24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Roaming
Round and round
Confounded by
The fruition of good things
That comes to those who wait patiently,
But he waited and waited more,
As he explored
And slept on floors
Never to find
The hidden warmth inside
Of a family or a home
So he now resides,
In the windows of your eyes
From the strangers that pass by.
One more for the road
Crash and burn
Crash and burn
Not so fast
One more to go
Here it is
One more for the road
There’s a room in my house
I’ve never been in before
I am not afraid of it
And to prove this
I write a cinquain.
dream girl who’ll never be #51: Underground Punk Show
as i chug the eighth note along,
i flick my eyes to glimpse
snapshots of the crowd,
then feel the heavy call of bass
in my hands, look down again,
to its centipede neck.
she is watching
when i look outward,
all eyes & slight head bobbing,
hair like the curve of a cardinal,
back against pillar, farther away
than she may seem.
within me, i know i cannot break
rhythm, despite the want to
search for eyes
in the black miasma of eyelash
& dimmed venue lights.
when our set ends, i wonder
if she will still be there,
or if the music
made me hallucinate.
Pluck
Tweeze
Trim
I vow to never emulate the facial hair of the best drummer in the world
Animal
Due diligence is required
These brows must be kept in check
24 hours of avoidance may require emergency maintenance
As I try to stay awake through the last hour
I glance at the window behind
Rip open the curtains
Who knew sunrise was so soon?
Glancing behind
The whole sky changes hue
With each look.
Pale pink to pale gray
To stormy blue
Until bright blue appears
With streaks of brilliant white.
Who else looks upon this?
Is anyone enjoying it?
Or do they sleep the Sunday mornings away?
Are those awake to see it too weary to appreciate it
Off to the daily grind?
I wonder,
How much beauty do I miss
When I do not stir myself to be perceptive of it?
To the Woman Who Died in the Ponderosa Villas Apartment Complex
We found your blouse–the one with the speckled lilies that are so small they look like dots of un-buttered popcorn. I wonder how the belligerent eyes of the fire, its lashes rising as if in question to the slated silhouette of night, didn’t see this, consume its flimsy blue fabric. What were you cooking at 2 in the morning? Were you like me, binging anime and sad songs, pulling at your drink, while your forgotten Digornio didn’t get off on the right foot and regurgitated flame? What were you sleeping on? Was it the unwilling fight against inevitable eyeshut, dreams of a future far from these weak walls, or the numbing of post-work insomnia finally wearing off? Was it drugs? But believe it or not, I somehow dredge up jealousy from all this. I want to sleep through disaster; I want to be unaware of my surroundings. I want to sleep through all my accidents and mistakes without feeling a thing. My anxiety burns me from inside out, invisible flames forcing me to flail for a temporary extinguishing, a purging of restless blood and nerves stamped with an unease levied by social malcontent. I can even light my voice on fire, but this is a singular plague that the heated wisps of will never spread. Smoldering migraines and the searing smile of cheap pocket knife gathering blood tinder isn’t enough to quell a body waiting to be ash. I’d burn my mouth on your fatally overcooked food so I wouldn’t have to speak another failed ignition at being a realistically compliant member of society. I envy you because I can be dead and feel everything at the same time. Being awake and living are two separate things. Why do you get the easy way out–trapped and escorted to a numbness unrivalled. To you who died just yesterday, my lukewarm jealousy will never reach a boil. To you whose lungs are now tar black, we have your dog, safe, who jumped down three stories to the pleading arms of the firefighters calls. To you who didnt survive after four hours intensive care, I’m sorry we never even passed through each other’s eyesight, a floor apart. I’m the look away. I’m the downcast eyes. I’m the one forgotten. I’m the disappearance from crowds. I’m the solace in solitude. I’m the heavy hands that fumble at belonging. I’m the feet that leave early, I’m the lungs that choke in hyperventilation. I am an unrecognizable plague. I’m a self-employed and reserved arsonist, always and only burning myself. This is my caloric eternity. I bite my nails and lips to fuel the kindling of nervousness. I want to burn without feeling the sting of shaky blood and panic. I want to burn worry and its terror. I want to burn the world to extinguish the ever-smoldering children of anxiety.
I did it
They said it could not be done
I did it
Although it was not all fun
Words didn’t come easy
I stumbled and fell
Sleep dragged me into an overwhelming hell
But I did it
Although I too doubted it
But now it’s done
I can go have some fun!
You astound me
To be speechless,
While bearing witness of brilliance,
An understatement of your truth.
How did God create you,
Molded and shaped you, so perfectly
Could it be, meant for me?
Fingers laced, my heart raced
When you pulled me in to kiss
When did I become like this,
Afraid to lose,
Addicted to bliss,
Aways fighting, seeking to win?
I never wanted to surrender again,
But you did,
When my heart, body and mind,
Was yours to find,
For keeps and to hold,
Not control,
But don’t ever let go.
As it unfolds,
We may never know,
Or understand how things come to be,
As long as you stand by my side,
I realize, in time
We will learn that our love
Was made to last for eternity.
Go ahead and make a wish
Today is your day to shine
You deserve all the best in life
The world is yours to behold
You are a good person
With a heart made of gold
Worthy of all the dreams
You long to achieve
So reach high and find the stars
It’s your day to grip each in your palm
Because you make the world a brighter place
Allow the joy of your birth anniversary
To repay your kindness to the world…
A million fold