Sunday, April 24, 2011


Flying is a wonderful thing,
Unless you've forgotten,
How to land.
I was so afraid to face
This life alone, I grasped
Your hand.
Now I can't seem to face
What you have come to mean
To me.
All that breaks before building,
All that shatters before shining,
All that crashes before climbing,
All this you are,
To me.
You're my color, you're the dyer.
My water, my plant.
You're the only prayer
The Gods ever chose to grant.
You're my prayer, you're my sin,
You hold my faith together,
Rip me apart with fear.
I know
You're what will shatter me
Utterly. I am the stone,
You the sliver of ice within.
I'm not equal to any of this.
I doubt I was meant to be.
I can only hope to grow
Every day that passes
Every day you're loving me.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Prayer for a Thursday Night

Dear Person Tired yet Still Bemusedly Listening,

I wanted to write something wonderful today. I wanted to transcend everything I've ever written and write something true. Something that needed no clever rhymes, or twisted imagery, or metaphors, and certainly no carefully chosen synonyms. Tonight I wanted to write something made from the bone and gristle of me. Cut the words out from the scars on my body, and paint them in the colors of my faithless humanity before I lay them out before you. Tonight I wanted to be a better poet.

But here I sit, smiling soft and wide and true. Here I sit wrapped in a quilt made of the happy memories I've yet to make. I am too happy for poetry tonight. I am too happy to dwell on my fading pain. I constructed this night out of a prawn omelet and a pesto turkey mortadello foccacia sandwich with Gouda cheese strong enough to slap you, and lettuce so fresh it danced under the water like nymphs in the rain, and a perfect cup of coffee, whipped with demerrara sugar and a pinch of cocoa, dusted with sinnamon (pun most assuredly intended) and served with a smile. Raphael Saadiq, my soul brother, pouring his ecstatic soul through the speakers turned up a nudge short of loud. The fondness and love I still carried for my mother, even though she was already on the plane and on her way. The love for a teddy bear father with a grizzly bear hug off in the jungles fighting all the predators for his piece of self-worth. A smile and a tear each for my apocalyptically cute sisters, off fighting for their own lives in streets peopled with my darkest fears for them. Even though they're on different continents, tonight it feels like they never went away. I have only to cup my heart to cup their faces, I have only to close my eyes to hear their maniacal laughter tinkling through this blessedly cool air, in imperfect harmony to the branches of my neighboring palm trees and the windchime's animated discussion with the nighttime breeze.

The world cannot touch me here. The thought of you can never leave me. I look back on all the winding paths, and cul de sacs, and know that every stumble was leading me here, to stand terrified before you. I am a lonely man, no more. I think tonight of all the friends I love, who miraculously, love me too. I remember the sounds of their laughter in this room, and the looks in their eyes when the looked at me. And the pleasure in their groans as they ate my mother's apple pie. And the wine that flowed, and the beer that swaggered, and dragons who soared with us, higher and higher. And all our lonely hearts, and our quiet desires, all gathered here to be put aside, until you all went home happy and tired. I think of you all and know that this fool is living foruntate. I hope I remain worthy of you, I hope you remain worthy of me. I hope we are the exceptions, to the pathetic examples of humanity we so often see.

Tonight I sit alone and happy. And the thank the Goddess for her blessings. Tonight I sit alone and happy. And know I will make it through with my spirit intact, and my soul Rastafar-high happy, and whole, and true.


Monday, April 11, 2011

Scribbling While Deciding What to Write About

I'm a poet,
So all my thoughts
Are better left


You're my muse,
Which means there's
No real difference,
Between my dreams of you,
And the nightmares.


Love me a little,
Love me a lot.
Love me with abandon,
Without a single thought.
Love me cold, love me hot.
Love me for what I am,
And all that I'm not.


I am in repair.
And the mechanic's sick.

Quick Thought

I walk a fine line
Between a seeker
And a fool.
I thought of you today
And smiled, then I thought
Of her, and smiled
Much the same way.
The first rays of
Sunshine live in my name.
But I feel more
Like the dew that's
Never allowed to linger.
Truth and light trapped
In a traffic jam.
I tune my new guitar
And dream of playing
Well enough to make
Muddy Waters approve.
Then I put it down
Unplayed, unheard.
And I write these
Little, little poems
And fill them with
The gaps in my soul.
So that when you read these
You'll think of all the ways
You can make me whole.
But it obvious
That it's not working.
Because you're at a party.
And I'm here alone.