem sees his friend run across No Man's Land, the area between two trenches, and feels no emotion. At this point he is beyond the point of feeling hope or emotion. After seeing so many of his close comrades die, he is simply waiting for his turn.

During a bombardment, the narrator begins to lose his saneness in the dugout. He proclaims he wants to die. Not because his friend perished, or the war seems pointless, but because the threat of death being so imminent each day has finally taken its toll.

The ending of the story describes the tactical aspect of trench warfare. After bombing the other side the entire day, the other side then rushes the opposing trench after ceasing artillery fire. The other side must therefore climb out of their dugouts and reach their mounted machine guns before the other side does. Their only clue the other side is coming is when they stop firing shells. Our narrator is left with only this animal-like instinct in the end of the poem. He only wishes to reach the machine gun, so he can kill, rather than be killed. He is reduced to something less than human, a product of war.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

facebook

i caught up with old friends tonight,
anonymously of course.
they all seem so different,
when i feel like i am the same.

t.d. grew his hair out,
k.t. lost weight and worked out,
m.t. looks like he got a girlfriend
and i'm the same as i was 3 years ago.

they've all socially grown,
just like at lunch period long ago,
while i sat outside,
reading a book on how to be happy.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

jesu, joy of man's desiring

i told her very explicitly
that i wanted it to be in piano,
but she insisted someone sang
those once-German lyrics.

her ancestors were from France.
which, of course I knew,
because we talked like that
when we were bored of each other.

neither of us cared about cakes,
centerpieces or card invitations.
she picked a dress she liked,
but wanted a song she loved.

so i teased, and said i'd sing it,
and she teased, and said O.K.,
and i teased, and printed the lyrics,
and made her laugh on our wedding day.
If you look up into the night sky at all the stars, you will only see about .0001 percent of all the stars in just our galaxy, the Milky Way. That is about 5,000 stars.

The Milky Way is just one of more than a hundred billion galaxies that can be seen using modern telescopes.

The nearest star to Earth, other than the sun, is Proxima Centauri (or Alpha Centauri C). This star is four light-years away. Our fastest spaceship would take ten thousand years to reach it.

The largest star, VY Canis Majoris, is over 5,000 light-years away. Its volume is a billion times that of our sun, and it would take over 650,000 years to walk a full circle on its surface.

Earth formed approximately 4.5 billion years ago. Human origins date back some 200,000 years. The whole of human existence accounts for a mere .004 percent on the world's time line.

Realizing the true insignificance we all hold in the entirety of the universe, it's really no wonder why people rely on religion to understand and give meaning to their lives.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

paper airplanes

i remember standing on the back porch
and reaching my arm back as far as i could
before springing it forward with force
and sending the paper contraption into the air.

my friend and i would lean over the porch rails
and try to make it over the fence in his backyard,
but we never got halfway there,
even after trying several times.

his airplanes looked different than mine,
and i realize now there wasn't a simple reason
to explain why, when thrown at the same time,
mine would always go farther than his.

standing next to my best friend on his porch,
i could have never known then, throwing paper around,
that the distance between our airplanes
was but a precursor to our future apart.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

a speck upon a speck upon a speck

a speck of dust from the banister
floats through the screen door
and into the lazy summer air.

the wind carries it down the street
and lets it go at the corner,
where it falls on an ant.

the ant is sitting on a small pebble,
infinitely bigger than the ant
compared, at least, to the dust.

in a nearby yard a child looks up,
shields his eyes,
and wonders how big the universe is.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

we're all drifting through a stream,
at times calm and tranquil,
inching through glass-like waters,
ripple-less and clear.

still at others the water is black,
turning and contorting in wrath,
with an acrid, salty taste
you can't help but breathe in.

the stream never empties into a lake
or ocean or river or off a cliff.
however, it may run into other streams,
and they may powerfully bind together,
creating new rivers, and mountains,
and eventually, streams once more.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

first i learned to live day by day,
then - slowly - moment by moment.
i'm still working on it,
but i'd like to think i can
flow seamlessly from sadness
to happiness, without so much as a hiccup.
of course, speed bumps exist in life,
possibly on purpose, to throw us off track.
but if you accept them for what they are,
and realize that the best you'll ever be,
is all that you are in the present,
you can start living in the moment,
or - at the very least - day by day.

Friday, February 15, 2008

the day after valentines,
i'm looking for a girl.
one who thinks flurries
technically count as snow.

Monday, February 11, 2008

the thing i miss the most about her is her hair. it was always soft whenever i ran my fingers through it. i told her she should dye it black, so she bleached it an eye-blinding blond. i washed it, twirled it, adored it. now i miss it. even more, i miss holding it back while she used to throw up from drinking too much. it was a simple role, but one i dutifully undertook. now when she slides out of bed at 3 a.m. to throw up and ever-so-quietly wakes me, i bury my head in my pillow and cry.

Monday, February 04, 2008

stress is milk on the floor,
long past its prior prevention.
and if you cry or mourn,
you further its extension.

tissues are mops in hand
to clear away the mess.
we may not understand,
but certainly mustn't suppress.

slopping around in the mud,
surely won't make you clean.
but with help from a flood,
we can feel alive and pristine.
i fall asleep tonight
and wake before the sun.
it's no special day,
just another one.

but chance something happen,
to turn me upside down.
a smile or a laugh,
to turn my life around.

though neither shall occur,
on this ordinary day.
i assure myself quietly,
that it will all be ok.

because somewhere,
laughter and smiles exist.
and that kind of happiness,
should never be tragically missed.
the tree remembers,
that giver of life on Earth.
and it always will.

Sunday, February 03, 2008

strong winds blow the leaf
and it lands in the dark sea.
who remembers it?

Friday, January 25, 2008

not letting go

the man kept wringing.
the last few droplets fell
and only moisture remained.
but the man kept wringing.

his hands were white now,
veins popping out an inch.
beads of sweat fell from his brow
he kept wringing long past normalcy.

she begged him to stop,
this man she once loved.
but he was unrelenting
and simply would not let go.

he kept wringing the heart,
eventually risking a tear.
he let go of the shriveled thing,
watched it beat once, and left.

the queen of omilia

the queen of omilia sleeps naked,
at least her servants tell me so.
for i haven't witnessed it -
'twould be sin to see a toe.

yet they have not either,
seen a single leg or breast.
only her clothes are evidence,
she enters dreams undressed.

they lie on floor beside her,
as sheets wrap around her frame.
yet none can touch her body -
what a travesty! what a shame!

yet one for no man, dirty mind,
'tis a sadness only for one.
a burden she must carry,
while we all carry none.
my life is made up of chapters,
all inside an assortment of books.
one is clean and tidy,
with extra large font.
another is black and formidable,
with a chain lock forming an X.
a certain book is stained blood-red
with torn pages and smeared ink.
and yet another is orderly and green,
but nothing is written in that book.

where is the book with frilly laces,
and hearts drawn in page corners?
with cupid acting as publisher
of its thick, massive volume?
and photos - lots of photos -
too many to fit on the pages...

the answer is quite easy:
i simply haven't written it yet.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

the things i don't do in a day

i don't get up immediately when my alarm goes off. i don't turn on the lights and open up my curtains. i don't shave in the morning. i don't eat breakfast. i don't drink coffee. i don't carefully select what i wear.

i don't talk to anyone before class. i don't talk to anyone after class. i don't eat lunch with anybody. i don't let that bother me. i don't try to start conversations. i don't take my time going from place to place.

i don't call someone i might like. i don't tell my family i love them. i don't tell my friends i appreciate them. i don't remember to call my grandparents. i don't eat dinner with anybody.

i don't do homework late at night. i don't kiss anyone before going to bed. i don't tuck anyone in. i don't pray. i don't get a good night's sleep. i don't get up immediately when my alarm goes off.

--

While the things we -don't- do can seem negative, they can help to show us what we need to work on.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

in riddles and rhymes
i practice my craft,
from the final copy,
to the very first draft.

a spark, an idea,
love for a person or thing.
writing it is the pleasure,
reading is just a fling.

if i'm sad the sky is dark,
but happy if rain pours down.
i'd be glad to get wet,
and i'd even be happy to drown.

so won't you love me?
if i love you in return?
of course not, silly -
love is something you earn.
does not a starving man die,
if he is too patient for food?
or a thirsty man perish
if he waits too long to drink?

then why must i wait
if patience could kill me,
driving from the inside out
that abhorring, dark force?

who will suppress it,
if not me?
i think i know -
but "shh," it's a secret.

voice mail

he was so angry with himself
as he listened to the message again.
she had called to remind him of something,
which irritated him at the time.

she ended with "i love you,"
before hanging up the phone.
it was out of habit and luck
that he didn't delete it right away.

a few weeks later,
she died in an accident,
and he mourned for days
and weeks and years.

he knows he must let go,
to delete the last scrap
of her existence
she left him before she passed.

clutching his cell tight,
he listened to it again,
finger hovering over delete,
before failing yet again.

Friday, January 04, 2008

allow me the pleasure of going back. several years ago, in fact, around seventh or eighth grade, possibly sixth, but if it began that early i cannot be sure.

it was lunch time. as typical of my school the classrooms of three different sections, a, b and c went to lunch at different times. it just so happened that my section was last, and overflowed on to a table that floated separate from the others like an exclusive island.

of course, only the most popular inhabited said island. the table had 8 circle seats that were much too small. i believe on the first day, if memory serves correct, i sat at that table. but of the 8 seats there were 9. i forget what the extra did that day. i think he may have pulled up a chair, or sat at the normal table, with just normal people that were made fun of at this little paradise.

nevertheless, it came to pass that the next day when i arrived at this table, which consisted of what i would at the time have considered friends, all 8 seats were filled. alas, it was voted on in this silent ritual that i would be the one to leave the table, for there were never open seats again.

i went and ate with the normal people, peons of the social world, and found many of them to be most enjoyable. some were even quite funny. so on one particular day of no particular importance, when i was asked if i would like to sit at the highest court of the cafeteria with only the noblest lords, one of who was apparently ill, i deferred. i received a most queer look. it was a hint of "you're joking right?" with a tint of "are you sure?"

they ate with 7 at the table that day, and i made new friends.

and that, boys and girls, is pretty much the story of my life.