Past Me

But at the end of the day,
when you turn off the lights
and are left only with yourself,
everything seems in place.

Other people are out of the picture,
and your worries are put on hold
while this ruthless thing called reality
gives you time to rest your brain.

For a few last brief moments,
you're scared, fearful, apprehensive.
Then sleep steals you away,
and you wake up.

You go throughout the day
being slowly consumed by emotion.
Just before you decide to retire,
it reaches a pinnacle, and then you sleep.

Nothing has ever existed for me
just before I go to bed.
No one to hold, no prayers to give,
no kisses goodnight, and no hope for tomorrow.

no title

Dissipate in to the streams of my memory that have forever flowed and never stopped, much like this run on sentence, that has neither an end, nor a true beginning, but rather just continues to exist like the humans of the world, constantly seeking for dreams and the courage to pursue them, sometimes finding themselves in a moment of joy, but for the most part ending up in stages of futility, which, when reflected upon, help us grow and achieve the objective of a thing called "living", which is comprised of things like love and desire, but ruled for the most part by the need to survive, whether it be by marriage or a job promotion, and often the idea that in the end none of it will matter anyways, for each human, from the Dali Lama to a hillbilly sex offender, will begin a particular minute of their lives where they die, and nothing can stop it, only the questionable prayers to a particular God give us comfort in the thought that it isn't really the end, because we all live our lives, much like you are reading this sentence, realizing that it isn't too long until the end, and you can see it, but you continue to move along until, after a few more commas, there is nothing left to read, and no life left to live.

My Blue Blazer

There's a couple things she taught me,
such as to not promise it will all be alright.
The only promise I make now,
is that I'm just me - and that's all I'll ever be.
If that can help you, then great,
but if it can't, I can't help you.
I'm not going to change outfits
to play the part of every occasion.
I have one old, blue blazer
and that's the one I'll always wear.
But if it means anything,
I've had that blazer my entire life,
and have never needed it sewn.

"Sometimes, honey, mommies and daddies choose not to live together anymore..."

It was one of those lies
that had an underlying meaning
hidden within it
(those hurt the most).

You said you were gonna lie down,
"To think about some things".
But we both know what you meant,
didn't we?

It could be anything.
Why you had vows,
why you had children.
Please don't make me guess.

If you can't talk to me,
then atleast leave a post-it
on the kitchen table,
before you leave us.

Me Being Me

Giving everything I have,
it never seems like enough.
I always seem to fall short,
lacking some sort of final push.

One step from perfect,
and thus wholly ruined.
Not quite where I want to be,
always one word away.

So tantalizingly close,
before my dreams shatter.
Shatter like tears of glass
cutting the skin on my cheeks.

I despairingly try my best,
yet am never quite good enough.
I do my best to be myself,
but it's never worked in my favor.

Come...

If this is a dream I don't want to ever wake up.
I'm so deeply in love and feel so lucky
but at the same time feel sorry for others.
I'm sorry they'll never be this happy.

I hope I'm good enough. I hope I have enough to sacrifice,
because I would give everything for you.
This overflowing love pumping through my veins
has broken the record for the largest estuary system
in the almanac of my heart.


That loving touch has released some sort of chemical
that gives me a high no drug can match,
but sadly I still suffer withdrawal when you're away.
I never want you to leave my side, I want to hold you forever.

Stay close and be with me
and I'll make sure you're always happy.

Apartment Darko

I'm sitting in my broken down apartment
on my bed without any sheets
and with a floppy piece of shit I call a pillow.

I turned all the lights in my room off
but the streetlamps below mix together
with the sound of prostitutes,
and make it harder for me to go to sleep.

I close my eyes and think about the world.
I hear police sirens wailing a few blocks away,
a bedtime sound I've lived with for years now.

I wonder if someone's died, who it was, and why.
That sound is like a wave, going up - back down,
and up - and back down, over and over,
night after night after night.

The faint hum of the overhead fan
that only has one speed - slow,
perpetually drones me in to a sleep.

There I'll dream of things that I hope aren't dying.
I don't want the streetlamps shining in my face,
and I don't want the sound of sirens in my head.

Picnic

This lazy August afternoon offers us its grace,
filling the air beneath the large oak tree with warmth,
and permitting the birds to sing while we eat.

The blanket is cushioned by the grass,
and warm and cozy to the touch.
Out of courtesy for our privacy the ants leave us alone,
and the bumblebees find elsewhere to buzz.

Clouds scoot across that amazing color of blue,
and a light wind acts as a kiss from Mother Nature.
The smell of the flora reaches my nose,
and I close my eyes, thinking it must be heaven.

God has created the opportunity for all of these things to exist,
all of these beautiful, wonderful things.
But I think his best work of art to date,
is sitting right here on the blanket with me.

I am Stephen, hear me rawr~

From the darkest reaches
of the most mystical caverns
with the most gruesome beasts
and fearsome foes,
hear me rawr.

Hear that desparate cry,
part anguish, part ruthless,
echoing in your head
and reverberating
through your heart,
hear me rawr.

Take heed to my shout
and see my words that scream,
like that of a lion's
marking the Savanna territory,
except mine are on paper.
Hear me rawr.

Agendas

The old man walked over to the same old bench,
in the same old park, with his same old newspaper.
He sat down, the sun as his lightbulb, the grass his ottoman,
and began to read about the world, and see who had died.

He heard a young man, he guessed in his twenties,
yelling throughout the park at the top of his lungs.
Something about Republicans, and a political agenda.
The old man simply continued to read his paper.

The young man searched for prey and saw the old man,
and with his eyes narrowing in sight of him, he advanced.
"Sir, have you heard about the upcoming election, or taken..."
The old man went on looking up old friends in the obituaries.

When the man was finally done with his tirade, he added,
"So, how about it then? Would you like to register and vote Republican?"
The old man's eyes were reduced to slits and he let out a heavy sigh.
He looked up, and said:

"I'm sorry, young man, were you saying something?"

What Love Does

Things change when you're in love.
Kisses become wake-up calls,
smiles become permanent,
and naps are taken when you aren't even tired.

Your once stoic phone gets a work out,
and your e-mail inbox is a little more full.
Away messages change to "missing you",
and the sun shines a little brighter.

The eyes see things differently,
looking through the scope called love.
You can't help but follow your heart,
to that bed where your lover lies.

Eternity gets positive connotations,
while holding them in your arms.
Love is how two people are happy,
even while asleep and unconscious.

The clock hands can't move fast enough,
when you're separated from them.
The moon couldn't hang higher, nor shine brighter,
when they're as close as they can be.

Yes Elton, I can feel the love tonight,

And that twisting kaleidoscope
has become so much clearer.
A confusing mix of colored prisms
has become a face I've come to love.

I'm no king, certainly no vagabond,
But good luck telling her that.
(Apparently I'm "the best").

But my wide eyes are not from
exploration or adventure.
They were opened to the truth,
from where the westerly wind blows.

And just like you said Elton,
my heart beats along with hers.
Star-crossed and in a dream,
I can feel the love tonight.

---


http://www.lionking.org/lyrics/OMPS/CanYouFeel-EJ.html

I Picked a Flower Today...

I picked a flower today.
It had two stems that jutted out
from the main stalk.
And on the tips of those stems
was leafy foliage that tickled my face.
Its petals were deliciously tantalizing,
however I don't eat flowers.
To bumble bees and hummingbirds,
this flower must have been Paradise,
a dream they longed to reach.
It had two roots that dug themselves
firmly in to the ground next to me.
It was screaming for me to pick it,
practically begging for it.
And although I knew at that moment,
that picking it would alter it forever,
I decided to anyways.
Ever since then I've taken care of the flower,
since it was my choice to pick it.

Nuh-uh

There's one thing about you I lightly deplore -
For my heart can't stretch to say abhor -
Arguing my case each day, I implore -
That you'll come to your senses for sure.
For no matter the amount I to you adore,
You will never, my darling, love me more.

You're Beautiful

In my honor tonight,
I hold a celebration.
With you as my guest,
We'll thrive in pure elation.

Take me by the hand,
Swing me all around.
The love runs so thick,
I'm scared that I might drown.

This night's the same for us both,
A moment long overdue.
With a dream before our eyes,
We can't help but pursue.

My heart beats faster,
My jaw hits the floor.
It's so refreshing to have,
What I've never had before.

I make a toast to you:
I'll never cheat or lie.
I'll never see you hurt,
Atleast until I die.

Thinking

Wake up, and think.
Take a shower, while thinking.
Get dressed, still thinking.
Brush my teeth, also thinking.

Barely make it to my 9AM class,
only to think there, too.
A couple of hours become an eternity,
when all I can do is think.

What am I thinking about?
Oh - I don't know.
(And did you think I'd tell you anyways?
It's so much fun to tease).

Poem at 3:50 AM

Ok here I go. I'm not going to think, or else I'll never get started if I do.

How many ways are there to write it?
Probably something like a thousand.
And equally as many ways to say it,
although I usually just use that one.

I could say the words I always say,
Special, Great, Awesome, Sweet.
Or I could say them all at once,
by saying that one I usually use.

You know what it means, though.
That I wish to be with you,
to eat with you, to sleep with you.
I'd like to think fulfillment is pending.

All of what I feel for you is summed up,
With utter brilliance. Who understands best?
You do, which is why you'll know right away,
after adding a forward slash in front of it all.

Prose on 10/6/2006

This isn't really a poem. Well, I suppose if you were to ask Allen Ginsberg, Walt Whitman, or any number of their followers, they would all say otherwise.
The textbooks define it as prose poetry. So I can write whatever I want here, and I've already spent some of that space explaining what this is.
With that out of the way, let me say what's on my mind today. (Love is).
People should know I write about what's going on in my life. Last February sure didn't seem like it was very fun, did it?
Well, my recent entries are about somebody. (They don't live in the South).
I kind of thought you'd figure it out, and maybe you have. Or maybe you haven't. Either way -
I do love this person. And it's different from before. (Oh so different).
So if I've written alot about love lately, I wonder what that could mean?
Yes - what could it mean indeed...

The Lioness

You do not seduce the savanna lioness.
You admire her from afar,
until she says it's okay,
then you proceed carefully.

You do not indulge yourself by touching her.
You slowly place one hand on her back,
until she is comfortable with your touch,
and then you stroke her gently.

You do not brag about her to your friends.
You get to know her as best you can,
until you've come to respect her,
and then she can brag for herself.

You do not love her, and leave her.
You realize in the beginning it will last,
until the inevitable, heartfelt end,
else you do not love her to begin with.

You do not weaken in your feelings for her.
You feel more passionate for her every day,
until you know that you've found it,
and then you'll have extreme happiness.

(In case you didn't know,
it was never even about,
the savanna lioness.
I love you.)

Underneath the Gown

I wonder if you are the one,
And if our love draws nigh.
It must be true, it must be true,
Which I'll now tell you why:

Whenever things turn for the worse,
I know you're there for me.
My happiness, a treasure that,
You always gaurantee.

Though rain and storms and wild winds,
You'd fight for me so brave.
I bet you'd fight until you died,
And fight more in your grave.

You make me happy to live life,
Help make my dreams come true.
Which is why I stand with fervor,
And, say those words "I do".