Write down stuff of meaning happenings, definitions, lustfull thoughts,
those that compell, and urge you to the brink of great discovery ...
Wow! she was beutiful if only I lived in that town so as
to frequent her place of work.
eventually maybe with painstaking stress, and inner fear,
knots in my stomach, lumps in my throat,
I will get the nerve to speak to her of the want I have.
A five year old brown and orange double edged razor blade gripped loosely
between thumb and forefinger slowly it slides from hand to elbow.
Snow white woolen socks soak up a puddle of my devilish blood.
Repulsed by the sight of this plasma river flowing down over my
brachioradialis muscle, and forming droplets as if from an old kitchen sink
in a backwoods cabin it...dri-p....dr-ip....dr-i-ps... slowly onto the
Navajo styled throw rug beneath my feet.
When the room grows cold, and grey I fall to the floor
and slip into a frigid oblivion.
We scream of death.
We sit by the sea.
Why say love?
At the time
raw life drove me.
play in my head.
I've become tired
its getting colder,and colder
step by step by step
as I walk staggering
down the street
staring into forever
my body is drenched
yet there is no rain
all is dark
not even a breath.
Mountain Biking on a State Trail off Michigan Hollow rd.
wind whipping over me
leaving leaves as I leap over logs
approaching the moment when I take flight
off the final mogul.
I sit in a slumping position holding my head between my thighs dreaming about what could be and wondering why I think so often about inferiority and the problems of the libido.
A girl tells me she once thought I was a cute guy when I attended an info session at her school yet I don't get happy I simply tear up on the inside my sanity melts and the solitude of being a single rips me into.
She doesn't elude to the feelings anymore and my heart bleeds with the blacknessof the many night without a lover...
When I'm Alone
Every minute is a thousand years of torture.
I feel like Prometheus, my liver peeled and bloody.
Napalm would be a welcome change from this inner burning and mental torment.
The skin melting and dripping off my bones like the drops of a midsummer nights rain so refreshing and cleansing.
In times of horror and fear like this I reach for you and get brushed away like the fuzz on a new pair of pants.
All my dreams and asperations crushed, and molded into a weapon used to destroy what I thought I had.
Pull back the button let the flint ring slip and "crackle, snap" the flame
arises from the gaseous filled chamber to its life in the raw cold world
lighting up my path and making the embers of a Bugle rolling paper fly by my
girls eye as she ducks and says "watch it the winds carrying the ashes into
my face" I apologize and go back to focusing on rolling another tube to melt
away my sorrow for yet another time. We sit silent on the cold concrete steps
of the public library, alone while the blank gazes of a passerby sees us.
He wonders to himself what do these people do all day sitting and talking and
staring at the nothing in this town. I wait for her to speak just to make a
comment condeming her thoughts, she loathes me for it but is to enthraled in
the us that we've become to be offended by my bluntness, realizing that I have
overstepped my bounds I say I'm sorry and she is astonished. I never seem to be
as predictable as people think. Just when I've been figured out I come back to
this weird state of self awareness, which my concious believes has alienated
me from my peoples and I vindicate this behaviour with a witty smiley remark.
With the comedicness of my loving embrace she again feels as though we were
indeed ment to be what we are. As the day progresses we move to the
sunny side of the street to feel as though we are wanted. The intensity of
the light temporarily blinds my vision of her beautiful soft features, but I
knew what she wanted, I move closer and give her a peck on the cheek just to
reassure her of my feelings. Night has come to our lives, the blackness where
we feel as ourselves and are confidant in what we have. Trapsing the empty
caverns of this depressing town we come to stop at our favorite hang out the
cemetary. I perch myself like a Poe raven across the tops of the large
gargoyle like tombs, and call to my love to join me and to look across the
valley at the unsuspecting masses and to take pity on their souls. For we
know they are just lonely people that don't realize nor understand the
turmoils of being young.
My fav. Poets
Sometimes when I'm lonely,
Dont know why,
Keep thinkin' I won't be lonely
By and by.
Wave of Sorrow,
Do not drown me now:
I see the island
Still ahead somehow.
I see the island
And its sands are fair:
Wave of sorrow,
Take me there.
They took me out
To some lonesome place.
They said, "Do you believe
In the great white race?"
I said, "Mister,
To tell you the truth,
I'd believe anything
If you'd just turn me loose."
The white man said, "Boy,
Can it be
You're a-standin' there
They hit me in the head
And knocked me down.
And then they kicked me
On the ground.
A Klansman said, "Nigger,
Look me in the face-
And tell me you believe in
The great white race."
William Carlos Williams
The Red Wheel Barrow
So much depends
a red wheel
glazed with rain
beside the white
This is just to say
I have eaten
that were in
you were probably
they were delicious
and so cold.
Langston Hughes, and William Carlos Williams poems are copyrights of their respective publishing companies,
estates and so forth. No income is generated nor attempted from the usage of these works.
Such reproduction is purely as an homage to these talented writers.