Saturday, December 17, 2011

The End

This was written on December 17th 2011

Proverbial pen
You have struck again
A voyage unlike any
Seen before it
Yet still there is an emptiness
Something left behind from another era
Where her hair fell upon limp hands
As if to be brought back to life
She waited for his hands
His hands waited for her hair
Wishing that something could be felt
She leaned against his shoulder
Wanting to once again feel a sturdiness there
Pulling away
As if to say
That he gave it up once
But would not give it up again
She hurt him
More than either can understand
He hurt her
More than either can understand
So they sat
In silence
Wishing they could go back
To what they were before
But it was over

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Jealousy and a New Life

This was written on December 12th, 2011

Sitting on the sidelines again
As all my friends pass me by
Finding love and success in their life
What do I have?
What do I wish for?
Still not enough effort springs forth
And with all these new wounds
It's too hard to even think
Let alone move
So sitting and pondering
Instead of acting and reacting
All I have is complaints
So my vision taints
To a jealous red
As my friend lies in bed
With a girl I've never been over

Funny how even when you know you're not ready
Even when the pen does not sit steady
In your hand
You find a way to write
To bite
Down on your own tongue
Until you bleed enough ink
To write again
Because passion is what pushes us forth
Both the pleasure and the pain
Still I wish I wasn't this person
I wish that I wasn't a writer
So that when my heart started to break again
The cycle was not sustained
By my wish to write
Were I to keep from dwelling in this
Maybe my feet would move again
And my heart would recover
Rather than sit here
Filled with jealousy

Still I came home
Knowing this was bound to happen
Just like my whole life here
All I've ever done is cause myself pain
Fall for the same girl again and again
Until my heart shattered so hard
That not even a shard
Could be found
I left behind happiness
Returning to this misery
For what?
For writing
The writing that defines me
And makes me sick
This is not a new life
Just a repetition
And this circle needs to be broken

Sunday, August 21, 2011

The Bold Truth

This was written on August 21st 2011

If I were to push this pen
Would it be considered a sin

Is it a sin for me to force forth the bubbling curiosity of my life,
Onto these pages?
As if what I think is for everyone to know?
What am I to do when I begin to question myself?
Some part of me wishes for the sharing of my experience.
To just help people become a part of what I know,
Without having to feel it for themselves.
Something they can relate to,
Without experiencing the pain of.

Not that all of this is pain,
There is joy in everything I do.
That is why I share myself.
Opening up old wounds through my writing,
Until my pen bleeds upon this page.
Forming words of pure and open angst, rage and passion.

Somehow I have lost myself in my work though,
Stopped writing for myself,
Purely become a performer for the entertainment,
Sexual pleasure or sturdy shoulder,
Of those I love.

Means many things to many people.
As I sit in a town that expects marriage at a young age.
A town oriented around a religious belief which values honesty.
Sensing this foreboding quiet of forgotten honesty,
My bones are chilled and hairs stand on end.
They value something they do not push forth,
At least not with the full passion and providence of my expectations.
Truth takes no prisoners,
Harbors no passages of falsehood,
It is pure, rough, like giant boulders of barely cooling magma.
Burning with such a ferocity and heat,
But a beauty all its own.
I am drawn to its flame like bugs to a light.

Contemplate the depth of tenacity and full disclosure,
The kind that breaks passages,
Forms caverns,
Opens your mind to truth.

Friday, July 22, 2011

Waiting for Rain

This was written on July 22nd, 2011

Searching for a clean slate
Flooding forward with so much passion
No pen with which to capture and push forth
Pails and buckets are not large enough to contain
Nothing seems to sit, right now
Every word falls flat
Its beautiful sound lost on this tongue
Every word is spit forth, angry and devoid of meaning
Rage filling up the vast storage where no inspiration can be stored
Every word is as red as a target
Just waiting to be shot down with the red pen of the English teacher
Every word seems as if an empty world is backing it
There are no people, plants, animals, each world is devoid of life
Devoid of meaning
So searching deeper, delving deeper into the recesses
The cracks, canyons and caverns
Swimming through the atmosphere with wings made like fins
Nothing comes of it
Eventually even the wish to find inspiration fails
So the creature sits still, wings folded neatly in its lap
Waiting next to pails and buckets set up to capture the next rain
Hoping that with just that little bit of water
Life can spring forth again from one of these planets devoid of anything but rage

Monday, July 4, 2011

To the Girl I Once Knew

This was written on July 4, 2011

Trying so hard to avoid
Little reminders of you
Every thought and every dream
Eat me from inside, out
Like a hole in my stomach
Hydrochloric acid leaking out
Burning paths throughout
My insides as you simply touch
My mind
I want to leave it all behind

Can't we just let this silence end?
Can't we go back to being good friends?
Know that asking be too much
So I just let you touch
My mind

Let you use it as your stage
Let the others see the page
Where I made my choice
And held steadfast
When I created the last
True memory I have of you
All the explosives blast
As if a continual timer
Sits inside my heart
Every memory of you giving it a start
So that acids and blood
Come pouring forth again
Till I feel like I'm dying
Wishing that the feeling was true
Not just an exaggeration
Built from how much I'm missing you

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Catacombs of my soul

This was written June 21st, 2011

Deeper than anything:
The graveyard of my soul
Every passage has branches
More tombs than any graveyard
Could ever hold
My soul is the soil
Soil for those around me
The ground on which you stand
Walk upon me softly
Every breath taken
Shifts stones deep inside
Opening another passage
Another tunnel
Inside my catacombs

Not one man, woman or child
Buried inside this tomb
Just the past
Buried for the better
The future shines through
Small cracks between each stone
The light of my life

Brighten forever more
A graveyard of memories
Passages of time and love
Come and go as you please
But I ask
With every sight you see
Add another
Make another memory inside
Forge another pathway
In my mind
For nothing is greater
Than the memories
I have here

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Life is a Boulder

This was written on May 25th 2011

In the soul
A rolling boulder
So hard to move on
Nothing left to hold it
Without Sisyphus
The boulder has no purpose
For a while standing still
Then the rolling
Begins to overtake it
Losing all control

Afraid at first
The wind whipping
Trying to hold
No success in slowing
This boulder of life
The boulder feels compassion
For Sisyphus
Understands why it was left
On the hill
That it has another purpose
It becomes its own
Pure as spring water
Straight from the aquifer
Crisp and clean

This soul
Is rolling
A boulder
Words cannot
Change this thought
It is time
To move on

Monday, May 23, 2011

The Noise Diver

This was written on May 23, 2011

The morning's silence
Broken by a sound
Through the empty halls
Feeling the noise
Hairs shift to meet it
To feel it against them
The sound has a hand
Running down this arm
Softly feeling
Not quite touching the skin
Into the soft back
The noise plunges
A dive from a thirty foot cliff
Cold and stiff
It ripples again
Up and down a spine

No pain and no fear
Just ripples
Across this body of water
The diver feels no noise
Only silence
Beneath the surface
The ripples stop
For a moment
All is peaceful again
A single bubble floats
To the surface
Ripples beginning anew
The noise
The diver
Leaves the water
Every hair stands on end
Searching for that hand
Which had brushed so softly
Had touched so nicely
Craving the feeling once more

The noise broke peace
Created a life
Ended a life
The noise is life
Everything we know
We've yet to know
When did noise change you
When did a diver send ripples
Through your body
As he broke the surface
Did you feel pain
Or just a tingle
A soft hand creating a craving
For more

Friday, April 29, 2011


This was written on April 29th, 2011

A craving for knowledge growing and flowing
The river that created the Grand Canyon
Faster than the passion can grow
It is overwhelmed by the useless
Commercials flooding my mind
Products I would not dare to dream of using
Closing my eyes I can see more images
Littering the inside of my eyelids
Clawing at my eyes to make it stop
To see the black behind my lids again
Sitting in complete darkness for weeks
Just wishing
Wishing that I could go back to my childhood
Not for the innocence of the world
Or the lack of responsibility
Purely so I can feel a passion for learning
A passion so pure that its white hot flame
Would not be dissuaded by media's fourth coming
People seem to cope with this flood
Better than I've ever been able to
So many issues with society and culture
So little time to even open my mouth
Another plate of information devoured
I can feel my insides burning
Begging me to stop and take a break
But I know not how
I've been taught to gorge myself
Take what I can while I can take it
Fear pushes me forward
There may not be another day
For me to learn this
Somewhere along the way I forgot something
It was important
I know that I set it down near here
Near the first memories of my childhood
Or was it here when I was part of a team of greats
Maybe it was here when I got my first real job
I can't find it and the memory of its existence fades
Again I tried searching
Hoping for an answer that I once knew no question to
But another plate is set down in front of me
Filled with information of a royal wedding
I try to protest that I'm full
Try to explain that I don't like this food
But as I open my mouth
I feel the information shoved in
Convulsing, I feel as if I'm about to explode
All those buffets of information start leaking out
Every orifice pours out words and pictures
Movies and novels
Stories and math I'd never dreamed of
Everything I'd ever wanted to know goes with it
I sit with a passion again
But no reasonable understanding of where to begin
Surrounded by regurgitated knowledge
I begin to gorge once more

Thursday, April 7, 2011

This is Not a Love Poem

This was written on April 7th, 2011

I've been avoiding this
Avoiding my pen for weeks now
Trying not to pick it up
Because I know the truth
That the only one I want to write for
Is you

The ink is so dark
Against this paper
Like blood against your skin
And the remorse that stains me
Takes my heart and crushes it
Leaves nothing for me to stand with
No strength to hold myself up
But no reason to let myself down
I've already broken my own vows
Torn myself from a marriage
Of our minds
With nothing but an idea
The idea to succeed
In this shit hole world
Where bullets strike little girls

But that's not the point
Of these words
I'm not looking at our society
Only at myself
Where I went wrong with you
When I tried to pressure you
And rape you with my words
Don't be absurd
You know what I did
But still you tried to swallow your shame
And I caused you more pain
By pushing on your stomach
Where I know you stored what I'd done
So you vomited in response
An eruption of words sprung forth
Like the fountain of lies I'd been telling myself
That pushing you on this subject
Was okay
But I knew better
And our friendship ended that day

I wish you could have seen
The world as I did
Saw a future for us both
Living on into forever
But I knew better than to believe
Knew better than to deceive
Myself into believing
That we could be anything but friends
But this is not a love poem
I'm not trying to make you understand
What crossed my mind
I just want to apologize
For what I've done to you
But I know that it doesn't matter
So you won't ever read these words
Because you'd just deny
That I had any affect
You're too strong and proud
To admit that there was something
Between your lies
That was truth
You said you loved me once
I wanted to believe you
But this is not a love poem
It's an apology
That you'll never hear
Because you're too proud
To admit that I did anything
In the first place
But I'm sorry
For saying what I said
And for forgetting my duty
As your pedestal

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Failed Faith

This was written on February 19th, 2011

Been trying not to write
Not to bite
Onto your lies
There are no fries
In my basket of grease
Nothing left to feed you
Use the salt to heal your wounds
But my hands can't seal them
Too much blood for me to stop
Your heart beats too hard
Too fast

Last night my head hit the pavement
Slammed senseless
Without remorse or recourse
Just a straight path to the grave
Where I sit with the flowers
Pushing them from my chest
There is no rest
For me now

There is something I must conquer
Standing by your side
My hands stained with your blood
I lift you up
High into the clouds
Letting you soar above the others
I became your pedestal
A year and a half ago

Your first words meant nothing
Our first hug had no feeling
Emotion passed between us
Without a consideration
Now I'm sitting here
With a broken pen
Ink staining my hands
The same way your blood did
In a dream I once told you of
Where a girl bled out in my arms
You did not know
Because I did not want you to

Now I hide in my own faith
It's disturbing
Because I'm still afraid
To tell you the truth

Monday, February 7, 2011

The Man Who Tells Time by the Sun

This was written on February 7th, 2011

In a world of computer technology
There's a man who tells time by the sun
And he looks at me with his one good eye
He says, "Son you haven't yet won"
"Cause this world is a cruel mistress"
"She'll beat you and break you some day"
It has always been my belief that life is what you make it
This man was tattered and torn
Wearing himself in his clothes
Until his worn down soles
Knew the truth of his soul
I did not agree with his notion
That the world would break me
This is because I am strong
Like an old oak tree in a wind storm
I am Gandalf before a Balrog
Inside I feel no fear
"You shall not pass"
The words echoed from my lips
Looking the man in the eyes I laughed
I left him standing there staring after me
To this day I regret that I didn't have a better response
If I were to turn back the clock with what I know now
"Life is what you make it,"
"You can blame it for your misery."
"It throws things at you without warning."
"Shoves things down your throat,"
"Until you realize that even your stomach has boundaries."
To the man who tells time by the sun
Know that there will always be struggles
To all of you living today
There will always be struggles
But life is what you make it
If you believe that you are incapable
Then I suggest you rethink your conviction
Because those thoughts are pure fiction
Humans have come to fly
Pushed out a lie a day
Found ways to get paid
Been laid
Down to rest by our mothers and fathers
Life is not about your pain
It's about your pleasure
So you should learn to treasure
Every moment with a lover
Every hug from your brother
Because every moment is a million years
Even all of the tears
From every bad experience
Has the salt to seal your wounds
So do not assume that you are broken
That any words you have spoken
Will go without memory from this world
Do not give up on life
Before it has given up on you
Because I have learned from the best
And taught to the worst
That life is what you make it
You can't just forget
But instead you must remember
To dismember the attempts of those who try to break you
Fighting for what is worth it
Life is worth it
Death is an end to something too beautiful
It will come to you eventually
Like love, it will blossom when you least expect it
But you cannot just give up
So look at everything around you
And look deep inside of yourself
What is it that you have to offer
And what does life offer you

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

One Chance

This was written on January 4th, 2011

I still have feelings for you
Held my tongue so long it's blue
After all this time
All I want is a chance
Just a chance to dance
Once with you
Without running myself through
Atop this spear
I carry just in case I hear
Your name
Because in this world
There are dead, dying, and the lame
The latter is what I am
But I no longer give a damn
I just want to get to know
Spend some time with you
So that I can go
To myself and confirm
Whether I really like you
Or whether all my tongue holding
Was for nothing more than fear
I can't move on until I've given it a real shot
So I'm asking for you to spot
My efforts
Just give me a chance
We can go see a movie
Spend some time together
Like real people do
Rather than keep this strained
Like tight ropes
Between us

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Romantic Memory

This was written on January 1st, 2011

December of Two Thousand Eight

Ready to leave my life behind

Not giving in to suicide

Finally giving in to the will to leave

Leave behind everything that haunted me

The friendships that had taunted me

With some semblance of regularity

A life with one single flaw

Creating a beautiful chain reaction

The broken pen's ink staining my shirt

Much as my mother's pen has stained my life

Filled my soul with strife

So that night so long ago

I was standing by your door

Hoping that someone would see

Hoping someone would stop me

From leaving Spokane forever

Nobody saw and nobody heard

Silently folding my shirt

Placing it on your bottom step

My cell phone placed so neatly

The last text I planned to send

Letting everyone know

Spokane would no longer be home

Though message misdelivered

Still you moved

Everyone moved

To stop me

But I didn't see

Because I was blinded

My reason and passion

Stripped from me

The way that you strip my words

Leaving them naked

Because I love you

In a romantic way

I'm not in love with you

But I do love you

You took my soul

Beating it with your ice pick

Cracking it

Putting a small hole in my shell

The frozen heart I had

Paralyzed with fear

Torn apart by the loss of my mother

Was broken to emotion once more

So I have you to thank

Our interaction pushed me far

It is my motivation to write now

The one romantic memory

Turning point in my life

Thank you

I will never forget

December of Two Thousand Eight