You can be my kryptonite
You can bring my downfall
Bring me to my knees
Pull the energy out of me
You can be the fire
That finally consumes me
Weakness or ecstasy
You could be my kryptonite
Falsehoods and lies
Truth in disguise
Whispers comprise
A doubt in my heart
Blinding my eyes
Sorrow and sighs
Darkness will rise
My world falls apart
"Say it ain't so,
trapper in her own little world,
the sounds, smells,
and whirl of the ceiling fan
spins unnoticed,
unfelt,
with the security
and familiarity of her headphones.
The music,
unknown,
the art that is decorating
her time
sealing away
the ugly world around her.
Given unto her
the superpower
to make the whole wide world
completely melt away.
Her eyes never breaking
a horizontal plane,
not out of submission,
but from avoidance.
The lack
of eye-contact
can be unsettling to some,
perhaps to the ones
who cannot stand silence.
But in silence she works,
folding her laundry,
being sure to block all view
of any unmentionable
she plucks up
to fold.
To the observation
of the outsider,
an observer
would see or anything
practically any and all
back story
only to be
most likely
incorrect.
And she will never care,
never know
she is the topic of light scrutiny,
so that script can be written,
the unaware volunteer
for the unwarranted play
playing in front.
For there is nothing but a scene,
of washers and dryers,
an incredibly clean location,
and with the only movement
being the one
who has made a point
that she does not want
attention;
she becomes the only subject
on stage.
A boring play.
Smelling of fragrance;
after the rain."
Cover Girl
(Verse 1)
You're too big
You're too small
You're too short
You're too tall
These are just some of the things we're made to feel
All the makeup
Girl in chair
Finger in curl
In glanced stare
Hair in a whirl
Like peaches and cream
She's my semen dream
Amber skin pearl
Silk honeyed hair
Finger in curl
Girl in chair
"A visit at my table,
a very welcome visitor,
has a cup of coffee
set down,
but not before
the friend has seated herself
does the surface
of the brew spill over,
splashing quietly
as as she bumps the table with her knee.
Such a detail,
the dark, dark liquid
spread across the light brown
wood of where I write,
threatening to soil
the art being drawn.
The spillings
of the latest happenings,
the earnest devouring
of each others stories
lead to reading,
of depicting the next best thing
in lives still be finished,
download in progress.
A spiral
from one image to the next
from the warm-lit coffee shop
to digital acquisition.
Like this poem,
the conversation goes,
topics spiraling.
Not out of control,
but wildly different
in varient,
from the new job
made of dreams
to the steaming progress
of artwork creativity.
Reading,
the visitor stirring
with silent smiles
and sparkling eyes,
asking how and why
my poetry winds
into art so quickly,
but my answer is clumsy,
the failing of conveying
a real reason
for words written.
Awkward in handling it,
and unable still
to write out the soul
in one sentence,
stanza,
poem,
book, even.
So let's write three,
I tell her,
and glee is sounded,
rounding back to her departure,
bumping coffee again.
But it's wiped away,
no evidence
of the one who sat across.
Nothing lost.
Meaning, rather.
No theme,
but a underlying feeling."
Your hugs heal my breaking heart
Only temporarily, for once I see you hug another
It once again tears apart
I question my warm feelings…
We’re only friends, yet you fascinate me
To the point that I wonder if that’s all we really are.
I cherish our laughter, our quirky remarks
But do you lavish the intrepid beauty of others instead?
Am I nothing, if not the awkward girl you laugh with, when they’re gone…?
But then, am I more special than they?
More than a face, two breasts, and hips?
More than a quick pleasure in-between your sheets?
Or is that all you truly cherish…?
A girl I met a match in heaven,
More dark as me could be no better than my old lucky number seven.
Our lives started so grand the faults so small,
Being without each other just makes my skin crawl.
The people came against us one by one,
As every year that past we became that much strong.
Almost seven years now under our belt,
When she is not drinking she makes my heart melt
To wake every morning her face I first see.
The feelings in my heart larger than the sea.
To realize after time I have choices make,
These choices so hard that will certainly control our fate
Written by, Rob Casteel
the girl that i see 2015
I look in the mirror every morning and see
a stranger standing there staring back at me
thinking back into her past of un-wanted pain
see's the unshed tears on her cheeks again
the doors in her mind are closed and locked
from the little girl who's childhood was mocked
she knew that her innocence was never meant to be
her reflection shows anguish from the girl that i see
she buried those nightmares inside that locked door
with past demons she doesn't want to see any more
she wonders what if i unlock all those ghosts
but wont ever do that for fear she'll be toast
those things all locked up forever will be
unspoken memories from the girl that i see