Friday, July 27, 2012

The Constant



I rode west on a horse
But I wasn't a cowboy

I wore a crown of thorns
But I wasn't a messiah

I crucified my dreams
But I wasn't forsaken

I shattered a mirror
But I wasn't unlucky

I wrote 10,000 lines
Blew 10,000 minds
And signed a book 10,000 times
But I wasn't famous

I was still me

Hellbound VI



I brought you home
Your eyes were under the bed
A thousand miles
From the back of your head
I saw it all
An open door and nowhere to stop
Stuck like a lake with no dock
I tried to change
I tried to change who you loved
You let me down
But I never gave up
I held your keys and I
Held your hand
Under mine
You didn't care
Until you did
Like a desert
You said my heart
Was like a desert
Everyone in it
Always gets hurt
By the
Heat of my love
Like a desert
You said my heart
Was like a desert
So I invited
So much weather
I made all my sand, dirt.

Friday, July 20, 2012

Hellbound V




I tried to reach around your head
Your clouded words
Were all but heaven
Never staying anywhere alone
For more than 20 minutes
Everything I ever lost in you
I found in someone else
Since I can't dance alone
Inside the halls
Of all my favorite hells
I see the opportunity
To chase you down
In the pursuit of sleep
But a pillow seems
So new to me
Would you believe
I wasn't alone last night
But I was at home last night
Dressed like a god with a bone
Buried in luck
With whiskey stuck
To the mouth of my phone
Last night

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Hellbound IV



Welcome to paradise
Where I lay paralyzed
On the bathroom floor
Behind a broken door

Whimpering, waiting
For you to save me
Maybe I've killed my heroes
Burning and breaking
Down into vagaries
Baby I'll be your zero
But don't think
I won't drink
Enough to drown this city
I don't mean
To scare you
But this beast is oh so pretty

Welcome to paradise
Where I lay paralyzed
On the bathroom floor
Behind a broken door
Empty bottles all around
Some orange and some are brown
My demons all alive
This is my paradise

Hellbound III



You tried to open my blinds
But you can't save me
With the light outside
You can hear them laugh
Inside my mind
To a cadence
Of broken glass
You can see them burn
Behind my eyes
To the cadence
Of a hopeless past
I'll always be true
I'll never hurt you
But when my demons come
You better fucking run
You may not want to
But they will hunt you
If they realize you've won
My cold and broken tongue
I used to think that love was blind
But they find me every time
No matter where I hide
And so I never hide

Hellbound II




I'd like to be that bright spot
Slipping through your shades
Bouncing of your mirrors to the walls
Making sure your days are always better
Than the ones before
But as much as I'd like to
I'll never try to
I just like my demons even more

Hellbound I



I'd like to love you
But all I can offer is a shallow pond
My deep end's dark and filled
With demons darker, still
I'd be your shallow pond
But nothing more

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Natalie



Why would life be like this
I don't know why it's
So hard to sing to you
When your eyes turn violent
The indigos and violets
Become so far and few
But still I stay for the night
Challenging every light
In a race to supernova
I'm buried to my shoulders
But still I stay for the night
To see those indigos and violets

Monday, July 16, 2012

Attempted Larsony




She said I see you burning out
It's so beautiful it hurts
Our time's not running out
But I'm running out of words
To keep you down
against the ground where you belong

She said her voice is not like mine
It's not as broken as you think
And your tongue's a lot like mine
But a lot like mine, it bleeds
In black and white
against the currents and the fights

She said you take something apart
To learn to fix it
Just like you break a lover's heart
Until you miss it
And she could never fix your heart
But I will be the fix your heart needs
To beat a little longer

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Glass Castle




You were a queen
in no ones life but mine
and I was to be your king.
I refused your love;
refused to take that throne.
But I never refused
to take you home.
We were a mess apart
and messy together, still-
we created beauty.
We created a beautiful world
and destroyed it
like the monsters that meet
every night at our feet.
The glass caricatures
of self possession
in a glass castle
of romantic security.

The Tourist III



We walked into Wonder Bar
Mouthing our words
As our voices were washed
By modQUAD's Gypsy Tita
We grabbed a corner table
For two on the patio
To make shaky small talk.
Two dry vodka martinis
One with lemon peel and bitters
One with orange.
I asked how she liked the cityscape
She rambled an answer
I barely understood
But I enjoyed every second of it.
Our drinks arrived just in time
And she continued on
Paused for moment-
By the first sour flame
To peel the lining of her throat.
Her eyes winced and winked
Her head tilted down
And she waved her hand
Over her neck
And she continued on.
As she spoke I fell; strange.
On the braid of her lips
I found a bended creek
To skips thoughts across;
A place where
Peace and madness make love.
She sipped her second drink
Staining the straw,
The straw blushing
Like her blushing
From the heat of the
vodka and bitters;
From the heat of my eyes
Walking all over her.
She wants to leave,
We want to leave,
But our nerves still need
A few more drinks
And the band's jazz
Keeps kicking till two.

The Tourist II



I finally met her
And I was carrying
the only living flower
Between Chicago and New York.
A purple carnation;
The reincarnation of her smile.
Her teeth couldn't have
Left a deeper impression
On me if she bit me
And still she bit me
On my lip ring.
"Don't ever make me
Feel like a tourist again!"
As her smile opened.
I promised I wouldn't
If she'd promise the same
But first I explained
The impossibility of that-
In my own bed
In the city I was raised in
In my parents' house
I feel like a tourist.
In the cliche cafe
I read my work;
In the art museum
Where I work,
I feel like a tourist.
There's only one place
In this life, that I know of
That feels like home
And that is in
The reflection of her eyes.

Thursday, July 12, 2012

The Tourist





There's a pretty girl
Somewhere on East 4th
In downtown Cleveland
Waiting for me,
For 20 minutes now,
Anxious and out of place.
She's rifling through her
Peacoat pockets
To check her phone
For the time in hopes
Of rewinding the digits;
For a text that says
I'll be there in a minute.
Her nerves are running
As pins crash to her right
In the bowling alley
And people dance to her left
At the House of Blues
To Chuck Berry's
You Never Can Tell.
She feels so small
Between the buildings
That bury her thoughts;
Between the crowds and traffic
That swarm over and around her.
Between the time and I.

Je Lui Dis



I'd like to make a toast
To you and your freckles.
To your bird wings and kind eyes.
To your creamy skin I barely touched.
To that date that made us sick.
I'd like to make toast
But I don't know if you even drink
I hope tonight you will.
And tomorrow I'll kiss you
To wake you up
And make a toast
To the sweat we shared.
To the moans we married.
To the love we made
That we won't forget.

Poetry Eats



The blue
in the fire
that I move with

The smooth
on the tires
that I groove with

The shoes
on the wires
that I too hit

The rules
from up higher
I call bullshit

Clushed



My eyes followed you
When you weren't looking
Your eyes mimicked mine
I was always looking
I told you I liked the wet of your lips
I guess wet wasn't the word
But wet was the verb
That made you what you were
I dried you with drinks
So you wouldn't slip from my hands
We left the bar early
A first for us
But alcohol never lost
It's thirst for us

Like These Old Books



We leave ourselves
everywhere
shedding fragments
of skin and ink.

Our spines crumble
old and bare
shedding guesswork
of melodrama.

We burn alive
barely scared
raining ashes
of somnambulism.

Büble of the Futile



Stuck in a Petrie dish
of worthless machines
running on steam
and stale gasoline.
The city sings
of people weened off dreams
like mundane fiends
that cling to the wings
of myths. Angels aren't things
but imaginary flings
that clean the conscience
of grieving, thieving
and reaping beliefs.

Thursday, July 5, 2012

The Beach



She is a shore
and I am her breaker
protecting her moans
like wild pauses
of the sea by wind,
from the waves of filth
that threaten her beauty;
from behind a crowd
of oil scented skin.

She is a shore 
and I am her breaker
in tangible sight
but infinitely apart like two
negatively charged magnets;
if I move to her
she is pushed back,
if I keep moving
she will disappear
and I become a wall
boring, jagged, ignored,
eroding; I will disappear.

She is a shore
and I am her breaker
satiated to see her
but once, I wish,
I will challenge the world,
freeze the shallows,
disperse the crowd,
lift her tears back
and sit in her sand.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Nothing Worth Keeping Comes Without Loss




I am a welding rod
left; abandoned
weathered for years
bending, flaking 
but never breaking
left; abandoned
in punji pits of romance
destroyed; not by 
your touch nor scent 
but by a lack of you
destroyed but magnificent 

I am an antique book
alive; endangered
weathered for years
something, fading
but never changing
alive; endagered
by unanswered fires of romance
destroyed; not by
your careless hands
but by a lack of them
destroyed but invaluble

I am a stone in the breaker
deformed; unable
weathered for years
steady, crying
but never dying
deformed; unable
to walk with you in romance
destroyed; not by
your rain nor wind
but by a lack of you
destroyed but immaculate