Archive for January, 2015


You got what you wanted.
I’m out of your life.
Set fire to the haunted.
Flames cut as a knife.

How can you not care?
No apologies from you.
Your behavior is unfair,
but sadly it’s nothing new.

You really are a bitch.
Silent, cold, and cruel.
My intent inside a ditch.
Each thought of yours, a rule.

I might as well be pleading
to a figure carved of stone.
In the moments I am bleeding
you leave me to cry alone.

Mean words from your lips.
I’ve heard them all before.
The only difference with this
is I won’t fight it anymore.

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Bullet Is Bitten

A promise made,
that secret kept.
The ransom paid
as lovers slept.

Chains are gone
without a trace.
Breaking dawn
in record pace.

Our renewed sky
in tangerine hues.
We question why
like it’s our muse.

Curiosity killed
sanguine thinking.
Erroneously billed
as backward sinking.

Evening arrives.
The bullet is bitten.
With cynical lives
it seems we’re smitten.

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Intentional Wanderer

He was meant for more.
Those dreams he had as a child
just couldn’t be ignored,
wouldn’t be abandoned in a pile.

Wise to the game,
he fled unashamed,
escaping the halls
from which he came.

Leaving it to trust,
he forged his own path,
free of all strings
and he didn’t look back.

A wanderer of sorts,
but with intention as well.
Careful about detail,
maintaining an open shell.

With the wind as a guide
and his faith to keep him strong,
the journey is a grand one
as he moves confidently along.

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With only a rose between us,
the potential is either infinite
or hopelessly dead on arrival.

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Born and raised in the choppy sea,
she made a home upon the shore,
married a sailor who won her heart,
had a daughter they named Eleanor.

Eleanor grew into the mermaid kind,
swimming as though it gave her life.
She swam until the sun went down,
and jumped back in when it would rise.

One day she met a shark below,
who said he’d been waiting alone,
waiting for the perfect time
to invite her to his humble home.

She thanked him for the offer,
but Eleanor said she must decline,
for her parents would be worried
if she wasn’t home on time.

The shark tried to persuade her,
but she was firm in her reply.
At last he said he’d see her later,
maybe tomorrow by the tide.

She smiled and waved goodbye,
though the shark had her concerned.
She swam a little faster home,
to tell her parents what she’d learned.

Right before supper
there was a knock on the door
at the home
of the parents of Eleanor.

They cried, come in!
thinking it was their daughter,
but it was the shark,
and blood in the water.

He gobbled them up fast
like he’d done minutes before,
when he’d had for a snack
the girl who once was Eleanor.

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To Lauren

I should have loved you when I had the chance.
Now I’m plastered here composing poetry about you.
And you, you’re across from jazz, calling his bluff as he goes all in,
writing songs that most assuredly aren’t about me.

While you’re out playing music at bars every night,
I’m pacing my bedroom floor, injecting words into the stale air.
You, stirring the soul of a modest but enthusiastic crowd.
Me, trying to drink from a cup that’s been dry for years.

Perhaps it’s unreasonable of me to be comparing myself to you,
but the temptation is too persistent for me to just ignore it.
And besides, without those comparisons dancing atop my mind,
how else could I keep the illusion of you moving with me?

Together we traverse the hostile terrain called art,
separate but together, your phantom shoulder brushing my own.
A compass without a needle, a clock devoid of hands,
yet because of you I know where and when to arrive, always.

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Barely Open

A seagull’s cry
in the middle of the night
slips its way through
my barely open window.

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The Surrender

Who am I to doubt Your love?
I’ve seen it many times.
But when I feel it’s fallen short,
my faith quickly declines.

Your patience is incredible.
You wait for the surrender.
Rather than forsaking me,
You heal my wounds so tender.

I don’t want to be spineless anymore.
Help me in building a firm foundation.
One that won’t be hurt by rain,
or altered by a simple frustration.

Sin may win battles every day,
but Your grace will win the war.
I’ll cling to this precious gift,
and will not ask for anything more.

I’ll give You all my effort.
It’s where I’m meant to be.
Living for Your glory,
a soul that’s been set free.

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Smile and All

Clouds form above my stride
as dishonesty pushes me
through this beast of a day,
fuck you smile and all.

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Good Lord, Social Norm!

Call me old-fashioned,
but I believe that marriage shouldn’t be degraded
to suit the new social norm
that’s been rearing its godless head the past decade.

Let’s keep marriage the way our good Lord intended:
between two teenage virgins
of the opposite sex who are horny and need a way to fuck
without fear of judgement.

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