July 2012
22 posts
Gasps of happiness
Strung together by long heaves
Of wasted breaths
3 tags
July 20th, 2012
I simply want to be.
A simple desire,
but no less or no more
difficult than breathing
truth in every breath
or feeling alive with
every step.
I often ponder what
makes me deserving
of simply existing,
what lets me be.
But the longer I
spend wondering why
I’m not what I
have never been,
a brain a few bones
and a couple of loose teeth;
the longer I waste
not being what I...
I know I haven't been posting as much lately,
and to those who follow along for my next work, I’m sorry; but thank you for sticking around. I’ll be off to Germany tomorrow for 10 days, so unfortunately if you were looking forward to more poetry I won’t be posting until I return home.
I may or may not be merciful and put a few pieces of mine in my queue, but frankly, I don’t have the time I used to.
I wish you all...
Anonymous asked: It's as if your prophesing with your poetry. So eccentric, unique, so undeniably amazing. I just want to say thank you. Many people have probably said your poetry is beatiful, but I'm here saying you are beautiful.
1 tag
After all the king’s men were dead.
After all the soldiers had fled.
After the sun set its head to rest
and the moon drew its pen
across the starless sky;
beneath the chaos could be found
a bit of blood from you
and a bit of bones from I.
1 tag
Perhaps you’re proud of your spiral
down.
The wind blown past your
braided vines of blonde thorns
and reflected from the wire
wings you flapped recklessly
blew back all the clouds
behind.
And appropriately,
as you crashed headlong into
the horizon, the sun followed behind
clung closely to the hole in the sky
from which you’d fell.
Perhaps you’re proud of
falling...
2 tags
July 16th, 2012
I brush my teeth
against the grain with
a bandsaw soaked in
the ashes of your name.
As calcium flakes and
roots and nerves follow through
I catch the dust of family
trust on the tip of my tongue.
The taste of hickory smoke
and vodka trickles from each
grain of myself as though
a long awaited tear;
and though you may not be
near I still can feel the
family you left behind
right here...
Anonymous asked: Where do you work?
All I’ve to my name
Are a few straggly chin hairs
A blank bankless check
And a checklist of all
Things I’ve to do yet.
At the top is to find a God
To wrestle hearts with
And at the bottom is
To barrel through the bowels
Of hell and find my lost puppy.
I lead a simple life, one of
Eternal conflict between man,
machine and all those caught
Between. My struggle;
Deciding...
Anonymous asked: have you ever talked someone out of suicide?
1 tag
July 9th, 2012
I find no use in
dragging my skin
across the earth
like the end of
a wedding dress;
I’d rather not
track the dust
left by others,
nor dare I wipe
myself across
her precious surface.
Appropriately,
I travel lightly
with my feet chained
desperately to clouds
and my lungs fraught
and heavy with the
lightest songs of
yesterday’s glory.
I float along and
rarely touch...
I know I missed it this year,
And for that, I owe you an apology.
Rest in peace, Pop pop.
1 tag
Into myself
I stared;
throat closed and
sealed with shame.
I choked on the
taste of failure
and bit my tongue
in guilt.
I dove through
my shadow and
found my breath on
the face of the sun;
the scorch of justice
and the sting of the burn
enough to open my
airways just enough
to let out a scream;
all I needed to find
the voice to speak
was enough pain to
make me forget what
...
1 tag
How can I be
so desperately devoid
of all things
interesting.
A rich and lavish,
pointlessly frantic life
I do lead,
and yet in all the
glamour and glory
I bask and breath in,
I find no inspiration
in all I see.
Beauty is around,
but none within.
1 tag
Happy Birthday, America.
To war, for war
all for war we are!
To battle we trek
for battle we work
to crush and kill
it all.
All those who came
before, all those
who came after,
all those who stand
before the shadow
we cast down
upon the mortals
that tickle our feet
like blades of grass
beneath our cast iron boots.
In this cry,
guttural and vain,
we shout her name;
America, America,
O the listless...
1 tag
Looking on
Her skin was overripe;
ink stained parchment
left out to dry in the
glare of the summer sun.
Her eyes two flecks of
muddy footsteps printed
across a porcelain white plane.
Her smile the foam collecting
at the top of a river
of tears flowing from the
footsteps sodden with tears
trapped within her eyes.
Though I never came to know
how her smile tasted,
and though I never knew
the...
Anonymous asked: we are all very mad at you Steve.
1 tag
As my eyelids tumble
like fumbling drunks
down a few rickety
steps, I pull my pen
across the page to
scrawl one last confession.
Though I am wilting
into sleep and the black
of my eye has consumed
the white,
I have just one ounce
of strength in me left
to say one last thing
that I’ll lastly say
before I finalize
the night:
.
The murmur of my heart
is slow and steady;
the...
