Avarice

Our adventure started in 2011

with paper, pen, and an open mind

there were so many possibilities

and we started over again and again.


We had the world at our fingers

and anything we'd ever be able

to need. So we set off playing with

color that aroused too much emotion

and lines too bold to fade along

side stories too deep to write.


Time went by swiftly each draft

improving just a touch and the

ink blurred perfectly with the skin

and bloodied sweat that created

our prize winning formula.


Somehow we ended up here,

three years and a million pages

later with a work of Avarice as

the only thing we could proudly

display for the world to see.


So if these words find their way

to you, I just want you to know

that the beauty we became, the

artistry we created, and the way

we moved at every little bump in

the road shaped us. Molded us.


Resurrected us.


In a loving


ink drawing.

Forgotten Gods

When we met you were a poet

therefore I am immortal.


You etched me out

in stanzas and poured

the starlight from

my smile into your lines. My

laughter got recorded in the

blank spaces between words

while the love I had for you

inspired your own raw

recollections of our

beautifully fragmented

conversations.


Now you've journeyed off

to another land where

my eyes pierce through

the icicles of your heart

and you've buried your

emotions alive

in an endless

field of

bluebells.


You may not

be here anymore,

your footprints were

swept away by ocean tides

and sand crabs but

we both know

you were.

And that's

enough for

me.


I am immortal

because I was

loved by a poet.


I guess you

are too

even if you

have been

forgotten

here.

Ranting to Polaris

Someday the world will know our names

in ways you've never imagined and your story

will be written on me the way my portrait has

been painted atop of your perfect chest in

magenta lipstick. There will come a day

when you are just as important as

Jackson Pollack or Micheal Jackson.


(In your own line of work that is.)


I promise you my ghost will leave you alone

just as soon as you remember to call when you

say you will. Because really I've never met

anyone who makes a better you than you ,

so that means that by default the next century

cannot possibly pass without all the world

saying your name at least once in their lifetimes

as they honor your greatest work of all time


(me)


the way they've already done with mine


(you). P.S. I am leaving tonight

and I will see you as soon

as humanly possible -


so long as you're still

up for leading my way. 

The Importance of Complete Knowledge

To know you like

your eyes know color

and a tongue knows

the taste of your

favorite foods.


To understand you

the way you understand

reading or the way

your mind understands

language at all. To be


your brightest star and

your fondest memory.

That's all I could ever want

and if that makes me selfish


than it could be the only

word on my tombstone

and I'd still be


perfectly


content.

Eternally Brave and Loving

Darling, I will always believe in you.

Which is exactly why you should remember that you are so much stronger than this. 

Song Title Conversations

I know you can't hear me -

no one ever can.


That's why I scatter my thoughts,

comments, and ideas all over my world

for the few people who actually care

to find at their own leisure. I know you -

you are genuinely curious, that's why you

have found my every physical hiding place

and mental cottages and libraries

holding the only known dictionaries of

my own special languages. I know you -

you have already realized that most of this

is meant for a specific little group of people

who don't even try to understand

what I am doing. Not the way you do at least.


I know you can't hear me -

no one ever can.


That's why this will wait here for years

and years, looked at by hundreds -

maybe even thousands of people none of whom

will quite get it and then you will go scrolling through

trying to catch up on what you missed

when you refused to care because it just hurt you -

I like to say I know you, but the sad truth is

I only ever knew you and that has long since ended.


I know you can't hear me -

no one ever can.

Night's Regret

Intangible pens don't speak, Darling,

you should know - I mean after all these years


of back pocket notebooks and

borrowing pens from shopkeepers

ideas are not housed from the rain

if they do not have flesh to protect first.


Sunshine is a funny thing,

and so are artists - but I guess I'm not one


to talk considering I've been called both

countless times since birth. Intangible pens

like mute songbirds , nightingales with insomnia

and a cukoo that doesn't know to nest.


Darling, that's all your works are

if you can't remember to keep a pen with you as well.
    

Totally off-beat

Listen

while the rhythm you

casually see


displays

a reflection of wonder

from me.

The Catanese Tails

When I was a kid, I knew
this crazy old woman -

she had pet geese and
used sharpie for eyeliner,
she taught speech classes
and saw potential in me.

It wasn't just me though,
she had faith in every single
one of us in her class.

When I was a kid, I knew
the most pessimistic opptimist ever -

she started every afternoon off
by asking us what we'd laughed
because of and who made us
feel like we belonged (or at
the very least were loved).

And I miss her like crazy. 

Return to Sender

Return to Sender:


I'd love to pull a pen from my drawer

and use these veins as paper for you.


I read your letter, but I


just can't bring myself


to hold on to it longer than

you needed me to. Darling,


I'm sending this back to you

without a reply, but here it is


anyway, cause I've gotta get it

off my chest and out of my heart.


This time around I am not going to


respond with all the love in my heart,


but I suppose after all this time

you do deserve a free fall drop

as if you were one of these tears

welling in my shattered crystal eyes.


Did you know I write to you

in every piece I've ever etched?

That there's something about the way

sun shines and streets flood that both

bring me back to your house all over again?

That I was more at home in your bed

filled with books and anger than

at home with my own joyful family?

That you are a tree in my garden

with a trunk etched in initials and stories

surrounded by roses soiled in memories

watered in your unspoken names?


A response such as:


I


I need you to know that

I fashioned your latest letter

into a lullaby I'll sing myself

only when there's no one else

to hear for miles. (love like ours

is meant to kill not sting).


II.


You carry enough weight

in the ink you bleed for

the both of us, only you

forgot how to pen my name

the way I forgot your address

when you moved closer.


III.


Sometimes I want to write back

so I can let you see the pain

you've caused, but to give you

a type of healing I was never offered.

To paint your face from memory

and replay your voice from starsong

are two of my greatest dreams...


and fears.


IV.


Please, return to sender.

Without a response letter
 

Sparkling Little Drops of Hope

Baby, you do not have to be alone - ever.

You choose your loneliness. 

Sparkle Muffin

So there's an actual spider
that loves to dance
and in the right light
rainbows form beneath
it's feet - it loves life.

Now that you have this
amazing information, I hope
that you either find your
own peacock spider or
enjoy life just as much.

Happy Friday! Stay Well!

The Emerald Dream - totally a wow reference

Its all a dream, that's all that this so called life is. If we really have no control over our actions, like we are powerless in dreams, than why don't we deem life to be nothing more than a mere dream? If people are right, and things cant really be this bad or this perfect than we are all rag dolls in one specific dreamer's head on this eternal sleepless night. If we don't want it to be real, than this must be an elaborite dream from inside which we can somehow still feel. If there are memories of those who are dead and new people to leave us than this must be a play in our head, a play that we shall call "The Dream." If love is something we all fear than there are little voices messing around with your head and you must be safe and sound, comfy and cozy in your bed. So I guess this game we call life, might actually be the final dream of the last dreamer alive...
    

Prolific Actionfigures

I've come to terms
with the possibility
these words may not
save lives or change
the world for better.

But I'll keep writing -
there is strength in trying. 

Happy

He gleefully decided one

afternoon that I should take

poetess and dreamer

poetically from my name -

yearly I remain his Happy.

Scribbly Pink Ink Lives Again

When I was young
my nickname was
Strawberry Shortcake

and then I met you.
I evolved into Poetry
so you repurposed Strawberry.

It worked out well,
until we got too busy
for even ourselves.

Anyway, today I got
scented pens - now I
can't stop writing to you.

Poetry loves her Strawberry
forever and always -
I'll be here if you need

anything at all. 

This is Everything

Someday you are going to understand

Why it never worked or felt so perfect

With anyone else.


You will be given back every pen you

Have ever lost and everything you spent

So long being unable to say.


And when that day arrives you will set sail

Utop the world's most brilliant ocean

Waving goodbye to the shallow shore

Of loneliness you have grown so

Fond of.


There will be a new song stuck on repeat

Inside your already crowded mind

And a fire in your heart that will

Never go out.


At that moment Love will be

In yourgrasp. This is true love

This is it...


Everything you have ever wanted

Will soon be yours.
    

Setting you Free

What would you do


if


I told you that I finally


had the answers

to all your problems?
    

The Power of Joy

It's okay not to smile, if that's how you feel. But I hope you know your happiness is SO contagious. 

Dropping a Line

Dearest Brave Friend,

I just wanted to reach out
to see how you are.
To thank you for all
you have done for me
as well as everything
you're doing now for
so many more people.

I hope you know that
I haven't outgrown our
friendship - that I still
enjoy our conversations.

And I miss you everyday.

P.S.

If you're ever in town
the coffee's on me. 

The Waves Are calling - but hang in there

Swish, swish, crash and swish

come swimming with the kind fish.

Swish, swish, swish, swash

got problems, oh phish-posh.

Crash, splash, oh beautiful crash

come on in it's a grand bash.

splish splash, join in, splish splash

let me bring you in without whiplash.

swish, swish, crash and swish

don't be afraid - you're a fish.

Slow Fires Burn Brightly

I want -

                I need -

I'll spend lifetimes

       craving


the day that you

        allow

your heart to

        rejoice


in its inevitable

       victory

of surviving and

       thriving


despite its countless

       excuses

to just give up or

                                wither.
    

Benton's Pack Rats

You hang on to the thought of me
in case you ever wake up
so alone you forget how to

breathe.

And I suppose we were
so young I can't fault you,
but I forgot the way
your arms felt wrapped around

me.

So you should move on

too. 

Summer in the City

The sun rose early today,

birds sang freely, roses danced,

and asked about you
    

1431 4Ever

When you say you love me

water tastes sweeter. My chest
explodes into full bloom and
summers suddenly cool to
a nice even 70 degrees Fahrenheit.

Say it again, tomorrow, won't you?

Ain't it Bloomin' Yet?

Breathe.

It's cliche, I know -

but fresh air fills your lungs
at different rates each day.

Today

you could begin

all over again, without any
real effort on your part.

Ready?

On that Note

Wake with me just once more. . .

We'll share a cup of coffee on the patio,
watch the sun rise above the bayou, and
listen to the rolling of the pre dawn wind.

It's okay you know, to say it without the word.

-Goodbye.