...

i've made it so that i can stomach
the rainbow colors of our dialogues
you are a blue
and i am yellow
when we speak slow, and we speak slow
no inspiration from simplicity
i fear our air has thinned out so
that with a straw
i can inhale you, and breath you out
into my palm
i never knew how temporary
the permanence of hearts can be
you are a black, and i am red
my veil no longer laced with coal
too much control has spoiled imagination
and tulips died of boredom from our song
confetti tears and wine stained teeth
dont serenade me anymore
your angles sharpened over time
and elbows turned into an armor
you mimic gold inside my glow
and i've turned green with my impatience
my love- no longer loved
picking up coins from stranger's fountains
go home - where you belong
you're turning grey from all your sadness

We to I

"we" is now an "i",
isn't it like that
it happens
when we turn to shade from sun
letters drop from two to one

"is" is now a "was" - but how
if intentions were as clear as
water
but the words as cloudy as the sky
"is" to "was" and "we" to "i"

so i praise then curse,
until surrender - us to you
take pieces that you find
collect the past like rocks or
stamps, to show it off
to next - whoever is in line

yes to no, or maybe "maybe"
doesn't quite make the cut
but it cuts like hell
when i think maybe
i left a piece of me in us

Stranger

everything you say is good
but not because of what you say
but because you say it
goodness flows right through you
from your root
into the branches of your mouth

i am a child in your presence
hiding behind my mothers legs
and you, a passerby, a stranger
notice my bitten fingernails

smile, the way a stranger smiles
at children
the way the sun smiles on the fields
we're all but numbers to each other
that we recount in numbered sleeps

and you, your goodness is contagious
in blackened sky, in deserts dry
you are a firefly - my stranger
I catch your light
in passing by

Pearl

roll me into a pearl
and hold me on your fingertip
feel my lightness
and see
how slippery i am
i could get lost in cushions of your couches
or in the tiny creases of your hand

notice your reflection
if you're looking close enough
i come from sea, the darkest corners
i've surfaced from the waters on your call
round and hard, another coin in your jar

still wet from travels, the smell of sand
is in me, on my skin - engraved
like graves with smell of wilted flowers
i have come to you
to find my rightful place among the other jewels
that you have held atop your mountains

round, shiny pearl
inside your hand - I've aged a thousand years
to drink the water of your well
and softness of my core reborn
to fit another shell

He loved..

i think he was in love with me
but only when i cried
he loved the quite tears
while i growled inside

he thought i was a drifter
and so he loved my shoes
the timid shadow following
when i would leave the room

he crowned me as his angel
then clung on to my wings
i was his cleopatra
he'd bow down to his knees

when i would dissapear
in fog of cold november
he crazed about my absence
not questioning my temper

i'd tell him only little
and never call him home
for that he loved my secrets
while polishing my throne

the little drops of sweat
that formed on crimson lips
he loved - the summer heat
for giving him a taste

i think he was in love with me
but only in the night
i was the haunting of his dream
and so he loved the light

Renew

pull away
hard
and the heart is thumping
breaking sweat, believe in something new
and when the voice inside says - you'll find nothing
unless you shed another layer, then it's true
fearing God, the path is written
stone in stone, in veins of leaves i see
walk away
slow
dont look back to catch the shadow
i pull another leaf off from the tree

Something true

I’ll give you something true
To put your arms around
these things are always better heard
When we don’t make a sound
This is where I am
With doubts for you
No self assurance
I float through days with only questions
to hang up in my closets
Its soft, the way I feel
My insides turn to cotton
Whenever you appear – and then when you're forgotten
where is the peace? this storm is in the cycle
That spins my head, then comes to sudden stop
And if you ask me who I am
I’ll draw you out a circle
the never ending line
that guards the space within
I’ll give you something true
So hazy nights can be a little clearer
And lazy days not as alone
be patient with me, you are with me
until the storm has come and gone
and when the smoke filled rooms
where we once shared confessions
no longer hide our words in secrecy of walls
we will move on, from everything that wasnt
to find again, the peace we had before

Let it be

i find it boring
when we talk about the past
the birthdays missed,
the books we read apart
we talk about the time thats gone
as if its now,
and yet it isnt,
it has fizzled
that energy has shifted
drifted, from where we were
and now - its only now we have
and when i drink, you know i laugh
and when i laugh, you know i mean it
and when i'm mean, you always see it
we're now, in one with time and free
i let it go, you let it be

Hand

i think i've grown another hand
it reaches further than it should
it ties my laces faster
than any other would
it cradles me to sound sleep when
trains outside are loud
it picks me flowers from the mountains
then drops me on a cloud
it writes me poetry and plays piano
then whipes the tears from dwelling eyes
its planted me the greenest garden
and stolen stars from darkened skies
my hand is brave and strong enough
to fight the demons in my dreams
it knows just how i like my eggs
and coffee with some cream
i let it be, for it is fleeting
the way it saves me from quick sand
and when it's gone, i'll turn to patience
to help me hold another hand

oh fuck off, you're not a poet

stop writing in short sentences
like this
like it's more honest
like there is no
need
for a rhyme
as if you've got
some secret
that noone knows
because you're abrupt
and/
or
blunt


it's not edgy
it's not modern
it's not trendy
it's bullshit

stop
it
stop it
stop please

poetry is not a fad
it breathes
on its own
not like your fucking
hand pressing on keys
as if
you're the warhol of
writing

draw a red stripe
on a blue convas
and call it a day,
why don't you?

End of rant.

p.s. this posting is really my way of expressing my frustration at the modern poetic trend happening with fellow young people.. apparently writing is a cool thing noways, and since many lack the real talent and imagination to create worthy poetry, they have decided that writing in brief abrupt lines makes them and their work unique. it does not. it hurts my fucking eyes, and my fucking ears. it is abunch of pretentious crap, so please spare us all and stick to your shopping and LSD trips.

p.s.s i don't mean to hate on anyones creative outlets, and of course, who says i'm any better.. but fuck ... i hate this crap.

My home cries

my home cries
when your footsteps aren't echoing
from the doorway of your room
sound of coughing isn't waking me
too long ago and gone too soon

the walls are lonely with noone
to fall against them in drunk stupor
they call your name when there's someone
who isnt you inside my bedroom

the floors don't creak the same nowdays
now that there's only me who's walking
my mirrors look just like your face
and water runs with our talking

you're not the one the heart is hiding
glimpses of whom i wait to see
but tell that to my home that's crying
and wanting you instead of me

Timing

losing time
my friend, turn back the minute
so i can take a minute brushing softness on your face
and give you back the moments that i've cost you
when wasting nights pulling away from your embrace
few seconds long for you to read my writing
that i have left under the doormat of your home
and hours into our deepest conversation
you mention suddenly you'd rather be alone
i've lost the instance, regret's without compassion
my days of doubt have turned on me with years
i jump from rock to rock now, tempt chance with odds of crashing
my friend, you've saved some time, walking away from me

Reason

i cant stay long
i cant stay long
i'm leaving and the distance calling
the distant call is like a native song
where home is never warm for the returning
with swollen feet and crimes committed
against my will and for it, and with reason
that i have grown a spine that stretches
all my bones, and gives me hands that reach
beyond my reach, and even further - for a reason
i break through thin and thick and again thin
the inside of the out and outside of the skin
i cannot sin, i pray- as there must be a reason
run, like in a herd without a shepherd
and run away from herd like in a dream
the crisp of leaves that tells me only
that i am going where no one else has ever been
i cant stay long, i must be leaving
somewhere,
there,
where my reason takes me - for a reason

Words

words like silver shadows follow us
in travels gone and travels never taken
slow, and moving words that leave us
speechless, timeless, frozen on our lips

stained and faint in whispers
caresses never said out loud
words, like undiscovered rivers
still flow with purpose in the heart

with tricks and secrets
words have me waiting, yelling
spelling every letter back and forth
spinning with their bluntness
tripping, slipping into the cracks of if's and but's

i'm sinning, words, with your persuasion
my lips pressed shut, and hands over my ears
direct in my direction with your measures
and pleasures when the sound appears

clear and cloudy where i bathe
in syllables and similes corrupted
even forgetful minds can never un-forget
the volumes of my pleadings interrupted

words, you are a river long
your currents had me sinking with defiance
i will say nothing, and nothing will be wrong
forgive me, but what i choose is silence

.....

you abandon with such disdain
so much awareness in your parting footsteps
yes you forsake as if you know me well
you know just how i'd loathe to be forsaken


i give you sun
you answer me with rainfall
my windows weathered many of those storms
how can the end stand next to the beginning
how can this house have windows but no doors


the whispered will, will still be spoken words
and even runaways are tears away from staying
what can i cry you, if I can't cry you home
with worn out soles and even warm embraces


ah yes - you leave with flare
with glass for eyes, your smell is slowly changing
your posture is as sharp as my dispair
you leave with firmness, lips and fists still clenching


so many summers passed,
so many kisses after you my mouth has tasted
and here you are, again - afar
i bow my head for all the moments wasted

Just sayin.....

This poem is the direct result of my evening with my mother. I'm laughing still....



perhaps i should've let you know
that when awake, i'm usually intolerant
easily frustrated, and very often so
i'm lazy in my eagerness
slighted with your ignorance
and frankly quite uninterested
waiting for you to go

but when i'm sleeping peacefully
i'll love you unconditionally
with dreamful moans amusingly
i'll charm you to your bones
i'll hold you close and honestly
my warmth until you fall asleep
synching my breath and heartbeat
so easily to yours

i should've let you know my dear
that maybe its a better deal
if we leave words on doorsteps
and dinners with your close friends
can be saved for someone
who has a patient ear

i have to let you know my love
it's better when it's not enough
and love is so much easier
when it's not yours to take

perhaps it's time i make it clear
before you shed another tear
don't leave me notes or hand picked flowers
leave happiness to darker hours

Desert

let me breathe
breaths of strangeness and uncertainty
that fill the lungs with solitude and gratitude
thank you for your air made of lilacs and of memories
stripped of curses the living has the bear
toast my glass, to wish me best in everything
to wish away everything already done
let me breathe
breaths of understanding
then leave me where you found me
beneath the scorching sun

Sad

i'm sad
but not as sad as sadness of a wilted flower
or that of yellowed books on shelves collecting dust
the sadness of a schoolyard teasing
or realization of unanswered lust

the sadness of a fire blazing,
eating away the pictures you once framed
or ant who's day was wasted
by curiosity of children's hands


i'm sad, with sadness running freely
unconfined, unapologetic
but not as sad as graceful aging of a body
with time, so unsympathetic


along with seasons changing, my sadness will be fed
the sadness of the never ending, and sadness of the dead
i'm sad, but not as sad as sadness
not quite sad as you
for it is you, my sadness
sad's all you ever knew

Answers

i'm waiting for your letter
fingertips still stained with ink
i'm waiting for your letter
here and gone within a blink
skin to skin, the pages sticking
heavy with the blackened hope
eyes alert and sickened feeling
dried then wet with antidote
i'm waiting for your letter
so truth puts me to sleep
i'm waiting, patience thinning
your letter, at my feet...

Spring

let me paint you spring with words
of attained love and answered prayers
with melodies of summer promised
in distant songs from way up high
more windows creaking open
across the city wonders
and leaves of green emerging
reborn from sun lit sky
heavy jackets in the closet
heavy hearts unloading weight
shimmers, glitters from the sunsets
staying up hours too late
powder blues and softened cashmere
sweeteness from the honeycomb
words can paint you all the colors
but only spring can bring you home

Until again

salty lips are so much sweeter tasting
when tears cried out have been cried out for you
slipped up, turned out to be mishapen
by hands that cradled once under the silky moon
let's fall head first to depths of our illumination
the blinking reds have yet to stop us in our tracks
sweet meet, not long until we see each other
sweet you, not long until we catch the moon

Could

i could be good for you
like eating apples and restful nights
like sunday mornings with pillow fights
and messy sheets with after glow
like running fast and drinking slow

i could be good to you
like sunny days spent in the park
and books that stay put in your heart
like taking walks but no locations
and being honest without discretions

I could be pepper on your steak
and much awaited cigarette break
i could be gloves in winter storms
needle and thread for all your torns

relief, relief.. it's never cheap
you got to run before you leap
i could be safety net you crash on
or safety net you'll never need

but wait, dont see... don't look at me
like i'm as sure as leaves on trees
like i'm the flower to your bee
hear what i say, not what it seems
read lines i write, not in between
you've walked so long to come to me
i never said that i would be.