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poetry
words, words, everywhere, and not a one makes sense
(i'll make it easy for you to skip the shpeal and either start at the beginning or at the end.)
here's a poem or two i've written over the years - some better than others.
i've listed them chronologically (for the most part) and provide a brief narrative at the bottom of each poem to let you peek into what i was thinking when i wrote it.
i divide my poetry writing into five, er, six, no, make that seven phases....
phase i -- high school
fondly remembered are the days of spontaneous, almost nuclear-active creativity without oversight or constraint. now reflecting on these sometimes adolescent musings unexpectedly profound insight can be discovered.
: untitled :
A courpulet :
The reply, and waiting. :
untitled :
Some call me mad. :
The Open heart. :
false re-lease :
Urgency :
Long Lasts :
Causes :
Delusions :
Style :
Helicotrema :
The rule is defeat :
Dressed to Kill :
Negotiation :
Apathy :
Imaginary People :
Playing Games :
A Willing Victim :
Anger :
Time :
phase ii -- entering the work force
the struggle continued as the daily grind easily found its grip. through it all the words began to mature and reach out from the soul of a reservoir of feelings.
: Comfort :
Sleep, per chance to... :
Self Portrait :
Unconcerned :
On Music. :
A confession :
My compass lies :
A captive loss :
phase iii -- i fall down
heart rending pain shoots in like a needle and rips the skin off the reality held so dear. coming face to face with the pitch-black state of the soul a new flood of words burst on to this canvas like an exploding balloon filled with liquid life.
: Tell me again... :
Drifting :
ugh :
ix :
hidden :
here :
Sometimes :
at odds :
the sound my head makes :
the smell of donuts :
did i say that out loud :
i had a bad commute :
phase iv -- death and new life
spit drips down the face, thorns draw blood from the forehead, the pieces of glass tear the landscape of flesh with each crack of the whip. angry, disoriented and desperate the words flow out in uncontrolable violence. as the last breath comes, the tomb serves as a waiting place for the promise of new life.
: breathe out (swallowing water) :
simply, her :
nothing :
anger ii :
mine, for her :
friday, 1 a.m. :
reinsertion :
the deep room :
that's not what i meant to say :
black flowers :
never :
you tell me :
Don't ask :
When... :
How much longer? :
number 4 :
y :
bye :
i don't want to cry :
untitled :
gone :
phase v -- aftermath emergence
the old is but a frangrance smelt less and less frequently. the new has begun. the tomb has lost its icy grip. the vision of what's to come is so bright it's blurry. so each step is a step taken in complete faith.
: marvel :
learning :
melissa b. :
normal :
it just came to me :
three eleven :
again :
tomorrow will tell :
today :
still :
con·fla·GRA·tion :
bubble and squeak :
squirm :
they're true :
he said, soon :
small :
this morning :
i was just thinking :
discovery :
untitled :
been missing :
amateur :
let me tell you :
i wanted u 2 know :
getting closer :
a picasso :
a slice of pie :
this too :
verse 2 :
whine :
trio :
No hiding. :
untitled :
nervous :
over :
dave :
an ev'ning at the airport :
phase vi -- flying
life has taken hold. the brilliance of its force creates an understanding that all is new. its wind is blowing, pushing wings higher and higher, and from this height, for the first time ever, the past, the present, the future begin to make a little sense.
: two sevens :
no songs :
Here's the first :
Thumbnail :
closet :
intimation :
11 Days :
mpt :
cleaver :
12 Moons :
flying :
f :
orbit 'round beautiful :
he didn't say, 'straight' :
on my way :
Tomorrow :
drowsy hyper-introspection :
welcome to monday :
risk :
The Gift :
p.o.v. :
two columns :
Right Where I Am :
ile d'espoir :
three small words :
two days :
the weight that some must carry :
overcome :
Mrs. G. :
where I live :
stream :
too :
My Valentine :
i pulled a thread :
The Bear :
Upon the flow'rs I gazed today :
Smitten :
twenty minutes :
return to joy :
phase vii -- healed
unaware of how deep the wounds, or how many, unaware of how pervasive the black, clingy mire, then comes the healer, the warrior, saying no longer, it ends now, let the heart come out of the cage, let fear cease, and the lying voices be silenced
: In the dim light of morning :
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