The pain to know the weight of time the angst of rhyme the pressure flow the words describing tender heart/mind bender tripping rhythms of life schisms once upon a dream with a twist at the end unimagined stream chapter verse rend alternate ending
in a rush to be loyal. promised and will pay. what will become when the contract's done, when disconnect from daily sways into my creative out of my furtive hopes to write experience and strife when i have no more to show up for?
“Time travel on a day with deadlines,”
That’s what I think over coffee, under fog
of sleep crusted eyes and rickety bones.
It’s only six, but I’m at my eight,
then my eleven. I wonder.
“Does the car need to sweat off some frost?”
the wideness of my headspace yawns the hunger open the coffee slides fatigue presides sly glances of bright outside push into my groggy cold whispers my skin where to begin a magic show swallowed my genius disappeared my idea bodies scratching inward i dig for the prisoners dreaded yearnings seek for letters ... words ... a string of story to explain my empty.
i sit here thinking, trying to write
and worry what i’m scrawling won’t sound right.
flowers and tingles and rhymes and such
never end up amounting to much.
i could tell you i love you but i always do.
i could use cliche and sunshine describing you.
i could write about heartbeats, breathing, and flight,
or miracles, blessings, devotion, and fright … Continue reading
hail your soul over me.
steal my freezing rain;
storm on me gently,
skipping stones in my brain. Continue reading
I can throw my thought pieces on the page, shuffle and shift them, rap them out like Tupak, or shape them like a slam – and I’m done. Then it becomes the reader who must make something out of them. If I’m skillful enough, the reader wants to make the effort. If not, they skip or delete. For me, that’s poetry.
When I write in sentences, I have to think harder. Continue reading
she said "living together" me and her home i think in fusions hypothetical illusions Continue reading
we talked and in our ramblings got nowhere i felt (not that lack of feeling meaning means that lack of significance has taken place) our romantic phone drippings were sincere and true (oh, if only i could feel her, heat and breath moist and electric) and i know talk can sometimes be just that circumstances dealt (and maybe "nowhere" is just a mirage) mysteriously, curiously, physically, emotionally, intellectually, inquisitively … all i know is i miss her.
snow caps on mountains, and valleys
barren tan fresh looking basins
green clumps and sprinkles of trees
each inch a mile, and time hastens.
brightness in my eyes –
i tug the blind halfway.
periwinkle skies –
beautiful travel day.
sleepy and warm, i drift to dreams
and wait for the house to fade …
twist back time, unfabric the seams
back to kisses and touches made …
- Stay With Me (inturruptingcow.wordpress.com)
wear out the ever present smiles
tick the talks of past, feelings, and desires
stretch this new found love across the miles
and see if our wanting one another tires.
- Pretending Otherwise (Apr 1999) (inturruptingcow.wordpress.com)
i haven't said … so now i search for understanding for wisdom handing me thoughts and causes for momentary brain pauses before i don't say … i don't expect a confirmation in the unspoken given to speech do i hide in absolution before letting pronouns and a verb teach one more lesson on haste making waste or changing truth's taste or maybe one i've not heard yet needful to say but i can't find a way to reason and find the cause behind what is not said, nor even read. if i do not speak, it isn't because i'm meek my mind and heart lead me in self-honesty so to avoid betraying, i'm just not saying …
in the ring or out
does the loser stay lost?
is the beaten always beat?
does the paying always cost?
this is not my song
suffering hard and long
my story is not one
of painful days are done
i’m no victim.
no sorry, beaten, broken
little shaken token
of hard knocks and heavy blocks
of treacherous walking and tearful talking
weighed down with no crown
to show for
the thousand different
fuck-ups and suck-ups
that have me flattened on the sidewalk.
what i am i don’t always know, but this i’m not.