PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

 

 

♥

 

I could be your angel,

 

I could be your wife,

 

I'm so many things inside my head,

 

I'm a juicy slice of life.

*

My mind is sweet like sugar,

 

And a lucious chocolate pie,

 

I'm a starry night to woo your soul,

 

A fluttering butterfly.

 

?

¿

 

And then there is the dark side,

 

You may see it. Would you like?

 

It may appear a "rocky wheeler",

 

Like a circus' broken bike.

*

I keep it like a secret box,

 

And open it sometimes,

 

To pick out just the tool I need,

 

In all these silly rhymes,

*

If you met me once in person,

 

With some smarts you'd be aware,

 

That I'm hardly the sort of lady,

 

Who expects some "royal chair".

*

My conversation's casual,

 

My dress be far from lewd,

 

And if you disrespect me,

 

I can really be quite RUDE!

*

So let's begin and share a talk,

 

About the things we may,

 

To open possibilities,

 

That could change the world today.

*

Cause you may be a badass,

 

But I need to let you know,

 

Anyone can act like a jerk,

 

Even me, I have, I know.

*

You might have a label

 

Undermining all you are,

 

But please do know not everyone,

 

Thinks that is you, by far,

*

A label marks a point in time,

 

And time is always changing,

 

No one can steer a soul's true path,

 

Or cease its rearranging.

*

Don't be fooled to thinking 

 

The whole world thinks the same way,

 

Life is what you make of it,

 

Not like anything "they" say.

*

I can be a gentle soul, 

 

A tender loving sight,

 

I could be a devil who would rob you of all that's bright,

 

I could rip your heart out if I really wanted to,

 

See, all you do, 

 

I could do as well,

 

And with that,

 

I will bid you

 

Adieu.

 

*The choices you make, make you.*

 

 

 

♥

 

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I saw you on the train that morning.

You looked so misshapen,

With your superfluous lower lip protruding,

Like the petal of a rose,

Damaged by morning dew.

Your eyes wondered,

Like glass marbles, pouring

Distain into all you knew.

Like a diamond in the rough,

You were there among the grey,

Shaped into nothing but Solemness.

A Solemner.

Lost in the morning,

Of heavy tides and and matchstick lives,

Disappearing completely.

Those eyes, those cheeks,

That imploring gaze,

Made me no Solemner

Then a man could be.

Such beauty,

Pittance,

Wasted through the day,

As it seeps through the drain,

Like water.

Down it falls,

Never to be seen again.

 

The back end of the tavern was pretty crowded that night, which meant that the bartender was being extra particular about who he gave his attention to. I’d been standing on the far corner towards the stage - the only part of the entire stretch that wasn’t mobbed by people - and waited patiently for an opening to flag down a drink. We were in between sets, and some other local act was currently assembling themselves beneath the shoddy spotlights. Their setup was as elaborate any other, with broad panels of wood adorned with as many as a dozen different guitar pedals placed firmly in front of their feet.

 

 

At a quick glance, I raised a finger to the passing bartender and ordered a cheap draft and a shot of whiskey. As he departed, a young guy stumbled toward the bar and threw his weight against it, sprawling forward with his arms draped over the back of the counter. He steadied himself and straightened, coming to relax on his elbows and placing himself on the stool to his right, as if he’d been sitting that way along. I couldn’t help but chuckle, and struggled to do so under my breath. He had long, ratty dreadlocks that held a color somewhere between brown and black. Everything about him looked sort of dirty and sketchy, but his grin also made it clear that he was having a blissfully good time.

 

 

He seemed like he was contemplating ordering a drink, but couldn’t quite get himself to move forward and do so. I sat there watching him absently, waiting on my own drinks to arrive. He turned towards me, his head bobbing, and he spoke to me as if he knew me. He had a name for me and everything.

 

 

“Tom! Tom… Sorry, I didn’t notice you there for a second.” He said, lucidly, his eyes opening and closing. He turned his stool towards me and placed one hand on his leg, leaning forward and looking at me very intently.

 

 

“Do you wanna know what I’ve noticed, Tom? Everybody here… Around here, I mean… Keeps talking about, like, what’s right; what the right thing to do is. And… They all have different ideas… About what it is, you know? What the right answer is. For everything.” He spoke soberly, despite his dazed expression and half-lit eyes. He turned to his right and slapped the counter top repeatedly,

 

 

“Drink, barkeep! Drink! Please, a drink! A Budweiser! Please!” He shouted. His voice cut through the noisy chatter surrounding us, and several people fell silent and stared at him. He paid no one any mind, least of all me, or “Tom”, and continued his diatribe with renewed vigor:

 

“It fucking… It blows my mind! How can everyone think that they’re right, and EVERYBODY ELSE IS WRONG? … How … I mean, really, man… Where did all of their mirrors go? Right?” His eyes widened as he spoke. To our mutual surprise, the bartender rose above the counter and brought down a Budweiser hard onto the counter top. The noise stirred the young man forward and he brought up the bottle for a quick swig, his wide grin returning as he swallowed. He stared at the floor momentarily, took another drink, and placed it back on the bar. His look of fierce concentration returned.

 

 

“I’m not gonna sit here, and… You know, tell YOU that I know everything there is to know. I’m not stupid, like that, you know? I’m not. But THESE fucking people, right? Just… All of these fucking jokers that… That wanna be on top so bad, making all of the rules… And, like… Deciding what’s MORAL and shit. What’s THAT? We’re just supposed to… ” He pauses momentarily, and then raises the bottle to his lips once before going on:

 

 

“We’re supposed to let them dictate whatever they want? Try to set their… Their bull shit in stone so that the rest of the world’s more like THEM?”

 

 

He slammed his bottle back down onto the bar. His face fell, and he drooped his head forward, looking exasperated and tired. I waited for another escalation, but he at last seemed content with being quiet. My drinks had long since been sat in front of me, and I took hold of the whiskey and downed it quickly, chasing it with a small sip of my own beer. Young dreadlocks sat motionless, looking tragic and downcast. I couldn’t help but feel for him, despite his strangeness and obvious intoxication. Why not engage an interesting stranger?

 

 

“I don’t think there’s too much to worry about. Don’t you think that there are decent people in this world? Ones who will influence others by example, instead of force?” I asked him, wondering if my voice might make him aware of the fact that I am not Tom.

 

 

He turned and raised his head level with mine, all of the vacancy leaving his face, and he spoke with a sad, but deliberate tone:

 

 

“I do think that… But, I … I don’t think they’re ever going to be loud enough to stand out. You know, Tom? Like… They’ll always be there… They’ll always be shouting too, but… They’ll never drown out the people who, just… THINK they’re right.”

 

 

And with that, he took his beer, turned away from me and walked, on unstable footing toward the surging crowd, disappearing between the many dancing bodies.

 

Part of me wanted to laugh, and I did, a little bit. I took another short, meaningless little drink of my cheap, bitter, sour-as-shit draft beer and stared across the way at all of the lights, all of the glittering glass, all of the reaching arms and trickling liquids across the length of the bar. Feeling sobered and unhappy, I stared at nothing, hoping to catch no eyes, no attention.

 

 

I took another drink; longer this time. More to be had. It was starting to get a little warm, but still, it was refreshing. Another one, and make it good.

 

 

Once more. And at this point, we might as well finish the job.

 

 

What’s there to do now but go into the crowd as well.

 

 

..........

(^^image from mashable.com^^)

the only definition

that seems fittingly so,

is that a 'facebook friend'

could be anyone...

you simply do not know,

the 'unknown zone'

may be the place they

call home,

it's somewhere 'out there',

not here, and not gone.

so dear facebook friend,

with communication

so penned,

wherever you are,

i cannot say,

but you've been 

a dear friend,

forever and a day,

you are always there

with you cute

profile picture,

smiling as we chatter,

through the strains

of life's strictures,

i never met you,

and yet blindly, 

we converse,

about everything online, 

in fact, all in the universe,

you're there when

it's raining,

and even in the snow,

carved in digital 

realities, which

little of I know,

but now the time has come

for me to clean up 

this list, and i fear 

i must delete you,

oh, please don't 

be pissed!

exactly you're 

mission, i dont 

have clue, but 

believe me my dear,

our friendship's 

like glue,

on my page you

are hidden, 

so you won't notice

you're not there,

til your next quip

or comment,

attempted to share.

we never exchanged 

phone calls, or

met for a beer,

but my inbox is open

so you can email

all year, 

you live miles away,

but believe me 

of this,

you're as close 

as you were ever,

even though we 

n'er kissed,

if there's one 

thing to learn

from this digital void,

is that social networking's 

for fun, an accessory,

to be enjoyed,

because although

we are spirit,

this life is so,

so much more,

our friendship conceived

through this virtual birth,

but truly my friend,

our names on a list

does not show

our true worth.

 

3:04 PM 8/11/2013 ©

...........

The wooden doll’s puppet hands

 

I sat next to her, her and her aroma.

It perfumed the air around my circling thoughts.

They, bewildered by the sweet intoxication, could think no more.

 

In that dull chamber of routine,

I did not tend to my task, as I could not.

Not next to her at least.

 

A stranger, perhaps no stranger than the norm,

And indeed my eyes had once before gazed upon her body, approaching me.

Mind you that I did not have, in me, know of her soul.

 

Certainly, I knew nothing of her heart.

Certainly she cared not for me, I pondered to myself at least.

She did escape my present tense.

 

But then again,

I am better known for chasing dreams awake,

Than cool romance in trance, lost somewhere in the wake of exchanging pressing words and thoughts.

 

Regardless, me being the fool that I like to play, I took the plunge into her eyes.

I then spoke my soft spoken words,

Both fearful and out of childish curiosity,

 

I asked my stupid question and she felt obliged to answer.

 

I then, became so foolishly aware of just how stupid I had been,

I took evasive action, and turned too soon.

But I, at least, did thank her.

 

Then only silence for the rest of the way.

Just her perfume revolving parallel to my growing sentiments of both desire and apology,

As we sat side by side by circumstance.

 

She as a wooden doll,

For my amusement,

And I as a wooden boy gutless in his pursuit.

 

For no particular reason,  I in that moment:

A physicist, a scientist, a philosopher, and,

 For no deeper meaning Alive.

 

If she would have asked me too.

I would be hers, like a dog.

I would give up my freedom, my freedom!

 

For the sweet embrace of this stranger,

For the foreign love that she possessed,

And for that second of a thought in which:

I was pitifully in love and happy for no greater reason.

 

 

..............

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihGCj5mfCk8

(^right click and open in new tab^)

 

dear mommy,

 

dear dad,

 

i remember

 

what we had,

 

i know you couldn't afford

 

the bills and the pain,

 

for you had your own 

 

from the past

 

that did remain,

 

i appreciate

 

the decision you made,

 

i know it was hard

 

to leave me in that ward,

 

but now i'm well

 

it's over...the hell,

 

my new mom and dad

 

have loved me dearly,

 

i just want to say

 

i love you,

 

sincerely.

 

 

12:31 PM 7/21/2013 ©

 

............

 

 

 

..............

 

Part I of II

 

 

This is the story of Larry Joe Prince

And the way Arizona stole his innocence.

It is written with hope that there may come a day

When a wise judge will grant him his moment to say

All the things so conveniently left out of court,

Made American “justice” look more like a sport,

With a high-priced attorney that didn’t think clear,

And the false testimony of one with much fear,

And the state prosecute thought “I’ll surely reach fame”,

He said, “Hell, I don’t care who the state wants to blame,

It’s a paycheck to me; I don’t care about truths,

It’s my ego I feed, I’m a low lying sleuth!!”

 

So they all drew their “guns” on that guy Mr. Prince,

Absolutely no shred of secure evidence,

They proceeded to send him to death row to sit,

For the murder of one that he did not commit,

And the biggest and worst sin of all that was done,

Was the way that the people held on to their “guns”,

They embraced all the lies to evade what was clear,

As revenge prevailed justice with each little tear,

And for those in the grave who just watch from above,

With no longer a voice to teach them that real love,

Is not proven by putting the blame on a man,

Just because he is there….cause the courts and you can,

 

See the proof of one’s love speaks out so very clear,

Even after the grave when one’s body’s not here,

You will hear their soul cry, and you’ll then know for sure,

If they’re resting in peace or they’re haunted some more.

 

There are families that hide from life’s reality,

The dead man in this case begs you hear his soul’s plea,

Make amends for the errors you’ve made in the past,

And put down all those stones, and those already cast,

If this dead man could speak he’d have something to say,

Of the circus that ran through the courtroom that day,

And if not for the dead man then do it for you,

Cause we all have to answer to God what is true,

Larry Prince knows he’s clear and he wins either way,

                              Cause he’s INNOCENT judge, the state’s in disarray.                                

So please read all with care on this day we implore,

Please don’t look at this life as a game where you score,

It’s integrity that is of stake in this court,

And it’s not mine or yours it’s this country’s that’s short

Of a quality no longer active today,

If it dies, it’s the lives of our loved one’s…they’ll pay.

Take your time, read it all, and be true to your heart,

And we’ll all pray it’s not too late for a new start.

 

 

Part II of II

 

 

They all loved cocaine but they hid it from Dad,

He just couldn’t believe that his kids could be “bad”,

So his eyes he did close, and they stayed tightly shut,

While his best offspring died with that stuff in his gut,

And they said, “It was murder”, and placed the blame there,

Yes, it’s true ‘bout that bullet and blood in his hair,

And the roots of that crime have been hidden so well,

By the real guilty ones with the lies they did tell,

For those self-righteous ones that just stared and stood by,

And condoned this deceit without batting an eye,

For the cowards that watched as the killers went free,

Be aware this could happen to you or to me,

And your sons or your daughters could one day be led

To a place where they wish they would rather be dead,

So now don’t be afraid to let truths in your ears

When your children are hurting with eyes full of tears,

Don’t you cower or shudder, don’t whine and don’t wince,

And remember the story of Larry Joe Prince.

 

Written in parts, from 2000-2002

Original Copyright 2002 

Registration Number / Date:

                   TXu001112792 / 2002-12-02

 

..................

 

07/21/13 ©

 

*

Sense. 

 

Sensitivity. 

 

The highly sensitive person. 

 

It is not genetically 

marked, but Carl Jung 

says that HSPs 

have a definite 

 

biological 

 

difference in their 

nervous systems.

 

"Oh, don't be so SENSITIVE!!!"

 

They were once shy,

until they learned

there was no

other recourse,

and the world broke 

them...

 

...and then,

on the eighth

day, God created 

monsters.

 

1:25 PM 7/5/2013 ©

Be aware of
Your motives,
Because I lend you my

 

Kindness,

 

I am not a talisman
To protect you
From your own

 

Blindness,

 

Accounting for self
Can mean
Claiming your true

 

Value,

 

Your beauty can't
Shine if no one
Can see through

 

YOU,

 

Do not make
Promises,
Or demean my

 

Compassion,

 

Don't underestimate
My desires
In that

 

Fashion,

 

I am a woman
That has
Seized her true

 

Prowess,

 

If you don't
Mind I'd love
Being friends without

 

Cowardice.

 

 

4:05 PM 6/17/2013 ©