Scene 38: The Permanence of the Past

Rising from the ruddy ground
stained so red and black,
pains of an immanent sound
snaps negatives so cracked

Looming in the muffled air
bleached so blue and rust
fibers of a copper prayer
crumbles to the dust

Flowing from the fervent sky
tattooed so burnt and grey,
reigns of an adamant bye
rules finality to prey

Scene 37: Senseless

The air taps on my window
pleading for me
to open up again

I say
No
I cannot
I’m waiting on
the rain
to wash over me

The air presses against the pane
begging for
entrance

I say
Sorry
I cannot
I’m waiting on
the rain
to wrap around me

The air kneels and reaches its hands
quietly asking
for my eyes to open

I say
nothing
I cannot
I’m waiting on
the rain
to return and bless me

The air laments and leaves
mourning dejectedly
at my reluctance

I say
Goodbye
I could not
I still wait on
the rain
and it returns, from my eyes

Scene 36: One Night Fall

Falling towards the sky in empty bliss,
drowning in your thick and heavy kiss,
dreaming of some carameled lies,
and singing hollow lullabies

Scene 35: First Halcyon Days

Remember the sands
of shovels and pails grand,
dirt between toes
on dusty, grainy rows?

Remember the days
of tag and hiding places
fields red like rover,
filled with ducks, gooses and clovers?

Remember the cootie shots
of circle and circle, dot and dot
with valentines galore
and Valentine’s with no woe?

Scene 34: The Stork

Ribbons beneath my feet
And bows around my wings
Taking in the gentle beat
Of pulsing silver rings

Dreams upon my eyes
And safety upon my heart
Breathing in soft sighs
The fruit of lovers’ art

Clouds around my flight
And I around the summit
The delivery of the final rite
Of Cupid’s most consummate

Scene 33: Absolution

Weeping hands in intertwined prayer
Begging knees of earnest layers
take lowly utterances of faults and vices
and strip them of their own devices

Bowing crowns in humble submission
Grounded sight in stained conditions
exorcise away the damned convolutions
and grant upon sweet absolutions



Soooooooo quite appropriately was this poem written for a specific purpose... besides the obvious meaning and symbolism....

Having had a long week (I started the week believing it was Thursday all day, only to realized it was Monday) that felt like I wen\t through it twice, I welcomed today like no other... And of course had a fantastic time....

Now, before I go to bed at 4 am, I realize that I had not updated the poem for yesterday....

And while it broke my rule, I've become too attached to this project to let it die today. And so hopefully, any and all followers and viewers of this blog will forgive me...

Obviously, this means there will be a second poem today.


However, I'm waiting for Karma to kick in. I've been trying to amass as much good Karma as I can, but it doesn't seem to be helping. Hell, I forgot this.

Hopefully things look up starting with last night and that this slipup will never happen again.

Wish me luck.

I'll need it.

Scene 32: The Blue Screen

Loading, loading
waiting slowly
watching the
black
sands trickle
past
through the white hour
glass

Waiting, waiting
patiently breathing
eyes trace the
blue
bars filling
through
the grey mechanical
ruler

Freezing, freezing
panic slowly rising
trying frantically to
stop
perhaps controlling could
spot
or alternatively
not

Deleting, deleting
seeking to pacify
the possible overload
that
would result in
traps,
a completely erasing
zap



Well, it's been a month since I started this project.

It's safe to say I haven't failed yet... Though I still have a long way to go.

This first month away from home has been pretty much the same as the rest of my life, now that I think about it. Except the highs were higher, and the lows were lower, and never did I have to go home and choose what needed to be revealed. Everything was much more open, much more free, and much more safe.

However, I seemed to have forgotten that fact that I actually am at school and still need to kick into that mode. Hopefully I can remember how to listen.

And here we go again.

One month down. Eleven more to go.

Scene 31: Echoes in the Emptiness

The continents on the walls
sing stories that only
the lonely hear

The flicker in the halls
paint portraits lonely
of single fears

The static in the calls
tell tales so phony
of phantom cheers

The pain in the falls
sell sympathies stony
for bottles of tears



People like being alone because it gives them time to think.

I wish I knew what they thought about, so I could think of that instead.

Scene 30: Fall to the Future

Sleeping slivers of garnished light lathered onto
leaping leaves taking seasoned flight over
blinking blades of morning rime drinking from
staggering stills of nature’s thyme taking off
borrowed breezes of teasing lines enriched with
swaying swills of verdant wines wilting away

with what comes next

Scene 29: Admit Me Adonis

Show me a river, painted so silver
with diamond dew drops
and banks that won’t quiver

Show me a field, with gold songs concealed
with emerald blades
and sweet voices that heal

Show me a mountain, with topazes bounding
with pearl pink pebbles
and rose petal fountains

Show me a sky, doused in sun dyes
with ruby rich clouds
and effervescent electric eyes

Show me a life, stitched without strife
with crocheted coral patches
and perfection bleached blithe




Show me perfection.

Then if you could, give it to me.

I'd like to have some.

Scene 28: Let's Get Busy Tonight Quelling

The Crayola hemisphere
with Caribbean blues and
tropic dyes
Painted with rainbow fears
of Meridian pinks and
whitened whys

The Crayola horizons
with apple greens and
sleek pearls
Stained with highs on
clouds’ colored crops and
Greek swirls

The Crayola firmament
with piercing luster and
tye dye scents
Tattoed with purple permanent
such inherited hues and
roses innocent

Scene 27: Seasons of Loss

Rose petals on
autumed wishes
stained with
winter’s kisses
spiraling through
white abysses

Cocoa crumbs on
fallen ambitions
stained with
frozen conditions
wafting past
empty positions

Iced laces on
yellowed promises
splashed with
stark black, honest
wilting away
truth, its grandest



I almost missed today... Only a half hour left.

I've just been so distracted lately. By simply everything.

Scene 26: Palatable Placebo

Drowning dark fields of delicious deep chocolates
Peppermint rainbows and icing lined lockets
Tempting tongue candies with tantalizing wares
Promising cream hopes and candy cane cares
Filling infinity with shivering sherberts
Enveloping wastelands with carefree desserts

For all those who eat when depressed.

Scene 25: Beginning and End

Winter-tapped cream and grey-green rings
Sakura lacing against white diamonds’ sheen
Enchanting, enveloping, under the wings
Statuesque, unparalleled, of all that is seen



Your words were hypnotic
like a rabbit in a hat
playing your cards
and tapping away my perception
Your words were hypnotic

Your words were boundless
like rivers pouring life
overflowing with grace
and washing away my doubts
Your words were boundless

Your words were harmonic
like wind and strings
drumming with perfection
and blowing away my mind
Your words were harmonic

Your words were chocolate
like magic reserved for occasions
giving such sustenance
and romancing away my logic
Your words were chocolate

Your words were golden
sweet as pollen for bees
blooming past monotony
and taking away my senses
Your words were golden

Your eyes were full
Your touch was silver
Your voice was brilliant
Your zest was sweet
Your scent was glowing

But your words were empty

I wrote the beginning at the beginning of us, for you.

And the ending of us I wrote at the end.

The end is always longer. Weeks of joy are easily outstripped by just hours, minutes of sorrow.

Scene 24: The Butterfly

The moonlight cries
The pitter of its tears
The patter of its sighs
Opens up the sorrow
In all the lonely lives

The caterpillar dreams
The crawling of its wishes
The sprawling of its schemes
Drags along the spirit
Against the waxing gleams

The cloudy rivers drop
The blessing of its bounty
The stressing of its crop
Strings behind the problems
And seeks to make them stop

The Aurelia blanket wraps
The soothing of its hold
The smoothing of its grasps
Shelters past the pain
Towards the future’s haps

The white wind blows
The fraying of its breath
The saying of its rows
Carries with it hope
To all the longing souls

The butterfly sings
The flutter of its song
The mutter of its wings
Will open up the light
The door to everything

Scene 23: Synesthesia in Solitude

The cold fluorescent breeze
culminates in
wafts of light
dark
and trite

The bitter shadows
sweep through
flavors of black
sour
full of traps

The sting of kisses
steals away
tactile thoughts
grey
and lost





I used to have so much to say. I never stopped talking. Not even to think.

Now I can't stop thinking.

Scene 22: Before Bed

The vacant caverns of the night
Single breaths to the light
Weightless hands and weightless arms
Dreaming of such nightly charms
Finding photos, rummaging through
Searching memories in light of you

The lonely breaths on linens white
Of witless prayers in the quiet
Silent solos of chapsticked lips
Heavy hearts and hope eclipsed
Empty eyes and clear space
Over lingering wafts and outlines traced




I've been trying to find something to talk about these past few days. There's just too much in the swirl of life that sometimes it's hard to tell what's shit and what's water. Unlike my metaphor, my life is not actually heading down the toilet. It's spinning around and I'm just dazed and confused as to what's happening.

I suppose I'll just let my poetry talk for me. Maybe then I can look back and figure this all out.

Scene 21: Tonic of Life

The change in harmony, how it went
the first to
the third to
the dominant

The augmented cadence, and minor sixth
diminished,
progression
to the fifth

The fermatas and legatos, chorus mottos
held
released
so subito

The dynamic change, so piano
decrescendo
accelerando then
sforzando

The perfect chords, always major
so ready
so safe
for a fated return

Scene 20: Gifts from Lady Snow

Come and see the caramel canes
lined up on ninety seventh street
with dew drop buttons and frosted panes
down at the house of old Scotty

Come and see the flaky schoolboys
eyes tracing the powdered diamonds
fixing for their cola joys
blowing dust from their high runs

Scene 19: Year of Enterprise

Spring spray
only for
four
dollars

blooms the man outside the store
fliers blossoming
through the wind
surrounding him

Spring spray
only for
four
hours

today, beams the man on the corner
display shining
like the sun
showering him

Spring spray
only for
four
people

falls the words from the man
face browning
almost orange
reddening him

Spring spray
only for
four
seasons

wilts the man on the curb
fingers frosted
with withered wishes
smothering him

Scene 18: As the Mantis

The nails, the skin
what they held within
such sweets, such sins
of greys ghastly grim

The body, the legs
the thighs, how they begged
so carnal like cleggs,
erotic rotting eggs

The eyes, the lips
in unspeakable grips
The toes, the hips
of an unholy script

The hair, the face
of untouchable grace
such lulling and lace,
embalming embrace

Scene 17: Perfect Insanity

Still weather storms
Through ageless old swarms
Of frozen sunlight
And melting moonlight

Quiet thunder wails
Through wind-patrolled jails
Of free imprisonment
And blissful malcontent

Lost wishes found
Through noiseless sound
Of sudden, foreseen shocks
And suspended, ticking clocks

Sane perfections disturbed
Through purity perturbed
Of old unhappened events
And forgotten joyous laments

It's hard to explain.

Old feelings ruining something perfectly good.

It's utter confusion.

Scene 16: The Tale of Jean Caddow

Traveling through the central lands
Through woods and mountains and icy sands
Lived a man named Jean Caddow
A chimney sweep that few did know
For everywhere that Caddow went
Was a place with myrrh’s stale scent

Poor Caddow was simply cursed
For where he went occurred the worst
Any house attended he
Did witness death so tragically
Living on the streets alone
Just Jean Caddow and his jackdaws

Jean Caddow went house to house
To try and escape the clouds’ cold douse
But nowhere would they let him in
Despite his pleas and weary grins
So cold Caddow huddled down
Beneath the sky and nearly drowned

But Jean Caddow was luckily found
By a tender-lipped maiden, crisp as sound
Whose eyes and voice made songs of joy
With every glance and whisper so coy
She walked Caddow home and sat him in
And hospitably poured him a glass of gin

Oh dear Caddow was in perfect bliss
In comfort and warmth of this sweet miss
And offered to clean and service her home
To clean each little cranny, chimney and stone
But the tender-lipped lady politely refused
And to her own room did she herself excuse

So Caddow went to bed, tender and mild
And dreamt sweetened dreams, and awoke with a smile
Secretly he cooked a heavenly meal
Of potatoes and eggs, and tea with fruit peels
He knocked on the door of his gracious hostess
And quietly to god did he the meal bless

But no response was heard to Jean Caddow’s knock
Nothing but air and a gentle, quiet clock

Scene 15: The Nature of Love

Haikus dance upon
Fallen stars holding love’s hands
Done without warning

Love is nature.

Scene 14: Faux Escapade

Dancing leaves
all red and green and beautiful
flirt and chase
through the shadows
of trunks and branches
dressed somberly

Skipping leaves
all young and free and weightless
flit and skirt
through the tangles
of branches and wind
blowing grievingly

Walking leaves
all simple and careless and charming
wish and reach
through the wails
of wind and night
dawning longingly

Falling leaves
all single and hopeless and beaten
crawl and fight
through the snarls
of night and roots
snatching jealously

Scene 13: The Negatives

Restless breaths
of sinewed hands,
calloused eyelids,
and worn out bands
slowly reaching
through the sands
of copper grains
and silver lands

Haunting steps
of hollowed eyes,
withered soles,
and rapacious whys
quietly mourning
through empty skies
of lily mists
and ecstatic flies

Flickering sights
of immortal pasts,
empty futures
and nature’s last
wistfully longing
through broken glass
of mosaics shattered
in shriveling grass

Scene 12: Magic Under Cloudy Nights

Sparkled glitter
Railing sirens
Dazzling blossoms
World defying

Under shards
Matching sparks
Simple contact
Roses’ marks

Scene 11: The Room

The room
is dark
with midnight
and beetles

The window
is bleak
with haze
and grime

The door
is locked
with chains
and cement


Everyone has one.

Scene 10: Musical Thievery

And the crystal notes
flutter in the air
striding and riding
and strutting with flair
They envelope and send
fantasies and charms
of buttercream suns
and velvet red arms

And the studded beats
trumpet through the air
marching and waving
and moving with care
They snatch and swipe
feelings and hearts
with gleaming green eyes
and raspberry lips tart

Music is beautiful.

Scene 9: Silence

Cold sunlight
bouncing off the stars
sinking in the grass
and drifting to the walls
wet with white

Feverish breezes
whisking through the walls
smashing to the skies
and melding with the bars
built as bluffs

Unfound passion... It’s just great when no one knows.

It’s great when it’s shared.

But everyone loves secrets.