Thursday, September 22, 2011
the things we do against all we can't
It's 5:00 AM, I'm on my bike beneath a teenage moon that's still wide awake from a night of heavy partying. His eyes blink drunkenly as I follow the beam of my narrow headlight. If he wasn't so hung over, he'd be doing a better job, or at least give way to day. But the sun will hurt his eyes, and he's in no hurry whatsoever to fall behind the world.
I pedal to the coffee shop with my goosebumps on full alert to the temperature of night. I stand at the counter, rub my eyes. "Decaf." She looks at me askance and I shrug. I take the long way home...stopping to window shop and sip the cinnamon off the surface of my Java. When I get back to the house I tuck myself away in the backyard...book of poetry, a flashlight, my warm mug. The moon yawns and slips just a bit...just enough that the world becomes silhouette, and I nothing but another black mark against the skyline.
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Thursday, September 15, 2011
Easy Out
Ommission has a backward ease to it
you can't return
to the forgotten
once your footsteps
have hardened in clay
so we shrug
there's no power over yesterday
today
and no ruse to circumvent
error
Let us lie
at the intersection
of our parallels
(poem response to a 3 Word Wednesday poem. Photo showed construction of two bridges that ran into each other.)
you can't return
to the forgotten
once your footsteps
have hardened in clay
so we shrug
there's no power over yesterday
today
and no ruse to circumvent
error
Let us lie
at the intersection
of our parallels
(poem response to a 3 Word Wednesday poem. Photo showed construction of two bridges that ran into each other.)
Monday, September 12, 2011
All Arms
It's like we're legg-less
crawling up each other...
all bicep
shoulders screaming
the only ease
seemed surrender
on one side or the other
and strangely, I've white flagged 'em both
But ease never carried much promise
I live my life like a war
and each day a battle.
These arms have always been my strength.
Coaches would tell me to kick
kick kick kick
but I let my arms do all the work
'cuz I never really had a leg to stand on
I know this...
they keep holding on
.
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(L&L - Was a little drunk when I wrote this)
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.
.
crawling up each other...
all bicep
shoulders screaming
the only ease
seemed surrender
on one side or the other
and strangely, I've white flagged 'em both
But ease never carried much promise
I live my life like a war
and each day a battle.
These arms have always been my strength.
Coaches would tell me to kick
kick kick kick
but I let my arms do all the work
'cuz I never really had a leg to stand on
I know this...
they keep holding on
.
.
.
(L&L - Was a little drunk when I wrote this)
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.
.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Sparks
and when she lit him on fire it was like the fourth of July.
He hopped around like Brer Rabbit on caffeine
colored sparks coming from his ass.
She should have been horrified,
or at least worried
but she hadn't the skin for it...worn as her sediments were.
(response to "what you got?" That's all I had. At the moment. Just sayin')
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