Tag Archives: poet

Blind shoots and wooden bones

Blind shoots and wooden bones
through the slow, sandy strata of time
wove through hidden mineral years and split trunks
searching arms to skeletons.

Twig and claw from a distance
the dime portrait of a great neuron
frozen forks of lightning in the blue clouds
soft cotton colors in the early evening.

Gentle and warm behind the bisection, no aid in illumination
the light breathed slow and bright around them.

A tin-can grey train
intermittently
battled with inertia like a great bear, grumpy and afraid
from its long hibernation
rolling, limb by limb, back into the waking world.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,

For What I’m Worth

You might feel full and heavy in the pocket but remember,
You’re a big fat wallet full of Ones
Stripper cash or tip money or the crumbs of a few decent bills,
Not worth the bank trip
Just enough for a half-tank of gas or a Seven-Eleven Snack,
On the way to your shitty job
That you take because your ship just hasn’t sailed in yet,
While the bills keep coming
Energy water phone rent and they can’t even give you garbage for free,
But you recycle every day
Turning cans and bottles into dollars and cents or shoes for third-world orphans,
Or whatever they do with it
The world’s full of curtains and you can’t go looking behind each and every one,
Let the Wizard be a Wizard
Sometimes all it takes is a little faith smoke and mirrors to get you home,
Sometimes you walk for miles
It’s the harder longer colder nights where you gestate the best of your thoughts,
And forget them later
Like all the faces and names of friends you’ve forgotten since you were a kid,
You wonder where they went
You never stay to see what happens when a slow-growing thing blooms and rises,
No time to be too fond
All the little treasures you built up over the years and the littler few you carried with you,
Seashells go back to the Sea
Waves work both ways and every time you crawl up on some new shore the tide pulls you back,
Rubber Band Independence
Stretched between your thumb and finger ready to snap out and sting the world,
Never leaving a mark
You never find a foundation never build yourself something to last never save for the winter
Live Fast and Broke
Always feeling full but you run out fast and it’s none of it worth too much,
Like a big fat wallet full of Ones

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Like the Twelve-Bar Blues

I want you to play me like the twelve-bar blues.
Pick up a guitar and just start sliding around,
Tell me something sad, tell it twice,
But don’t give the whole thing away just yet,
Because ABABCD is a tricky little waltz
And let’s not miss the third step.

Now riff me back to the beginning,
Hit a chord that tells me the story’s not finished
And we’ve got a ways to go.
Wind me up like a major league pitcher;
Stack me up like one of those wooden string toys
So you can push the little button under my feet and let it all
Collapse.
It’s a dangerous little dance
And let’s not forget where we started.

Spelling out a story in threes:
it’s not the fastest way to go about it but
Yes, No and No, Yes are no story at all:
Yes, Yes, No is the way a tragedy goes, and
No, No, Yes is where my little victories usually come from.
Roll up the frets and we’re back to step one
Feels like starting over but we’re a little further in the tale
And things are starting to come into focus,
What happened to you? What happened to you? Now I know.
It’s a silly little jig,
But let’s not forget why we began it.

I want to tell you a funny story, you might know how it goes
I want to tell you a real funny story, you just might know how it goes
See, I get so sick of you, and then I want to hold you close

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

So you’ve decided to give me a call!
I don’t mind these little intrusions by the past, but there’s really not much I can do, darling,
and when I hear about your troubles, oh, they set me free.
I remember a time when just seeing your name on the phone was like siren lights in the rear view,
Stop whatever I’m doing, pull over, try to explain my way out of this one
You never let me off with a warning.
Now you’re telling me your heart is broken,
Well, I’m no doctor, but I’ve dabbled in the field a bit and here’s what I’d prescribe:
By yourself you’re a palace, all twinkly gemstoned walls and cool fountains in the courtyard,
You’re a statue, weathering the elements with a stone jaw and a torch held high,
You’re a mockingbird, dancing from twig to twig and laughing at your enemies,
But you never wanted to be any of those things.
Because a palace gets lonely with nobody inside, a statue can’t move its lips to speak, and a mockingbird has no nest of its own.
Well, all right, then, you’re going to have to nail down another (you were always on a cross but nobody was alone at Golgotha)
And I kill myself too much on a daily basis to make it worth the timber.
So you’re off to the prisons with your hammer in hand and the first one with a good flat palm is yours for the taking
And you never stopped to think
Two people is twice the weight
And all your strength is in your legs

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
Death, The Life Story

Tracing a life through stories of death. Sometimes funny, sometimes not.

sevenstarhalo

"Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living."- Jonathan Safran Foer. || student, loves travelling and perhaps baking a cake.||

Seal Matches

Current Affairs and Aesthetics.

unbolt me

the literary asylum

Mugilan Raju

Prime my subconscious, one hint at a time

The Flyleaf Wordsmith

The door leading to blaring madness.

Hiking Photography

Beautiful photos of hiking and other outdoor adventures.