Three Crown

They invaded the castle,
kidnapped the king.
Though he was an asshole,
warning bells will still ring.

The elixir’s run dry,
so no spells to singe them.
The swarm, reinforced,
will take over our kingdom.


How Low

If I speak with a hunger
instead of being full,
can I bring you to my side,
will you begin to feel the pull?

Rhythm is clunky
late into the night
when the brain’s a bit slower
in its reaction time.

The carpet is sand,
and I’m sinking in its depths.
I do this every night,
and I’ve died a million deaths.

There was so much time.
Where did it go?
I pissed it away,
but at least I got blown.

The hum of the fridge,
and that slight, constant clatter.
I could find it scary,
but it wouldn’t even matter.

My imagination
got the best and worst of me,
and now I’m stuck in limbo
for all eternity.

Call for Progress

Why isn’t it class warfare
when the top exploits the poor?
It’s only when we call it out
that they say it’s waging war.

The richest country in the world,
taking advantage constantly.
We can be rich and generous too,
treating people lovingly.

Republicans are not the answer,
while Democrats help them along.
A hawkish bird with two right wings
can’t fly for very long.

Won’t we trade in our apathy
for tireless compassion,
and our words on social media
for real, courageous action?

A radical love is the medicine
our diseased body cries out for.
Let’s bring about the progress
we move without a doubt toward.

School Friends

In another bed
I dreamt of you,
even though it’s been months
since I saw you at school.

We were friends just like
we were in class,
and I made you smile,
I made you laugh.

I wake up sad
because I already know
I’ll never see you again.
That’s just how these things go.

Unoriginal Sin

The heat necessary will not
depart from my muscles and escape
through my engorged nucleus
into the cold air surrounding us.

I recognize my own inferiority,
so let me bow before you
with that bitter taste on my breath.

I’ve committed an adultery
of the mind, wondered what it’d be like
to be in her arms instead of yours.

Does that mean we’re doomed,
that I’m even less worthy of your love
than I originally thought?

So it’s off with my head
or astonishing mercy;
there can be no middle ground.

One was meant to be,
the other, not so much.
Two contrasting Stephanies,
but neither woman out of touch.

You met her on the dock
just before you set your sails.
Fleeting moment, coffee shop,
a pair of pastry hearts going stale.

For the past eight months I haven’t had much desire to write poetry (or anything, for that matter). I’m not quite sure why, but whenever I’d think about doing it, I saw it as a chore instead of the valuable creative outlet it’s been to me for years. Seeing it this way left me feeling a bit down, as I’m happiest when I can be creating on a regular basis. Earlier today was the first time in too long that I had a genuine desire to put my feelings into poem form, and I’m hopeful this will be the springboard I needed for returning to writing, not only consistently, but enthusiastically as well. I hope you’ll enjoy the result of today’s inspiration. Thank you, always, for reading.

Being Polite

I caress the arm of a lover I haven’t
seen for months,

the days divided
and stacked upon each other

like crinkly polaroids
that never tell the complete story,

giving only glimpses of smiles
manufactured by politeness.

Is it polite to be disingenuous?
The truth aches much less

than the mealy mouthed
tripe dripping from their lips.

Let my heart be punctured
and heal

rather than these distractions
that bankrupt the conscience.

I’ve been kissed and held
by honest love,

have experienced the magic
of acceptance, flaws and all,

and so with that knowledge
I gently push their arm away.