different directions

i've been digging deeper, but i can't take the dark
that eclipses my eyes as i cut through the earth
until all that remains is the side of my shovel
catching the last few rays from the fresh air above
and i remember my youth when i used only palms
cupped and curved to remove dirt and earth
and shallow holes hid only ankles and feet
but now that i've grown, so have my goals
and i want my work to show the steps i've taken
towards greater heights and higher standards
but i can't see how my lofty new life can help
my well-washed hands hold this dirty shovel
and dig through depths i've longed to discover.

singing similar songs

listening to my brother's bright eyes
as he takes his secondhand shower
and i change in my parents' room
wondering what it's like to stick around
without staying in my parents' town
never letting myself regret running away
because i haven't left the starting line
spreading my stance across the states
so i can continually shift my center
back and forth between now and then
and i know they know it makes no sense
because i can't belong in plural tenses
even though i ended up in this halfway house
without my plane getting off the ground.

ignorant introspect

every song has the same sound
when strummed on strings untuned
key changes attempt to fix the flaws
but the broken sound persists
carrying chords on crippled wings
landing lazily on ears unwilling
to tolerate the punctuated patterns
of forgetful fingers lost on frets
never realizing what's really wrong
while blaming weather-warped wood
and ignoring the simple solution
because pride provides a gift of guilt
rather than raising wings against wind
and seeing what flying feels like
because it's easier to climb regretful rungs
than building ladders born of love.

shedding our shells outgrown

symbolically sewn and stitched into being
we've been woven with metaphors in mind
our fabric and framework expressing more
than motion blind and instinct mindless
with splitting seams rented in representation
and stubborn stains stuck in deeper meaning
positing problems beneath colorful covers
and fabricated facades become frayed
betraying the beauty once boldly believed
and exchanging the exterior experience
for reality revealed by holes in our clothes.

hiding the keys

thought i'd learned how to look
through the glass and past the pane
instead of staring at the reflection
and seeing my facade in the frame
but i've burned whatever book
taught me how to turn off the lights
and i find my face staring back at me
following what seemed perfect nights
the transparency i once pursued
has left me looking through empty lenses
while the peace that i prayed for
feels like reflections of reflexive senses.

reading walker

this book's got my brain slightly insane
with paranoid ponderings of the malaise
wondering worried about brand new thoughts
and twisting my head in half-tied knots
that until this time stayed lingering behind
the back door opening on the wall of my mind
but they've broken and entered through my eyes
and i'd ask them to leave, but i'm too polite.

take your time

it's like early morning movement
that you always attempt to avoid
and the assignment turned in early
which seems not worth the work
the extra second singing in the shower
before you brush your teeth and run
it's the perfection you're pursuing
and the shortcuts that shut the door
with what you've wanted giving way
to the little loves you're living for.

the brightest

i can't see past the pane
reflecting my face roughly
wrought with ripples rendered
restless through the years yet young
and the clearness once crystal
has been bent but unbroken left
keeping track of time unkept
and watching with wisdom unsaid
but seen clearly through clarity
and transparency that transforms
as the lights unlit slowly eclipse
the flickering from a flipped switch.

thoughts at the top

the seatbelt strap and my stomach
make themselves more than friends
as hidden hills take hold of my heart
wringing the rush like water from rag
dripping adrenaline through my frame
triggering my train of tousled thought
causing the questions to commence
of whether the ride has been repeated
or only the feelings familiarly thrust forth.

sun shining through bare branches

this is pressed between pages
with letters fleeting like falling leaves
and memories making homes
in the hollowed out heads of autumn
and while the winds welcome winter
fall is not forgotten, let alone lost
and daydreams painted on pure skies
come down coyly in fragile frost.

true religion this is not

of course compassion comes quickly
when those receiving are sure to return
the favor done for friends rather than
gifts given to strangers with uncertainty
about the appreciation and wondering
whether the sacrifice was accepted as
the act of love intended and directed
at the hands that held it at the start
because i tend to wash the feet of friends
before bending to beggars' level and
even this page is about the people i prefer
the ones who return what i said i never
wanted back but expected from them nonetheless.

i prefer to hide my pride

it's disgusting how disgusted i get
at self-centered songs i sing myself
when i'm the one watching silently
waiting restlessly with words to write
because a silent pen is less offensive
than profanity proudly poured out
and neglecting the name that saves
makes me better than taking it in vain

listening to the smiths

i am cutting edge
a few years too late
making mix tapes
with stacks of cds
and underground obsessions
uncovered ages ago
reading on the road
when beat's gone by
already resurrected
even buried once again
just borrowing books
from the older brother
i made for myself
with a library card
and an itunes account.

change is my only consistency

forget the features of my face
they're nothing but a fading fad
i have a mask for every month
scratch that make it every minute
my mind's less steady than sand
and i'm constantly sinking down
through unstable surroundings
searching for myself in my mess.

catch me (before it's too late)

time travels too slowly while waiting on wisdom
and slow spinning seconds make it difficult
to pace in place while wishing to walk around
and run away with caution cast to the curb
of the roads that now reside in rearview mirrors
where the rushing wind is the one reminder
that the world is real despite dreams come true.

in a sweater poorly fitting

my thoughts were a sweater too big for my brain
so i tossed them in the wash and waited
for a while while they spun in soaked circles
waiting for the migration of my mind to dry
where i'd feel the heat and succumb to the shrink
because i'd rather my brain be busting the seams
than free to float in a sweater unsuitable.

haiku #27

sometimes it can take
a movie to remind me
life's not a movie

life's too long for the impatient

singing love songs to a long lost friend
i found for the first time a few weeks ago
while failing to forget fleeting feelings
and forcing friendship that comes quickly
but is difficult to keep from collapsing
into something requiring the right timing
because i'd rather burn out brilliant
than fuel the fire of an eternal flame.

lost the beat

i like metaphors too much
to make another morrissey
and the morality of my mind
keeps me from becoming kerouac
and though i think karl marx
and communism make sense somehow
my modern realism and american life
don't allow for allen ginsberg's ideals
and leave me with a hollow howl
in a generation of upbeat yuppies
with our white tee-shirts hidden
under replicas of retrospective protest
like "meat is murder" mass-produced
and tour tees from before i was born

it takes a life to learn

cliché captures me too closely
wishing i was closer to clever
or at least unique to some degree
but i'll follow the footsteps set
by my own too often failing feet
and pursue the paths of plenty
laid out by the life i've lived
even when my mind's eyes
can perceive my past mistakes.

desires of the second order

sometimes i smile just a bit too much
considering circumstances i find myself in
and memories i'm remembering for the moment
though i frequently forget them far too fast
and move on more than i'd like to admit
preferring to pride myself on passion
felt deeply, discarded fast and forgotten
though i understand how unhealthy i am
change remains out of my self-reliant reach

haiku #26

i'm sure this is me
i just know that it can't be
i know this is me.

set in stone

i'd surround myself with silence
if i could find it on my own time
away from words i've never heard
faces i've found only by myself
this is what everybody talks about
like living behind the me i've been
wanting what's been washed away
with careless and calloused changes
and heavy hearts taken too lightly.

yes, that's exactly what i am

erosion goes unnoticed by naked eyes
and remains unseen for days gone by
but damage is done nevertheless
though it's less like pain and more like caress.

x marks the spot

it seems simple enough to follow footsteps set out
leading down long lifelines and crossing courses
never straying from red lines and blueprints bold
but nevertheless leading you in circles inconsistent
with unconsciousness as your compass of control
and conscience compromised your failing sails
keeping this sinking ship afloat for reasons wrong
while winds whisper words of wisdom unheard.

rubbing the mud on my own eyes

don't expect to find a formula
for the feelings and the facts
the way in which they interact
and the way one ought to act
regarding wrong and right and wrong
while singing songs of lifelong love
and knowing not what you speak of
or how to tell a hawk from dove
because they're above and we're below
never knowing where to go
or what to show of what you're feeling
if it will help or hurt the healing
can't even tell the floor from ceiling
because i've blended facts and feeling.

how the load lightens my lungs

is it empathy when it's forced on me
and i can't control what weight i pull?
lightening her load while i watch mine grow
but i don't feel forced, in fact i'm fine
because watching that smile is worth the work
and calling it work seems a tad absurd
because i've never met a man with half a mind
who loved his labor to such lengths or likes
that he'd rather run than rest his legs
when he hasn't slept or sat for days.

morning air

listening to lost songs
from times left behind
reflecting memories
on the mirror of my mind
painting by number
the photographs snapped
years in advance.

piece it all together

so busy building i forgot
that taking a break is better
than not stopping sometimes
because the bricks tend to tumble
when i don't take my time
to look back over what i've built
and see if the small part i can see
fits within the framework
of the foundation that i've formed
and the walls i'm writing.

i really should

the long run looks a long way off
when i stare at the starting line
and focus on each footstep
making mountains out of molehills
with minutes under microscopes
and seconds getting scrutinized
instead of being left behind
and i really just remembered
that i've been running longer
than this race i'm now repeating
so i should fix my focus
on the fullness of the facts

holding myself hostage

i've got the patience
of a popcorn kernel trying
to keep quiet in a microwave
but i'm the one with power
to push a button and put
the pressure on (or off).

just as the dog returns...

i write the same thing every day
there's nothing new to ever say
i only continuously re-arrange
simple sentence and familiar phrase
and that last line best portrays
my lack of life and want for ways
to express anything that's not the same
as the poem i plagiarized yesterday.

apathy and me

knowing means nothing
and i've known that now
for quite some time
and still it seems to me
that a lack of actions
will somehow do fine.

wars are always waged

an umbrella doesn't stop the drops
from falling in the first place
like a coat can't keep the cold
from freezing fall into winter white
and shields only stop the swords
that are drawn regardless, endlessly.

haiku #25

what am i doing
dreaming of a me without
the things i'm made of.

deceiving myself to believe in dreams

i'll go nowhere with a knack for this
and quite frankly i've forgotten to care
because it's better to believe in dreams
than to admit defeat in the face of reality

waiting for this patience thing

i'd love to let you in
on every secret inside of me
and all the thoughts i think
and take the time to tell you
how i love alliteration
even when it makes less sense
to speak in songs of openness
and weave my words in ways
that cover clarity with confusion
only so you'll never know
when i'm writing for you
and you're not who you'd expect.

fully dilated

i'm not sure how to start
down a path i have no map for
when i'm lightless and i'm lost
and every subtle whisper seems
to lighten up my loneliness
and promise to provide my hope

on the other hand...

i give my love with too much ease
sometimes i even think possibly
i could marry every woman i meet
as long as she'd put up with me
and i'm not trying to act desperately
i just actually think i believe
love comes too easily for me.

library books

my toes feel the grass
want to feel it grow slow
passing through pores
taking all the time
to climb my legs loosely
never making a mark
besides the backward breathe
leaving life in my lungs
and gaining growth
for breath of its own.

please read this is for myself

i tell myself i open my mouth
to let me out for my own mind's sake
so i can process my progress
or at least learn from daily mistakes i make.
but i don't believe me when i try
to trick myself into entertaining ideal ideas
because i know i'm nothing noble
just a soapbox preacher praying out loud.

haiku #24

i've become annoyed
feelings i've created are
feelings i've destroyed

forgetting what needs only left behind

it's taken me until now to realize
how i feel about the nest i've left
and the caring cries i've left behind
while still taking time to turn an ear
making sure my flight is never too far
from the familiar feel of where i was
but still boasting this newfound freedom
especially on easy days and clear skies
the kind that cloud over the caring cries
leaving constant love i once clung to
in favor of a freedom i felt prepared for
not noticing how i hide my happiness
and only wear my want when i return
accidentally asking for things thanklessly
expecting every care i claimed before
without being weighed down by duty
and forgetting what it must feel like
because my new nest is freshly full
unlike the one i unconsciously emptied
and should have never left to this extent.

sitting beside a math major

multiplying the problems comes more easily
than devising solutions for dilemmas added up
and i'd like to flip the fractions i've found
because the denominators are becoming dominant
taking over from underneath the numbers
that i've been attempting to accumulate.

there not here.

hallelujah, i'm not hell-bound
and i'm not about to burn
and i'm not yet burning out.

hallelujah, i'm still breathing
and i'm still capable of thought
and i'm still technically alive.

hallelujah, i'm a liar on various levels
and i'm a hypocrite to some degree
and i'm forgiven and i can claim i'm free.

hallelujah, you're my old best friend
and you're all i need you're all i need
and you're love is still there for me.

repelling rapidly (without a rope)

apathy is getting pretty pathetic and i might need
an apothecary to concoct a cure for my constant lack
of concern for my condition which is declining fairly quickly
considering the climbing i was recently active in and
the unconscious curve i've taken away from my course
of actions applaudable in exchange for a chain of events
rather reproachable and yet invisible to a vicarious view.

candy for breakfast?

we'll always be little brats
throwing dinner table fits
denying the options offered us
because we just can't believe
that vegetables and fruits
are really any better for our bodies
than pillow-cases full of plunder
pillaged from front porches.

clinging closet thoughts

the buzzing and blinking
of your former favorite toy
has transformed over time
from enjoyable enchantment
to annoying lights and noise
and still stashing it in storage
amidst the other attic items
doesn't seem to sit right
with the younger you still playing
with the play-thing left behind.

cruise control

it only takes a little time
to get going in a groove
but it still seems like so long
once cruise control is set
because almost every highway mile
looks just like all the rest.

haiku #23

well that kind of sucks
it is like a bicycle
i want to forget.

haiku #22

both hands lifted up
absorbing the presence of
only emotion.

fear, myself

i'd be naïve to say
that all i fear is fear itself
because in fact, i fear myself
and only on occasions
am i fear itself.

get out

i need to scream this out of my head
and rip it off of my fucking chest.
i've succumbed to it sucking my blood
a parasite i placed there by mistake
i never dreamed it would drain this much
or that hate could hollow out a heart thought full
this has never been who i ever was
and i swear to my saviour that this is not.

nothing stays the same

i can't keep suppressing the crescendo
building as it beats on my eardrums from inside
the cacophonous clatter that was once thoughts
has become disastrous noise and nothing else
my mind slipped for a second and stayed
repeating accidental rage in the face of rationality.

the need to be loved

time flies when you're having fun
and thoughts fail while entertained
or at least get left alone for a while
before motion gives way to mindgames
played alone and always lost
when allowed to go on for too long
because rationality is replaced with worry
and fighting for favor in other's eyes
becomes a vice of the lowest kind.

come together

new places become familiar
in the light of old faces
and as cliché as it may be
home is where your heart is
and when your heart is home
changes in your weathered ways
don't feel like fatal alterations
so the dawn of new days numbered
may reveal new pathways tread
but an ever-constant destination.

haiku #21

i don't want to do
i want to have done before
if past was future...

overload

at first the melody makes the gears catch
and the rhythm rolls on steady and smooth
until eventually erosion takes a toll
and the cogs catch making gears grind
drowning the music in cacophonous creaking
that only imitates the original tune.

retroactive lenses

once the word is written
and used as a label
the sticker won't come unstuck
at least not without leaving
streaks and stains and stickyness
reminding you to remember
the way things were at first
instead of moving forward
to clean glass and clarity.

haiku #20

i waken anew
surrounded by fresh feelings
it's good to be home

that last mile

the engine always takes its time turning over
but before you know it you're cruising country roads
and the distance to your destination dwindles down
until you can see your parking spot just up ahead
but traffic takes its toll that last stretch of streets
and the wind in your hair turns to waiting restlessly.

scales and garages

even when your favorite cd
sits under the passenger seat
for who knows how long
you still stick it in the stereo
and listen to yourself singing
every word at the top of your lungs.

subtotal: n/a

if all you focus on is the numbers
they'll never add up to anything
and you'll be left staring blankly
at blank checks made out to no one
because when your signature's worth
outweighs the hand that holds the pen
you might want to reconsider what the receipt really reads.

television

i watch time fly
through my eyes
across the room
through the screen
and wish it would
bounce back to me.

too tired for worry

lying on my couch i look forward
to saturdays spent sleeping in
while the winds whisper of autumn
reminding me of younger days spent
practicing football after school
and imagining the feel of a first kiss

beast inside my belly

there's a beast inside my belly
and he's eating at my insides
while tearing at my thoughts.

there's a beast inside my belly
and he's asking me for food
preferring poison over truth.

there's a beast inside my belly
and he's waiting on my weaknesses
to give in to his every wish.

there's a beast inside my belly
and he's wanting me to fuel the fire
of his shallow fleeting feelings.

there's a beast inside my belly
and he's yelling through my veins
drowning out my drumming heart.

there's a beast inside my belly
and he looks like me with leprosy
if i could only let the healing in.

financial flux

by the time my hair grows out
my impatient preferences have already changed
and whenever i save money enough
for the clothes i think i'm wanting
i end up spending my savings on something else
that i'll be tired of by my next paycheck
but i'd rather waste my money on myself
even when my wants wax and wane continually
than invest in causes worthwhile
and though i don't mean that
from the bottom of my heart
the balance of my bank account begs to differ.

haiku #19

sometimes i cheat when
i'm writing syllables and
poetry and such.

haiku #18

that's a funny thought.
happiness doesn't really
rollover so much.

a posteriori (marked with morality)

like a stamp stuck on our lifestyles
we wear it as we walk and breathe
for some it fades with friction's rub
but always stays enough intact
for observant eyes to identify
the birthmark we've been branded with
proving the hand that held the stamp.

if you'll be my body guard...

it falls into subconsciousness
like quarters and dimes dropped
into pockets after purchases
jingling around in memory
but eventually settling into silence
keeping quiet for a while
until an unexpected motion
lets their song loose again.

everything becomes too much

lay yourself down to bed
find the rest you're wanting
absorb sleep until you're full
becoming drunk on peacefulness
eventually when morning comes
the strength you were regaining
has come to pass with the hours
and you find yourself needing rest
from the rest that you were wanting.

redefining progress

it's really a shame that it takes
an exercise bike to power our lives
and windmills aren't too appealing
with the way they spin but still stay
it certainly takes a lot to appreciate
that sometimes just staying afloat
is the best that circumstances can expect.

ironically unoriginal

i'm tired of typical metaphors
and still familiar phrases
being all that pass from my lips
even as i search for subtleties
and new ways to work with words
so i can say the things i mean
in a language that's unique to me
and not the tongues of many men
because i can't believe my brain would work
on familiar frequencies frequently used
with so many paths of thoughts
and circumstances so distanced

hesitation, pay attention

seems unfair how easy it is
to lose your step and forget
why you walked up stairs
and flipped the switch in the first place
knowing you only have moments
to reach into your memory
before your purpose is entirely forgot
and steps retraced with reason lost.

haiku #17

something held loosely
but never undervalued
is hard to let go.

holding onto the unforgettable

climbing through crawlspace cobwebs
and pulling possessions to be priced
you remember moments mundane
yet important in an untouched way
and as sticker-tags release nostalgia
there are some memories that mean too much
to go without a written reminder
or at least a photograph to fill the gap.

note:

missed a few days because of family vacation/dropping off the sister at college

haiku #16

if i could watch me
from an outside perspective,
i think i might cry.

just look away

as animals we adapt to alterations
acquiring apathy for pain that persists
creating calluses instead of cures
forgetting feeling with expressions forged
rather than regret wrong turns taken
we forget the facts and with tails tucked run.

rotten roots

my mind grows wild and twisted
tangled like a topiary needing trimmed
but it's behind my back and i'm blind
besides, even if i had an angle and eyes
my bare and blistered fingers would fail
and i haven't a cent to my tainted name
much less a tool that could ever tame
the thorns that i thought were there for me
providing protection and security
i didn't know they would draw my blood
if i twisted and tried to lift myself up
and no gardener could have any gloves
thick enough to allow him to love
my rotten roots and horny thorns
i'd rather sap from soil some disease
than allow the rain and rays to please
brittle branches withering away
preferring the ease of slow decay
i need another to hold out a hand
of hope and hatred for wasted land
because my brain is washed of any thought
that i could ever become what i'm not
i'm not a sight for eyes long sore
i haven't provided anything more
than shade for beetles and bugs beneath
my tangled frame and greenbrown leaves
but i'd rather have to turn my face
to cutting shears and pruning pain
than continue counting down the days
of wasting away in my slow decay.

when kings go off to war

i know i don't want in my head in my heart in my mind in my soul in my thoughts in my feelings in my right mind i would never want. i know i don't want but i want. i want. i want more than anything for the moment. for the moment i want not in my head or my heart or my mind or my soul or my thoughts or feelings or in my right mind but i want and that's all. all i am is what i want and i want what i don't. all i am what i don't want and that is all i want right now for the moment that is all i am is what i don't want. i don't want it at all inside of me pressing down on me i don't want it even near me i don't want to want it but i want it and it's what i don't want to want what i want what i don't what at all with everything in me i don't want to want. i don't want to want this i don't want to want like this. i want to want what i want the way i want what i don't want. i want to want what i want the way i want what i don't want. i want to want what i want. i want to want what i want.

haiku #15

scars on my body.
forgotten operations.
wishing i knew pain.

shine on

somehow sometimes on certain days
the sun finds a way to shine in the rain
and it makes me think that maybe there's a way
for me and my heart to smile through pain
because the light that brightens every day
pushing through clouds to lighten the gray
resides in my heart and always remains
even when forecasts attempt to dismay.

haiku #14

the battle begins
but it's not head versus heart
it's two civil wars.

fitting room forgotten

she catches your eye with her hues and hems
hanging amidst the wreck of a rack where she rests
while you wonder why, how she found herself here
standing out against the stains and fades
so you buy her beauty before even thinking
to try her on or look in a mirror
and even though she's beautiful
when you finally get her to your home
you realize she might not be the right size
and despite the pain that parting brings
you know she will never belong
in the same closet where you hang your clothes.

the pull

somehow the silent yells
of a thousand highway miles
scream into the virgin ears
of a small city student boy
who's hesitant to be alone
but wants to burn for life
and the long lonely quiet road
whose current swells a breeze
against the rusted wind chimes
pushing him from his front porch.

tucked in

there are no words
that could dare describe
the feel of your own bed
against your aging skin.
the talk of old friends
in a dark backyard.
the melody to follow
in your first favorite song.
the taste of chocolate chips
in cookies baked at home.

the chase

legs pumping because you must
make it there where you're going
to what you want to get to
the goal you've been chasing since
the race began and you gave your all
for the feeling of winning the prize
money to spend on something different
than the goal you were chasing
from the beginning of the race.

whispering in deaf ears

i try to rewind my mind
and remember what i forgot
but i just end up feeling
like a three-year-old staring
at the silly shapes in rows
that the big people put on
the things they talk about.

you your attention

can i have your attention your full attention every little bit of your attention is all i want is that too much to ask for all of you your attention and all of you. i only want to see you happy to be happy to make you happy to make me happy is all i want is to be happy for you so i'm happy and your happy for me because i'm happy is all i want is you is to be happy. i would give everything for you for me. i would do anything to make you happy to make me happy. you can have my full attention if i can have your full you your attention your full you. as long as i'm the one who gets to have you you can have me if i have you all of you then you can have me too but only too. only too.

haiku #13

too good to be true.
it's unfortunate when that
really is the truth.

lazy

tiptoe through time
careful not to
disturb the dreamers.

afternoon

i inhale a yawn
through my body
and it spreads itself
across my skin
like a warm blanket

haiku #12

bright eyes and a book
vs. the television
hands down decision.

behind my back

listen to the dripping dropping
landing softly on the ground
listen to it faintly falling
soft erosion softer sound
listen to the ticking tocking
chasing hands on circle round
listen to it never stopping
still erosion different sound

night drive

lungs take in life. eyes open. lights. slip slowly backwards before shifting suddenly forward flowing smoothly. fast. wind whirling through windows and around. up my arms softly touching shoulders. life of the lightless night becomes my breath my breathing i hear the music but i don't hear it i hear the wind i hear the night surrounding me the wind surrounds me i feel the music i hear the wind the music lets me loose surrounded by nothing by the wind the nothing of the wind it breathes for me it breathes with me into me around me it breathes for me. the coolness is the wind is the night. broken by the rain. drops. windshield. clear night sky broken.

moderation

it's hard to define the fine line
between indulgence and satisfied.

solitude, surrounded.

i suppose it's silly of me
to sit on this library shelf
surrounded by volumes
and worry myself sick
simply because my sequel
is a single day overdue.

full, filling still.

i am a twice-dead termite
taking pleasure from pages
that they tell me were once wood
etching the ink out with my eyes
leaving lifeless leafs where once
there was wisdom to be found
now devoured by my desire
to provide for my pride.

cross it off the list

no matter how many times
i'm reminded of what i want
and how to get what it is
i will always want what i want
and that will always be
something else.

the created void

i can't understand
if it's automatic, it
can't come unattached
so how can the claim
of which one comes first
cause the chasm that
creates this chaos
we call christianity.

falling asleep

i don't want to go to bed and fall asleep it takes forever and i lay there and think about falling asleep about not falling asleep about trying to fall asleep trying to pray about falling asleep about everything that i think about when i cant fall asleep and i think about everything about myself and what i do what i dont do what i should do what i could never do what i need to do in the morning every single day tomorrow what i should have done today all the time i had all the time it takes to fall asleep all the time i wasted tomorrow and the next day thinking about everything about how i can never fall asleep about how i dont even think most of the time i waste my time so much time thinking about not falling asleep not thinking all the things i could do all the time i have to think to waste to not think to fall asleep.

watching detached

i might rather read my life
in books bound afterwards
feeling sympathy for the man
who fills my role, but not
letting his life become my
own set of steps and breaths.

coffee table, Faulkner

sitting in the barely living room
listening to my own slow breathing
letting time take advantage of me
yawning lazily as i lay dying.

out of place

the most amazing work of art
a perfect painting finally framed
something i could stare at for days
and even if i could ever afford it
it could never find a wall to call home
in the lonely house i call my own.

haiku #11

having your bags packed
means absolutely nothing
when you miss the train

unless i move

i've been warned about this.
worrying about what's outside
forgetting to wash what counts
wasting away while i appear
to be gaining in strength.
i've even told myself about it.
thinking that i have time enough
to talk about the change i need
instead of starting to try now
i'd rather dream of designs
for the man i'll never be.

yes and no

the one thing that has always been there always
and never no never ever leaves even for a second
seems to me to always be that only thing that
i always try but never find a way to wrap my mind
around and put down in words or sounds or something else
because it's far and near and here and there and
it never makes sense how it doesn't make sense
even though it's everything i know but something
that i know almost absolutely nothing about.

redirection

move, move for motion's sake
don't focus thoughts or even think
close your eyes and turn around
fill your ears with hollow songs
because a handful of stones
takes a lot less work to throw
with blind eyes and wild arms
than actually aiming at the mark.

seconds

tiny tin elephants
run around in rings
while my empty eyes
search for something
that's able to explain
whether or not it's a waste
to watch with a smile
as the tiny tin elephants
run around in rings.

i want to know

is it like a favorite shirt
or the air that surrounds
or a cozy old armchair
or your beating heart?
is it more or less
than everything you want
and something you need?

pharisee

i used to walk the crowded halls
and look at faces all around
and i would always tell myself
i had all of them all figured out.
just a bunch of shallow kids
who didn't care about their souls
and lived their lives so pointlessly
in high school halls and green fishbowls.
maybe sometimes that was true
and my shallow judgment hit the mark
but looking back i can't believe
that every single heart was dark
and blinded to the light of truth
just beating for the next big thing
especially when my own eyes
were filthy filled with hypocrisy
and this is my lifetime late apology.

thankful, i swear i am

wake up while the grass is still wet
still tired eyes open to realize
that this life is not what i deserve
because i can't even begin to begin
to give thanks for what i've been given
and i'm only ever thankful anyways
for the things that come to my mind
and with the way i tend to forget
whatever things mean the most
i'm guaranteed to take for granted
the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

haiku #10

if i could watch me
from an outside perspective,
i think i might laugh.

take root

rip my roots out of the rich soil they reside in.
wreck the work wrought over years now wasted.
replace my riches with trivial pleasures passing.
restore my soil. relish the waters. redemption.
return my roots to the earth where they belong.
regain the strength required to thrive again.
repair my battered limbs and brokenness.

the patience i am not

i still stick my fingers in my ears
and sing nonstop nonsense though
you never stop talking sense.

i think i'll always think i'm right
and constantly crave control even
when i know you have it all.

i'll always be a little child
whining and wanting what you won't give
when you only want my happiness.

mirror. moon.

we were made
to be a mirror
reflecting rays
of glory bright.
we were made
to be the moon
absorbing sun
illuminating night.

we were made
but we've been cracked
piercing fingers
with edges sharp.
we were made
but time has turned
our faces hide
leaving dark.

we were made
to be repaired
fractures sealed
covered cracks.
we were made
to shine again
we turn away
He draws us back.

haiku #9

if you can convince
yourself of what the truth is
is it true to you?

self deceit

over time
i've told myself
so many lies
that it's getting
hard to find
a way to trust
myself and i.

the sting (pt. ii)

since the start
it never stops
growing stronger
stinging. stabbing.
once subtle
small sensation
slowly snuck up
and silently
sapped the strength
that kept steady
but stopped sight
from seeing straight.

the rush (pt. i)

the pain is covered over
by the rush of blood
and drowned underneath
the wakening wall
of adrenaline flood.

your mind makes you numb
to lead under skin
letting you forget
the damage being done
to the flesh within.

only time reminds you
of the truth going on
when your nerves awake
and adrenaline deception
is finally gone.

feeling forced

walking the rows
reading the words
that cover the spines
and span the shelves
spinning my head
twisting my neck
to take in the titles.
making the decision
seems much easier
when i can read
my way through one
and on to the next
again and again
knowing that this
is just one choice
that i don't even
have to make.

no contact

my head is speaking
to my heart in tongues
while my hands and feet
carry me forward blindly
through knotted thoughts
and automatic activity
the cycle starts and stops
just long enough
to let me sleep.

weak resilience

does each correction make us stronger
or just prove we've been wrong for longer?
do we learn from each mistake we make
or do they take us to where we break?
and will i ever know the length
of how my weakness is my strength?

the decision

nature says to take the path
of least resistance every time,
so why would man choose the high road
if it means he has to climb
out of bed and out the door
to face the world outside his head
and take the time to live his life
instead of waiting til he's dead.

inspired

sitting all alone
i want to write now.
thinking in my head
i don't know how to.
going to a time
i was surrounded.
feeling what it was
warm hands on my heart.

innocent intentions

is there a difference
between daffodil and dandelion
when given as a gift
from the hands. the heart
of a child?

haiku #8

thoughts become liquid
as they race around my brain
and soak me like rain.

running rhythm

tick tock
tolls the time
off my clock.
clip clop
the clamor of feet
doesn't stop.
drip drop
sweat beads drench
the skin on top.

living room chair

five-petal flowers on
burnt brush brown
six-headed snakes
swim upside-down
cattail crowns and
corncob feathers
psychadelic sunshine
in autumn weather
broken arm branches
bush burning bright
cushion cover crevice
under lazy lamplight.

a change of pace

it's the loose tooth
that you like to play with
and wiggle around.
the long-grown hair
that you like to twirl through
your fingers but needs trimmed.
the song you love to sing
again and again until one time
it's just stuck in your head.
the favorite pair of jeans
that you wish you could always wear
but they need washed.
they just need washed.

ignorance

they say that someone
can't smell the smells
that constantly
surround themselves
so perhaps we all
should wear perfume
even when we're
unaware of our fumes.

paper tongue

it's funny how
curves and lines
are what i use
to empty my mind
and even though
they take their place
i still can't find
any words to say.

haiku #7

breathing is just the
rhythm in this song we call
living and dying.

pieces/parts

one piece of wood or
a single cinder block
don't make much meaning
and even if you had
ninety-nine nails
and seventy-six screws
you'd still be stuck with
a pointless pile of supplies.
until hand meets hammer
and brick by brick each
block and board becomes
better than before, because
they're part of something more.

nothing not

vacuum clean scream
bright sunlight shine
singing music ring
black fly buzz
time speed by
mother mouth talk
hardrive hum
nothing at
all
at once.

haiku #6

turn on the a/c,
but open the blinds to let
a little warmth in.

practice makes perfect

i am the financial advisor
who files for bankruptcy.
i am the ethics professor
whose home is the race track.
i am the sunday school teacher
who finds comfort in a bottle.
and i am the psalmist
who never sings.

biting the hand that feeds

the river current carries you
and requires no work
as you drift downstream
heading toward home,
but once in a while
you feel like fighting it
because you'd rather rely
on your own arms
even though you know
the water will always win
and wash you away
reminding you where
your strength abides.

me, myself vs. i

even in the light of the sun
i still run with my head to the ground
never looking around
the next bend in the trail
so i always fail to find my way home
because i'd rather roam
than make my way home to your
open door and forgiving heart
where i can finally start
to feel somewhere i belong
not in a song about loss and pain
and not only in my own brain.

pitiful

the slope seems impossibly steep
after tires slipped and slammed
and left you laying limp, lifeless
with broken bones and bruised body
and rather than return to riding
you remain wrecked, ruined
refusing to regroup and restart
and your pride pushes away
hands offering help and healing
because your brokenness has become
easier than the race you were running.

haiku #5

spine meets the mattress.
feeling less at rest than a
book upon a shelf.

no such thing as a clean break

even when you finish the glass
those last few drops always remain.
when left unwashed for time too long
they never leave because of the stain.
like scars left on flesh long after a blade
permanent reminders of the mess you've made.

careful now

resonation from the wrong words
can easily crack a delicate glass.

kaleidoscope

tiny pieces tumble atop each other,
spinning around and spiraling down,
making melodies of illumined hues,
captivating your vision with its vibrance.

but when eyes are emptied of the entertainment
to relish the reality now revealed,
the mind mistakes majestic for mundane
and truth, taken as trifling, is tossed aside.

what can't be held

the man leans heavy-handed
with his garden glove against
the rake he's used the entire day
and lifts weary lids to gaze up
into the cloudless blue void
watching wishfully for a sign of shade
but instead his eyes lay hold
of a single shape soaring overhead
whose wings bring it close
and its beauty is beheld before
it leaves the man's eyes empty again
but not wanting more from the moment
because he knows the the beauty
was never in the bird itself
but in the freedom of its flight.

learning to love where you live.

new air freshener hangs,
a fresh set of wheels,
oil just changed and
exchange of the keys.
it's nothing too new
but it's still new to you.

the fresh air fades out,
wheels begin to wear thin,
the oil needs changed and
you've lost the spare keys.
it's nothing too new
but now it's getting old.

search for a new scent,
replace the rims as well,
clip coupons for the oil change and
comb the cushions for keys.
it's still nothing new
but it never really gets old.

you of little faith

master rolls out of bed
scratches your head as he
slips sleepily down the stairs.

you follow his footsteps
to find him finishing filling
your bowl and his stomach.

you eat your fill as he finds
his way back to the bedroom where
he changes into his stiff suit.

you finish your food and find
a tattered toy rope to wrestle away
from the playful pull of his strong arms.

but he walks right past your
smiling eyes and leaves you long-faced
listening to the garage door grinding gears.

you drop your toy and go back
to the bowl you abandoned for play
but you're careful to save some just in case.

you don't know when he'll come
back to the home you now sit in alone
hoping you won't have to wait here for long.

the hours pass by and you decide
to simply lie around and bide your time
keeping an eye on the door for any signs.

waiting eventually gives way to sleep
but even asleep you still keep your
ears open wide hoping for his voice.

the garage door opens your eyes
and you rise up running to welcome home
the master you thought would never return.

too cold.

growing up was easy when
i felt the same way as
the parents who fed me
breakfast before sunday school.

conflicts were quenched
when breaking curfew meant
staying out a bit too late
with daughters of family friends.

prayers passed by my lips
with ease when i failed
to see that they were little
more than sermon lessons echoing.

i take a look in the mirror
and realize that i've let
this hand-me-down jacket
decide who i've always been.

haiku #4

something comes to mind.
a picture of her. dancing.
a smile breaks your face.

haiku #3

Even if it was
tattooed on my arms, i would
forget how to live.

i judge everything by its cover

i once read a book
every letter and phrase
and now all i can recall
is what it said on the last line
of the very last page.

i once met a man
talked for hours and days
and now all i remember
is when he introduced himself
and told me his name.

of want and misery

i want to take a drink
feel the waters wet my lips
and let the coolness caress my throat.

it doesn't take much
only a few frigid drops
or a small, steady stream.

but i open the gates
and let the rapids rush forth
drowning any doubt of my delights.

but i've done too much
and the waters that i wanted
have carelessly killed my conscience.

is improvement forward motion?

press the keys and hear the strings
the sound of the music is sweet
even when the ivory sticks
and random notes fall flat.
your ears adjust to the discord
and your fingers grow accustomed
to those stubborn notes.
but something still tells you
that this isn't the way
things were meant to sound
and dirty keys get set out
next to the curbside clutter
where they finally fit in
and the smooth, black, lacquered
surfaces of your new purchase
have a new room to call home.
you press the keys and hear the strings
the sound of music is still sweet
and the fluid fingertips feel fine
but there's a part of you
that longs for the chords to tremble
and for your fingers to fight
with the old stubborn keys
that you thought you couldn't stand
but you grew so accustomed to.

questions that keep my neck stiff

is it possible
to love someone
so much that
you can't love them.
and to think
about them
so much that
you can't think
at all about
them or anything.
and even if
you know what
you should do
can you ever
do it if you
don't really want
to do what you
know is right.
and can someone
be so selfish
that he doesn't
even care about
himself at all.
if pleasing someone
else is all you want
is it ever possible
to please yourself.
can i ever really
want anything outside
of my own.

fun isn't fun

i'm really just a little kid.
sitting at the small table
in my miniature chair
doing nothing of significance.
watching the real party go on
of laughter and grown-ups
and of sitting and talking.
the swings and slides are old
and too familiar to be fun.
so i sneak away and quiet down
thinking about what to do.
but since i can't talk like they do
with their foreign phrases
and their nonsense news
i just get back on the swing
and hope that one of them
will see me just long enough
to know that i want a push.

i don't know how to cease to exist

if you rewind our tapes to the start
what does the beginning look like?
is the end simply sealed off
or does it hang frayed and torn?
maybe the beginning reaches the end
and has no real finish or start.
it might just be as simple
as a cord with two ends
and nothing to define them
except for themselves and what they are.
simply ends of what lies between.
or they could be constantly changing,
stretching, twisting, growing,
redefining where we end and
where what we are begins.

empty stare

a painting requires an audience
witnesses to testify to its beauty
eyes to be filled with its wonder.
even though they change nothing.
the paint dried long ago and
the characters are set in their ways and
the joy that flows from the canvas
can never be returned to its sender.
wide mouths and gaping eyes absorb
but leave no mark of change, nothing
good or bad or ugly or beautiful,
nothing.

haiku #2

writing about work.
i'm trying to make this work..
but it doesn't work.

(almost) awake

cold engine
turn the key
grind the gears
listen for it
almost turned over
turn it again
hope for it
wait for it
the slow purr
of morning thoughts.

the hungry bear

hungry is the bear
searching for the hive
longing for the honey
that cost a thousand lives
of tiny buzzing bees
who worked for days and nights
but never tasted sweetness
of stolen comb delight
but no feeling of remorse
or any other cares
will drift into the mind
of the ever-hungry bear.

dependence

keep grabbing the leaves
tearing your way up
don't worry about them
as they fall to the ground.

strip the branches bare
as you start struggling
slipping slowly back down
as you fall to the ground.

reach out for the vine
it seems to reach back
letting you know that
when you hold on to Him
you will never fall to the ground.

source

we never really wonder why
our power wanes so rapidly
and our circuits short repeatedly
we just rework the wiring
and hope for better batteries
instead of ever questioning
if we could be made for something
outside our own necessity.

haiku #1

flip the lightswitch on
you never really notice
until it stays dark

everyday

a cardinal quickly came down
into the green grass front lawn
and just as quickly sprang up
onto the sun-faded steel black lamp post
just long enough to steal a smile
from my unexpecting eyes left filled
wondering if the robin who came next
understood his lack of beauty
and what his dull black feathers
look like in reflections.

my brain works in circles

when i think about pictures
i think about their memories
and how the picture isn't really anything.
i think about what there once was
and how it isn't truly captured.
i think about how it can be looked at
and how it can be reflected on.
i think about how just remembering
is living something again in a new way
and how the picture really is something.

two-a-days

back in creative writing class Mr. Wise said that it was a really helpful writing exercise to try to write at least two poems a day. even if they're both only haiku-length or even just little couplets or something. so from here on out i am going to use this blog to post two poems a day. i'm fairly positive that i won't care much for a majority of them, but it's worth it. i'm writing this (and these poems) mostly for myself since i don't think anyone reads this blog. however, if you do read it i hope at least a fraction of what you read is mildly enjoyable, whether it's in a provocative way or just a simple pleasure.