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…

I can't hear you over the sound of 500 pounds

Your soft hand combs me, the obedient dog.

I'm salivating at your bell, but–

distracted I watch petals of fire through the window.

And I'm sorry I can't hear you talking...

When the screams are ear muffs

–Sorry please know I want your ten digits on my temples

(Not this point of light pain inflating my head)

Oh are we pressed for time?

Let's make the slaughter quick then.

I just want to evaporate and reconstitute elsewhere

Sorry, sorry, bring your head to mine again!

I'll put on blinders to these–

Metal birds who forever feast and shit on the helpless

I guess we'll forget it since I'm deaf and...

I can't hear your requests over the sound of 500 pounds breaking bodies in two.

Twist

I find you impossibly kind.
And to me it seemed at first a ruse.
But now dissected, tested, tried–
I find to be the truth.

This voice can wrap me like wire.
Tie me as it's hostage.
But to be it's servant is my desire.

I awake unknowing where I am–
But who I am.
All the unfamiliar tones become my home.

The feel of a cotton-soft wrap-around-the-skin-on-skin blanketed embrace.
Speaking loudly as it feels.
Not all demands carved in the table.
Some worn away by another.
In a certain context by rubbing lead on paper
I rediscover.

We say ten hundred times,
"There are stars in your eyes."
And luckily both voices resound.
In a major key.
Twisting in harmony.

Bit Lip (Surrealist Poem)

I wonder were you really there?

Maybe you were just the mist.

Do I dance with myself in a room?

Am I a fog?

I took a bite of my lip

And now all I partake tastes of blood.

I need a doctor,

Who can analyze my random blips on the radar.

There is still the crunch of rocks in my mouth.

Still fighting with them so not to bite my lip again.

Because it is hard to say that you're a half dreamed memory.

One I built from the ground up with clay, sticks, and bones.

Finally the rain came.

You melted into the soil.

And I still drink from the puddles.

I Used To Bel+-eve

Who Wants To Go? (Cubist Poem)

Sledding this weekend!
Who wants to go?
You want to go?
Everything is covered in snow
You want to go?

I'm at the beach,
Without friends.
There are no winds.
No winds. No friends.

I want to win!
You want to go?
A one night stand?
You want to win?
Lets just be friends.

Your phone was home.
You can not go.
Everything covered in snow.
Busy Week.
Every night he wants to go.
Every night a one night stand.

Snow this week,
Who wants to win?

Archery Lessons (Symbolist Poem)

There is an arrow in my side
Shot from an unknown direction
Its sender delicate in its construction
The perfect piece of wood and metal
To puncture flesh and break through bone.

I call to know the archer's name with no response.
So I sleep above the ground tonight,
With fear to be beneath tomorrow.

I wake to find the arrow gone.
I wonder was it even there?
The hunter is my head.
The hunter is the prey.
The hunter is my fear.

Black Wolves

The thought of embrace feels right.
But I know in arms black wolves wait.
So I strive an entire night,
To illuminate this place.

I try to light a match, but you blow it out.
I try and make a fire, but you are not cold.
So I let the wolves consume,
And let you read the smoke.