Monday, September 26, 2011

Thirsty Strangers in a House of Cards

The room was falling down around us
Paint chipped off the molding walls
Each morning waking my back to yours
A heavy fog in my lungs

Our bodies had melded together
Our hearts our wounds our clothes
But the room was falling down around us
As we tried to ignore our scars

So I took your knife and sliced my deepest vice back to life
Tracing the blade down lines the past had left
Bleeding out to let you in, to heal again
Then leaving you, salt in the wound, with the rest of them

Some loves you can't just hide
They live inside you like a parasite
You're sick with it for your life
Like a drug to get you by

You were the drug that got me by
And now you're an overdose
One more fall off the tightrope
Only this time I fall from great heights

And the room falls down around us
I hit the floor as the ceiling hits my head
Pinned under years of scars and buildings
My heart crushed with the weight of it

Loves the drug that'll kill us
it'll hang us by our necks till death
you see we're both in love with loving
and the ones we use it with

I'm an addict
just like you
between the walls of this room
you know everything

leave me, let me be.....
Alone again

Sunday, September 25, 2011


a night of regrets
followed by the awkward sun
rising to greet fools

slender fingers grip the
the car
glides toward the horizon
clouds slowly, peel back
like curtains
and the white world cracks open
wide-eyed and blind
she reaches out and
grabs it.

Night skies loom above
wearing the stars
draped as elegant gems
and she layed underneath the moon
her skin glowing
cast in antique silver

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

My Thoughts As Microwaves

I write atleast 3 poems a day
most of them never make it to paper
but i like to think
the poems I wrote that perished
somewhere inside of my head
made it out alive and are floating
somewhere in outer space

Someday when I am gone
some future race
or one of my distant descendants
will discover some new frequency
beaming back from deep space
and they'll hear these thoughts and poems
the ones I've lost and assumed dead
and maybe it will start some sort of
renaissance or revolution or
atleast send them looking
farther than any man has gone before

and I'll be alive in their hearts and minds
and they will discuss me in university classrooms
and some will claim in the Devil
while others will say I'm God
children will be named after the men and women in my stories
people will wage war in my name
people will fight and die for me
my stories will be passed down from generation to generation
and they will write it all down and make it into a book
and leave it in nightstands at cheap motels
and I will be on the Best Sellers list for a thousand years


the white haired scientist
tinkering in their basement
that brilliant descendant of mine
will tune in to the frequency beaming back
to this planet from the outer edges of space
thousands of years from now
and pass right over it
unable to find any beauty within all the white noise

Friday, September 09, 2011

For us, if we weren't so confused

You were kept in a weird way
Alive like a flower under glass
We were close enough to know it well
This time would never last

Cause there's a giving and a taking
That comes with all you are
There's a yesterday and tomorrow
That leaves us with what we have right now

There's a captured flag upon a hill
A lighthouse in a storm
There's a fall and bottles bottom
That leads you to rebirth

I could hold you once upon a time
And laugh between the sheets
Cause the day is something sacred
That neither one of us can keep

And within words you've abandoned
And under fuller moons
There's a breaking and a saving
Ending a love thats true

Prayed for New Eyes

She prayed for new eyes
and soon thereafter fell
Into fever pitch
For seven days
She saw shadowed crowds
at the foot of her bed
Leaning in
For five days
She ate nothing
she slept
For three days
Her eyes bled

And when it broke
She was alone
Her eyes opened
and in her blindness
She saw
The truths she always knew
Only more clearly

from a cold couch in the house of my love

Wake up smelling my own sweat
And a bottle I danced into the night with
Up with the dawn the dogs and the rooster crows
Up with a paining heart in my chest
I'm a mess

What can you come home to
When home is what you left
What can you turn to
After all, the times been spent
What have you got
Turned your pockets out
Again and again
An empty head

I don't miss myself when I'm gone

Tied a shoelace
Made a fist
Crossed your fingers
Wished for this

I'll be gone for weeks now
I'll be gone as dead
I'll be too tired form sleeping
And playin for pretend

Tossed a coin
Took a shot
Head on fire
Body shock

If  I never thought of you
If  I never came
If  I never thought of you
You would be the same

Thursday, September 08, 2011

little bits

All the dogs you know have nightmares
They'll kick you in their sleep

There's a song in you everyday
that puts the breath back in me
Makes me believe tomorrow exists

Somethings are so much
that you're not yourself
but everything at once

I see your shoulder blades
curve with the chair made
just for the way you sit there

You breathe
asleep like the ocean
back n forth motions
and I am a ship lost at sea
under a starless sky

What is life but a million little distractions happening at once

shit end of the stick

The air was dry
I was dirty tired
And missin a home I hadn't made yet

You were there
You had cut your hair
And I was sad about it
Two ships in the night
Just passing by
You won't wake me in the morning
And a taste that was bad
Left in our mouths
From shit we ate
That rainy day
We went our ways
Smiles replaced

Now here in a home I have yet to make
One that was once yours
You no longer can take
I wish I could see you
For what you are now
And not just remember
Moments of ours

And part of me hates you
For shining your light
For rooftops and kisses
Stolen that night
That part of me hates you
The same part that regrets
those moments of weakness
Where I let you in

They're selling the mountains
One by one
To the highest bidder
At the landscape auction

They're selling the rivers
The stones in the streams
The grass in the pastures
The leaves on the trees

There's a lake over yonder with a couple of geese
Cost me my savings, threw the geese in for free
But they come and they go as they please
There are parts of the wild that you just can't keep

things i wont tell you

Encroaching on your territory and doing things I won't be able to take back. The past has left me crippled. I don't believe you in late loud rooms, I don't believe you drunk in the dark. Your pretty words are grains of sand strung on a hair like pearls and if truth was the needle used to string them there I'd be that needles pull. If I could believe you it'd be in the morning, in your bitter sleepy haze. You before the coffee drips, you right off the dream. That's where I love you forever. There you're made of gold. There nothing else matters. There we tear down walls we've built. Exposing ourselves in simple forms and laughing at the stones we've thrown.

The rain does to the sky
What I can not do to my eyes
For my heart

What hurts most
Is forcing yourself out of love

Like a moth winding back into its cocoon
Or dislocating a shoulder
Pulling a mangled tape from a tape player
Holding your breath

Trying to fit back into some form of yourself
So small
When you've grown swollen with the entire beauty of the world

Somethings just right
Soft and light

You played that song
Down on the docks
I dipped in my toe
And watched the ripple
Out to sea

Monday, September 05, 2011


The church towers over the
neighborhood. It
is a constant reminder
that you are being watched.
Over your shoulder, peeking
at you between buildings,
always the center
your line of sight.

Maniac street sweeper does
not care about your life
or property. He is an urban
glacier, remaking the

Ticket puncher or token taker,
squeezed into her daily costume
tries to shake off her skin.
She is tightly packed gunpowder.
Her hair is her is glowing
and her walk impresses concrete.

old man drags a dolly down
the street and stops
in front of the church. He
genuflects and bows his head.

He crosses himself. He lets
go of his cargo because
the church doors are open on
this August morning and he
has a direct view across the street
and up the stairs and over the pews
to the tabernacle.

His mother leaning over his shoulder
“Mostrar respeto. Es su lugar
de ser humilde.”
She fears brick and
placates mortar. She raised
masonry missionaries.
This city is a church
built on bones.
The earth is too much, you
must place your faith
into what is cut into it.