cloudless

There's never been much of a LIE
I've chosen not to tell

And it used to come so easy.

It takes the devastation of the simplest
of misinformations and intentionally
misattributed words, craftily placed
for a heavy fall
from
grace.

to make one believe the TRUTH is all
there is.

I used to think it was so WRONG
when people
said things
that weren't
true

but we are a culture of soothsayers
and peoplepleasers

we say yes when we mean unequivocally no

we tell lies because the truth is abrasive or evasive

and maybe the LYING is WRONG
and I've known it forever

but I LIE to me
everyday.

and it makes me feel closer to the TRUTH
like I know we want to feel.

oh how we stray.

Love needs...

I love you
always hits the heart
just the way it's suppose to,
but hearing about
the trust that seals
love type implications
is so
much better

control

I feel as if I'm holding this weird power that I never meant to have
I don't know how to get rid of it or how to give it back to who it should
belong to,

it seems even if I offered she wouldn't
take it.
I feel like a little kid behind the wheel of a car
and I can't see behind the wheel
I can't reach the break
and the only think that
I can use to steer are the screams coming from around me

I just want to land where it's soft…or where it's softest

It's all relative now.

I wish I could take it all back

control nothing

be alone.

From Day 1

it's never easy to remember your intent
and disregard it.
it's never easy to pick up the phone and dial
then hang up when you hear the dial tone
or throw the weight of the ax as it's coming down.

There are horror stories of submission all around us,
and quests that have intentions that don't match the
strangled process that keeps us all alive

but mostly we suffer from disconnect and
the brutal yet insistant message that our intent should
not be our own and that our quest should be only for
ourselves.

it is ever difficult to convince a being to give up everyone else to
serve himself

unless everyone rallys him to it,
and cheers him
from day
one.

for me

I'm so lost.
I feel like the wind is pushing me around
and I'm strong so I remain still
but I get no where.

I want to push this approved love away and
I want to have the simplicity of being alone

I can't say one thing and do another, I won't
settle for anything lower
than I what my mind can reach on its tippy toes
I'm not being pushed I'm being prodded

and like any woman who's had sex at least
once knows, that's not pleasurable it's annoying

but how do you say, "let me alone" ?
how do you wish to go back to nothing
when the newness isn't even stale?
how do you slam the door on some
poor lamb when you are a lamb yourself?

How do I ignore all the calls and whispers, messages
letters, texts, shouts, searches, comments, pressure,
heavy silences, packages, pages, and voicemails

how do you get away to be alone how do you make
someone understand that ALONE doesn't mean
never and that TOGETHER means occasionally?

no man is an Island but Islands are in chains so you
always know the nearest person isn't that far
but the distance is important.

I always knew there was more to this than appreciation
and love, but this commitment is so hard to find worth
it these days
and YES it's because of me
and NO it doesn't mean
I hate you or don't care

I can't talk to anyone but my mother more than twice a day
without getting annoyed because I know if it's more than
twice the words really don't mean much
and I can't waste mine because
Can't
You
See?

I have so many important things to say
for me.

Truant

I wish I had given myself more time to forget the day
and leave behind all this concrete.

I wish I had just walked into the woods with courage and dreams

and a pen

something to give me the push to write without worries
to have nothing to really write about at all

I wish I had given myself freedom and the
choice to live away from demands
I would do anything to just leave
hang a sign, like they do at small family owned stores
"out to lunch be back soon"

no obligation to really comeback at all,
no pressure or reason to hurry
or be bothered.

no one to want to account for me
no missed calls or
unread text messages
or fear about where I must have gone.

The silent pleasure in riding myself of all those voices

to be a deserter must be so splendidly frustrating

and free.

MisMatched

I feel like my personality has been mismatched
and the tv doesn't help.
on the glowing screen
I keep seeing my propagative attached
to some clueless single minded character
where is the complexity?
I see good hair and lively lives
and success that I can't imagine for
myself.

I am not the most sentimental,
or thoughtful.
honestly I forget a lot of the
things I say,
cause I know if they're off the cuff
I mean them

and I think myself into inactivity
because I can't have one mind
I still find the highest solace in being
alone

and I've never depended on anyone for my drive

I am mismatched in personality because
there is no reason
these ideas should be trapped in this
character, who can never really
stop.
and.
speak.

Habits

this diet of rainy days and
my thoughts and snubbed invitations to
birthdays, drinks, and coking
I can't quite remember what actually
happened all that time ago
my thoughts are, more selfish than they've ever been
and I still can't explain why a night in sounds better
than any kind of night activity with anyone.
I've got 1000 miles to remind me that
love is precious and another 1000 to tell me
that love is hard but only inches to remind me
I need to work get better analyze
understand that trust and reputation aren't
transferable credits.

I need to stop dreaming of dreams and
use my fists to build a reality I can cope with and
vent my frustrations in beautiful poems and
mind vacations where a paradise exists
but is wholly unattainable, yet see able and real

I've come to realize belonging is overrated,
passion is akin to air and adversity
weeds out everyone who's not worth my time
but still this isn't quite what I imagined.

being alone, thinking,
listening to the rain fall

Rotation of the earth

The rotation of the earth doesn't really matter.
I still don't feel like I'm moving, you come up to me with your
cropped almond colored hair that splays out just perfectly
and compliments your freckles and you tell me
I'm moving even though I'm sitting still and haven't
bothered with any involved thinking for
an amount of time that might mean I'm not real anymore
that i'm not living.
you can tell me I'm moving even though the words that I say have no consequence
so little and so believe by me that after I say anything you're more likely to get me to tell
you the circumference of the earth than what I just said.
I'm so stagnant that I'm not even careless,
because even carelessness takes an effort and
requires some sort of absent planning to be worthwhile.
it's almost tomorrow and I've waited too long to get anything done.
I've wasted everything and I"m not going any where.

but the world spins at 1038 miles per hour without me
I'm just left behind all the same.

tears

she cried for me,
totally selfless because I'm afraid.
makes my heart hurt and
keeps me up when I should be sleep

I still can't believe that there were tears
that I almost didn't hear
but then I knew she cried for me
and when I asked her not to
and when she explained why

I knew that
she loved me
more than I ever had at that point
and that was just her being a
friend

How beautiful the tears, and it
makes me sad to think in that
moment I was unsure

I dream that I could have
somehow lifted her out of the
worry and calmed her
fears

but I am just me
and not powerful
even in my direct ventures.

I feel insane sometimes
because I dream we can
grow so beautifully
and simultaneously

and we'll be fed by her tears that she cried for me because of fear
and love.

what's next

i don't really know what's going to happen,
after this act or this role
I left with the expectation to never come back
to have few days without excitement
and to consummate my youth
with mississippi river adventures
like the books I used to read.
I want to go out and make people love me
and realize I've not wasted my time
doing things i never planned

That's a weak point,
that's the bust the dumb idea
the ignorance I trust
to get me nowhere in a
specific amount of time
carrying nothing but my frustration
and my thoughts and leaving

I Call

The only think I can do is hope that she's at home.
I'm not there to sit and talk at that black white and confused
granite table,
or ride around in any car going anywhere with a zip code that starts
with a number less than seven.
I'm covering lots of ground just thinking of what she could be doing
where she could be, how she's doing

And Then I Call

I call because if I don't my mind will get away from me,
I'll cometo welcome a type of unfiltered worry that starts out terribly
but then ends in utter satisfaction in not caring at all
I'll know what happened and of COURSE it happened that way
because you
haven't changed
at all

And now I'm disappointed and it will be weeks before
I can bring myself to call again-
several hundred hours before I pick up
dial your number and say:
"hey kid, how's it going? have you moved back in with your parents yet?
No? Well, what are you going to do?"

title

to gain an attraction
and forget my passion
This is my greatest down fall
Perhaps-this roller coaster ride must
meet its end before I can
think to write again.
but its beginnings created such new inspiration.

I should be able to write on it
again and again until the writing
starts to look the same
and the poems become dull

when the fountain stops giving youth.

contrast

She says she likes the color of my skin,
says it's a beautiful color.

It's hard for me sometimes, to understand that
the stories that Mr. Whittler tells me, on late nights
and long days at an immaculate marble table
I watched built from the ground
by a man who does not look like me,
it's hard to know that his reality is different

I breaks me down sometimes to think that
the rope that held him close to
dark shades, and gets him pulled over for the hell of it.
cuffs on before questions. and makes him feel
like hardened is what he should be, to think that rope is now string
and I can't be bothered by obstacles it presents for me
it makes me feel far from him

Farther than integrating a school makes me feel from my own color.

No matter how much I talk or joke. no matter the audience...

And I admit I love the contrast, the possibility of the contrast birthing
a new shade all together.
So when she says she loves the color of my skin, I swallow the possible implications
the wondering in the back of my mind I shove down.

I remember, I accept, I realize.

Real life vs. past times

There are these terrible moments in life where I ask myself
what the Fuck is going on?
how did I get here?
and where am I going?
Where are my hopes and dreams?
Where did I start?

And then I realize my answers don't really matter,
or is that my questions that aren't quite right?
people say that sometimes, that the questions aren't right.

I forget some times..............I forget.
Just like I forget my time tables
and my northern life.
and my southern manners.
and that everywhere strife.

there must be something
something
something in that water that
Satan keeps on serving me.
and i like it too,
that cool fresh cup-of-elixir
that shit tyson, and jack
and billy graham always tell me is poison

That love, that passion, that extra hand
that honesty, that realization, that reality
my shaky unsteady breath,

not needing them telling me to drop the candy,
when they have no intentions of giving me anything
but water.
"Man does not live on bread alone"
Will water sustain me?

That's okay because I've met cooks, and souf chefs,
and big mammas, and mothers, and lunch line ladies
and none of them have ever met with the Good Lord
or even thought of him in a directional kind of way

so those moments. those terrible moments.
That doubt.
the undeniable orienteering flaws,
the dreams I never dreamed of
and the realities I never expected.
They are my starting place.
I move up, and I look down to see how I got here.

taste buds

I can't decide if I like the taste...
it's metally, sweet
it's physically salty
it's like a spiced rum to my spirit.

There is a satisfaction I've known before,
in a different format
a new motivation
a taste I can get used to.

just thinking about it...

the affection you can feel,
inexplicable, uncontrollable
a delightfully squeamish feeling
in the pit of the stomach

and the uncertainty,
it is
poetry.

The uncertainty is dangerous,
panicking, terrifying
a sign that any move you
make is only going to further
the imminent conclusion of this episode.

The possibilities, the unaccounted for plot twists,
the real life literary tricks and you,
the ultimate catalyst.

Oh, these sacrifices

So it's five ten a.m. and my computer is playing
California girls-a song I really despise
well, at the very least I can't sleep to it

Then down the stairs, er, elevator
to the laundry room, at 5:30 a.m.
deserted and messy

Back to the top and then coffee.
coffe and browsing on the internet
because that paper due in
-it's 6 a.m. now-eight hours
isn't pressing enough to make
me want to start

it's 11:49 a.m.-I'm still about two pages away
no reason to flip, other than the midterm
at 12:30 p.m. before the class that I
have to take my paper to.

the exam was multiple choice.
I'm not sure how I did, but
I have a paper to finish for my
next class in thirty odd minutes

Oh, these sacrifices I make to be irresponsible.

self cooperation

I have to tell my self that I actually haven't put myself into this odd dispare.
I communicate the meaning of my own obvious limitations to reality
and the world around me seems to say
'disregard the fallic notions you have of yourself'
As if I didn't want to bend myself to my own will,
as if I don't want to bend reality to my own will

And there is a desperation I can't get rid of and a civil war of sorts between the darkness and light within me.

I want nothing but to win myself.

Falling

Falling in love is hard
I'm speaking on all sorts
of love there is a greek word for

there is no good reason lovers
always steal the show,
I mean they have the simple give
and take of normal human relation

What about the love between the mother and child?
certainly a battle if I ever thought of one.
And the forced bond between siblings with some sort of
unspoken, heavy, implication of success?
a fight that comes physical more often than others.
What's to be said of the love of friends?
the most painful of all, because one can just

Walk Away.