One Word: Plastics

Applications here!

Get your college applications here!
Spin through the right combination
Of extracurriculars and SAT scores
And get back a one-way ticket:
For a t-shirt-and-sweatshirt packed
Thursday-night-alcohol-and-plagiarized papers packed
Failed-midterms-and-caffeinated-all-nighters-packed
Nonstopwhirlwind.
Into the mausoleum of all
Hopeful and starry-eyed scholars
So declare your major
And kiss your parents goodbye
And let them hope that come Thanksgiving
You’re not another sunken-eyed
Fifteen pounds heavier
Empty wrapper, a mold of
Everyone else
But surely that is the way toward
Two kids, a white picket fence, and a collie?
We are the first generation that will not outperform our parents
So write in your social security number
And throw in an eighty-five dollar application fee
And let the failures begin!

---

Soaring on a Song

That lark in the yard

It just won’t leave!
I scream and I shout
But it just won’t conceive

That it needs to sing
From higher than a bough
Share its verse with the world
From atop a cloud

To test its wings,
See how hard they can fly
How far they can carry him
Across the blue sky

But where will they lead him?
Where will he go?
Maybe he shouldn’t
I just don’t know

He just can’t stay here though,
It’s far too small
For he has potential
Surpassing them all

Golden are his notes
Which roll in like the tide
Heartwarming are his chirps
When his wings are open wide

I love to wake and hear him
Every dawn of every morn
But his talent is too great to tie
Him down where he was born

“Never look back,
Don’t doubt what’s ahead,
Watch out for the storms
That lie in your stead”

Says the mother lark
Holding baby to her chest
Then sings him a soft note
And heaves him from the nest

He spread his wings
He took the fall
He sang and flapped
And gave it his all

His all didn’t cut it
You’ll be sad to know,
As he dove quite quickly
To the river below

Before his song
Was finished he died
And yet he soars higher
Than any bird in the sky

---

History Repeating

He tells me I’m a crummy person
And he’s the “Anti-crumb”
Little flakes off a larger piece
But that’s like him and me
Isn’t it?

I leave crumbs in his bed
His dreams are full of little bits of
Me. Irritating and grating his skin,
flint and stone against his eyes,
scratching
scratching thoughts into his mind.

Little bits imbedded in the folds of
the brain. Itching him, reminding always.
Responsibility. They shift, itch.
Tiny messages of a crummy person.
of me. Anti-crumb.
    Flakes him and
me. Grating the
    mind folds of
always responsibility
    crummy chip off
old block.

---

Dirt

Dirt is meant to be dug,

said a Father to his son,
From the Earth we were created,
out of dirt we come.

That is why I dig holes,
the Father told his son,
like my Father did before me,
and our family has always done.

And as the boy grew older,
he joined his dad at work,
digging holes for God’s creation,
to be put back in the Earth.

Life went on as normal,
the boy had a son of his own,
who carried on the tradition,
of digging holes for bones.

But the boy’s Father grew older,
and as the days flew by,
digging holes grew harder and harder,
but he stayed by his boy’s side.

One day the boy was given a job,
and to dig he would not bother,
because the hole belonged to someone dear,
it was the hole of his Father.

---

Too Good Too Soon Too Soon

I brooded at my desk,
Slumped in the long frigid days
Of Winter—
        he had the promise of
        a warm Spring
        in his eyes
                he made me feel the speckled breeze
                of balmy nights in June dusks
                with his early-Summer fingers
                        cascading onto my face
                        through my loose hair
                        against my neck
                        tumbling across my tank-topped shoulders
                        intermingling with my mid-July eyelashe
                                was the sun’s too soon August-hot rays
                        burning the bridge of my nose
                with the premature stench of impending September curriculum.

---

500 Miles Cold

from my tepid Spring
and 500 times as alone
As I brooded at a collegiate desk
–Suffocated by the smell
Of sole-heavy feet
Crunching leaves,
And soul-heavy uncertainties
Crunching dreams,
And both promising snow.

---

A Reason For Man

Oh Captain, my Captain, to where have You taken?

We stand bereft and solitary, lacking drive and sight.
What You once were is now but a hollow silhouette
granting nothing, taking nothing, leading only to empty horizons.

We have searched, long and tiresome, for nothing
but a speck of Your being. Across the broad earth and rampant
waves, we have sacrificed lives and sanity for Your unearthing,
but have been left with hands empty of all but scars and loam.

Alas! The world is covered, rummaged and marred
and for retribution of our troubles, we are rewarded nothing.
Oh Captain, my Captain, we have searched and searched.
Searched and searched, everywhere but in the rays our hearts and souls.

---

Drifting Sun

Drifting sun fades to sand,

Crumbling before me, is fading land,
Opportunity falls into dust,
Barren now, the moon draws near.

The crescent and stars now rule the sky,
Eyes unfold to reveal nothing,
Blackness drapes the once bright landscape,
All is silent and lifeless before me.

With a hammer and chisel, the new heavens go to work,
Ruining my once bold statue,
Breaking it down to nothing.
Only material that which I must create with.

The stars will fade and wither soon.
A final twinkling before the beginning
A beginning once held in time.
Like a rebirth, the sun returns to conquer its throne
From the blackness and the moon

Handing me the hammer is the new king,
The vanquisher of the void.
Now its time to create a new beginning.
My time must now work.

---

Unchained Freedom

No chain to restrain me
Key to unlock my hands
Tied to solidity
Away from unknown lands
I am roaming bison
Free from false realities
Unlike the cycling sun
and the tides of the seas
Untied to promises
Made with mocking kisses

No anchor to hold me down
To keep me from drifting
Away from a steady place
Where hope for creation
And the unforgotten desires for
Reliability are uncovered
Like a sunken ship.

No rock to cling on to when
Waves rise too high
Rushing, rocking, risking
All to falsely grasp
Independence.

---

Dissolution

No more breathing – just your pain, guilt, and fear.
My suffocation is slow and it is out of my control.
I sit listening from the sixth step up,
head in my hands, staring at a withering Christmas wreath.
Bulbs of holly burn red, the dry leaves quickly catch.
“YOU CAN’T CONTROL ME!”
click click click click click
Always five – Seemingly unwavering, but somehow beginning to change.
Sets of 4, 5, 4, 6, 4, 5 melt into one another.
A gradual diminution, then a final ceasing of existence.
“I’LL RUN, I’LL LEAVE!”
Then go.

---

Contact

A glare toward the hill:
He matches my intense gaze.
I watch and wait while he decides
Like a soldier studying his enemy.
His hands meet
And suddenly break into motion.
There are only milliseconds to distinguish
Up from down
Red from white
In from out.

To do as well as “the Kid”
Would require years of refinement.
I drop the knob and snap my wrists
Preparing for a collision
No less difficult to perfect
Than a masterpiece of art.
The beautiful crack on wood occurs.

---

War in Bosnia

Spring.

        Sprang.
                    Sprung.

---

Odd Shapes

Odd shapes falling from the sky

time passing by
always awaiting the hot, hot days
to begin its journey, and carry on its way.
Green becoming red and orange
Making the world naked and cold
Suppressing every leaf that tries to withhold
The uncertainty remains of another changing day
Until one morning we awake ultimately defeated by time.

---

Some Girls Have Eyes on the Sides of Their Heads

Cunning creations
Delicately dangle from her ears.
Chimes swaying in the wind,
Whispering,
Teasing,
Staring me down.
Reflecting my image,
Relaying messages from her mind-
She knows I’m looking.

---

Blob

My mother tells me I'm a banana:
Yellow on the outside, white inside,
And that it will never change,
But if you ask me,
I'd rather be a big gel blob,
And it might sound boring to you,
But blobs are not BLAH,
And you must admit that blobs have more fun
than bananas when they can change so easily
Into any shape, but bananas must stay bananas
Forever (until they're eaten or make someone slip)
And you can't say blobs are pushovers
They only make you think that way
When they shiver at the smallest poke
But if you step on a blob, you'll see it flattens for a second
But bounces right back to its normal blobby shape
No determined foot can
stomp hard enough to break the blob
Which can only stretch and jiggle happily
Not a care in the world.
So melt down your rigid frame already
And discover your inner blob

---

Metamorphosis

You had such wonderful eyes
So deep and clear and open,
Unguarded,
Brimming with life.
And then, by chance, they found you,
Those watchful predators,
Who prey on weakness.
They changed your untarnished sight,
Peeling it away so subtly and gradually,
You didn’t even notice at first.
But time made you see the difference,
And you fought to save
Through sweat you had to show them
You too could survive....
And now I see you:
A chiseled formless oval,
Thick murky glow over crystalline sparkle,
Hardened pupils and lightened iris,
Forcing dignity.
An expressionless face
Now so certain and strong,
Completely invincible
To attack, to insult,
To feeling.

---

The Mighty Peak

The wind blew in whistling waves,
The moon shone on hidden caves.
The mountain so beautiful, the climber couldn't speak,
And the mountaineer went climbing-
Climbing- climbing-
The mountaineer went climbing towards the mighty peak.

He climbed with much ambition, more than he could speak,
He climbed with the ambition that he'd conquer the mighty peak.
The mountaineer swayed slowly, climbing higher than high,
And he climbed in a continual motion,
An easy, relaxed motion
As he moved slowly toward the sky.

Over the boulder, around the wall,
He climbed and climbed without a fall.
He hummed the song he'd always like best,
But he never stopped climbing-
Climbing- climbing-
He never stopped climbing, and never took a rest.

As he looked to the sky, beheld what was near,
He looked to the peak, without any fear.
He'd climbed miles and miles, and was starting to feel weak,
And he used all his strength-
His precious, valuable strength,
As he reached the mighty peak.

---

The Colors of Content

I bound up the steep, carpeted stairs
Like a graceful monster truck.
Happy to be home and still out
Of breath from my workout, I
Slam shut the door and turn the
Nozzle with an excited thrust.

Ahhhh, finally. My afternoon shower.
The water envelops me,
Stealing mud, gravel, sweat, and labor.
Wincing at the painful relaxation,
My sore muscles soothed and my mind grateful,
I lean against the color-changing wall.

I wander through halls and down trails,
See myself crossing white lines of finality
That only bring a new beginning.
In and out of time I travel until
I am brought back to the walls, now yellow,
Which are my Halcyon.

---

Shower

The heat pours over my body and into my soul.
The drain, clogged by a clump of
A relative's hair, hisses at me,
Reminding me of its power.
My mind, unclogged, is taken elsewhere
And flows freely wherever it can run,
Like the ripped shower curtain blowing in the cold wind.
I remember tall oak trees in the deep forest,
Birds with feathers glistening and smooth
Like the hairs on the bar of soap.
I think of summer thunderstorms I long to watch,
Blinking like the bathroom light,
Booming like the broken fan.
I recall the joy of kayaking a vast and beautiful river,
Standing up to look down
At the puddle of murky water at my feet.

---

The White Marker

Tire touches the tail
Of the Enfield divider,
Pennsylvania is simply memory.
A-Treat sodas and grandma's
Thumbprint cookies grow distant;
My car travels north.

No longer missing
The rolling hills,
Shades of brown justifying
A lone, orderly farm;
Cell phone ringing,
My thoughts return
To fond high school memories.
I smile knowingly,
Massachusetts has become home;

Driving through Enfield
Home to Hoyts movie theater
And the covert mission to hide
Gummi peach ring candy in pockets
Battling against outrageous concession prices;
A flood of memories unleashed
Glimpses at Media Play, unaware
Of late night conversations
I bought my first phone;

Paramount thoughts aspire
Hitting the Enfield exit ramp,
Not reading sessions at Barnes and Nobles
Or the honking cars when running
Across a chaotic street to buy nail polish,
I was thinking about the section
Of Enfield road where two lanes
Abruptly become one.

---

Leaves

Like fallen butterflies
they strew the ground; a thousand brightly colored wings,
smudged against the cold grass
sighing silently to the earth, where they slowly fade and curl
into little brown grasshopper boats
Every fall when they have gathered in drifts past our ankles, we sweep these tumbled leaves into great piles: piles to jump in, run through, build forts in- we laugh
as we dive in them, somersault through them,
leaves clinging to our straight silky hair,
rounded cheeks glowing, tossing handfuls of leaves into the blue air
to hear them rain down soft as whispers
Dragging drop-cloths-full across freshly raked grass, we heave them into the back
of Dad’s green pickup
Belly-side up,
filling the truck with giant, paint-splattered mushrooms
With the back full, we hoist ourselves on top of the leaves,
standing on tires so we can climb over the side,
and throwing ourselves back-down onto the soft lumpy heaps,
that crunch under our weight
prickling against our bare necks
smelling musty and sweet
With a growl the engine catches and we are careening backwards, bumping and jarring
Like a backseat full of smooth round pumpkins,
clinging tight to the sides of the truck to keep from hitting our heads,
watching the yard spinning away from us,
the branches overhead stark black spider webs
against the blue-satin curve of the sky
Breathless,
watching the thin green ribbon of ground between truck bed and tailgate
flash dizzyingly by,
and be gobbled up by the rest of the lawn
We leap from the truck as it shudders to a stop, landing knee deep in leaves
as we drag the heavy bundles from the back, sliding them along its smooth-grooved bottom
and rolling them out
Tugging the cloths out from under the leaves, we stumble-
losing our balance in our stiff rubber boots.
On the ride back we sit on the tail-gate, feet dangling
The truck bed is hard and lonely
All we hear is the low purr of the truck motor.

---

Not the Papa I Know

He is not the Papa I know, stripped of his flannel shirts, his warmth
Surrounded by cold sterility
The room is too white without being clean, and the air is stifled with sickness
Standing there, I shiver- afraid
Suddenly there is a bright blast of music, tumbling an old Italian love song
Into the sad room
“Take your apron off Maria, come with me and….pizza!”
and there is Papa again, laughing and teasing my blushing Grandma
And I smile and take the jelly beans
he offers me

---

Darl

Communication is the barrier existing between
my mind, my mouth, my pen, you.

---

Via the Stream of Unconsciousness

This is strange, yet strangely familiar.
Spores and seeds blown by the wind,
are having nightmares and they want to get rid of me.

I’ve heard about this, and I’m going
to give it my best shot.
Some think it cheers people up.
It relaxes.
“He’ll be along any minute, don’t worry.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

For some reason, this day, I didn’t feel anything.
“Don’t be sad, sugar.
It works continuously.”
Don’t start…
And there it was.

“It’s a perfect time for more.” No!
“Stop thinking that way,” he said.
I can’t feel my body anymore, and
I don’t know if you’ve noticed this,
but I’m a very tense young woman.

Stop! I’m very excited.
And I’m lucky to be with you.

Thank you very much, and good night.

Not what I originally expected.
“Well, no one would have known the difference.”
“It’s an amazing gift. Would you give a little?”

One more…
There’s no such thing as too much.
Thank you very much, and good night.

Help!
“You’re not doing your job!”
“If you’re losing it, do it again.”
That’s really great, right on.

“More?”
“Okay, I’ve been around, and that’d be fine.”
Thank you very much, and good night.

Turn it loose.

Now… what exactly are we all supposed to be doing?
Right now?
Do you want to do anything special?

“Look, be careful.”
Come back here!
“We’ll have to teach you…”

---

 Observations on a Friday Afternoon

What can be done?
Snow drapes the trees with
knotted locks of coffee brown
The silver foil coils and crumbles.

Snow drapes the trees,
I’m leaving you a note
The silver coils and it crumbles.
Communication breakdown.

Leaving a note,
Knotted locks of coffee brown.
Communication breakdown.
What can be done?

---

At Last

Encasing ears with its abrupt peace,
the comfort of nothing
mutes like a heavy woolen blanket.
Disturbing some,
but a refuge to others
the silence is lurking.

---

Don’t Tie Me Down

Floating out of our realm,
a bobbing orb that drifts merrily away
higher and higher
escaping children’s greedy grasps.
Short livèd bliss,
helium dreams.

---

Pea Sized

Being shrunk to the size of
a lovely green pea,
I’d anxiously wait
for a troublemaker to come along.
Stuffing me into a red striped straw,
he’d swiftly
covertly
shoot me
across the room.
Soaring through the air
sure beats getting digested.

---

Pamplona

Shrieks of horror,
frenzied shouts.
Elegant clouds of swirling red dust
a rushing mob
shoving forward with the force of a matador’s spear.
Colors blurring in a disjointed whir
backed by the unyielding, overtaking
hooves
of death.

---

Giving Yourself Up

One decision
one final act
what you had is gone.

A part of the crowd,
no longer on the outside,
pushed into a new image.

No turning back
nothing can replace
the free emptiness.

Crossing the threshold,
you have no choice
but to grow up.

In losing this,
are you found
or lost in the sins of the masses?

---

Broken Spirit

Burdened with ice encrusted snow,
fragile limbs sink willingly to the ground.
Only so much weight can be endured.

Heavy heart,
trodden with crumpled dreams,
splayed in shattered sharp pieces for the world to
view
on the immaculate white sheet.

---

Cotton Candy

Fruity flavors
in pastel, Easter egg hues.
Sticky strands of spun sugar
wound and woven
tightly and intricately around the flimsy paper cone.
A cocoon of quick dissolving nostalgia.

---

Exercise Caution

Slick sharp blades
continuously cut grooves
into the unforgiving ice.
Only a sliver of metal
to rigidly support you–
don’t trip over
your emotions.

---

Haiku #1:
Colossal movement,
objects dancing, teetering
crashing to the floor.

---

Forget What You Know

I am not your friend,
I am not your foe,
I am not face behind hide words,
A fire forgotten,
Your sex, your lust, your love,
Your four fingered frenzy that forms frantic perceptions.
I am not whole,
A fake,
A defect formed from your falsities.
Fallacy,
Staring you down from a mile far,
I am.
Hopeless,
Fierce friction breathing flames,
Into your face,
I am.
I am not faithful,
I am not fate,
Nor do I hold it wrap tight in tissue,
Tied up with satin, pink ribbons,
Lock in dungeon and dormitories.
I am the fury that you cast to the side,
I am what you refrain from admitting,
I am the frequently unfigured,
I am the faltering,
I am what you fear,
I
am
the
fall.

---

Perceptions of An Opposing Side

I’ll put aside,
Space and time,
And the lack their of,
For bloody blue star,
And three blue eyes.
Wandering minds,
Misconceptions,
Unwanted protection,
And a false rejection.
He thinks the sky is failing.
You think the sky is falling.
 Forget suspicion,
And evil ambitions.
Forget the screams, the  cries,
The stars that fell from our eyes.
And your story of three,
Two soldiers with battle scars,
Taken by the war of one heart,
Souls and trust stretch so far,
Will always try to fallacy.
Your story lead by jealousy,
Can only descend in water.
So read the lines,
Of the messengers lips,
You are the only,
The one who knows me,
And winner of a heart,
And the fourth side of ever.

---

An Inadequate Act of Contrition

Fleshy thoughts and fresh as morning,
Dew clings to cheeks,
Burning heat.
Memories of beauty,
Perfection and splendor,
Two soft warn hands,
Faultless fit and slender.
I’ve lost my guiding stars,
Clean blue infernos,
Wings smolder fast,
Halos glimmer their last.
I miss perfect stares,
Aching for truthful smiles,
All my sorrowful wills,
Cast away these painful trails.
Hopes so fragile,
Don’t melt my tears,
Never leave me alone,
I can’t face my fears.
So remorseful, regretful,
I’m sorry for revolting souls,
I’ll lick the blood,
I’ll let it out, and fill the gapping holes.
Brutal and beastly,
I’m sorry for repulsive words,
Forget every flick of my lips,
Disregard the statements you heard.
You’re so amazing,
Immaculate and ideal,
I’ll forever stand in the shadows,
My heart will never heal.
Cast me into fires,
Burn my wicked core,
Beat my lips raw,
Thrash my body sore.
I deserve nothing,
So I’ll fall to knees,
And beg for you to take my light,
And please never leave.

---

Tango of Three

Scorn and scrapes,
Breaking branches blowing in the storm,
Three to two and ones left bloody,
And the absence of light illuminates the skies.
Turbulent and toxic, heavens and eyes,
Shades pulled and smiles fold,
But you are so good with words.
Hearts hit the floor,
Planks shatter with the weight,
And three stars burn out,
Helpless to the night.
And I hate her games,
Yes, no, maybe so,
Hopscotch and hoola-hoops couldn’t save this broken wind.
So let that night slip,
From finger and tongue tips,
You’ll hold my heart,
I’ll hold your hand,

And say goodbye to remorse.

---

Through the Looking Glass

Follow fleeting fingertips,
Over and under,
Across the ocean,
Through the thunder,
Of the pale perfection,
Crystal quarts reflection.

Falling through framed fire,
Set a blaze- I’m a flame,
Put me out,
Reflection-the liar,
I don’t know these curves, these bends, these roads,
I don’t know these freckles, these looks, these toes.
Fake smile coated frown,
Eyes up, Hair down,

I am not,
Eyes lead by sound,
I am neither a question nor a command,
I am not in quiet calm wonderland,

I am not.

I am not.

---

All the Pain Sins can Buy

Shadowed sunrise,
Smoke coated lungs,
All your beautiful lies,
Already sung,
Into my ears,
From your tongue.
Please sweet slayer,
Put down your gun.
Fall from hands,
Fall to spring,
As we stand,
My heart still stings,
I miss sweet arms,
My nights are aching,
Splinters and fires,
My frame is breaking.
Soft sugary winds,
Blown on salty lips,
Smooth liquid sins,
And wanting icy sips.

---

Observation from Across the Room

Your certainty is my jealousy.
Don’t think I don’t notice.
Perfect and Pretty in Pink,
Holding eyes for everyone else,
The world is making you blind.
Eyes that wonder and hide,
Behind lock and tide,
She’ll copy the key,
Forfeit the pattern,
Without the swing of a fist.
Stares of razor sharp eyes,
Cutting toward my wrists,
Your raping beautiful kiss,
Two lips that never miss.
Hit a target,
Hit my heart.
Loose the loyalty,
Hello Sweet Jealousy.

---

Failure in Fairy Tales

Marlboro and Killicans,
Hearts down, fists in.
You’re the first to spot all my sorrow.
You’ll be the first to phone tomorrow,
Cleaning up the acts of another,
Forgiving bloody facts,
I’m not your lover.
I’ll bleed you, I’ll break you, I’ll cut you in two,
But you’re taking every swing as if you already knew,
What he and them and I do to me,
When in foolish moments I tired to flee,
From your arms and into theirs,
Sharing with me only pain staking despairs.
They break me, they bleed me, they cut me in two,
When all they should be I see in you.
Forgive me sir, I’ve pick the battle,
Forgive me sir, I’ve slain the gentle,
Forgive me sir, I’ve given my heart,
To someone so undeserving of the part.

Love does not prevail,
When once had lovers fail,
The tragedy the make.

---

The Collapse of a Friend

“This is the girl that kills me.”
Reflecting from cold eyes,
Drifting over things I can’t see,
He’s falling from her lies.
“This is the girl that hurts me.”
Spills from his lips,
He’s crying over toxic love,
He’s cling to the hips,
Of not a lady but a hunter,
Killing her prey in masses,
Casting them into hard packed ground,
While hearts and hopes grow flaccid.
That beckoning black cat,
Blood dripping from her whiskers,
Moaning over her actions,
While the pulse of death gets quicker.
Good night moon, Goodbye Hearts,
You’ll forgive her violent ways,
As I watch you break to pieces,
And ignore all I say.

---

The Words You’ll Never Hear

Lie.
To.
Me.

---

Mr. Business; Mr. Murder

Mr. Business; Mr. Murder;
Craving your taste for blood,
Dripping onto lips,
And down to throats,
Veiling the taste of lies.
Descending my heart and lungs,
While I cling to my ribs,
Crumbling apart with every hit.

You Killer!
You Killer!
Can’t you hear me! He’s a Killer!
Watch- just watch- my crowds getting stiller.

Mr. Murder; Mr. Slayer;
Mr. Though enough to break hearts,
Don’t flinch, don’t stagger,
Take every letter to chest,
When I tell you it’s in your best,
To put down that dragger.
Girls are not Games.

Girls are not Games.

Girls are Not Games.

---

A Festival of Jazz

Incense burning tickles my senses.
Trumpets blaring in their tenseness, shrilly crying
for the horn solos striking the unyielding power and
low, boisterous thud like a crash of thunder.

Piano keys pounded with force and passion,
fingers gyrating,
passing the melody that guides the
saxophones smoothly gliding like a careless
fisherman who tries to hold the
bass that beats like a pulse, bangs away
for the beat of the undertone, and harmonizes with the
guitarist that leaves us always wanting more,
bring back that funk, stroke those strings like you can't
take it no more!

Applause all around, solo is done.
"Let's hear it for our drummers!"
That booming keeps us moving
like we're jumping beans.
The never-ending flow of wine, the
swirling clouds of smoke, the hip cats
dancing like there's no one watching,
the pungent aromas of food from vendors,
topped off with that soft summer grass and some blankets to
watch the dark, cosmic sky at night.
All paint the picture of another festivity of life.

---

Pray For

Start running just don’t stop
run forever, as death walks behind you
hollow feelings, dead emotion
I’m running on borrowed time

Those you keep close
hold on tight
but they’re not really there
Screwed in the end

All in my head
forget it, release the thought
embers glow dim
embrace the night

Life isn’t all it’s chalked up to be

pray nightfall
pray release
pray to end it
pray for peace

Stuck in a void
Trapped under ice
master of misrule
take the pain away

Draconian feelings
It’s all point of view
proceed on
regret not, embrace

Life isn’t all it’s chalked up to be

pray nightfall
pray release
pray to end it
pray for peace

The point is aimed at you
can’t you feel it?
Its simple to achieve
easy to replace

Find the elusive cure
World pretending, fader
And it’ll fade away
find understanding

pray nightfall
pray release
pray to end it
pray for peace

Just fade away…
Just fade away…
Just fade...

Me vs. You

You try to spark a reaction
I await a response.
You gasp in disbelief
I roll my eyes that I ever believed in you.
You speak as though you were God
I speak the truth.
Your whole life is the image
My life is putting up with it
You say bout you don’t do.
I do and I have nothing to say.
You scorn other just like you
But I scorn those who refuse to see themselves.
You talk down to me
I stay below, because I know
In the end, your egocentric ways will bring you nothing but pain.
And I sit back and laugh.

Life from the Wheel

The lack of control
Swerving and spinning
Without any say in the matter.

Living life at the touch of
An unfamiliar hand
Who’s intention unknown.

Thirsting for recognition
But never receiving
Your true accomplishments forgotten.

Yearning to escape
From this undesirable ride
But unwillingly attached.

But all at the same time
Having the satisfaction of knowing
That without you
Nothing could be possible.

Green

Envious eyes eternally
waste in jade jealousy.
Greed grows in
self-superiority.

So we Built a Playhouse

Tiny hands help daddy
build stairs to new worlds.
High sea adventures,
masquerade balls,
English tea parties
secret in wood walls.
The roof’s pristine white and
floor’s steady planks become
Me.
Window shut tight to the world:
I’m Free.

Manicured tips help daddy
take cards and gifts.
New adventures aren’t
secret.
Look out the kitchen window,
in the corner stands worlds unknown.
Weathered wood,
warped white.
I’m lost-
Pushed out a broken door to the world:
Who’s Me?

Aurora

Flecks of spotted night project across
infinite loneliness.
We are but small men
Gathered beneath God’s lantern
And our questioning eyes reflect upon
the Blues
and Reds and Purples
of the world which we will never be able to grasp
in our vain attempts
at Creation.
And just as the painting dissipates
and drips down the moon
We blink.
Because we cannot fathom the movement
                                                                  of giant hands.

The Crow

I caught the crow on my tongue.
He pecked out my eyes first.
Until the blood ran down my face
and soothed my tired lips
From their constant tendency to lick the air
and swallow lies.

Blue Blanky

I lost it
I found it
I ripped it
I sewed it
I braided it
And braid it
I loved it
And loved it
Good night blue blanky
Where did my blue blanky go?
I searched feverishly on my floor where it usually lands
After my nights sleep
It’s gone.
There’s something there
It’s a bear
He gave it to me
For my birthday
And I liked it
It was soft and cuddly
Like my blanky
Now I sleep with the bear with the blue coat
And hug it to bed
And I don’t miss my blue blanky
Only sometimes so I sleep with both
And it makes me feel better
Its white terry cloth is getting dirty
It falls from my bed each night
And lands on the floor and gets dirty
But I still like it.
My bear.
My blue bear. My blue bear who sits on top of the blue blanky on top of my bed.
Good night.

Dear Mother

Dear Mother,
How can I know what you hear?
With a needle in a cliff,
I’m in a blackberry whirl.
Do you hear my voice as I lick the clouds?
Or is simply an imaginative swirl?
Squinting in the sun,
I sit wide-eyed with wonder
Watching the sweet soft freshness bloom.
I watch as your smile outshines the noonday sun,
And watch your eyes sparkle with memories.
Do you hear what I hear?
The elegant flow of fresh woven silk,
Or the warm footsteps of an overbearing crown?
Do you hear the fire in his eyes?
Or the wind in her hair?
These rivers of sound flow through my dreams, but
Dear Mother,
How can I know what you hear?

Life

Pieces of a puzzle
Fitting together irregularly
Not perfect,
Yet all together manageable.
Shadow, Light, Is this life?

Why can we not see him?
Shadow, light…
Is this me?
How do I see?
Squares                Sepa     rate
Pictures     br  o    k    en
Idea                                          WHOLE
Shadow, light, Is this life?

Motion, fiction
Darkness, light
Is this life?

Rebuttal

words me corrupted
 spear whetted
 it jetted
 burning soul into

words last i know
 you they tell
 of fall my
lament

Hi

Her hand caresses
With careful finesses.
Her hair is quite lavish
And It I can ravish.

She walks the right way
And it fits to her sway
of her bouncy
Lovely
Stunningly striking
Walk across my eyes.

You Good for Nothing…

I try
You nitpick

I speak
You turn away

I forget
You laugh

I stumble
You trip

I bleed
You hand me a mop

So why in the world
Do I care about you?

Concert

The rush of stepping onto the stage,
Being in the spotlight of the crowd.
Intensity rising as I open the page.
Waiting to play the first note aloud.
I look around seeing people of every age.
And I must be looking proud.

I play soft as a morning breeze,
Only to gradually grow and grow,
And at the climax I seize
The audience in one quick flow,
The in one breath make them freeze.

For I have achieved the most magnificent show.

Fall

Staring into the emptiness of the woods,

I listen

Leaves swirling in the wind,
Birds singing the songs of fall,
Squirrels scurrying up and down trees.

I listen

Deer wandering with their young,
As the cold winds blow past my body,
Like a string less balloon floating in the wind.

I listen

And realize how full the woods really are.

Beach

Brilliant and banded,
The crawler’s mighty shield
Forms a perpetual swirl,
Serving as the last defense
From the higher fire.
Or perhaps, just a necklace piece.

Night

Endless depth of unimagined expanse,
As the eyes first drink the sweet pricks of light,
The soul is released to explore,
To examine the deepest secrets of creation
Or merely to stretch its wings.
Who can resist the Godly planets
When they call beaker from their celestial halls?
Not I, nor imagination,
As all things slip into perspective
Of infinite smallness.

---

The Prophet of Magazine Street

He stands tall except for a hunch in his shoulder.
Peeling fingers, twisted as the asphalt.

He crouches down on the pavement
performing a rain dance with his pupils.
Fixing his snarled hair like an antenna,
tilting his head just right
to get contact from his Mother.

Chapped splotchy lips move.
Silently.
Uttering truths that were forever lost to those with
ears.
We that lay prone to the folds of sanity,
one suffocating layer upon another.

the staccato of his frenzied fingers upon the sidewalk
only muffle shouts in the dark

---

Faith

Wherein does the secret lie
That will reveal your heart to me?
To know
To feel
To understand
To unveil that I might see.

Do trust and faith elude you?
Has hurt locked you away?
You tread so soft on true love’s path
You yearn, yet shy away.

Warm arms belie the wary walls
You’ve built around your heart,
So tight
So strong
So unafraid
So close, yet still apart.

Are you reaching that I might find you?
Casting out with tentative hands?
I wait to gently embrace you,
To give you all I can.

Your eyes speak with an eloquence
Your voice has yet to find,
So warm
So true
So promising
So little doubt behind.

Let’s revel in the journey,
Buried doubts be cast aside,
Believe, accept, and find the faith
Your worried heart decried.

See now the world you’ve dreamed of
Just trust in what you feel,
To know
To feel
To understand
My love for you is real.

---

My Accomplishment

I stiffened more and more with every pace
Feeling the reflex of my legs slowly
Disintegrate; shifted lines on my face,
Clenched on to my mother instantly.

Thinking to myself, “What am I to say?”
My hands kept on fluttering to my hair.
What am I supposed to do? Can I pray?
The trembling crept back with every glare.

Finally, I turned the corner. Oh my!
I saw them, was mute, and became creamy.
They all started to tear, as so did I.
Darting to their embrace, I held my dream.

My heart released a cry of fulfillment.
I had my family, my accomplishment.

---

Stroll in the City

Ambling down and around Times Square
for business but doesn’t realize who’s there,
looking at David Blane, frozen in ice blocks,
but doesn’t realize he’s next to Michael J. Fox,

Dad turns around and much to his surprise,
he stares Michael J. straight in the eyes,
HOLY CRAP! IT’S MIKE FROM THE SHOW FAMILY TIES!
THIS IS THE GUY WHO I ALWAYS IDOLIZED!

Trying to act welcoming and whipping up something witty,
Dad comes up with “Hey Mike!  We miss you on Spin City.”
a moment of silence
that disturbed like violence,
TICK…TICK…TICK….
conquering the noises of the 5 o’ clock traffic…

…“No matter what, Mike, I’m still your biggest fan.”…
…Michael J. replies, “Hey, thanks a lot man.”
both showing a friendly smile.
This made Dad’s trip all worthwhile.

(dedicated to my father’s admiration for Michael J. Fox and an incident where he almost met him in Times Square on a business trip)

---

Gypsy Robe

Step, kick, leap, touch,
 spinning and
 twirling and
 spinning and
 twirling again
Step, kick, leap, touch.

We are the specks of dust on my stage
Dancing and whirling consumed by a want
Fueling the fire of the lead man' s rage
"You're nothing you're dust on my stage."

We are the light that no one can see
A swarming mass of unnoticed parts
Shadowed by people much bigger than we.
They won't notice dust on the stage.

Although those specks are made all of gold
Put it together, it's worth so much more
The chorus of dancers, sight to behold
But background to the lead man's role.

So credit each one with the Gypsy Robe
Glad to be golden specks on the stage.
Parts of each become parts of the robe.
And it's passed to each new dancer.

Pretend we're the lead man, worth just as much
Dance like we're the greatest part of the show
Create lasting effects, and doing such
We make others recognize us.

Flitting and floating the gypsy robe swirls
It dazzles and shimmers, the many parts flash
It shines in the eyes of the hopeful girls
"We'll dance for the gypsy rope."

Step, kick, leap, touch
 spinning and
 twirling and
            spinning and
 twirling again
Step, kick, leap, touch.

The Dance of the Gypsy Robe.
We dance for the Gypsy Robe.


---

Life Letter

Holding the lightweight object in my sweaty hand
The reality strikes me like lightening
I am grasping one of the most important moments of my life.

I look down, and my fingers are clamped around it
Like a snake suffocating its prey before devouring it.
I can smell the faint aroma of a factory
And I run my shaky fingers over its sharp corners.

Pure white, unlike any white I ever seen
An invitation to explore its shallow depths
Becomes irresistible.
I slowly rotate it, becoming the Earth
Spinning around the sun.

At that moment the Earth stops.
I feel no pull of gravity or the passing of time.
I stare into the white abyss, and I feel it staring back.

It sees into my soul, knows my deepest longings and
Discovers my darkest secrets, with no intention
Of withholding the truth
Inside its rectangular frame.

Holding the lightweight object in my hand
I release my vise-like grip and time begins again.


---

Vanity of Pain

Who can feel
without gold zeal,
the fire of the real deal
Pain?

Skin’s shell slice
tries to entice
but blood can’t suffice
Work.

Spiked mean bold
for arms to hold
but strong tongues to scold
Joy.

Not the same
no success game
carts a shameful blame:
Fail

will not strain
my minute brain
while stroking my pride is vain
Pain.


---


Wanting

You ask me what I want
And I freeze
In silence
My heart pounds

How do I answer
Everything
You
Everything you will give

But out loud it’s lost
Fear sets in
Brain sensors
Heart’s thoughts

Feelings so strong
So soon
Can’t be expressed
Repressed

So ask me and I hide
Too scared to run
Won’t ask for what
You won’t give

But all the while
All I know
Like it when you’re near
Don’t want you to go.


---


Pong

I once played Pong
Squares bounce
back and forth slowly
Paddles guarding my void.

Why play this old thing
When aliens need blastin'
In neon-lit sky?

Six hours later-
Darn cheating A.I.
finally conquered.
A winner is me!


---


Three Equals One

My grandmother’s hands are weak and fragile,
She chops the potatoes,
The juice jumps from the cubes.
My mother’s hands are like a worker’s,
She minces the layered onion,
The smell overwhelms and burns the nose.
My hands are youthful and full of wonder,
I stand back in awe,
As I watch them maneuver with ease.
The generations merge into one—
One moment in time.


---


Grandma’s World Famous Cookies

A familiar red car pulls up the driveway,
The one that says “New York State”.
All of the children run out and scream, “Yay!”
As they see the signature plate.

When Grandma’s cookies are gone,
All the kids sit and ponder.
Prompting a happy-go-lucky reply,
“I take it you like Betty Crocker?”


---


A Quarter and a Nickel

I could smell him before my eyes caught his faded green coat
A broad smile was forced across my face
He was bundled so tightly he could barely load his groceries onto my belt
His puffy fingers grasped at the few items
Holding them tight to keep his hands from quivering
His black rough fingernails made me cringe
I… I… I… he stuttered
Ooh this ice cream looks great!
My friendly, cheerful voice made him smile
The brown and crooked teeth stunned me
I kept ringing, keeping my eyes down.
That will be twelve dollars.
He handed me a wrinkled ten with a ripped corner.
Sir you need two more dollars.
He nodded and smiled.
We have to take something away.
I scrounged in my pocket feeling nothing but a quarter and a nickel.
Here lets take that ice cream off.
He smiled and handed it to me.
Sir the bill is now ten sixty-five.
Do you have sixty-five cents?
He smiled and handed me another item to take off.
His bill came to ten dollars exactly.
As he walked away, I wished I had those two dollars.
Ten minutes later he came back.
Bus!
Did you miss the bus?
Quarter, nickel.
You don’t have enough for the bus?
I felt in my pocket.
A quarter.
A nickel.
Here sir, and don’t forget to have a good day.

---

Droplets of Sorrow

The Drip drop persistent beads of life tumble on the window,
glissening it, making it slippery and wet.
The bleak perpetual motion of one tiny droplet trickles down.
Protruding through other beads, breaking through, breaking through the pain and anguish.
Making its way into this world in a meak cumbersome way.
But then sunlight!
light coming up from the ground, life given to the earth, a sweet droplet, that rose up instead of down.
life springs forth from the fatal loins of roots parched and dry.
There is Hope
There is suffering, but there is Hope, Hope for all human kind
in this Droplet.

---

The Hawk

The hawk perches upon my family tree;
A stranger among the leaves.
Chosen for her sanctuary,
Our ample branches support the burden of her weight.
Her thick jagged  claws grasp his heart and seize my throat,
They suffocate my thoughts and suppress my lips.

The hawk looms upon my family tree, growing fat upon my nourishment.
Within me she plagues self-doubt and torment.
Her eyes, dull and black with naivety, glare down from the branches above.
Why do you nest in my brain?
You cause me such anguish!

To me you are the hawk
To him you are the sun.

You illuminate his day,
You send his leaves into photosynthesis.
He needs you, I know this.
The twinge of my heart,
The grit of my teeth,
The wince of my eyes,
I restrain for him.

The child I used to swim with on warm summer nights,
The boy I rode bikes with on half days in spring,
And a shoulder to cry on in an ever changing world.
My brother, your other, he is my flesh and blood.

When he asks—I speak freely—
But it destroys him.
I cannot hide what his soul feels so deeply.

I love him; I silence my tongue.
I choose not to be the serpent—hissing messages of disdain.

Quite soon I shall shed your clenching claws and your peering eyes.
I will leave it behind and
Clear my mind like the blue skies that lie in the horizon.

For in the end my family tree will remain strong.

---

Snow

It seems like it’s all I see
All this last year had been
True, there have been snowball fights
Sledding, and Snow Angels,
Hot chocolate and cold hands on clear crisp nights.
But
There have been nights where ice
Under my feet caused me to slip…slide…
  Skid….
        Stand straight up…
Only to fall flat on my face.
Ice so thick, I wonder
When and if summer returns
To my life,
If the radiant sun
Can melt it-
Or will the pure white snow
Blanket and obscure the world
While all the while creating its treacherous ice
In an everlasting winter?

---

Confinement

Anarchy- it’s not what I’m talking about.
Freedom- it’s what I can’t live without
Every direction I go, people say “No.”
Government, Teachers, Parents- They won’t let me grow.
All their lectures have been drilled into my head.
But down their predetermined paths I won’t be led.
They’ve tried to mold me into perfection.
Or, at least, set me in “the right direction.”
18 years living in this cage
Has produced so much rage.
No longer will I live in their box
I will fight to break off their locks.
Fight this dictatorship to break free.
Fight everyone to show them me!

---

Ice Burn

Staring into wolf’s eyes for centuries
As bitter ice dominates the Earth
The sky above becomes the ravening blue crystal of female irises
Freezing me in an elemental gaze.

Waiting here, complacent, steadfast, frozen in the gaze
For crystal eyes to deceive me.
Though they harbor an affinity to kill
Their siren treachery is a lovely worm.

---

Disillusioned

In the mirror,
Distorted reflections,
A puzzle missing pieces,
Searching endlessly to fill gaps,
Left hollowed,
Empty,
With nothing to offer,
Forced to hide eyes,
Like hands into empty pockets,
Beneath smooth surfaces,
The abrasions stand bold,
Obvious,
Hidden by the naked eye,
Wandering aimlessly,
Innocently,
Into the depths of souls,
Returning scarred,
In lack of understanding.

---

Who Are We

Who are we?
The huddled masses
Stumbling
Fumbling
Tumbling
Who are we?
What makes us tick?
What makes our hands
Sweep past
Hours
Days
Years?
Who are we?
Mere animals
Stuffed with pride?
God’s attempt as a taxidermist

---

To Be

He was.
She was.
They are.
Will I be?

---

Still Searching

What am I looking for?
A precious pinstripe,
Not blundered with cadet blue
Or gulded with Fool’s Gold
No- but with the white-caps of the Pacific
  Frost yourself
  Fill up- at Pride
    -on Pride
Still unswervingly
I highlight with burst sienna
With Tara’s emerald
Alongside Whistler’s Mother
Wholly devoted to
Dust to dust
And
Ashes to ashes.
…discovered.

---

Let Go

Dancing along
The edge of a cliff
Carelessly whirring
Deaf to the cautions

Cast by a mother
All but forgotten
Her voice radiates
Throat runs dry

Don’t cry over lost children
                                                                                     y
  Trust that they will                                       l
                                                           f

---

Astigmatism

The halo of fire
Imprisoning my dignity
Penetrating gaze
Bulging through the soft, translucent shell
Exposing every hidden layer.
Can I fool it?
I fear being touched by the flame
Of inadequacy
Yet seem to surrender
To the overpowering light.
Helpless, hopeless,
Unknowing
Unwilling to accept
But yearning for the cooling strength
The ability to exist beyond the all-seeing eye.
Please, make it stop looking.

---

The Frying Pan Dance

Whack…whack…whack
A wooden spoon against steel
Sets a steady street beat
Soon the steady soprano voice
Of frying onions in hot oil
Carries a familial melody
The steam slowly rises
In delicate spirals and curls
One white whisp
Turns to another
“May I have this dance?”
They Twirl and Twist
Flicker and Spin
A smooth waltz
Transforms itself into
A fiery salsa
A multitude of dancers
Leap and loop
Off the silver floor
Weaving through one another
Intertwined arms and legs
Soaring towards the ceiling
Where they fade away under the bright incandescent light.

---

What They Mean To Me

Voices echoing
                                         Echoing
                                                                          Echoing
                                            Emotions slammed against the wall
Meaningless
                                      Pointless
                                                                          Stupidity
                                       Emotions slammed against the wall
Worthless
                                       Emotions slammed against the wall
                                                                      You will not survive
                                     You cannot succeed
The real world
                           Emotions slammed against the wall
                                                                           Failure
                          Emotions slammed against the wall
I don’t believe in you
                  Emotions slammed against the wall
                                                                  But I can, you see
                          I may not know what I want to be
But I can succeed
                 Emotions slammed against the wall
                                                                           I can do it!
                  I want to be something, do something with my life
Emotions slammed against the wall
                                             Echoing…
                                                                             I believe
Emotions slammed against the wall
                                              I believe
                              Emotions slammed against the wall
                                               Echoing
Echoing
                                                                               Echoing
             Emotions slammed against the wall
                                            I believe in myself.

---