Poetry, Writing

Illuminate the Shadowy Mind

DSC_0070j

Why is life so lifeless for you, poor child?
Is there a thing in this world that could lighten you up, put a smile on your face?
You are brooding, but why?
Has someone wronged you, or has misfortune fallen upon you?
Have your clouds been filled with nothing but rain, leaving your days bleak and overcast?
Do you have any words to profess your empty melancholy, or do you want to just sit there in silence?
You’ll be okay, with your youth and your ambitions, and your future sprawled out in front of you,
Like a series of still-lifes in a gallery,
your smiles, tears, and daydreams of tomorrow on display,
Framed in white and hung on drywall for you to observe,
A procession of your forms in due time and the sun holding your hand,
Ushering you into your last days.
Don’t you see how remarkable all this is?
To live and breathe, and one day no longer?
For now, you are alive and the stars are your company,
So radiate the light of living and bask in minutes that will have you.

Advertisements
Standard
Poetry, Writing

She Hides

She felt her frown as she wore her scowl
And ached her sad while showing her bitter,
So it’s easy to see why no one knew her blue,
and often mistook her for red.

Standard
Poetry, Writing

Washing the Value off of Dirty Money

On hands and knees my wrists move
with the rhythm of my labored breathing,
scrubbing these floors and hoping
that working just hard enough
can wash away the sins of this system
we didn’t ask to be a part of,
dreaming of some restitution
for all the stolen youth,
praying for some peace of mind
in the heads of all the weary
young and hopeless,
imaging a resistance
to the self-indulgent hands reaching into
our futures,
because shame on them
for breaking our backs
with the burden of their debts and desires.

Standard
Poetry, Writing

Obituary for a Brooklyn Romance

Brooklyn was cold when we met,026
and I was young.
We smoked pot on that Friday night,
(my first time)
and you and I were too high it onto make the L-train,
Manhattan bound.
But I was stoned from the beginning,
loving you and loving the lights,
and in those moments I thought,
“this must be what it feels like to live.”
I was in love!
Fresh, young, and enchanted
as we walked through the movie scenes,
you know,
the ones that shaped our world views,
the ones on which we fashioned ourselves?
That was us in those movies,
or at least two people doing what we did,
eating blueberry pancakes on a Sunday morning
in some Central Park café.
You were the love I’d never felt before,
the ode I had yet to write,
the fresh-picked flowers I’d smelled for the first time.
Thank you,
for walking through a blizzard to bring me pizza.
Thank you,
for questioning my self-defeating notions
about all the things I thought I could never do.
We cried when the intercom at the airport
said that I had to board the plane that would fly
across the country and out of your embrace,
and at that moment,
my heart understood what it felt like
to lose someone it loved.
It mourned the mornings we would wake up,
sleepy-eyed and tangled,
and it mourned hearing you yell at me,
for god-knows-what.
It mourned 6:30 p.m.,
when I would walk across Manhattan
just to walk back home with you from work.
I mourned you.
I loved you extraordinarily.
And in fact, I still wonder
if you love mint chocolate-chip ice cream
as much as you did.

Standard
Poetry, Writing

paraphernalia

crayon all over pages,
in between the lines,
and sometimes outside,
 
tracing the mouth,
the eyes,
and the teeth of
an idea.
 
i am confused,
and cannot find the escape key.

Standard
Poetry, Writing

An Acute Feeling of Homesickness (Nostalgia)

Too much ebb and not enough flow;
quick! throw me a lifesaver!
I’m drowning in a sea of euphemisms.
these words are killing me slowly
when they should be killing me softly,
and I can’t seem to find my patience.
Remember the good ole days?
The ones with the whispering trees
and a golden haze, and popsicles,
and families that bowed their heads to pray?
Me neither.

This ^ is an experimental poem; The hyperlinks are meant to be “euphemisms” in some fashion, and gives the poem layers for the reader to explore and consider.  I’m working on mediums of expression through new media art, a big interest of mine.

Standard
Poetry

Old News

A lifetime ago, you were the talk of the town,
But lately you’ve noticed that you’ve gone unnoticed,
And you’re a stranger to their attention.

They pulled the carpet right from under
Your fading feet;
How could they?

Those moments when time was on your side
And they were your friends–
Those moments are long gone.
Where’s your place in the stars?

That dream is all you’ve ever known,
And you don’t know how to live
With the realization that you’ve fallen down into
Reality.

How bitter, How bitter!
America, you’re no longer in your prime!

You’re no longer their fancy,
And they don’t even remember your name.

You now see that you’re not as
beautiful
as you thought you were,

and your jokes aren’t as
funny
as you’d always imagined.

Standard