Echoing chains drape my side
Teardrops within, long been dry
Locked in my mind, wondering why
Why again do I feel this way
Brick barrier, matte white walls,
A solitary pane of invisibility
A means of watching storms arrive
A porthole in the side of eternity
A siren sings me close
I willingly oblige her every word
In the end am I right?
Time is the cruel survivor,
And I, I am its renegade slave.
Memory burns with vigor, salt and vinegar
The trains waking me up, the walk in the storm for
Purple berry ice cream amidst the flashes and crashing thunder
My heart has changed hands too many times,
Each time, another piece is lost.
But for her, I will find all the fragments
And I will let her love make me whole again.
All the pain in this world can't tear us apart,
This love is forever.
The siren is my dream, her songs are our love
Together we're better.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
The princess in doubt
I don't know how to begin...
and I don't know the middle...
And the end is not even in sight.
and of course, i apologize, i can write better.
But my mind is still blown.
:)
The second day in a foreign land
Was the first day I thought to hold her hand
In a class of just two; empty, echoes
Brown almonds look at me, wondering
As my cool blue pools reflect the light right back
Flash forward in time, outside in the green
Deer chew happily on verdant loam
She asks me if I want to walk with her
With a grin I stammer a 'sure'
Mounted on two, she on none;
As we part I draw circles with rubber
Thinking of which words to say
When I catch her I mumble
But still give her my number
Hoping her words were to follow in haste
Cramped in the back, packed to the top
The beast of burden roars to life on the highways
But inside, I read what she has to say
My glowing blue screen never leaves me
Another long haul, arriving past midnight
Texting this sweet smell, bid her goodnight
The next day changes history in action
A red pickup truck came to pick me up
Inside, the princess who doubts
A smile wraps itself onto her countenance
And words pour out telling errands
I oblige with a grin, tripping over my words like shoes too big
First is the store, I think of a job
She tells me she has one here too
I grin another time, enamel glazed with joy
Second is the bank, we talk about life
Stories write themselves when pulled apart
A new book is formed but has no title;
Simply a tree with initials in a heart.
Move on to the sunset, I see it with her
Smelling her namesake I keep secret
Laying in bed just talking away
Until I think of just what to say
Words scamper out, jumbled and missed
Apparently she understands.
A giggle she covers, and a yes sneaks out
A kiss seals the deal, our lips a tight seal
Later on I walk her to the truck
At a loss for words, in essence dumbstruck
Let the lips do the talking, wordless to say
An orange moon harvests itself,
With an army of stars to stampede
I hold her hand because I am her man,
The only one she could need.
Memories form, the sadness storm sinks away
I live each day waiting for her words
I promise her this, at least one wordless kiss
Every day until heaven moves on.
and I don't know the middle...
And the end is not even in sight.
and of course, i apologize, i can write better.
But my mind is still blown.
:)
The second day in a foreign land
Was the first day I thought to hold her hand
In a class of just two; empty, echoes
Brown almonds look at me, wondering
As my cool blue pools reflect the light right back
Flash forward in time, outside in the green
Deer chew happily on verdant loam
She asks me if I want to walk with her
With a grin I stammer a 'sure'
Mounted on two, she on none;
As we part I draw circles with rubber
Thinking of which words to say
When I catch her I mumble
But still give her my number
Hoping her words were to follow in haste
Cramped in the back, packed to the top
The beast of burden roars to life on the highways
But inside, I read what she has to say
My glowing blue screen never leaves me
Another long haul, arriving past midnight
Texting this sweet smell, bid her goodnight
The next day changes history in action
A red pickup truck came to pick me up
Inside, the princess who doubts
A smile wraps itself onto her countenance
And words pour out telling errands
I oblige with a grin, tripping over my words like shoes too big
First is the store, I think of a job
She tells me she has one here too
I grin another time, enamel glazed with joy
Second is the bank, we talk about life
Stories write themselves when pulled apart
A new book is formed but has no title;
Simply a tree with initials in a heart.
Move on to the sunset, I see it with her
Smelling her namesake I keep secret
Laying in bed just talking away
Until I think of just what to say
Words scamper out, jumbled and missed
Apparently she understands.
A giggle she covers, and a yes sneaks out
A kiss seals the deal, our lips a tight seal
Later on I walk her to the truck
At a loss for words, in essence dumbstruck
Let the lips do the talking, wordless to say
An orange moon harvests itself,
With an army of stars to stampede
I hold her hand because I am her man,
The only one she could need.
Memories form, the sadness storm sinks away
I live each day waiting for her words
I promise her this, at least one wordless kiss
Every day until heaven moves on.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
imitation poem
Robert Morgan
Squirt gun
[with italic support from me]
The orange see-through plastic makes
Waves in the blue sky, contrasting;
The gun at first appear red-hot.
Warm spectra fill the fields of view
But water in the grip is cool
to the touch, drips on your hands,
And sloshes when you raise to aim.
Squirting the gun is so much fun
The trigger slides the cylinder
Along the barrel, and crystals pour out
And shoots a needle clear as light
A stream of consciousness arises from the tip
Across the porch to break as mist.
From falls Niagra, the springs of life itself
The gun is fun because it shoots
What would most accurately be described as
Clear piss. You point and pee on leaves,
On stems and trunks, on ladybugs,
On ants, on flowers yards away.
Heaven is a pure clean jet of water
You spray the sun and make rainbows
Of schoolchildren already at play
That melt away in the instant rain.
The speed of light and then a few
You sprinkle dust along a step
Much like the mouse right to your left
And scare the cat again and hit
The fat kid in the corner, then full speed towards
A June bug like a Messerschmidt.
Speeding demons speed the reason
And when the gun is almost dry
A tear is formed and you start to cry
You place the barrel between your lips
And flush the tears with fresher juice
And close your eyes and fire a sip.
Squirt gun
[with italic support from me]
The orange see-through plastic makes
Waves in the blue sky, contrasting;
The gun at first appear red-hot.
Warm spectra fill the fields of view
But water in the grip is cool
to the touch, drips on your hands,
And sloshes when you raise to aim.
Squirting the gun is so much fun
The trigger slides the cylinder
Along the barrel, and crystals pour out
And shoots a needle clear as light
A stream of consciousness arises from the tip
Across the porch to break as mist.
From falls Niagra, the springs of life itself
The gun is fun because it shoots
What would most accurately be described as
Clear piss. You point and pee on leaves,
On stems and trunks, on ladybugs,
On ants, on flowers yards away.
Heaven is a pure clean jet of water
You spray the sun and make rainbows
Of schoolchildren already at play
That melt away in the instant rain.
The speed of light and then a few
You sprinkle dust along a step
Much like the mouse right to your left
And scare the cat again and hit
The fat kid in the corner, then full speed towards
A June bug like a Messerschmidt.
Speeding demons speed the reason
And when the gun is almost dry
A tear is formed and you start to cry
You place the barrel between your lips
And flush the tears with fresher juice
And close your eyes and fire a sip.
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