Remembering Keeps me Up

Sleep is important, I know this now,

especially when I will be talking to you

at 2 a.m. because no one else is awake

enough to hear the things we say or

the secrets we love to share.


Last night, I was really not myself,

I couldn't have been cause you called me

just to hear me laugh or at least have

proof I was not drowning in tears or

watching blood run down my wrist again.


something about love, just not the way

I thought you cared. then something that

made me melt, I believed because it felt

so real, so true. later mention of my

stupid dream being more than a dream to you.


I don't know if I'm going crazy, or

what I should be thinking about this,

but I just hoped maybe writing it out

would keep me from losing my head.


Sleep is a great thing - believe me

when I say it. Especially when the love

of your life is the most unpredictable

paranoid monster you will ever know.


To be honest I don't remember much

other than the things you would do to

keep my blood inside, and that I'm more

mature than you were at this age, or something

closeish to that. I don't know anything anymore.


Your words took my breath away,

they stole all my words and now

this old computer is eating my words

up exactly the way you did when we

first met. So I'll say I am lost and leave

things there, hoping you will understand.

Prolific Dreams

I keep thinking that I can write you a letter

with so much love and beauty on the page that

you will not wonder why it never worked

quite so well with anyone else. My pen

has grown to be quite haughty,

she swears it's a task she can

skillfully complete and yet

here we are three years later

and still no where close.

Outrun the Stagnation

Push yourself to try new things - that's how you have some of the best adventures. 

Sweet and Sour Sauce Shampoo

"I need to take a shower

before doing anything else,"

I inform my mother as she unlocks

the door to our tiny, temporary

studio apartment of a home.


"That's what you teenagers get

for trying to wash your hair

with Chinese food," she laughed.


As I slipped into the bathroom

and out of my clothes I answered,

"That's not how it happened!"

I tried to brush my hair clumped together

with sweat and sweet and sour sauce

from last night's left over dinner on the road.


The brush couldn't get through

the mess so I let the water

have its way with my brunette locks

until finally the suds and conditioner

were able to work it out for me.


As the soap made its way

down my porcelain skin I ponder

why teenagers have to be so bold


and what I've gotten myself into

this time. When the sound of bottles

crashing from the shelf pulls me

from my thoughts I turn the water off

and pull on my Joe Boxer shorts and

the XXL T-shirt swallows my frail frame;

she asks if I still smell like fried rice.


"I hope not," I giggle and crawl into bed,

when we turn off the light the room

is filled with two words said by both of us

in unison and dreams of being a

 mother myself someday fill my head.


~ ~ ~


Good night.

Sing a Water Song of Nothing

Young body, soul in love, rolling

as the waves do. A petal falling is

alive and in your silence we sleep

the slumber of the changeless.


Only this raises a problem,

how does one find their way


out of a rose?

Three Christmas Wishes

I found three shooting stars on Christmas Eve,

though I guess really, more than anything, they were


f

..a

.....l

.......l

.........i

...........n

..............g


not


s. h.. o... o.... t.... i...... n...... g....


I.


So because you are not here to take the wishes

that I would offer you. I wish for you to enjoy

your holiday beyond belief. Smile as much as

possible while you're surrounded by the people

who love you most in the world - minus myself

(of course - everyone knows I'm 1600 miles away).


II.


Secondly, I wish that you knew just how brightly

you shine to me. Darling, you are the most stunning

angelic soul I have ever seen but at the same time

you are my lovely black hole my daemonic crimson

breath. The worst best friend of an addiction I have

ever known. This being said, you my love, are beautiful.


III.


And finally, my last wish for you, the one I hope for

most of all - I wish I may, I wish I might, get the wish

I wish tonight: I wish that starting this year you would

begin a Christmas tradition of having someone lovely,

someone brilliant and brave, kind and sweet pour

their heart out to you as purely as possible. Because you,

you my love, deserve nothing less than to have the entire

universe in the palm of your hand and this is as close as

I can get to offering you that. Please, take this as my heart.


I found three shooting stars on Christmas Eve,

though I guess really, more than anything, they were


f

..a

.....l

.......l

.........i

...........n

..............g


not


s. h.. o... o.... t.... i...... n...... g....

Snow Won't Fall Here

The cold is coming, but my heart will not be made blue or frigid because I am armed with warm memories and smiling faces.

What do you have?

Soaring Towards Paradise

My poem has wings

that take you


from sleep and

give to take

from you.


To tell the real

from the true


My poem has

no substance

to crave


but it does

give you a need


to crave anything

and everything


freely.

Still Searching for Wonderland

This time Alice is searching

for the Mad Hatter and has

all the muchness she could

Ever dream of.


Its just that he left

Wonderland without

saying goodbye...


Or rather she was forgotten

there, left to watch it all

fall down around her

as she stands so completely


Alone.


Cheshire erased everything

except me. He took the queen

all her heads and hearts,

Even the real story that

belongs in this book

trapping me within blank pages.


And if you find this

I am sure you will


Understand.


Its just that I thought you

should know I am

going to use these pages

for something new

with very different

characters and a world

you will never see.


And someday when this

becomes a classic you

will remember how you had

your chance, but you chose

to walk away without leaving


Anything.


Welcome to Wonderland

my Mad Hatter, I'm so

displeased to announce

that none of it ever existed

Singing Bowls poem for Ian Quiet/Price

...Dong...

someone's here to visit

they want to know your name

..............Ding..............

Everybody's outside waiting

we have creativity to show you

W...H...O...O...S...H!

Somewhere the wind is racing

sharing all it's secrets

with the ever present rain.

.......Drip.......

Come on, get up, we have

people to meet...

....................Drop...

Drip...

...........Drop...........

................................Drip...

...Drip...

......................Drop...

Follow me to a place

unlike any other

across the seas of Time

and Death's lingering breath

Ding...

..........Dong..........

We have arrived

somewhere indescribable

C...R...A...S...H...

a world caught between

your moving melody

and nostalgic notes

.......Dring.......

Dring...

................Dong...

This is all your fault

you got me lost  within

myself craving

more of your blissful


perfection
    

The Garden in my Soul

You dropped a seed when you kissed me

for the very first time and that little seed

fell passed my lips and through my heart

into my soul. It found soil and solitude

inside my lungs and it grew brighter and

more beautiful with each kiss to follow.


I'm not sure if it was a rose or a sunflower

or  even a lily like you gave the last girl.

But I never felt any thorns and my days

came not only easier, but happier as well

so I tell myself it was a sunflower and

you were the sun. Which means I am rain.


Before too long birds and butterflies

were prancing around my heart and

bees found a hive in my shoulders

(don't ask why they settled there,

I'll never understand it myself).


Everything was thriving -

flourishing even it was

such a sight to see. Until one day

they took too much oxygen

and I forgot how to breathe.


That was the day I realized

that you had left and you

had no intentions of coming home.


Was it the flower or you

that killed me?
 

Where'd the Sunshine Go?

I know you heard us all

standing around you

like witches in a seance -


I know you felt us all

begging you to hang on

just a little longer -


I know you saw the waterworks

filling up the room, it's amazing

none of us actually drowned -


I know you could taste the salt

landing in the palm of your hand

and lining the edge of your lips -


I know you could smell the fear

growing more potent than your

collapsed corpse - or anything-


I know you were bound

to run out of time -

but I wish it wasn't so soon.



*It's been two years since I wrote this piece and it doesn't feel any less painful. Maybe not my best write, but if it's a replicative post, then it's damn worthy of it anyway. 

A Temporary Leave of Absence

You said you needed a break
from the drama and anger,
that it was for Poetry's sake.

There was no last song
or any real goodbye/ see you soon -
and that's feeling wrong.

I haven't heard from you
in a few weeks now,
but everything's in shades of blue.

Baby, I know you've got scars,
but tell me you'll call soon -
it's not your time to join our stars. 

Changing Leaves Must Fall

And I would say:

As Autumn falls into the hands of Winter I can't help but notice that you and I are a lot better for each other than they gave us credit for.

Someone else would say:

As Autumn falls into the hands of Winter and all her frozen schemes I can't help but notice that you are even more distant than usual. What's wrong this time?

Tears of Exhaustion

There's nothing wrong. At least nothing I know of.

The tears just don't like my eyes. And my mind

is tired of developing blurry pictures -

its such a waste of energy.


My shadow sits against the wall wondering when

I'll hand her off to a decent conversationalist,

even though walls will never talk and floor boards

just complain. I know it's all fun and games to you,

to them, to everyone else, but my mind just can't

pick up on that - just can't grasp why something

so cruel could ever be so funny. There's a person

stuck in the mirror staring back at me,

they say it gets better, but they've got the devil's

famous grin buried beneath countless layers of

make up and lies.


That stupid voice in my head, the one deeper than my own,

the one everyone knows to ignore - everyone that is but me,

reminds me just how tiny i am in this great big world. It's like

my mind doesn't know when to stop, the pain brings more pleasure

than the strangers calling me pretty as they offer to

buy me some fruity drink down the block (I love the look

on their faces when I end downing shit stronger than their own.)

there's nothing wrong. At least nothing I know of.


I just woke up today and realized that i'm not who I thought I was.


That I'm not who you think I am.


I am just another

impostor

in your bed.
    

Sweetly Faded Images

Is she a being of light

only ever renewed

by exploding stars


and space that

never actually

ends. If she's a

being of light


what are you?-

The Flames Continue Dancing

I always knew that you'd come back with new stories to tell

and someone beautiful to help replace the memories with me.


I just hope you were not planning on keeping the house

where we wrote on the walls and drew on the floors,

I burnt it down with the lighter you left in the left pocket of

the leather jacket I stole when you were still here,

still kissing on me as if I were an angel or something.


I always knew that you'd come back with new stories to tell

and someone beautiful to help replace the memories with me.


I just hope you are as happy as you were before.
    

Flowers for Every Show

Don't worry, when I'm gone, you'll have my support for everything you dream (and do). 

Thatched Sunflower Ceilings

Off in a place

with walls of secret words

carpeted in sheets of moonstone

and a ceiling of thatched sunflowers

resides a girl.


This is not a place

for an ordinary girl,

who parties till midnight

and runs off with boyish men;

no, no, no.

So she is not an ordinary girl,

who acts then speaks.


In fact, for being

a red head she hardly speaks

at all. She has crystal blue eyes,

and the body of a ballerina;

though she has never been athletic.


And in this place

she hides.


Away from the chaos

of family or friends,

away from the pain

of broken hearts and

lost wishes.


Her voice is strong

though her will is weak.

People take her for granted

and leave her on the street.


But this place is hers,

to weep and to think.

Too bad I am her and

it is in my head...
 

For he who drinks "Colors"

Forced to hide behind four walls

made of painted glass,

yet no hope of escape.


Contact with outsiders

has become forbidden;

though I cannot give that up

without first taking my very life away.


I'm only aloud in the sun a few times

each month though never am I to be

left alone, in peace, quiet, or harmony.

Because somewhere along my path

something went horribly wrong.


I swear to you

to everyone everywhere,

I didn't do that!


Though they took everything from me,

everything except food, some clothes and my house,

yet they left me for myself...

Somehow they managed to

drag her far away from me.


Don't know how,

really I don't care;

but I manage to talk to friends still.


It doesn't look like my love

is coming back home to me

anytime soon.


I've been forced to live this way

for far too long now.

Will they try and keep me here

forever more?

The Thousand Pound Feather

My shoulders sometimes

push days hugging my ribs

down into the current


during failed attempts

to support a skeleton

in my evening gown


throughout unwanted

survival. The weight is

killing me, in her place.

What it's like to Kill Time

If someone gets in between you and i


i will kindly ask them to move,

but if they are like the air

and think they can cut us,


I will cut them I will cut

even the thinnest portions of air

and make them bleed blue for


each moment they made me

spend away from you

The Highest Compliment of All

Thank you for becoming the kind of friend you refer to as family. The kind that keeps a few too many pieces of you when they finally part ways. 

Eighth Grade Science Failed You

How was I supposed to know I'd figure it out first? What evidence did we have when we lost you anyway? Now that we've got it all under our belts is there any way to bring you back?

They Say the 90's Were the Best

You loved me like the 90's
all beeper slang and sugar cookies,
music outside the window,
balloons and flowers at the door -
you loved me like the 90's
twenty years too late.

Dances in the gym with pizza
and door prizes, parties at the park
with Memory and WAR,
dates to the opera and movies on Saturday.
Sunshine, you loved me like the 90's
everyone was SO jealous.

You changed my name from Maddy
to Happy and called me
every Friday night, you slipped
notes into my locker and showered me
with CDs from every genre out there -

Oh, you loved me like the 90's
and I've never been happier.

Under the Stairs

I'll hide under the stairs

to the back porch, listening

to the melody of the quiet waterside

asking why can't you see the horror

of waking up with amnesia in the arms

of someone who swears to be your lover -


and you won't ever have to know

how hard it is to find yourself

twice in the same year. You'll never

have to understand the pain

of hating people who love you

unconditionally and have for many years.


Don't worry,

I'll just keep sitting here

under the stairs to the back porch,

listening to nature's orchestra

trying to re-meet the memories

the accident so brutally killed.

Lonely Can be Productive

In your absence, I learned how to determine wants versus needs and how to prioritize my life and energy accordingly. Without you, all my scars healed and bad habits faded. While you were away finding yourself my heart and I packed up and made a home somewhere new. 

Under the Pink - Album Poetry

God, if only you knew the trouble of

communicating through

icing colors and cake flavors -


The baker, baker - oh, that

poor, old baker takes care of me

now that you're away. She tries

to help me get through to you

as you go waltzing


with another toy -

what is it this week? (I'm sorry,

that was rude, who is she?)


The waitress from the bar?


It is such a shame

you ran away for another

cornflake girl. Now you'll never


know he beauty of

meeting Mrs. Jesus

on a real playground.

Fission Fades Away Here

The tobacco on your breath

mixes with the passion furiously

flooding the tiny icebox that is my room.


Violet stained lavenders cling to us

desperately as Time melts into

a paused sort of paste.


Both of us have been

parched before, just never

like this. And who would have thought


that a single

drop of love had

the power to quench

such a thirst?

Silken Wings and Halos of Starlight

Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. Always the most beautiful person I have ever met.
It's time for you to believe me Darling. 

"Unique"

I know you are not going to understand this or at least it is far from likely, but because I am who I am, I am going to say it anyway. To live the life I live is odd - there are drops of glass - like pain molding to drops of fallen rain and the water I drink is poisoned by my thoughts. Take a deep breath, visit me if you dare, Time is on his way to take me away and I’m lying in the snow dying in my own arms again. I told you that the life I live is odd - there are seconds wasting away as they whisper quotes from all my favorite days, singing songs from the parties we threw with shadows dancing in time to songs only imagined and never even played. There are sounds from the backs of throats disguised as words for all the things people say they feel even though it’s clear they don’t. And someday, someday they might, but it’s going to be too late, because the only teacher they’ll ever find to help them understand will already be gone.

Stained Glass Eyes

There are seven billion ways to view the world,

Of all I find yours the most beautiful.


Carnation hues blinding you now

So you don't show your pain,

Why you hide

......there

I will never know.


Seven billion people live and breathe,

But your breath puts on the best show.


Ebony clouds the words

You do not wish to say

That makes sense I

....., suppose;

They don't seem to understand.


So of all seven billion lifestyles out there

Yours is the one I would like to learn.


Dark sandy eyes and lime thoughts

With azure meanings

Make it seem as though

You found a perfect

.......paradise,

I wish I could join you.


Because there are seven billion things wrong with the world,

And I promise you will never be one of them.


Cherry smiles and lightly

 candied hearts fill this

Deep, dark, and dangerous

World, but not our milky

......paradise.

They just don't know it.


One day seven billion people will leave us

Not you and I, for we will live forever.


Golden promises fill your mind

As we face each day,

Just remember someday

We will scream, "oh my god,

.....THIS

Is paradise and it feels

So god damn good!"-------------------------------------------------------


Inspired by  the song by Piece the Veil "stained glass eyes and colorful tears"
    

Stained Glass Skies

I watch the world carry on

in its deja vu sort of bliss


and I wonder

if anyone else knows the pain

of being reminded by the sky

that you ran away -


now you're just out there

somewhere.


Another storyless page to

miss or forget. Time makes

this harder to take and I

have to know if there's

anyone out there


breathing easier

since you went away.

Still Playing for Pennies

And I'll keep singing that song I wrote for you

even though, you're miles and miles away

but it's a twisted dream in this kinda world

where nothin' ever goes your way.


You will not wait for me and I understand that,

really I do, it's just that caged memories

and ghosts 13 cents short of a bus ride home

are more painful to hold than you'd think.


See, a wannabe husband's promise

is almost never enough and he always finds a way

to replace his perfect girl right before the day

she says yes and the fairy tale begins.


So I'll keep singing this song that I wrote for you,

even though, you're miles and miles away,

and it's been almost a year

since I was replaced by her

Especially Caffeinated Mornings

I am running out of ways to say this, but you were in my dreams again.

Wanted Posters Everywhere

In the silence all I hear

is the steady hum of an

unnecessary air conditioner

in the middle of our coldest

winter yet.


And the steady but melodic

click clack of a keyboard

as my laptop gently rises

and falls with the pressure

of each key and the breathing

of me.


I guess that really isn't silence,

after all, but it should be

when you are used to people

fighting in the background

or music blaring with

lost hope.


And I read what so many others

write, commenting to the best

of my ability, only something

keeps getting in

my way.


Why can't I be as great as them

and where did all of my inspiration

run off to this time. Am I all alone

or is it coming back

someday?


So in this stillness that is not

so still and the silence that

is actually quite noisy

for some


I am searching for my muse

wondering where she could

have gone.


If you see her walking down

the street or passing through

your dreams would it be too

much of me to ask you

to send her back

my way?