Sunday, January 31, 2010


Slick smooth surfaces, exist in perfect worlds...
but our progress moves on hard rigid stones...

Familiar to pain--loves paradigm is conflicted,
often too complex to be put into sentence.
we seek to be pure, but tainted love is all thats produced,
I hate me and I love you...

Yet I sit here on a cold splintered floor attempting to rub my hands across it,
expecting no splinters but bleeding to the cold reality of painful sacrifice for the sake of learning.

Images reoccurring-you can rarely make sense of my phrases,
clarity seems to be tainted and I attempt to make sign language to get my point to you.
But regardless of attempts that digress my message,
Im left tainted with the memory of you, so moving on is not expected--
in a world that tells me that without you I am nothing,
protection exists within your arms, and here I am at harm...

Tainted with tears, pain and thoughts,
can't start on clean slates,
can't begin new paths,
labyrinths entangle my reason, and clarity is tainted by the constant contemplation of your arrival.

Until then I am expected to bite out of that poisonous apple,
because I can rarely make reason out of thoughts,
and I can never imagine a love so pure without you...

Monday, January 11, 2010


They say time heals all wounds,
but how long must I wait for the sand to run out?
Now I have allowed every tick to control me,
and every tock to just lure me...
into some type of preservational cloud.
I've saved myself for healing,
reflecting on the constant memory of us...
Hoping that one day I'll wake up--
and not realize that you... were.... my everything.
See I've lost my everything;
hoping that my memory goes lost with it,
I resort to erasing the touch of your body by accumulating moments with others..
allowing myself to live for the give ins and sink ins of these carnal desires...
but regardless of how hard I attempt to erase you from my lips, or from my skin,
I'm left with a permanent inprint that does not allow me to forget--
regardless of how hard I scrub or how intensly he thrusts to erase you,

You're like a word that's been spoken and put to paper,
attempting to erase so I can start again--I fail.
every word is still seen on this paper,
every smudge has claimed it as its canvas
and I am exposed, still marked by you.
I've attempted to neglect you some how,
letting past pain lay somewhere way beneath my surface.
Supressing it to the point where I cover myself in blankets confusing tidal waves and light currents.
Those who have attempted to get beneath my covers have barely piereced my intentions.
We've stood by mirrors yet they see no reflection...and I'm lost in the moments, in the ticking and the tocking, in the quick sand in the hourglass only moving towards the bottom.
And I'm sinking while I'm waking to forget...that I loved you.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Tanka #2

My world's up-side down,
heart's in an eternal knot;
I'm topsy turvy.
Some call it love or just some--
type of elevated lust.

Tanka #1

The distance makes me--
contemplate whether time is--
on our side or if--
you will ever be ready--
to love me with no regrets.

Haiku #2

I want you inside,
finding spots I've tried to hide;
where pleasure meets us.

Haiku #1

Your touch was heavy,
pressing upon my back made--
me come to my knees

Friday, January 8, 2010

5 Syllables Thumping...

His poetry moves me...
Beyond ocean shorelines he pulls me down to ocean bottoms...
making me re-evaluate the very purpose as to why my weakest organ never felt this strongly...
5 syllables thumping, 2 stanzas at a time...his poetry composes me and I'm made up of his rhyme.
We have never met but it feels as if his eyes connect with mine,
through the very paper where his words lie, through the very emotion he intended to imply he’s got my poetic judgment mesmerized.
The words his mind has synchronized create the lines that take my breath away. Taking my breath away like a perfectly star illuminated sky.
I dance with the verses he composes, and I am silenced by the stanzas that leave me daunted.
He’s that of a craftsman, making simple language complex to the point where deciphering is what’s intended, because he creates meaning beyond well constructed sentences. His eyes go beyond ocean shorelines, he pulls me down to ocean bottoms…and his verses take my breath away...
I heard he wrote some good songs, I heard he had a style, I felt he found my soul, and wrote each word that’s found, beneath the walls that have me, enslaved in past mistakes….
His verses moved me, like faith moves believers… his verses engulfed my reason, beyond anything…he reached me.