There Are Still Many

Imaginary dangers aside
There are still many dead pretending their alive.
And I'm presented with another, and another, and another.
They set every appendage on fire.

I got a kiss the night they killed him.
And I walked on the overflowing water
Of my cup's rim.
I wonder what made it all so exciting.

I guess I always think why the apple fell.
God, if you would please still believe in me
Suffocating the flames of hell...
Just no longer would be a fishing tale.

I'm not a lier when I say I care.
In truth I've lost three hundred thousand hairs
Just from imagining if when away.
Are you sleeping well?

I pray you're not one of the dead,
Or the wolves
Or the drunken mirrors
Showing a face existing only in my head.

You're Just Using Time

I don't want to end up writing this all down just to become
A manual for you to interpret.
(I'm not that. No one should ever be that.)
Just because you want to be that doesn't mean I do.

But still when prompted...
I take out the longest piece of lead in preparation for a description.
(But it always breaks against your teeth)

Okay so face it...
You're a god-damned monster
Who pulls their eyes out
(despite blinding yourself)
For others' amusement.
For their golden attention.

And while this being said
We all want to part the covers of your face.
Like we are reading a half written biography.
Yes what you write and do...
Won't be of any interest or use in about five years
(give or take).

Where Gypsy Based Music Plays

The last abortion—
Where everything begins.
The ultimate peace movement.
You see, fish are disappearing
And there used to be no sex classes—
No friendship classes either.
So people are burning the university,
In the elephant's presence.
But I'm not self motivated.
So you take me to the living waters
Where gypsy based music plays.
Not everything approves if you understand,
Where everything begins.

500 Pounds Poster

Poem Posters Final Project [In Progress]

Artists Amongst Poets (A Conceptual Poem)

On the high and low ends

I wish for the ice to fill puddles

I had sex last night.

And my heart pounds through my body,

When she wants me but I'm still unsure.

Especially when getting less than I am giving.

"Damnit look!"

I say ten hundred times.

"Who is he?"

God given grace with a face you could praise.

The pushovers are left infatuated.

*This poem is created with one line from each student in my Artists Among Poets class. I wanted to randomly find lines and then compose them together with an overall theme.

VKA & GNGERALE

…In a bathroom stall at the wedding.

Teeth crushed against each other,

The puncture is a whisper.

Relief! Minds a broken blister.

Believe! (without bleeding on each other)

We're:

Talking through a magnifying glass,

Looking through a megaphone,

And counting the minutes till were home alone.

And I:

Man the crows nest nestled in your ship's stitched-sails,

Have a tongue in automation when not sheathed inside my cheek,

Am out of breath…

Shivers convert calories,

So breath into my chest,

No—cough into my lungs,

No—Sweat inside my eyelids,

Take a drink so full inside your mouth it spills…