My Delusion World

My delusion world,
Constant uncertainty,
Withers to trap me
In a prison of the senses.

If I look past the burning
Of eyes, ears…thoughts…
I am left with freedom
And the blissful Kingdom therein.

Glory to the brevity
And praise to the end,
Life is not meant to linger
But rather to be lived.

The Squirrel

If the spastic squirrel
ever honestly knew
what it wanted,
then all the wasted
jerks and fear and energy
it uses only for
circling around the point,
would be put to
such efficient use.
If only he could decide,
and the options weighed.

Breaking it Down

You could tell him anything
And those secrets were safe.
But you were in love with manipulating him
And lying to his face.

The games, the toying,
How coy of a girl to ruin
A boy, a hero,
The one she calls her own.

And while you dangle carrots
Of friendship and what it should mean,
He realizes how distorted
All of this folly must seem.

Thoughts

The one thing that I have wanted,
A past; a foundation,
Is now the one thing that haunts me,
Bickering at my trust
And using me; and soiling me.

Perhaps the clean slate
That I once carried
And was so afraid of
Is now what I should embrace?

Back to the cocoon,
Back to isolation,
Back to safety.

Liars

They cripple their lips to better their lies
But spoil their smiles at the same time.
Their sorry lines are compromised
By the time spent constructing them.

Why lament a broken fool
When they break themselves so easily,
Trapping their integrity on a hook of lies,
And baiting murky damnation with each affront?

The Perks of being Jealous

You disrespect the clouds with every whimsical word dropped.
The verbiage you profane with the slick of your tongue stops,
But only when actual conformation of a formal request has been made,
Even after political requisition for spoiled dictionaries are saved…

You still,

Find ridiculous amounts of room to bloom silly soliloquies
I’m speaking copious amount of space to fill with what shatters from your face

But still,

No matter the effort I subscribe
I’m stuck losing after my effort has died
And your lyrical well is so far from being dry,
Crucify your heart and stick needles in your eyes.

Holla,

I never wanted to externally implode like this
I disappointedly present the perks of being jealous
Paint me green and ring me across the cattle guard
The fall is so hard when you’ve lost the status of God

A Sort of Prison

She opens the room with her presence.

She shocks me into place
Frozen on a broken sofa,
Smeared into the dirty plaid
As a part of the pattern now.

This room has become a prison.

She shines like the freedom
I wish I had to touch her,
To hold her,
To do anything at all.

My Things

Once I labeled my room
I knew where everything was,
and no one would come in
and disrupt my things,
because I had placed them
exactly in the right spot.

I would know
if they had been touched
or moved
or altered in the slightest.

I miss the old trust,
but I will not be had again.

These are my things
and I love them.

Your Fire

Your passion is a fire
And, angered, you love to burn.

I’ve been scorched and lived
But have never killed that dynamic sting,
The sharp tingle both vengeful and majestic,
That your sordid heat berates with.

But I’ve lit your fire,
And have the char breath to prove,
That your romance can be a great pyre, too.

Chants

The chants we designed will echo on
Long after the breathy energy
And time spent designing them is gone.

So, while we still have our voices,
Let the walls ring around us
And for once uplift ourselves,

And the freedom we’ve brought
Will hover more triumphant
Than our lingering words ever could.

To Make Them

I excitedly tremble with feast thoughts in mind
Of a future I may own in another now.
Distinguished ancient names long-labeled on street signs
Guide me steadfastly to where my fortunes grow,

And I bound loftily knowing I have designed it all;
The blueprints for my piece of mind were forged,
Steadily and consistently, in the dream locks of today.
The future fire of smiles is stricken in current strides.

I go on, knowingly, to make them.

Getting Them Away

I have finally found the answer
To common cold romancer,
The slightly sketch second chancer
With standards lower than a blitzed bouncer
You just love the awkward away
Give it up and make their day
Sympathize while they terrorize
Appease and get pleased, play that game,
Be a sport, own you name,
You’ll never be bothered again
If you throw your halo away.

Sanctimony

Out the window the thoughts unfurl,
Traveling to someplace appreciated.
The eyes of onlookers ignore,
Just as their ears would.

Revolutions are daydreams seeking an audience,
Capture the beauty of dissent like a disease and spread it.
There is peace in happiness and happiness in subversion,
At least the lies of the disenchanted would have us believe this.

I rather like my compliance and there is comfort in my silence.
I am a hammer. I am a screw. At least I am needed.
I need no spotlights for my intelligence, if it is even there,
I allow my thoughts to unfurl, ignored, away from me,
Modern dissension is sanctimony.

Your Corner, You're Mine

You,
Crumpling in a corner with your head hung,
Beautiful,
Snuggling yourself and finding comfort
In sniffing lingering detergent and its softness
On your warm cocoon clothes.
Soon you’ll stop tearing up
And your moisture-worn eyes will need the support
Of your thick-rimmed burgundy glasses.
Stand up and come here out of that corner.
I love you.

Some House

Tangled swirls of phone cord gather in the way
As I leave the doorway of the kitchen for the
Stale, luring glow of the television that
Is on the back wall beside the rust brick fireplace
On the opposite side of the room as the white
Leather love-seat with the stain, small hole, and wrinkles
On the nearest wall in the darkish living room.

Youth

Tired Parthenons would crumble,
Slowly spreading their ancient dust
Onto the timeless holdings surrounding,
If ever our youth could escape us.

The age of the immortals would show,
And those glowering wisemen,
With their crackled skin and dusted breath
Would blush at our exuberance.

We could be royalty in the annuls of eternity,
Living as though we could never die,
Knowing only our own joy; our own hearty novelty,
From forever until the dew of our age would dry.

Blah

Disease infected now perfected carpel tunnel of the mind
I can’t seem to get these bright spots to shine.
While I rove in these bleakest of nightmares
I giggle to myself thinking someone would care.
Alone, alone, the only way to find peace,
Relaxation is selfish when home is in reach.
Where are these frontal lobe bombs dropping from?
I can tell that something wicked this way comes.
Come forth and break these chains of mine,
Another friend not to care about, I’ll give no mind.
I need that outer space, Gemini, Jedi mind trick kind,
Because these shadows get deeper and darker all the time.
My goodness dribbles while I cauterize,
I’m as sinister as what is behind John Waters’s eyes.
My goodness dribbles while I cauterize,
I’m as sinister as what is behind John Waters’s eyes.

Looking for Home

I know that technically it’s good
I’m doing everything that I know I should.

Every line I write has a message, at least a meaning
And my poems are starting to display a political leaning,

But I still fell that there’s a lot more to gain
Rhymes are fun but being unfulfilled always leads to refrain.

Do I keep going on my new direction,
Or heal my sprit from its obvious infection?

Time will tell if I majestically start soul spilling
Or if my writing is just a way of time killing,

But for now my nimble finger keep typing
Even if I can’t locate a cause to start sniping.

Maybe someday what I feel will make it into a poem.

But right now my heart’s too busy looking for its home

Let Love Rebuild This

Civil actioneers fill the streets with their Sanskrit tattoos
Telling riot officers that they’re just looking for some truth
Under the derbies and rubbles some answers have to swelter
Because the power structure has carefully crafted this shelter

Refrain from the defiling and let love rebuild this

Nothing is wrong with saying the government is wrong
As long as something is done to allow the sun to prolong
A littler glimmer of hope, a sunbeam, can make smiles stream
While the dark clouds of propaganda leave a teary dream

Refrain from the defiling and let love rebuild this

What happened to that happy place where folks could gather to embrace?
What happened to promises of prosperity and purity in peace?
Did the modern warrior lose his attention span?
Or was there something else left to be broken by his hand?

Refrain from the defiling and let love rebuild this

What happen to the course we all struggle?
Did the riot squads and beatings scare the people’s militia away?
Were raised fists and red stars put on the back burner for another day?

Happiness lurches onward to a place where ignorance is bliss
And I must confess I think I like it like this
Not knowing the reality of the human strife
Has let me ignore the wound in my back made by a knife

Refrain from the defiling and let love rebuild this

Flags, as always, and as they should, still wave
Because families are still proud to see patriotism draped over a child’s grave.
Pride is the ideal of what you wish you could be.
Change is the tool to mold it into what should be.

Refrain from the defiling and let love rebuild this

Listen to voices on the streets in the marches, even those who you refute
Only through dialogue can we reassemble a resemblance of our roots.
Apologize in your suits and ties for transgressions once committed,
Forget payments, acknowledgement is where the healing begins,
Never hide or shield your eyes from your brothers’ past sins.

Refrain from the defiling and let love rebuild this

With the current rules, nobody wins; we still preach love and practice hate
The pendulum swings both ways like the balanced art that is fate.
A smile and eye contact can go a long way to extend an olive branch
So set the doves free, spread your message, and receive carte blanche.

Refrain from the defiling and let love rebuild this

Nothing is more pathetic then the way we all forget it:
To the common cause is what we should all be sympathetic.
Ignore disagreements, selfishness, and childish trysts,
In the end all of our names wind up on the same list.

Refrain from the defiling and let love rebuild this.

Sad Girl Dances

Sad Girl dances
and Sad Girl sings
while silly boys whisper
about ripping her heart strings.
She hears the rumors
but never really runs,
because Sad Girl trusts them
not to leave her undone.
But they do
because they aren’t fully grown,
and leave Sad Girl sobbing,
angry,
and so painfully alone.
And those silly boys
laugh at her ruby shoes
while see screams,
at the top of her lungs,
that there’s no place like home.

Tired Bird Ramble

When the bird flew in from outside through the window I was shocked (at first because it was cold out side and the window really should have been closed but I like to sleep cold at night and waking up with the cool wind hitting your checks is pretty nice; but the bird should have migrated by now because it was bright and had a lot of colors and looked awkward against that pale gray sky. But my room matched with the morning with all the earth tones and not too vibrant neutral tones, I like them and am not flashy but the bird was so I thought it should leave my room plus it was screaming or squawking very loudly and I hated the sound and did not need to wake up with an alarm any more because the clock in me was much better.

I went ahead and rolled out of bed with my black pajamas and into my slippers and into my kitchen to get one of those pans my parents had sent me that food doesn’t stick too but if you wash them too much the black lining inside starts to flake off into your food and eventually it will stick and maybe make you sick. I had a whole set of them but She decided to take some when She left because I always let her do most of the cooking. She hated my hallway that ran from the kitchen, like I ran back to my room with the pot, because I like plain bare walls and she was always happy and smiling with pictures and colors and right then I decided she would like the bird and it needed to leave even more now, out into the cold.

I cornered the bird in the corner with the chair She picked out at the dime store that used to be old and molded but She saved it and recovered it and it was the brightest most colorful thing in my room so I kept it in the darkest corner and put all the things She left here in it and it made a good hamper sometimes too. The bird was under the chair but at least quiet now because I figured it wanted to be outside again and had realized it was stick with me as much as I was stuck with it. I learned about birds enough in school to know that the colorful ones were the males because they had to attract the females and make them love them. I threw the pot on the bird and it covered it and the bird moved a little because I was stealthy like She hated when I would sneak up on her and scare her for fun. The pot was scrapping on my bare hardwood floors, one time I had a rug but it got dirty and stained and I tried to beat it out once but all that dust got in my face and made me cough and She laughed at me so I decided just to throw it away and not have anymore rugs and be embarrassed anymore in front of Her.

I decided that to keep the bird in the pot and get it outside I would need some sort of bottom or else the bird would fall out of the pot and it was pretty and in my room so it might hit then floor and just break all over. My room wasn’t for pretty things. But if the bird busted all over my floor I would have to sweep up all the little shard of color and then I got the idea to use the broom in the closet as a bottom for the pot. I scooped up the bird in the pot with the broom and let it fly out from underneath out the window and into the sky which was grayer but that didn’t make sense because the sun was supposed to be rising but in the winter you never can really tell because of how gray the sky is and its even hard when it wants to snow and it did. I closed the window finally and couldn’t see my breath anymore when I sighed.

I thought to turn on the tv so I did and saw a news story about a handsome Asian man would walked in the snow for miles to save his daughters but died trying to get them help. His wife was American I think, he probably was too but he looked Asian and she was European and we always assume the European looking ones are from here first but his wife had bright read hair and I turned off the tv because so did She and the story made me even sadder because I would walk in the snow for Her to save our kids if she loved me enough to have them but she didn’t because I wasn’t colorful enough for Her. I guess it would be funny if I died in the plain white snow under a gray sky to save her then because it would be the opposite of what She loved but I would do it to save Her it is a shame now and then that she left but I cope because somewhere someone would walk in the snow for me and not need a word for every shade or a new color on every wall. I liked my plain colored room and bare hallway and simple kitchen and plain wood floors and light green is a fine color for thick bed sheets and a comforter. I climbed into bed satisfied with Her gone and happy about meeting that new one who didn’t exist yet but had to if there was hope. I fell back to sleep because I knew I had a couple of more hours until work or class or something I was falling asleep and couldn’t tell anymore.)

But that bird was so shocking that morning because it was the first time I thought about Her in a week and I was walking that lonely path to being over it so I decided when the summer came back to buy a bird just like it and let it go to see if it would come back. So far it has stayed gone like She has.

There

There’s a mirror in your eyes that let me know you can see me, so I must oblige that you stop pretending, that the mood in the room could lead you to believe otherwise.

I didn’t bring roses and I didn’t bring chocolate, but if I knew you wanted it, you know I would have bought it. I just brought myself and I’ll hope that I’m enough for now.

Lets sit and talk about all of our mistakes, the monsoons, tornadoes, and the earthquakes, and isn’t it great not having to feel fake around me?

If you would like I could hold you while you cry, I can be here to catch the tears off your eyes, and take your time because I want to see the sunrise.

I really am amazed by the way you don’t think you’re worth it, how you could not feel the magic of your heart beat, I’m so right, but you just think I’m just being sweat.

It Isn't Yet

I wasn’t expecting
fireworks,
And thank God, because
they’re not here.
I just came with a smile
and myself,
Hoping to peel back
some of the years.

I’ll shut myself in
to save us both,
The trouble of coping
with false hopes.
I’ll hide it again, but
I won’t go away,
I’m tired of dealing
with this that way.

And you know it’s right,
So I don’t mind at all.
Just know you can’t escape this,
And I might just stay after all.

Yes it burns,
but I turn to my pen.
After you it’s
my only friend.
I think you’re worth it,
all of this hurt
And before I die,
I will make this work.

So keep your heart free
from filling up
I’m not there now,
but I could be the top.
I don’t fit perfect,
so the story goes
But neither of us knows
what the future holds.

And you know it’s right,
So I don’t mind at all.
Just know you can’t escape this,
And I might just stay after all.

It isn’t yet
but it just might be
You’ll find that you’re
madly in love with me