Home » Posts tagged 'Poetry' (Page 12)
Everything
and everyone
you ever loved
will one day
find themselves
at a crossroad—
where you’ll be
standing
pocketing fists
hunched like a Lily,
or else dancing
ripped like paper
on a wall full of flowers
looking lovely—
except they won’t know you
anymore, not anymore
than you know your own self—
cheeks, rosy as embers
the lush on the floor,
I’ll know his name well
you bet I’ll be singing—
So best get to knowing,
before you regret
a lifetime pretending
you’ve remembered only
to forget.
Whatever it is
will be there tomorrow
Wherever it’s gone
will come round again
Don’t worry so much
it’s natural, sorrow
will feed your soul
with life again.
There’s no denying that’s a pretty face
There’s no excuse still for being late
The corner store’s got a sale on
Greeting cards that sell have price love
There’s truth in breathing at an even pace
There’s beauty bending to bear the weight
Now either way you feel overwhelmed
Exchanging coffee for whiskey now
I’ve got a big bad wolf of a habit
Full of hot air and over dramatics
Got a house built solely of glass when
I huff and puff well nothing happens
I gave her cashmere for Christmas once
She gave me friendship when I had none
There’s proof in putting a sweater on
The back of someone you’re giving up
I’ve got a big bad wolf of a habit
Full of disdain for love when I have it
Got a house built solely of glass and
No stones left to throw just ashes ashes
And just like children
stuck on an island—
while in line at the airport—
we turn order into chaos
clubbing one another
for a better boarding class,
elbows at the ready
on armrests made for war—
“This. Is. Ridiculous!”
shouts one
“It’s an outrage!”
cries the other—
All our flights delayed
with boulders on the mind.
The well’s not dry
The handle’s just stuck
Below the bucket’s full
Is that water, or just rust?
Dangling by a thread
The bucket I can’t see
I try but cannot grasp
The God! Damn! rope
I don’t know what I’m doing anymore
Now no one is the same as before
I’ve tried sometimes, to catch the light
But I don’t really know you anymore
And I don’t really like what I’ve seen
Reality’s distorted in a dream
I’d say goodbye, but that ain’t right
I guess I’ll have to relearn how to be
Normal’s out the question in this town
People lay like garbage on the ground
I start to cry, then stumble by
So drunk I don’t even make a sound
It’s taken me a decade to agree
I write in figure eights this poetry
It helps sometimes, to dim the light
Like reaching towards just one thing to believe
But let us not go gentle to the night
Or hang ourselves like portraits full of spite
Each day’s a chance, life’s a romance
Each time we try like hell to catch the light
Chipping wood
like chipping clay
Three hundred &
sixty-five days
It’s a short time
for a long time
Until time’s a mere
castaway
lost but never forgot
What is life?
It’s about makin do
Says this guy
On a bike
With a beard
And a heart of gold
I know it’s not the way
still it’s one way to go
I’ve tried so many times
if only you could know
I hint at what’s been missing
But I’m no Ethan Frome
Perhaps a sleigh ride maybe
Then angel in the snow
I’d rather cringe
in ecstasy, than
quiver in disgust.
We revel
in redundancy
it’s all we have to trust—
ourselves against the odds
initials on a wall, each letter
carved with dignity—
till dignity is lost.
We’re clueless
with the clues,
useless feeling used.
Each hopeless
a romantic, each helpless
as romance is.
And we can smell our own,
like cattle led to slaughter,
knowing that we’re next.
Our herded hearts must witness
each blow before our last.
Words Of An Average White Male 