a sequel of sorts to "motions"

Something Like Faith: Singed Flesh, Saving Grace  
How is joy?
Why is hope?
When is aspiration?
A sentient being am I.
Am I?
There is a magic I can't touch
I can't see
I can't feel
I can't even sense.
It's elusive
Like God.
But there is a form of belief.
Something like faith.
Even as faith becomes flawed,
Takes on flesh, and knows tangibility. 
Just...a word.
Yet a fire still burns.
So far below, no heat can be felt,
No smoke reaches the nose and the glow
Is muted, though distinctly present.
However unreachable.
The metaphors are related.
I promise.

more machine than human being

Romeo Caulfield (Mistaking Roseline for Juliet [With a Save the World Complex Lacking Direction])

you've got me all figured out, don't you?
you know who i am
what i want
what i have become in these months.

i'll tell you a secret--
i haven't the slightest clue.
so if it's with you 
that this information lies
could you share it,
could you open my eyes?
maybe let me in on the facts of my life?
you know that...
that would be nice.

i'm a scared little boy,
some would call me a man.
all i have to say is that 
some would be wrong.
it's astounding how wrong
some can be.

so tell me.
you know me.
just tell me.
what is the meaning of me?

sad stories from girls of boys whom they "know".
oh, they know, they know, they know...
oh, what the fuck do they know? 
they know just as much as i do,
and so much less than you.
don't base your views on their ideas,
misinformed and disillusioned. 
don't base your ideas on their views,
so crowded and so confused.
misinformation spread by my silly tongue, forced passed my treacherous lips.
false leads, blurry hearts, and countless emotional and ideological slips.

i've become more machine than human being,
and the only apologies that i have are for me.

a villanelle

Flight School

You’ll unfold your wings, you tired bird;
Arise and stretch to greet the day,
And when you take the sky, cry out to be heard. 

Through the night you did rest, unstirred.
Now, the morning dew falls as if to say,
Come, unfold your wings, you tired bird.

In quiet slumber with not one word
And in sweet repose you did lay.
Soon you’ll take the sky and cry out to be heard.

Through dreams of flight you’ve been spurred
Make them true in your way
It’s time to unfold your wings, you tired bird.

Aspirations and reality become blurred,
While the dawn chases darkness out, away.
It’s time to take the sky and cry out to be heard.

Put aside your sleep and dreams, for life instead, deferred.
Carpe diem, goes the archaic cliché.
Unfold your wings; be not like the tired bird.
Enter flight! Take the sky! And cry out to be heard.

six AM is the new midnight

don't call me;
don't call me baby.
no, don't call me babe.
don't call me anything at all.

sick and sad and lonely and kind of afraid.
i'm sick and sad and lonely; it's just one of those days.
sick and sad and lonely and i thought I was done.
sick and sad and lonely... 
i thought i was...
i was wrong.

from idealistic romantic to fatalistic realist.
my philosophy is post-transcendental and pre-making sense.

when i thought i had the world at my feet
it turned out i was at the foot of the world.
i was certain;
now uncertainty asserts itself and i'm not so sure anymore.
i was dancing through life and then i remembered--
i don't even know how to dance.

now's your chance.
"i told you so. i told you."
that's just how the story goes.

this one is going to be a song!

Laundry and Love Notes
don't you know you were my favorite?
are not were, now pardon me.
let's go out on the town,
see a show, grab a bite to eat.

i'm sitting here in an empty house
my mind has turned itself inside out
the floor is laid out with clothes and paper,
laundry and love notes left incomplete. 

ages ago and a long time from now
we saw things we are bound to see.
but follow my lead, bare your heartstrings,
on principle i know nothing. 

it's easier that way.
yes, i said it's easier that way.
your head's not rushing,
your heart's not broken,
your blood is flowing,
leave tomorrow, take today.

a cool breeze blows  through the screen door,
cool memories blow over me 
it's kind of soothing, kind of moving,
it reassures me summertime ain't always scorching heat.

yeah follow my lead, bare your heart strings
leave tomorrow, take today. 

spoken word/slam poetry style

The Gray 
The fact of the matter is that the facts don't matter.
As a matter of fact, lacking tact and all class
I'd call the facts a right pain in the collective ass
of anyone who's ever known hope, love, or pain
and to every single person trying to keep themselves sane.
This game that we play, tug-o-war, keep away,
We strive to explain all the loss to our brains
As we walk and we talk and we drop more than names
and all the time tell our children this is not all in vain.

The struggles that we face are not all in vain.

Large or small, short or tall,
Black or white, scatter brained or on the ball
Demons they battle, everyone, one and all.
Be it abuse, money, lust, drugs, self worth, or alcohol.
Darkness and light compromise in the gray,
And for now compromise will help us to stay
Up above the dirty water that we tread every day,
And the verses that we write and rhymes that we lay,
Will help us to keep all our demons at bay.

The words on the page keep our demons at bay.

This life can be hard and these times even harder,
But success can be found if sought after with ardor.
Now I'm going to hijack some old dusty cliches, 
See, the trick is to always live for today,
Let tomorrow worry about itself for a change.
What will be will be were the words spoke to me,
And after all that I've seen I still believe in a dream.
Beyond the clouds and beyond the days lacking sunlight.
We can make up a life where if we go down we still fight,
Get back up, and keep on, keeping our goal in mind,
It's about belief in ourselves and what's in front, not behind.


The past is the past so leave it behind.

she said: are you looking for something?

Girls and Boys
He swallowed a hand full of thumbtacks. She offered him a glass of gasoline to wash it down with. They made love. 

The girls aren't interested (unless he has some sort of complex)
Some kind of Macho/sad little puppy dog/deeply misunderstood/impenetrable...
Differentiating factor .
They want... 
Hands all over (and over and over and over again...)
No no no. Chaste. Gotta be chaste.
Really, there's no right or wrong way (until she says there is, and then you BETTER BELIEVE you are doing it wrong).

And the boys? They're oblivious, too (unless she's already taken [and ESPECIALLY if the other guy is an ass hole]).
Or has an eating disorder, cuts herself, maybe.
Unattractive as it seemingly comes off, they gravitate towards that kind of thing. 
Suckers for wanting to save the girl. (Growing Up Male rule #1: there is always a maiden, and she will always be in need of rescuing).

No, the boys and the girls couldn't give a fuck less.
At least...not until something isn't quite right.
At least...not until there's a challenge.
There always has to be a challenge. 
Because if it's easy...
If it feels right...
Then it's wrong.

These words ring cynical?
Good. At least the idea of cynicism is still alive.
Daunting those who haven't fallen pray to this
Uncompromisingly arrogant way.
Maybe you will be something like me and despise
This masquerade.
This cat and mouse love hate hate love love game.
Built upon sexism on both ends and preconceived notions of what
Any given boy, any given girl would, could, or should be.

To all of those who ever had a piece of my heart, mind, or spirit--a message:

Face to Back to Heart
Here we are
Face to face
Or back to back...
It depends on the day.
I've got my responsibilities and engagements to uphold;
The same goes for you.
I'm sure, I'm SURE you are pulled as taut as I am in regards to...everything. Life. 
Even more so, maybe.
But I'm letting you know even though we're back to back or face to face but never really heart to heart anymore...
We can be.
I'm right here and I'm not necessarily waiting, but I'm ready at any time.
I'm ready and I'm willing to stop the motion of move move rush rush move for you.
I'm completely game for doing that.
Just let me know that it's alright for me to let you know that things never ended,
They just got busy
We just got older
But we've still got us.

three poems yet one poem

I Am / Faith and Everything After / Phonographs and Digital Files
I am a dumpster.
I am a French cologne.
I am a shitty bike.
I am a fucking Rolls-Royce.
I am your first mistake.
I am your final truth.
I am nothing 
And I am everything.
I am yours.
I am mine.
I bow to no one.
I sing your praise.
I can't move.
I'll never stop.
I am hell bound.
I am heaven sent.
I am revolting.
I am picture perfect.
I am.
I am.
I am.

What ever, however I am, I am
And I'll never be different.
But I'll never be quite the same.

Lips that told secrets.
Ears that listened.
Minds that retained.
Never mentioned,
Ever present.

Eyes and glances
Fingertips and brushes
Faith and everything after.

There is a part of me that knows you'll always be my favorite song,
But there's a part of me that knows that I'll always remain a record player
While you transform and reform and expand and compress
And now you've become a goddam mp3.
While music is a universal language, our mediums have changed.
So my old fashioned needle and your new fangled  encoding do not coincide.
But you know what, you know something? That's fine.

prosetry

of dreams and self
If it stands to reason it's probably false.
If it can be explained there's no way it makes sense.
Just so you know, I think I'm going to be okay.

I had a dream where I cut my wrists,
And it felt fine.
And, I don't know why I dreamed
That some of the guys and I were running from the cops,
All I know is that we we escaped, 
And I woke up without scars.

The Good Fear

Cliff Jumping: Of Love and Fear
Have I lied?
Not to you; I'd never do that.
Have I lied? To myself?
Have I tricked my mind?
I'm saying jump and you're saying jump
And they're saying jump,
But in the end are you all coaxing me off a cliff
That I have some how convinced myself is something less?

Shouldn't the end of one dream give birth to another?
I thought my devastation was a catalyst for brighter days.
Can we dance and move and live our lives 'round each other?
I'm uncertain and unassured but seeking alternate ways...
I'm afraid.

I'm afraid in the same way I'm afraid of that cliff,
Off of which everyone wants me to jump.
Possibly because the two are the same.
The jumping right off-- jumping right in.
It's not certain death but uncertain beginnings
That wrap my mind in this terror.

I never truly understood "the fear of God".
The good fear.
The fear that makes you shake to the very core.
Some call it love.
The very idea terrifies me.

snippet of truth

I was introduced to true beauty in the form of family.
Experienced the love of God in the way a girl interacted with her cat.
Appreciated the price of atonement like never before in a smoky garage.
I Am.
Oh blasphemy,
Carry out My work. And Their work. And all Work.

from a longer blog post

Jesus, Muhammad, Gandhi, and Rumi all met before Buddha to discuss our meeting.
The place and time; the circumstances.
They had a lengthy discussion but in the end decided on Truth, because that is really all there ever was in the first place.
And so they contrived and our paths were made to cross and that brings us to the present.
A brief history of existence up to where my mind no longer sees the outer lines.
Human, mortal, time-constrained.
But they reveal the light as we go, and I'll stay the course becoming what we are meant to be,
What we always were from the Genesis.

heartbreaking, true

An October Earth, Keeping Hell at Bay 
We don't always understand the actions of the other.
All you know how to do is take care.
All I know is how to be taken care of.
It's time for me to learn to take care of someone else;
Time for you to take care of yourself for once.

Perhaps we always knew this was the outcome.
Perhaps we always knew this was how it would turn out.

What happens when a realist and a romantic fall in love?
You're smothered, I'm heartbroken but still alive, both.
What happens when two realists fall in love?
Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke,
One that you are living.

I'm running around in a fatalist's mess,
And you're running around to the tune
Of needing things to make sense.
We are both running around and around,
In patterns that I can't help but think resemble
The outer circles of hell. 

But, the glint of sunshine comes with the rain.
I'm told that there's no water in hell.
So this wet October weather
That we are presently enduring
Is a glorious sign, promising the possibility of better days.

rejoice

God's Shadow 
There is a shadow over the day,
But it isn't dark.
This paradox, this cosmic joke.
How it makes me smile and cry.
How it makes me laugh and sigh.
How it makes me, how it makes me.
This shadow over the day,
A brilliant light, but a shadow just the same.

"This is the day the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it."

For this is the day the Lord has made

all faith placed in providence
seeking the beauty found only in your embrace,
a task befitted only for a fool, or sage.
listening for your voice in the wind,
to hear it and to feel your breath on the breeze.

to acknowledge your existence 
or deny it altogether
each a travesty in their right.

i can feel you smiling far away
and it brings me to tears ~ your happiness is everything
i can feel your heart breaking from the waiting
and my heart breaks too ~ still i haven't met you.

i'm a sage and a fool
on my way.