pixelated

we make boxes, boxes
frames of color
snap it now, trap it forever
we take this moment
in it's 3-dimensional glory
and force it into a vague
2-dimensional story

once, twice
blinding bright
to memorize your face
i'm combining action
and macro
for a lightning fast personal view

unable

1. it's cold here

i thought you should know
unaccustomed to such cheer
contrasted with such bleakness

my toes can barely move

i won't finish knitting the mittens
perhaps the warm scarf
a forest green
tweed
full of softness and
just a young love

it's the loneliness of winter

he sat in his basement
dealt with his emotions
for 5 cents, i solved them

2. quite unbelieving
tears full of bitter, salty
unacceptedly

clear

wide open
skies
and stars
unadorned

open
free
silk night

level
for miles
clear
free

home

to lay down
and accept
stars

alarms

it's time,
for a roadtrip
a journey to far away
to meet people
who matter.

it's time,
to make a move
boldly, expressively
appreciated surprises
of touching lips.

it's time,
for a confession
a reluctant appraisal
to clearly assess
real hopes.

it's time
for you, only you
to come fiercely onto me
and finally let known
what needs to be.

a fresh return

it's tentative.
not really wary,
that wouldn't be quite accurate.
yet circling, somewhat unsure.
sometimes it's felt in a glance,
one where the eyes meet for longer than they should
or are caught watching, observing.
sometimes it's in a word
tone of voice
phrasing, order, function.
small clues.
the more obvious touch
bodies meeting
unecessary contact,
yet completely needed.
the attention given, and received
small reminders of an earlier security
just longing to be reclaimed

life duel[dual]

her life was the dangerous balance

one end: only colors
not washed out, but the sharp
vibrant
intense
beautiful hues
of leaves
of fall
and solace
in the open sky
arms wide

end two: suffocation
the deep pocket of air
shoved
forced
pushed
down the throat
clockwork
with never enough time
eyes cry

punctuated by the small, still dose of apathy.
should you save her?

maybe this is all there is

it's the word that doesn't know this language
yearning is close
once the car has pulled away

clouds through the windows
with music on surround sound
they ask where i am

the absence of the pristine texture
glossy keys
producing cacophany

once there's nothing to look forward to
other than the beautiful
and wonderful we all feel

wishing, perhaps
for behind or ahead
irrelevant to the lack of greater love

mind games

i was in one place
but i was more fully in another
when i closed my eyes
and ignored the droning of fans
hands folded in grace
next to my sister and brother
my body slipped into disguise
my mind whirling with untold plans

i was not that far
images of green hills and trees
crunching gravel roads
and doors that swing shut
crisp nights of stars
an eye stung by a bee
my other sister and a toad
the memories became too much

i was begging to be there
i longed to be home
when i felt physical pain
induced only by thoughts
almost more than i could bear
begging relief to come
balm given when i return again
eyes closed, distraught.

two-twofive

i'm not very good with codes.
mysteries generally remain such.
i like the surprises at the end,
when everything is drawn together,
boxes put in place.

i'm not very tactful.
rarely do i know what to say,
let alone how to say it.
should this be a thank you?
or an i love you?

simplicity suits me.
ironic, considering how complex i am.
hello, goodbye, i like you.
those i can deal with.
laughter i can love.

yet i'm not very plain.
my thoughts--overwhelm me.
i prefer intense emotion,
to the drab, lukewarm shadow of such.
i love risk.

they say i'm smart.
who are they?
it's not as if they have heard my thoughts,
or even observed my deeds.
or read my words.

but i can smile.
i accept.
i teeter on the balance of fact and fiction,
loving the unknown.
loving this, and now.

Untitled

I didn't think you actually would
it seemed too sporatic
and why would I be your partner?
You claimed to be nervous
I lied.
said I wasn't.
you must not have heard my heart pounding
and then, that look you gave me.
Now, that I won't forget.
and when we ran off
you grabbed my hand
before we took the plunge.
If I had know you were to do that,
there's no way
you could've missed
the racing of my heart.

playing the part

assuming the voice of another
i jaunt.
in the sarcasm and wit
of one far superior

i scoff and solve
all in a single breath
paying certain fancy
only to that of grave importance

forgetting indeed
that these usual things
are what should be sending
my heart aflutter

as i wink
(a talent not quite employed)
lording over my emotions
playing with detachment

huffah.
please self,
do remember
this character proves rather useful

parttwo

in the slightly more subdued sense
of having control
over the english language
the truth comes to light.

ah! such a release.
the before forgotten joy
of words, letters strung together
had disapperated
to become the fog of complacency.

self doubt had fostered.
a need for others begun.

yet now in the clarity of the
oh so written word
images sharpen
sides are drawn

having missed this before
it is content to be back.
confidence abides.
the world has changed, but we are so much the same.

old friends, bookends.
new loves.

partone

perhaps it's the pain
the small squinting of the eyes
and the ever relentless buzz

the thought of stringing words
becomes chore.

alas, alas.

the pessimist speaks:
dirty.
hot.
tired.
dull.
worn.
displeased.

here, here...behold the optimist
in all her creative prime:

solitaire.
bright.
music.
satisfied.
emotions.
full.

again, the battle in my brain. indeed, indeed.

yet how to respond?
where do you go from here?

bemused:
slightly incoherant ramblings
thoughts from one to another
reluctant to be received
in their sluggish haze
of confusion and humid days.

how cliche.

involuntary

it's been far too long
since the last time
i haven't been able to stop
smiling.

like i am now.
grinning like the cat
in the most cliche
and ridiculous way

all it took was a sentence
who would've known?

next time,
i'll try to remember
that it's worth the wait
to get this sort of payoff

please my friend,
do pardon this rambling
for i'm trying to get you to understand.

when's the last time you felt like such?
blissfully happy.
not in the contented way you feel often
but in the
i'm screaming
i'm jumping
i'm spinning in circles
if only in my mind.

if only you could now see my smile.
and the joy in my eyes.

not the same

one of those days
again
small spots
my image
fits neatly in the photograph
half smiling
just like the rest
eyes squinting
outside of empty homes
and squalored halls
small thoughts
beating out
steady like a heartbeat
signals for help
rescue indeed
to a quiet space
without ignorance

caution: shallow

shallow society
surrounded by such
is akin
to diving into
a rather similar
and just as dangerous
pool of water
but i'm trapped
poised on the diving board
without a way
to back down
my only chance
is to catch a breeze
and spread my arms
to take a leap
eyes squinting
against the light
of a fresh start

green eyes

my eyes have been unusually green today
why, i'm not certain.
generally speaking
my eyes remain large and dark
as to overtake
and partake
of the events and emotions of the day.
but today,
the green shone through
as to reflect the beauty
i felt
and saw
in the sunshine and life.
words were left unwritten
emotion undealt with.
yet breezing past a mirror
i saw in my own eyes
an aching
for a pair to reflect my own
that would understand
the beauty
in the quiet simplicity
of today.

the secrets of straws

small games we play
with the simplicity of straws
tie your wrapper
pull hard
once
do you have a knot?
my friend
that is bad news
for it means
that there is not a soul
at that very point in time
thinking on you
did it pull apart?
without a trace of a tie
with two distinct pieces
this indeed
must show
that someone, somewhere
is thinking upon you
yet my wrapper had a twist
it did not knot
but did not quite pull apart
a small bit was caught
the master of the game
ventured this bit of wisdom
it meant
that someone was thinking of me
but didn't even know my name

cliche weekend mornings

waking up to early
on the weekend
a new form of insommnia
proves to be
a cliche trip
down memory lane
remebering times
where there was someone
special
to write about
and yet
no one has left
except me
getting away
out
around people
that make me smile
rather than sweat
hoping that soon
it'll lead be back
to the one
who had the sound
and it won't be a farce
in deep rooted
cynicism
i know it will
painful thoughts
too early
on the weekend
proves
that i too can cry
not with the
intensity
of the others
who sob over
nails and mascara
silent tears
simply stating
the stuck state
of my life
and the pain
of a cliche artist

prose inspired

As if drawn away, my broken words don't seem to come today. Sure, I'm a poet. And the ebb and flow of my words will never quite cease. But the awakening brings forth this innate sense of directness in me.

Don't worry, it won't last long.

Yet what I want, what I've never quite found is that tangible connection. Between us, I can almost feel the colors and the emotions. The taste of them lingers in the distant corners of my mouth.

These ramblings can't even come close to making sense.

Somewhere, I know there's bound to be people like me. In this vast human race, the chances of someone as simple as me being completely unique are slim to none. There must be something more.

I've tried to find that here and now. I felt no surprise, or emotion even when it was obviously absent. He wasn't it. I wasn't the boring typical person he was looking for. He'll never quite understand. Seldom does anyone.

However, sometimes in these still quiet moment, I feel as if someone does. I'm not quite sure who exactly they are. I doubt I'll ever actually know.

But I can hope. And I can dream like I always have, with song, with words, with the whimsical thoughts of dusk. I'll continue moving. Breathing, singing, laughing, crying. And one day, maybe I will finally find you.

completeness

the window to their summer soul
sometimes swings wide open
vacantly displaying what they think to me

i catch a small glimpse
and feel as if
i can read minds

the shallow thoughts consistantly amuse
the meaningless fluff i encounter
loving the sheer banality of the mundane

yet the curtains are drawn
in retaliation i assume
to the hostility found in me

this is the only time
i can truly find
who sincerly feels kind
and wishes to know the essences of me

i can't bother to think
i'll ever quite grasp
the completeness of another

for i can't expect them
to ever quite grasp
the completeness that is me

the windows of our souls
have quickly in the winter months
become fogged with wasted breath

untitled

paint splattered
with the remnants of the afternoon's masterpiece
aching
stretched as far as they can go
from hours spent pounding the keys
polished with deep plum
to match tomorrow's socks
scarred right about the left thumb
from childhood
and summer

once you held this hand in yours
once you touched it with what you called love
but i never received it

my hands are as callous and uncaring as my heart must be
marked with clues
as to who i am
parts of me
you never quite bothered to see
not realizing or understanding
but who really understands?

if i had taken your love
would it have mattered?
not at all
for you haven't appreciated these paint splattered hands

free

to find my song
to sing along

refreshing
new
how did i come to this
i don't know
whether be apathy or
ignorance
i don't know
and i don't care

and for once
simplicity is enough.