Someone Bring Me Here

Probably one of my all time favortie quotes about writing...

"I write poetry to talk back to Whitman.

I write poetry because my head contains 10,000 thoughts.

I write poetry because the English word 'inspiration' comes from the Latin word 'spiritus' (breath) and I want to breathe freely.

I write poetry because I suffer confusion not knowing what other people think.

I write poetry because it's the best way to say everything in my mind within 6 mintues to a lifetime..."

-Allen Ginsberg

Beneath the Stars

To live under the stars

but to love the ones above.

Devoured with the selfishness

to blend the two worlds

for only a moment's breath;

yet knowing it wouldn't be enough.

For the pain would continue on,

or worsen so.

The tears that sting your eyes

would become like razors

kissed by fire.

So we stay,

grounded beneath the stars

as others dance above.

Words...

As if I was searching for permanence within quicksand,
or trying to strike a flame with a broken match,
I’m cashing out so here’s my claim ticket
for the frenzied collection of addictions out of style.
Ill stop reaching for the poisoned fruit
hung up on the tree of truth.
If you’ll just meet me on the burning sea my friend,
And we’ll set sail skipping stones across the pond
with a map drawn out by dreams;
Following our hearts when our truth becomes their lies.
———————————————-
From the smallest seed
stems unguarded possibilities.
Reaching and waiting for the moment to break through.
The first taste of the sun consumes and leaves an
undeniable yearning for more.
At times hope seems dim
as the bud remains closed,
locked within the coldness of what was once
thought to be a dormant winter.
Still that small seed of hope carries on.
Waiting patiently for her turn to bloom.
Spring will return and the sun will shine once again,
Green with envy she will wait
until it is her turn to become the Rose.
————————————————
There are words at the bottom of this glass tonight
but I don’t think you’ll ever stick around to hear them.
The fire pulsates in the darkness
as my pen strikes the paper.
Piano notes dance into the night
as this deceptive glass refills itself
with cunning persuasiveness.
The luring words I once heard, so profound,
now fall on deaf ears.
I’ve learned to turn towards the south
When the sun turns north.
——————————————
Looking through a kaleidoscope,
searching for the stars
never realizing that the images projected are immersed
with deceit.
The pretense of what could be,
beauty laced with fabrication or sweet truth.
Tiny bits of rose colored glass
Consume the hopeless romantic.
——————————————
The wind blows and I feel your touch
The sun hits my skin and I feel you embrace
You’re everywhere
Just without a face
I feel your calmness wash over me
As my feet hit the sand
I touch the water as if I’m reaching for your hand
I take a deep breathe and release to you
All my worries and fears
Knowing you’ll take them away from me
I feel you kiss my forehead
And whisper “everything will be okay sweetie”
Just like you always did
Tears run from my sad eyes
And you catch them without hesitation
The wind blows and I feel you

Just go down to the vanishing point and take a left....

Life can sometimes be like driving down a rugged, turn-filled road at 95mph and you may end up losing control every now and then of your steering wheel. A merciless pothole comes along, jolting you off the road as the wheel kicks up dirt, but sometimes you're able to pull it back. Yet no matter how desperately you attempt to stay straight for the duration, something continues to draw you to the side. You have so little control over most things. And at some tiring point, the struggle becomes too much and you consider letting go. Don't.  

The dream

I've always looked out dark windows wondering if something is out there. One night when I look, a face with bright eyes appears at the window. At first glance I think it's merely a small animal passing through the yard, but then I see the blond hair that I know so very well.

 I cant breathe, let alone move.

 It's Her.

I feel as if there's a compressor lodged inside my chest as I desperately reach for a way to open the window. My effort to scream falls flat on idle walls as my hands still search for a way out.

Anyway out.

A chip or crack that will allow me to break free of this cell to which I am confined. I'm locked within these four lonely walls with a careless window staring out at the one thing in the world that would make everything okay again. Tears attempt to burn my transparent eyes but I chase them away, eluding the inevitable breakdown of my porcelain strength that's bound to follow.

Then I wake up...and for a split second I still cannot breathe.