Lost

Years spent together.
Time st r e t  c  h  i  n   g,
                                      never breaking.

We have sat together,
               lead together,
               been moved together.

Yet the sands spin where you once were.
                                                                 Gone.
My last words to you ring in my ears.

I shall search for you.
               Move worlds for you.

My love.
My wife,
              Persephone.

Articulus

Falling sands slow when you aren't around.

The second hand takes a step back.
Time itself hold its breath.
                                   
                                                  Waiting.

Waiting for that singular moment
             when you arrive.
When it can exhale and breath anew.

The moment carries on forever.

                                                   Waiting.
Just as I sit here for you.
Just as the world continues to spin.
           Lost until you return.

Until then, we stand here
                                                    Waiting.

Break the fall.

The chasm opens.
Earth ripping apart at the seams.
Crying for help.

We trip and 
                   fall.

Liquid money shoots past,
waving all the while.
Raising higher and higher.

Still we 
            fall.

Through fire and hell.
Corruption and corporations.
Ignoring our cries.

Deeper we
                  fall.

Lives tossed to the side.
Sold to the highest bidder.
Shattered and broken.

Nothing to break our
                                 fall.


Nothing 
             to break our fall...

Snowstorm

Thoughts can be a flurry within your mind.

             A snowstorm of memories.

They can pile up,

lock you within your self made cabin.

Each memory is like a snowflake.

An individual,

unique,

unlike any others.

You must grab those frozen memories,

craft them into what you need.

It may be a fort or just a tall snowbank.

Whatever your decide, it will be you.

Completely and utterly you.

When it melts, mixes with the Earth,

it will make a sort of personal ink.

Ink that can shape the world.

Autumn Comes

Autumn comes with the chilled air.

Night follows the rising moon.

Forests of oak and birch are nearly bare.

A far off call of lonely loon.

Night follows the rising moon.

Miles from the city or cars.

A far off call of lonely loon.

Fireflies hide among the stars.

Miles from the city or cars.

The rush of movement, never still.

Fireflies hid among the stars.

I gaze out from above my windowsill.

The rush of movement, never still.

Forests of oak and birch are nearly bare.

I gaze out from above my windowsill.

Autumn comes with the chilled air.

Sitting Idly By

I sit here, watching
the hustle and bustle of people.


They go this way to those things
or that way to get whatever.


The murmur of unified, singular conversations.


A child cries in the distance.
For what, I ask.
Food?
          A toy?
                     The love of a lost parent?


My thoughts drift with the scent of cheap food.
A lie in and of itself.


The ice in my too expensive coffee shifts.  Melting.
Mini glaciers succumbing to the rising temperature.


Focus.


Young love strides by.
A peacock, plumage on display.
I don't think she is buying it.
                    But the one walking past is.


I take another sip of my now watered down caffeine.
If only refreshing were the right word.


What else do I have to do today?
Clean the kitchen? No.
Wash the car? Nope.
Cook dinner? Not today.


I will continue to sit here.
Ponder life's greatest mysteries.
All in the company of people I don't know.

"What's the point?"

Man nipples.
Think about it for a moment...
Why do we have them?
What do they do?

They don't provide tasty treats for babies,
Nor do women (usually) find them attractive.

Sometime ringed in hair,
           or lost within an unkept forest.
                      Hell, even on naked planes of manliness.

They sit on our chests like two useless eyes       staring
Gazing at our lovers when passions pulls.
Forever unblinking, forever useless.

Maybe we have them to add character to our pecs or man boobs.
Or so our (fe)male counterparts don't feel odd or out of place.

Maybe they were our old form of a thermometer.
Yup, it's cold out. I could cut diamonds.

Again, I don't know.

But don't get me wrong,
I love my nipples, however pointless they are.

Pain

Pain.
Internal
Seconds tick backwards slowly.
                     Eternal

Every breath shakes the foundation.
Every twitch, an earthquake.

Hunger denied.
Sleep denied.
          Thoughts run rampant.

The who's, what's and where was I wrong.

Moments.
Unknowing
Shifting about, masked and in shadow.
                     Unknown

Walking a path,
Stepping on previous steps.

The condemned emotion, scorned.
Torn limb from limb,
          sinew from muscle.

Nerves lit with fire and oil, burning.

Darkness.
Judging
Looking at the wound, embracing it.
                     Judgement

Fear fills veins to overflowing.
Tearing at the seams.

Mind swimming.
Restless, lonely and calling out.
          No reply.

Wishing upon the backs of eyelids, whispers.

Goodbye

I hear the yelling,

glasses and plates breaking.

The stomping

Doors slamming

          Why can't they stop?

          Why won't they stop?

We used to be happy,

       used to be whole.

I can't bear to listen,

But I can't turn away.

          What did I do?

          Where was I wrong?

My eyes burn,

tears start to fall.

           How did we get here?

           What happened to us?

Finally the yelling fades.

I can hear crying.

Everything is still.

The dust settles.

The front door opens,

                                   closes.

The car starts, the engine revs

Screeching tires quickly fade,

never to return again.

           Why won't they stop?

           What did I do?

           What did I do?

Chorus of New England

Sun drifts mournfully through the mist.

Dew clings to ferns,

Longing to last for another fleeting moment.

Silence is broken repeatedly

             by the welcome of a brook.

The wind stirs, singing with the water.

Flames dance within the earthen embrace.

Hissing, popping, joining the choir.

In the distance a loon calls,
A cardinal completes the duet.

Even when darkness falls
The band continues on.

Snow covered steps leading down.
        The roar of cars on rails screech and whine.

The ever moving crowd sways.
Shuffled from home to business.

Some sit, collecting the coins of few.

Arrival at your destination marked with the chill of wind.
Steam swirls with every every exhale.

Breathe in the scent of mixing cultures.
Chestnuts, sausages and other street fare.

        The market    glows
People shopping or eating.
Enjoying everything Faneuil Hall has to offer.

Black Canvas.

The laughter echos. 
A flash of metal lights the night sky.
Strings of crimson paint the walls.
A kitten plays with yarn.
Such is the logic of sleep.

Brothers in Ears

An army of green,
swaying in the cool air.


Caught in the spotlight of Sol.


It's time,
             time to inspect the ranks,
             to prepare.


The war, the harvest, is upon them.


Some look ready for battle.
Others, like they're about to pop.


Orders are given,
From the kernels to the cobs.


"Be strong, Stand tall.
Do not bend or break."


A rumble in the distance,
           Signal smoke bellows.


The enemy rides forth.


The soldiers are ready.
Fructose pumping through their veins.


Together they are one.
Brothers in ears.
Corn, united.


-------


This was a silly poem I wrote for my poetry class ^_^

It once was.

I wish we were how it once was.
When the wind blew warmth.
The sun hung in the sky, lighting everything.
The grass rolled on, green.
Laughs clung to the air.
Smiles from ear to ear.


What once was is now no longer.
Clouds loom, carrying the storms on their backs.
Shadows grow, consuming all.
The air is now still, silent.
No sounds to be heard
Alone in my despair.


Where we once grew together,
now we are separate.
The bond is broken, Shattered.
Passing glances sting with poison.
Words laced with anger.
I wish we were how it once was.

Pas De Deux

Our lives dance together,

An endless waltz.

Throughout the years we move along,

led by the music of friends and family.

One, Two,

                 Three

The band never needs tuning,

The spotlight is always on.

Each step is practiced

None are ever mastered.

One, Two,

                 Three

Solo or duet,

Ballroom or Swing

Life is practice,

The stage and the show.

One, Two,

                 Three