Poems #47-51: Sincere Apologies!

Fireflies

1.
If I could meet your eyes,
I'd tell you
about the lightning bugs,
and how I forgot them.

2.
If I could remember your name,
I'd sing about the thunderstorms
and shelter.

3.
If I had one wish,
I'd waste it.

___________________________________

Stopwatch

I'll pretend for a moment
that the world spins for me,
that time and space mean nothing
and that I am certain.

Please don't ask advice
you can't receive
from me.

I'd stop the world
And breathe
The air
from space

Just to know for sure
that what I do
is mine.

__________________________________

Reflection

Show me a girl who writes poetry
Whose love notes are whispers
That tumble to ash.
Who like walking barefoot
and loves rain for dancing,
but not the pounding,
incessant dark wet.
Show me the girl who gives tattoos
like kisses, who loves to use color,
Who swings from the heartstrings
Who loves apple picking,
and cherry-tree climbing
and drawing you pictures,
and painting eyelashes-
Show me this girl who loves the mirror
but doesn't know herself; she is
the dancing in the wildflowers
trapped beneath a parking lot
waiting for the sun.
Show me this girl,
hand me the mirror,
I'll turn it back to you,
you can't see the colors unless
You open those eyes.

______________________________

The Search

What do you do,
When you’re sixteen,
and they find you?

The mail pours into your home
Like floodwater,
Smooth pamphlets that sing
Of future security and success,
All the while lying to you
With their picturesque tongues.

What if you, unlike them,
Do not have a plan?

What if all you want is to be,
To decide later and live now,
To burn the slick pamphlets,
Rip up the booklets, and finally
Hear the trees?

What do you do,
When you’re seventeen,
And it’s one year closer?

________________________________

Lillywrite

A little man
makes a little time
to try again.

The letters shake
his hand the cobwebs
holding his mind together.

Dear, he writes,
save me from myself.

Save me from becoming
what you are.

Letter 473 mailed in a box
in his attic,
carried by angels
to a god's sacred brothel,
she plucks it with pale palms
the fingers like lilies
she reads-

Dear, save me from myself.

And the little man
has little time
to lie in the snow
and wonder,
surrounded by those beautiful
pale,
waiflike
letters
like tombs.


***
I KNOW I MISSED 5 DAYS!
but here are 5 *NEW* poems

Poems #45 and 46: Solar Systems and Melancholy (Plus a very long apology)

Solar Systems

Be
Mine.
My solar system,
Because your face in photographs
Is like staring at the sun,
Because you are
A
Star.

And because no one
Cares
About profanity, no one
Cares
About sexuality,
Or at least-
You have to pretend not,
Have a witty response, like-
Supernova with me.

Like enter my black hole,
Lightspeed read me,
Try and
Touch my
Ultraviolet rays

Or write me more poetry
To stargaze.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Melancholy

I promise:
That when the roof falls in on your head,
I will be there to hold your hand
Even if you died in the crash
And I’m comforting your ghost
Through a divide in time.

I know I said:
That raindrops tasted of summer grass,
And lamplight made you beautiful
That blue felt like the wind’s soft kiss
That I was nothing special
But I forgot the truth

I wanted to tell you:
That even in the dark, there is light
Reflected from your eyes, and even
If you jumped the ship, I would be
Standing in the wake, and even
Though you’re gone away-

I wanted to whisper:
That love feels like sandpaper and pebbles,
And both will wear you away
But they can’t erase you because
Only you have that power
And I hope to god you forget


***
Oh my.

So I seem to keep forgetting days, which makes me feel like a slacker in so many ways since I am mostly just copying and pasting old work, not even being original. Most of the time I don't even have a good excuse. It's probably a good thing that this is most likely unread internet trash, since if I did have followers, they would be ticked off and most likely trolls and spambots.

Anyways. If you are an honest actual person and stumble across this, know that as penance for my forgetfulness, I have posted two poems that I promised myself I wouldn't, mostly because I think they're dishonest, oddly personal, and at the same time impersonal and cliche. Enjoy.

Poem #44: The Icy Wall

The icy wall before them, they sat in an irregular circle, hands on their knees and heads bowed. Wintertime was their one glory, the only time that the tempestuous earth seemed to agree with them. It became cold, gloomy, as they were year round. Light barely even reflected through the frozen waterfall, and where it did, gave off blue and purple hues.

“It looks like a bruise,” one of them mumbled, breaking the silence that haunted their melancholy group.

There was no response.

A fire flickered in the middle of their circle, struggling, like them, a bare blue wisp of light billowing more smoke than flame. It had been constructed haphazardly with no regard for size or design, and so it failed to produce warmth.

They all wore thick coats of a dark material which enveloped their bodies, to counteract the futility of their fire. Together they looked like minuscule bears hiding in a cave, hidden behind a wall of glass that would not shatter, even in this cold. One of them peered out, seeing nothing but frost and suffering trees.

Inside their bare sanctuary, the dirt floor was layered with slick ice and the walls dripped inconsistently along to their own rhythm. A lantern glowed, inefficient, casting wilder shadows juxtaposed with those from the fire, turning all of their faces orange and yellow.

They breathed in unison, filling the space with smoke, with hopes, with dreams that glowed cerulean for only seconds before flickering out.

Like the fire, like the lantern, like the insubstantial wishes, they were evanescent.


***
What? Did I hear you say prose? Really? No Way!

tags ftw.

Poem #43: Was He Caught?

“trust me” she’d said,
almost invisible without light,
almost laughing without sound,
and so, masking his aching eyes with
the back of a weathered palm,
he stepped to the edge of the rooftop,
pebbles skittering into the obsidian water
under the rubber soles of his
not quite cool shoes.

he exhaled softly in relief,
trusting that, everytime someone brought him this high,
they would inevitably reverse the action
like broken gearshifts.

“are you ready?” she asked,
holding out a pale hand that somehow
glowed in the moonlight, making him think
of how unnatural they were

his feet left the ground like a cloud
crashing to earth, and he gasped
--not out of shock that she had released his hand
and now stared unbelievingly from above,
her mouth a frozen yell of “stop--”
but because from here,
the air was ten times more dazzling,
and whistled in his ears
full symphonies.

the water swam upwards,
and his body bit through to the bottom,
as he realized that finally, he had found something reliable
that would catch him if he fell
with open arms,
and keep him forever.

Poem #42: A Disaster Waiting to Happen

You are look like a disaster waiting to happen
Only smaller, thinner, less concrete.
You look like mascara around your eyes
That lingers when you fall asleep,
Alone at one in the morning in your clothes,
Wishing that you hadn’t gone home.
You look like a fallen rainforest in the mud
With cattle sinking into your filth
Bellowing like it will somehow save them
Like someone actually cares.


***
I don't think it's finished.

Poem #41: Boo Radley

***

i'm really really REALLY sorry for the shitty formatting. This was the only way to get this poem online.

Poem #40: It

It’s like your limbs are extended five hundred feet, maybe twenty, and you can hug the world with one arm, as fluorescent hues traipse around you and you feel so alive.

It’s the way that you feel when sleep eludes and you stare at the ceiling hoping for stars and finding only a cracked beige, barely visible in the jagged blue toned light from the broken window.

Have you ever wished on a meteor, or a planet, and known it would come true?

My lucky color is green, it is the earth, the sun, the moon, it is balance and energy, life and death, it decides for you.
Survive.

It’s the snow rushing from the heavens like god just got blown. That’s not sacrilegious, it’s a simile.
It’s your muscles moving in unison to make a better look on your sad face. That’s not improvement, it’s a smile.

It’s finding your way home in the dark after one in the morning, mud on your jeans and twigs in your hair. Who really cares where you were before, because you didn’t exist then, and now you do, you’re real. Real scared.

I tried to find it. The map you gave me was written in blood and that simple fact made my tears stain it beyond legibility. I’m so sorry I can’t ask you to make another.

Once upon a time, you existed. Now you’re just a speck in the distance, a star in the sky, a shadow at night. Now you’re only in my dreams, in my writing, in paintings of fruit and faces and dead animals. Now you’re no more real than me.

It’s hidden in a red toolbox rusting under your broken porch, it’s in a safe in that hotel in Vegas you never went to, it’s under your pillow waiting for you. It’s anywhere you’re not and everywhere you want to be.

It’s like you’re four hundred feet tall and everyone else is a thousand, and they have gills and breathe underwater and you can’t follow them and drown and you can’t stay on the shore and mourn and starve and so you-

Have you ever wished on anything, and known it would come true?


***
This is more prose-poetry random drifting artsy completely incomprehensible babble. Old work, but I like it.

Poems #38 and 39: Peppermint and Perspectives

Peppermint

Bitter sweet, my mouth is
Remnants of a day gone by
Time caught, moments
Of disaster,
Of acceptance,
Of denial.

Red and white striped, candy
Symbol of eternal youth
Do you think that
You can have it?
You can break it,
You can lose.

________________________________________________________________

Perspectives

I.
I walk down the dripping streets,
Taking in with my eyes
What I cannot sense otherwise.

In this dark alleyway, there is no light
Besides that I create
And the stones cry moisture
For all that I fear

II.
You stroll down the alley,
Your head held high
To keep the demons on their chains
Your eyes forward
Taking in the fall of rain
With only ears and tongue.

You do not notice
The rainbow above.

III.
He is small and afraid,
Scurrying down this dim lit path
As if he didn’t belong
On this rainy day
To the city itself
Which swallows you whole.

IV.
It watches and laughs
As mortals flee the daylight
And cower in darkness
Moving the way we act
One point left or right
But never really changing
The outcome of the graph.


***
Once again, sorry sorry sorry for being lazy and missing a day.

Poem #37: You Are Me

Your crooked spine
Is the bareback outline of a sea monster
Devouring the waves

Your face, the moon
Luminescent but for the shadows
Which scar you

I want to
Put all your pieces back together
Just to prove I can

I want to eclipse you
I want to stop you
I want to tame you

I want to learn your language
So that I, too,
May speak with the stars.


***
...wait, WHAT?

Poem #36: Fuego y Amor

Yo me siento en el suelo
Tratando de decidir
Cuál libro a quemar hoy.

No piense que soy loca,
Solo quiero ver
La manera en que algo
Decide que expirar.

Dame una cerilla,
Y voy a mostrarte
Que significa la vida.

Cuando estás lleno
De fuego y amor
Veas que los dos
Son el mismo.


***
Poesía en espanol...lo siento.

I wrote this awhile ego, so it may not be grammatically correct or anything... or even make sense...

Poem #35: An Excerpt

I painted you a picture, and you smiled
And hung it in your room, and I thought
“that is love.” You gave me silver earrings
And I lost them within minutes, and
I cried and tried to find them, but you
Just said, “that’s ok.” I danced for you
In drifts of snow, and showered you with
Glitter dust, and tried to make you
Smile again, but you remained so cold.


***
Apologies for my recent laziness... last post was just crap, and this one is literally an excerpt from a longer poem entitled "This Would Be the Best Breakup Note Ever" that was just too ridiculously long and awful to post. This was the only good section in it, seeing as the whole thing was entirely theoretical and abstract.

Poem #34: Pending

This is not a poem.

It is a broken
Sentence
About how I like
Strobe, flash,
dance

and
jumping to catch
the sun.

about how i love
to yell
until my voice
is thin
and gone
away.

goodbye.

Poem #33: Tsst

There is a place
Where you and I could
Possibly fall and learn
That the sky is not
A ceiling
Not a river
Not a net

There, in the middle
We could stand
Like fountains,
Could be
Triumphant, for once
Forever?

I would catch you
If the sky
Swooped down to claim you
Tried to trap you
Learned to steal you
From my fingers
Caked with cloud

There is nothing
Besides fire,
Other than rivers,
Nothing else like
Sunsets and rain
And the aftermaths of both

I was there
When you climbed
Up into the sky
And I laughed
That you would have
To come down sometimes

We could be there
In the middle,
Not in the rainclouds,
Not in the alphabet;
Just here,
Nowhere,
Everywhere
Where you can’t fall
And you can’t climb
And the monotone beat
Of your heart thumps
Making a disaster
Of melody.


***
Not entirely sure when/why this was written, but I'm pretty sure it's from the viewpoint of a character in a story I wrote about a year ago, which involved a bunch of surreal/fantasyish crazy alternate universe goodness.

Poem #32: When the Zombiez Come to Get Us

When the zombies come,
I'll be prepared-
To look you in the eyes, my owl
as suns explode
and stars collide,
to tell you-
it'll be alright.

The zombies, crooked hearts and bones
Cannot be stopped with feeble cries-
For techno music leads them on,
And we are hiding here... alone-

Except for thirty zombie men,
Their eyeless sockets closing in,
Their fetid breath,
their teeth like knives-
Oh god-
I'm bit.

And so are you,
My zombie dear,
Our very hands are tasty now,
I will not munch your finger off
I only want to eat your arms-
And touch your hair-
My zombie love.


***
ZOMBIEZZZ??? OHNO.

Poem #31: Oh Poor Thing

When I see
That you are breaking,
I do not quake,

For we are made
To shatter on the ground
And fly again

Forgive me
For burning off the feathers
That kept you

You mean nothing
Without the stones that hold
You flightless

I waited
For the day to pour into
Where we are

I watched
Your struggles for flight
And smiled

Poem #30: I Warned You

What have I become?

I’m trying to make the pieces
Fit again, but why, they just
Won’t go together, they’re
Like mismatched signals
And the feedback is making
My stomach burn inside
I just want this over with
So I can sleep again, so that
My dreams are no longer
Filled with the screams,
So that my head is clear
Of the blood, and the pain,
And so that I can go away,
Find a new name, and then
Sin no more. I didn’t want
This. I didn’t dream of this.
I didn’t dream of it when
The daylight penetrated my
Downcast eyelids, or when
The laughter came to me
Through the thin paper wall,
Or even when I saw myself
Just go ahead and lose control.
I did dream at night, but
Really, that doesn’t count.
We were just single filed,
All in one line’d, we were
Slated anyway, or so they
Whispered to me, and made
It hard to breathe. You know
The rest of this story, so
Why are you still here? Why
Don’t you run away, as they
Could not, did not, would not,
And why are you listening
As I bury the bodies, why
Don’t you see yourself among
Them, in my mind? You are.

You will make a beautiful catastrophe,
And I will be the final stroke.


***
I think this needs explanation... this is written from the viewpoint of some creepy mass-murderer type who's staking out his next victim. But he also realizes that what he's doing is wrong, even as he's planning to kill the next victim. This is the last warning that he's giving, because he really doesn't want to kill the person, but knows that he will. I know, it's a lovely, lovely story :)

Poem #29: Whispers

It’s funny-
I just thought of this now
(now that it’s irrelevant, time melted away)
But when you left-
Forever-
I didn’t even see you go
(leaving your memories, ghost snowflakes, behind)
The only proof
That you ever really
Existed
(and not just in my tired, frozen-in-place mind)
Was the door swinging
Slowly
Shut.
(ever so softly, falling in place)
Behind you.


***
Blah. Really old work. Feelin lazy.

Poem #28: Flickerlight

I tried to make a movie about my life, and I found the tape blank. You tried and it was rainbows in the dark. We merged our empty screens together and found nothing.

I paint everything within sight with red and purple, one for each color of my rainbow at night. And green for when you flicker flicker flicker light.

I want to skip school and lie on the grass and gaze at the sun. I want to know it as my friend, not in the biblical sense, and to die in the shakespearian sense within someones arms under that same light. Or starlight. Natural light and not filaments that I make with my hands.

The car wouldn’t start and so I walked. The miles stretched out and the road wound and I found myself singing the only hymn I know, replacing the words with bits from my life, and in the clouds I traced a smile.

When you teach me physics and math, my head spins. When you tell me that light is a motion and stationary, I don’t believe. And when you tell me that sin is knowing these things, I cry late at night wondering why I was created then, if not to doubt everything.

A slideshow of my life plays. We’re swallowing fears in the garage and we’re dancing off pain in the driveway. Inside they talk about life.

The movie theater showed a film of my life and it flickered flickered flickered and went out, but not before producing a gorgeous scene out of your fantasies. When they looked back through the tape, there was nothing, and that moment, that scene, was never seen again except in the memories of all who were there.

Sometimes I flicker like a light, and I can’t seem to find myself. And those are the times I’m just reflecting someone else. And sometimes I flicker flicker flicker and just fade to night.


***
More apologies. Something about prose poetry makes me happy right now. Old work, tho.