Make no missed takes about what you've seen. I wish sometimes. (A pleasant dream)

i had known who i was just a minute ago

an abyss of thought swept me out that window,

i lost what i understood and stood blindly by

to the person leaving, donning a new disguise

for i'm not who i thought that I thought that i had been

and peering at this picture makes it all set in.

i've been lost in myself.

a detour

made contour lines of themselves on my face

she said i looked older, i agreed, out of place,

for there's only a handful who know the disgrace

that i wear on my chest and i must suffer in taste

cause the very essence of the person i was

hates everything about the being i've become

and i digust even the rust on this stainless steel

skull

for containing the brains that made my heart dull

i need just a minute to collect my things

and while i don't want to leave i hear the song and sing

for the bells that ring ring for me too

and i realize understanding is not enough to move through

and i realize that honestly i have not a clue.

and i realize everything i thought i had knew

was realizing enough to know i didnt know me too.

squandered splendid thoughts danced across that pavement.

there were so many truths too many to count.

and i slipped on my boots; (my own two feet.)

surprisingly simple i fear this amounts,

to surprises i never thought to denounce.

and the surprising suppression of which i endured

denying the insides, to go out, be poured

from this fountain of filth where they struck a chord

with anything i've ever held to be more.

i didn't and don't mean to act such a way

and i never understood the silence in a day

can create minutes and hours and revolve around space

and this spectrum un-holy

for finding that grace.

indecisvely active i really need a drink

or some manner of taking me far from where i think

for i think that i thought to much of it all

and i think i deserve to be kicked in the balls

and i think that above anything i never learned how to fall.

for the flowers i drew with my own two hands

are wilting in the pages of my notebook.

and the weathering withers, the shreds of what was

leave me helpless in the covers of my bed.

i'll never know a lot of stuff here.

and i don't know much about last night

i do know that i am better than this

and i know the depths of the actions i took

and i know the depths of the asshole i've been

and i knew not how to act

but i didn't know what to do

and now i don't know evermore

and i know that i need to see this through

for i cant be content if none of this continues.

i cant explain.

and i can't do anything else but say from every fiber

that i never meant to be that liar, and if i would have known

i'd never had started.

and i'm sorry.

i'm sorry

i'm sorry

i'm sorry

i'm sorry.

I am deftly swept away

In the tyrannical tidal wave of noise

The regurgitating sounds of boys

Playing with their tractor trailer toys

Brought to keep up this ploy

That I’m really small

That I am really small

That I am really insignificant

This rock is so magnificent

And this atmosphere to translucent

To accept safety as we hurdle through space

Cause catasrophe will be heaven sent

But not by god

Just the odds of time in this race

Allow me to displace

And digress

For the be heavent sent

I meant the terms of old

Cryptic manuscripts told in

Times where gold was the

Boldest of the bold

The conception of space, the infinite

Under the name of heaven was sold

Furthermore It’s suffice it to say

That I was trying to display

Through a metaphorically metaphysical kinda way

How annoyed and how small I felt as that semi

Rumbled past my way

Perhaps it was my high mind

Or simply enzymes

That took my thoughts and ran to find a new bride

For devoid of sweet noise

I angrily courted the street corners

Eyeing the perfect spot to stop

And put the burner to my cigarette

I had to stop to have my head get

Straight

With the new cleared air

I pushed back my hair

And stared directly into my being

Without seeing anything concrete

The abstract visualization of my thoughts form a street

And the day sounds compound

To create the soundtrack to life that was so profound

And pound by pound I begin to glimpse how

I got so off balance

For that truck stepped to close

A violation of personal space expectations

Rather preferred sound variations that

Boasted that ugly ugly set of

Waves into my ears

Furthermore I feared that

I would never again hear

The good cheer

That the world beings near

For the rational international

Auditory background gives

Ground for a permanent smile

For footsteps and the songs bird sings

Are violin strings

And the rustling leaves in the wind in the trees

Are the cello, the timpani

Of this world symphony

I like the pleasant music

I hear in the ways of the world

But apparently I hate the

Wails of tears from a little girl

Or the tortured shouts

When relationships unfurl

So when the void is filled with the noise spilled

From the back of 16 wheels

I am willed to realize

It really won’t matter if I’m killed

Or if I’m born again

For winds will still rise

And storms still set in

The joys derived from noise in life

Are as significant as the contrived sounds

Of toys to child’s minds

Son this red brick walk

Its chalked up to this:

I can’t get pissed

When the world slips

An ugly sound into my crown

For the noises heard mean its

Absurd to think

We’re much more than a part of the ground

And that the atmosphere that surrounds us

Is way bigger yet smaller than the universe around us

So this how a semi truck let me know

That I’m really small

That I am really small

That I am really insignificant

dead Poetry #31,870.

I leave the calloused halls

a voice follows in my wake

the dust hangs in the space between

and then i hear the calls

a choice swallowed for the sake

that just might make it obscene?

for if I turn my head and commit

then you've taken ownership

and i lose my stake in this

but if i follow the walk i lead

the stake is lost for all to see

and the prevalence of reality sets in

I long for the sweet touch of your hand in mine

the electric capacity that two companions find

and i race, hurdling headfirst to your side

and haven't the slightest where you stand for mine

So i wait,

the coffee percolates

and I elate in my great company

But tell me straight patty mayonnaise

what do you think of me?

For is self worth really defined by the soul itself

or is it an indication of where we sit on other's shelves

is my perception of me a reflection of what you see?

inside of our own heads we seek value in how we're percieved

so the way we relate to the ones we hold dear

explicitly creates the person in that mirror

so look at that looking glass a little bit clearer.

Do you see shades of others in the lines on your skin

the blemishes and dimples, the people that have weighed in

on the life that you live

the ones you value the most

live inside of ourselves as a protectorate ghost

for they validate the conception of truth

and ruthlessly tear us from the innocence of youth

but i still got your number memorized as i shut the door to this phone booth.

I think someday soon this phase too will pass

the introspective awareness that I am an ass

and in the end we'll all have a big gas

as our classes we clink so on and such as

Def Poetry #34

she said i'm looking nothing like my father

and I hope she'll say it again when we make a daughter

but to bookend comments makes me bother

and worry

toil and tremble

like the last crash of the cymbal

advances symbolic signs

of the finished lives

and the remains of lines

drawn with chalk

faded and scented

the dust still talks

still speaks the words

once written to smitten

the minds of children to convince them

of the merit of inventions

but the children don't remain

they change and age

until we're all elderly sages

content with the wisdom confined

to pages of our books

and through that window glass I look

at the world,

and when i read its through that glass twice

but i think when my eyes are closed

is when the world seems nice

for when i awake to the opaque

light translucent rays play

through the haze of my mind

and that split second of dreamy reality

is the only real sense of calm I ever get.

so i try to find the calm otherwise

my vices are nice when combined

i like to smoke when i drink

and i like the wine straight off the vine

I like to take shots with shots in the arm

and smiling while my nostrils get filled

never did any harm

and taking that tab while i chew on the caps

really makes me relax

and writing along with all of these things

escapes my mind to the realms of dreams

so please don't open it

i'm addicted to addiction

some say its unfortunate

but it's the gift that keeps giving.

and while i'm still living

I know i'll never know about many of the things in this list

but the gist of what i'm trying to comment

is the comfort of not having to deal

the comfort of accepting i can choose to not be real

and while it won't last

and while i shouldn't want it to last

i know that this life will never last either

so i'll walk that tight rope line

looking for sure footing to find

a means to perceive her

For i truly want to believe her

the nature so motherly

i cannot deceive her

but knowing that one day like the snow i will leave her

and if my fate dissipates

like the seasons change the gates

of each person walking straight

then i will not stray

for that path is a blessing of thanks for each of these days-

in this book of life

pages left blank for the day to write

lined shavings of wood- whose rings have been pressed

molded and colored to hold what we could

never express

to suggest that there is a conquest

and life is consequentially essential

to live as our best.

fuck the rest.

Def Poetry #11 plus one.

As I seek to hide

And the feel the embodiment of pride

within the inside

I feel your presence

slinking up to my side

and the hairs on my arm reel up

like cilia.

and every institution of

my biology,

systemically presses to the precipice of my physical being.

seeing for the freeing

fleeting sense of your touch

My tongue swells as the mouth dries

and as our lips part and touch

I sigh

and gratifyling gaze into your eyes

whose lids hole insight to a beautiful mind.

I feel your hand on the back of my neck

eyes to the sky I leave room for respect

as you nibble and peck

near the juggular vein.

Primal instincts devoide of humane

rationality, the synapses in my brain

force me to pull you closer

I'm neither cold nor getting colder.

I pause-

and shake.

we coyly stare biting our lips

a smile breaks and I ,

with my finger trace the outline of your face.

and pull you still closer.

slip these lips to the nape of your neck

your eyes to the sky, I leave room for respect

and your silent motions

unwrap the stoic emotions

and together we swell and roll as

the waves of the ocean

Inside the beginning

no eloquence fell

our bodies beckoning

for the fertile touch to sell

these instinctual actions as

an emotional spell

but the feeling of your body

so soft so close to mine

verbally inadequate to praise the design

I exhale and set into find

a worthy physical manifestation to praise your:

divine.

a my pedestal crumbles.

and yours tumbles too

two fools shocked silently

grasping the remains of each other of that dark room.

in this infantile state of dress

we reset bereft of insights

consumed by the depths of

mutual understanding about sweat and

of sweet.

the catalytic release

leaves the tree underneath filled with vulnerability.

so beneath this blanket

I reach for you as you reach for me.

the semblance of significance

as the warmth covers all

of our embarrassment giving

up on that sense we've

let each other in.

shared the exuberance

of this translucent intimate end.

I press my mouth to your lips

we sigh and smoke each others.

cigarettes.

Def Poetry #11

My shoelaces untied,

I place my soles on the side

Doors shut, hugs received

and I sigh,

for this home is familiar,

familiar but quiet

and not quite,

what it once was.

I could walk these rooms blind

and with my eyes closed

those scents trigger the hippocampus-

the memories thus released

but the intensity decreased

melancholic release of the

sensitivity once achieved.

I had believed

that these walls held love

and the roof above held ghosts

at most there once was a room for

the room needed between

defeated human beings.

I have not shouted in quite some time.

To elaborate I've not been a child here

for years and still I sense that it

recently disappeared

the notion of home

the emotions of never being alone

I've been knocked from my throne of comfort

rather im building it up

as the filling of this cup of knowledge

I've grown so much in college

came into my own and thrown against the wall

Now I wait in free fall

to see if this chute will open

or if I'm just hoping that I'll end up

with half of what my parents have.

For if i have only half

or even half that half again

then what i will have

will be enough to defend

the halves of self i've felt within

and the whole i long to see again

cause life is more than just fractions

but i want to find a home again.

Def Poetry #10

Surreal Reality

A battery away from awakening

this plasticine fidelity

Renders this all null and void

That boy left quite some time ago-

Why is there black snow?

and where did all the white go?

I think I might know

Open the manhole to a vast expanse

So bright initially

but superficially

hide the light and chance

that the frightened mind's eye might

Glimpse some shred of intent

That maybe this world conspires events

to take off the overcoat of expense

and sense-

that perhaps we will never ever control our weather

our greatest endeavor is controlling words.

its unheard of to resolve

meaning from absurd

but surely the common cur

can make words sounds nice

heres some advice:

Read things twice

For you might realize

That I'm just the cur

and it might occur

that this whole poem is really unsure

of being just a blur

of spectacular

words

A showcase of vernacular takes flight

Like a bird

But this ain't about shit.

Def Poetry #9

This drink is to stiff,

and I slip in between cryptic quips

from your trembling lips

like a wisp of smoke-

I know this is is no joke

but the way you take me

leaves me feeling broke

and the way you shake me

makes me wish I was oak

but the rings inside of me

don't add up

and it's bad enough

that leaves of my branches

never stand a chance as

long as I remain the same

change is imminent

and in this baroque attire

I retire livid with

disappointment

this missed appointment

takes a heavy toll on my stroll

off balance and challenged

to my very soul

I stand like a tire tipped at the top of a hillside

refusing to roll

for I know what you meant

but I heard what you said

and I know that you sent

me right back to that beaded bed

its headboard rests longingly

to observe the love held in it's past

I've left the red snores and charmingly

swerved the above weld to last

as long as I can.

but I never stand a chance

as long as I remain the same

for the wind is pickin up

and I'm not stickin up this train,

my bandana is folded to hide the shame

but when I catch your smile,

and your eyebrows rise,

and when you try disguise,

your happy thoughts when you meet my eyes,

I despise how you make me feel

how I reel as I feel the layers peel

for I long to know you

as you know yourself

and I refuse to be put away

like a book on your shelf

I know i'm not as smart

and that smarts but whats more

is I'm not even dressed for

the occasion

the abrasions on my heart and mind

leave this exaltation to quiver behind

like the arrows for bows from the quiver on my back

packed away in fear of the looming attack

how pathetic am I that I can't even convey

how scared I am that you'll go away

and leave me like leaves leave the trees with barren branches

I would appreciate it if you'd responded to my advances

for I'm excited but despondent, I hate taking chances

for if it's not certain then why should I dance with

whats unknown

it's fair to say im out of my comfort zone

and i'm thinking that i'm not alone

so lets take this waltz in four four time

and lets celebrate the talks of our bodies aligned

malignantly fertile i cant comprehend

your nonverbal cues, your message resend

make apparent to me when i can begin to step in

or are we just friends?

if thats the case no haste just relax

but every morning i wake with the stale taste in the back

of my mouth

you've exalted those doubts

and left me without

standing a chance to remain the same

but standing chances leave backward glances

and in this trance i feel the lancet

and the steady hand that

performs this surgery

it purges me from those doubts

that I've talked about.

either way the wind will still blow

and off kilter or not i will still stroll

and i thank you for this new point of view

and the kindle to fire my spirit renewed

like each morning blade holds a fresh drop of dew.

These tired rhymes are through

If it's a game well played it's still just a game,

I'll take the chance

that I wont remain the same.