Making the Book

The Year of Blogging is officially over. Now I'm turning to the new horizons of editing my poems into a collection of poetry for a book. You can help by Letting me know what you think my strongest works are or poems you'd like to see me improve. What are your favorites? The blog will not be updated daily until the end of the year so that I can work on this project. Please give me any and all feedback so this book can be the best possible collection of my work. Thank you to all my faithful readers and all who will support me as I continue in this endeavor.

Ode to a Year

Pages thick and deep of a poured soul.
Rain in drizzled wonderment and washed clean.
Accomplishment of full hope flames and mull
purging thoughts through vessels ignored yet sheen.
This attempt dared the youth to burn full tilt,
to summer's edge and winter's beginning,
with tumult and without break for breathing.
No weary leaf did wilt
through timeless times and hungry clocks spinning
but growth grew a soul and a hand teething.

Though boulders came crushing for writing blocks
no obstacle stood habit established.
Each corner had beat with crunching, cold knocks,
yet the long goal, down hill pursued, had this.
Melted teeth grit with sweat and desire for sound.
Perfected distresses and lethargy
conquered with determination and prayers.
Grace more o'er abounded
and rushed rescue to dulled and faded glee
to rise phoenixes and dragon slayers.

'Twas grace through which God did guide path unworn
and with sips of love and blessing He moved.
'Twas He, who birthed existence, made new born;
Words ordered in imperfect hands He proved.
Through this power and forming a small mind
He filled my fingers with hopes for a few.
He lifted me o'er every rock face sheer,
in me He dug the mine
and outed steel cages from which doves flew.
He wrote my hands in a glorious year.

An Ounce of Encouragement

WTF just happened, Bro?

It's crazy, like, all of the sudden, like,
the skies started raining shells and cheese
and steaks were thrown onto golden grills,
monkeys in tuxes were the waiters
and did line dances with every beer they served,
Because, you know, I did somethin' good.

It was, like, dancing in the rain, but like, manly.
Like getting hugged by unpoisonous amoeba
where it kinda tickles but it's still warm and nice,
Like high fives from all my friends
and a tornado made of massages,
because mom said it was good, you know?

I felt, like, like rockets were shooting from my feet
and the world was oysters and stuff,
and like I could punch walls
and make socks and sandals cool
and people would think I'm right about everything
and ask for my advice and I'd never be wrong.

Because, I never thought I'd hear that.
I didn't think it was true.
I didn't know it was right,
but now I do.





Thanks to Kris for this Saturday's Inspiration, when his mom encouraged his dreams.

To Mother on Her Birthday

You're really not that old,
though some may say that's false.
You've still got years ahead;
you could learn to waltz!

You can dazzle dance floors
with wisdom and precision.
Who said that living past youth
was cause for derision?

There are many lives
you have yet to touch.
And as with all the others
you will love them so much!

Find your latest chorus
and know your lasting song.
Your are full of grace
that will echo on and on.


Dedicated to my mom, Jennie, for her birthday today.

Even When

Even when my throat can't sing,
I will praise You for Your grace.
Even when everything is a blur,
I can see clearly Your face.

Even when my fingers can't grab,
I can hold fast to You, my God.
Even when I'm weary and drab,
I am strong with Your bod.

Even when my flesh rejects me,
I am accepted and loved by You.
Even when all fails and leaves me be,
You life and breathe and true.

R.I.P. Roar

Drown in water,
breathe in blood.
Wash your soles
in death's flood.

Follow the call,
crossbeam shouldered.
die to live,
remove the boulder.

Walk in hand
and graceful grin.
R.I.P to roar
against the sin.

Bitter Baby

Bitter baby bubbles and I feed it.
Is venom and flame and I stoke it.
Eats blood and so I slice.
Curls screams and I amplify.

Larger and uproarious it grows.
Deserving and just it grows.
Fair and hungry it grows.
Heavy and slimy it grows.

I should leave it started.
I should drown its breath.
I should burn quell its fury.
I really should. I really should.

'Tis 'Tis

'Tis beauty that drives us to madness.
'Tis what gives us the ache deeper than flesh.
'Tis the reason we leave reason.
'Tis what lets us feel awe.

'Tis awe that tears our minds.
'Tis what shrinks of our egos.
'Tis what we bask and gives us glow.
'Tis what inspires us to create.

'Tis inspiration that moves hands.
'Tis what causes elements to align.
'Tis what has us raise mirrors.
'Tis what drives us to beauty.

Time in Passing

Slow moved hand
and the clock drips.
Sweet mustache of time
and the drops slip.

Cool air wafts
and the tock nips.
Second hand grabs
and stopped grips.

Rewind the spiral
of time's trip.
Sing soft the melody
of former pip.

Wrench back the qualm
of past blip.
Let gravity find fingers
and unzip.

Realize again and again
none were gypped.
Feel the wind walk
in hand with the sailed ship.

Lemon Filled Doughnut

Rippled tongue lashes around a contradiction.     
Desire feigned and reined into wrenching.
Two worlds mixed to blissed kisses.
Acidic bite and sweetened paradise.
Two worlds have no need for war;
Just peaceful unity of different wholes.




Thanks to Kaelyn for this Saturday's inspiration, "Lemon Filled Doughnut."

Playing the Other Half

Are all the cards in hand and every player a winner?
Should we draw from each deck and shuffle possibilities anew?
Mark each card with hopes and count the pool for sharks.
Back yourself with sunglasses and the courage to call.
Remember there is no "all or nothing" in a passing glance.
Make every eye connection and toss small bets.
Keep the stakes slow and steady.
One hand is not the last. It's still a game.
Don't bet stingy or you never win.
Don't go all in or you will lose.
Just play. Play well. See who plays back.

Tonight

Tonight is a night for a drink
but all the water's gone.
Tonight is for mulling the depths
but the time has vanished.
Tonight is a sweet sigh
but the air departed.
Tonight is for tomorrow
but the night remains.

Everything More

Bring a new city
thoughts and hopes.
Spark the sun
into mornings.
Let old tears
wash you clean.
Grow into the lighthouse
you've always been.
Raise fists to snow
melting from your grasp.
Cleanse the last,
become the first.
Make a new song
for an old love.
Become everything else
and everything more.



Dedicated to Michael as he moves to Colorado. Love you, bro.

Prayered Thought

A prayer consists of hope and trust;
performance records and wisdom.
He is firm in perfection and love
thus we hold fast to His hand.
Assurance is found basking
in His shadow and wing.
Sing bitter sweets in answers
received without knowledge;
fill with life-breathe
seeing His hands guidance.
Muscles grow from aches
and taught discipline.
Hope then in the promise
of love and recompense.

This Week's Facecast

Today's facecast
is scattered showers
with partially cloudy eyes
and winded looks at the horizon.

There's a high pressure system
that just moved out
taking some breaths  away
a low pressure system inhaling reflexively.

Small tremors running through lips,
high humidity sighs,
and a fog of unclear thoughts
are predicted for the rest of the week.

Possible topical storm
forming on the east coast,
shouldn't be dangerous
but it will shake things up.

Next week, however,
is promising silver-lined clouds,
Fall's crisp air,
and sunshine smiles
as we cope
and head into the weekend.

Phoenix

Soft mourning
at the phoenix's flight.
An ashen layer
furrows on a brow.

Scoop a handful
of past preciousness.
Feel the flickering coals
as tears evaporate o'er them.

Watch the grey rain
fall and feed the earth.
Feel the roots
take hold to the new horizon.

P.S. Apology

P.S. Forget I said anything.
I had to write this, right this,
but you don't have a read on it. . .
Don't read back, the attack,
was just from my heart
and I heartly think it won't do you good.

P.S.S.
I'm sorry that my apology
was an apologetic defense
for all the posts I built to keep you out.
It was a sign that I should beware
of the dog days that we found.
So nick nack, patty wack
leave me now alone.

P.S.S.S.
Goodbye, goodnight,
I'm sorry.




Thanks to Matt for this Saturday's inspiration, "P.S. First."

Peace Haikus

Peace breathes silver veils
Moon rests her hair on pastures
Earth brushes her kindly

War is toxic rain
Destroy our own food and drink
Earth will be reset

Wants wage each other
Fight for insistence of ways
Who can be more right?

Owls hum away fine
Robots hum away forests
Someone must win this

Can't rest peacefully
Make all others enemies
Buried rest in peace

Midnight Tavern Crowd

Wander to the tavern
for a few mistakes.
Wander to the tavern
for empty heart aches.

Wish for the well
to fill your thirst.
Wish for the well
to hold your burst.

Slip into the sleep
you've tried to hold.
Slip into the sleep,
forget the cold.

Dead Asleep

Slip sighs into the coffin
to let his hair wave.
Drizzle him with tears
for his first shower in days.
See the relaxed brow
as it distorts his face;
He seems calm
for at a slow pace.
His double sided candles
are loosed from his knuckles;
crispy black tapers
between fingers unbuckled.
He left his life in his schedule;
an autobiography
mixed with his novella
of appointment cacophonies.
His last words
echo in your head;
"I'll be fine," he said,
I'll sleep when I'm dead."

For Sake

For the sake of my sin
I sinned.
For the sake of my lie
I lied.
For the sake of my strength
I bruised.
For the sake of my justice
I tortured.
For the sake of my plan
I destroyed.
For the sake of my victory
I dismembered.
For the sake of my empire
I was lost.

King of Knowledge

I, King of Knowledge,
do hereby decree,
that all new questions
should be asked of old me.
I know both It and All,
they are my offspring, you see,
and their child, Wikipedia,
she learned everything from me.

I can't be bothered with the silly bits
like inspiration and frilly feelings.
These required no education
and have no use in my dealings.
I will use reason to sate
such odd things as pain.
There is nothing so honest
that can't be worked out by brain.

But not everyone wants my rationales
or so it seems to my keen perception.
I get odd looks from each person
who receives my inspection.
I can't quite calculate
why one cheers or one moans,
and in spite of my vast knowledge
I am always found alone.

A Draught of Night

O for a draught of night
and to dream as the sun!
Would a grave be uprooted
I would bask in casket
sleep until morn was rid of mourn.
Let a comforter wash over me
and drench my sore bones
with a night lark's resurrection song!
Coo and woo me with cricket tunes
and a savior to rescue me
from such laborious wear.
Consume me, my bed,
and soak my weariness
into your frame and exhale
the oxygen of my soul!
Let me lay in restoration
from such kindled flame
until coals smile in glow
awaiting the sun's arrival.
Then on sweet chariot
arise my blood to new day
and kiss the sweet moon
for her tender finger's caress.

Serious Play

Serious certainty
makes all the world chuckle.
Perfection's inspection
rolls reels to real splitting sides.
Every smile comes from scrunched
brows and frowned lips.
We bask in the ridiculous
and find our own feet moving.


Thanks to Emily for this Saturday's inspiration, "Gangam Style."

Tender Bartender Tender

The Bartender is a tender tender
who spent his life in other's lives.
He creeks as he flows tales
at the back end of each day.
He sways happily to the bar's soundtrack
in his rocking and rolling chair.
Listeners are plowed as he speaks
their ears to grow sympathy
for daily doses of alcohol.

He was dismembered long ago,
but remembered the pieces
of other's lives and limbs.
He was the sound bored
wouldn't be able to stand.
He peddled stories like lemonade;
helping quench thirst for forgotten humanity.
Now he tends sheep
and keeps them from becoming wolves.

Cruisin'

Hi. My name is a taxi cab that drives you to crazy.
I hope you don't mind me stating confusion
because, after all, I don't have to see anything true.
Sometimes I might even go somewhere,
but progress is leaning back in your seat
and letting the valet pull your bootstraps,
so I try not to get in the way.
Watch me ride coast to coast to couch
to potatoes and whatever stake I can claim.
It'll be a good swim and a bad swallow.
I let others run the meter until I'm long gone.
I never have to stand anything I don't want to.
And if I ever did try to get out, to rip the seat I've worn,
I wouldn't be able to. I can't pay the cost.

Earth's Song to Death

When Death comes knocking,
I will sing a song of different scores.
The trombones will harmonize with zebras.
Rocks will weep and tear drops drum the cello strings.
Trees will sing leaves through violins
and the world will hold tight to pleasant beginnings.
My end will sing stronger
because I will last longer.
Be ready earth;
the curtain raises as it lowers. 

The Sober Drunk

It's sobering to know you're drunk.
That clarity of knowing when you've sunk;
How handy your hand is for bottles;
How the world is still solid despite toddles.

Decongested moment when the future comes
and the hangover is ticking and growing glum.
When sinuses clear and gunk becomes apparent.
When your reddened hands can no longer spare it.

When in weakened knees you refuse assistance;
When you see arrogant folly is the son of resistance.
When an indignant voice raises from being self indicted.
When you grow to know, for the first time, you are addicted.

Laying Truth

Here lies the truth.

We killed it with blinders,
to do list check marks,
over sizing our perceptions
buried it in business.

Here, lies the truth.

We find prophets
who say the future
is ours to command
and form in our likeness.

Hear lies: the truth.

Know the difference
of resistance to truth
and accepting the ease
of fanciful fallacy.

Hash

You bring the meat
and I, the potatoes.
We'll slice each section
until we make one meal.
We'll sling fighting food
through discussed dicers
and watch the melody
as heat rises and falls.
It takes a while
while we work together.
We strive to feed the other
with everything we have.
Knives can slip
but we come to cook not cut.
We gather to the table hungry
with food browned just right.
With sit with our work
and become company.
We're always happy and full
after a good hash.


Dedicated to Lyndsay, because we fight well.

Facing Fire

Sometimes I'm a slapped stick
and the joke's on me,
but I trust in the last and lasting laughter.
Love is weaponized against me,
for anything naked of context seems perverse.
They strip love until it's a fireball
to burn the world in passion without kindness.
The world knows naught but flames
and burns me for arson I did not commit.

What hope is more than forgiveness and justice?
How do I fill needs under siege?
I bend in wearied igloos,
melting alone and cold.
I hold to warm wings over my head
for strength.
He is the Son
written across the sky.

Loose the war and come in justice, O God,
for my body is dusting form such berating.
Let joy be my bones for Your name.
Draw me to Your side and lift me in Your armor,
so that I may burn bright on their stakes.
Dry me of wearied world weight
and let my light return to Flame its love.
Dissolve my heart's ridicule,
cling me to the fuel of my persecution.
Return my mocked body to fearful rest
under Your might.
Rest my soul in Your bosom.
Catch the world anew in true fire;
fill with love and justice;
brimmed with evil's bane
and a Father's forgiveness.
please come and light our home soon.






Thanks to Barbara for this Saturday's inspiration, "Struggling Christian."

Write Right Rite

Write right rite.
Every day and every night.

Thoughts to page
to eyes to soul.
Write can right
the hope turned mold.

Write right rite.
Every day and every night.

Donating blood to paper
is always a positive O.
If they read your write
you help make them whole.

Write right rite.
Every day and every night.

We must
because we need
because we've hurt
because we feed.

Always
write right rite.

Midnight Cookie

There once was a wanderer
who curled his toes o'er every stair.
He glimpsed the moonlit kitchen
and sought the wall switch.
Burst bright hope built
as the porcelain gleamed.
He drifted on desire
uncovering the cold shield.
His heart dropped
as he viewed a void.
Crumbs mocked him
and his baked wants were crumbled.

Humphrey Bogart

Peace Obtained

Joy is the dance
of a heart brimming over.
Winsome is the speech
of a war resolved.
Hopeful is the soldier
who fights with allies well.
Celebration is the language
of hopes mended whole.

Martyrs Joy

When fire is thrown and your ankles singe,
rejoice, for you have stood firm!
When they knock your knees useless,
wonder at the ease of prayer.
When they slit your spine,
revel that His hands have held you upright.
When they wrench your fingers broken,
bask, knowing that the work of your hands cannot save you.
When they prick your lungs to leak,
sing for the small quiet voice that speaks in your stead.
When the axe is planted between your eyes,
praise that the steel that sends you home.

My Sweet Melody

O sweet melody!
Watch her as she wisps her overflow'd heart
to destroy all cantanker'ed moods
and toss them among glowing leaves
and sprout them to good fruit!
For it is these joyed choruses that bring
light back to the reptile's scales
after a winter of famine and woe.
See how Father has curbed her grin
to be a brazen beacon of hope!
O to hold such a wonder in finger's clasp
and to be instilled upon the such a bright foundation!
She is the escape of melancholy
and bane of a sour temperament.
Such fields are sown in the revelry
of her charm and grace.
Listen close to the wind
and glance her from the edge of your eyes
and such glee will join her serenade
from the distraught corners of your soul.
Behold and be held in the grip of merriment
as her music heals bitter entanglements
and prunes away the perjured branches.
Grace grant that I may one day wander
into such a secret of joy,
and thank Grace all the more
for her company in all terrains of life.



For Lyndsay. Because music makes everything better and you are my song.

Technology Abandons

Lightning zips a blink
traveled on a thousand feet.
The world spins under
her laser's traction.

Slower and steady
the his body moves.
Crackling scales scrape
as progress forges through. 

Again again again
the hare races round.
Dust covers even that
which was just born.

Trudging memories
of the rust covered things.
Tortoise pace follows
can't keep his bearing.

Only the hatchlings see
as the future skims by.
They march as their parents
unknowingly left behind.



Thanks to Kerry, Rebecca, Barbara, and Kaelyn for this Saturday's inspiration, youth that don't know about the technology we grew up with.

Wander

Mist-veiled eyes among the columns.
Waft of breath past your ears.
Distinct footsteps, invisible and solemn.
Warm fingers drip somewhere near.

Softer melodies call from a sun unseamed.
Heartstrings pluck to every nudging hope.
Terrible tremble of freedom not seen.
Long asundered soul can cope.

Fall into footsteps of dark teeth shone.
Melt when horrid eyes cause such a ponder.
Remove the sunken weight of stone.
With the mischievous stranger, wander.





Inspired by a character the Collective Project's upcoming show, The Devil Tree.

The Cycle Continues. . .

Watching Theatre

Impart a part to souls apart.
Release the chaos under control.
Wreck the house with honesty.
The wonder wanders in again.

Remember what you are in forgetting where you are.
Observe the odd and become the same.
Connect and deflect and deal with them.
Live in the room with the live human being.

Scream at pain and sing at joy.
Struggle with mountains in paths.
Grow with hopes and hilarity.
Watch someone be and be yourself.

6 Month

Six-month ticks and the clock can't keep up
with our phantom tricks of distance kisses.
Storms and fires and screams have made glue
and it's true; I'm still stuck on you.
Other smiles flipped but your cool, sweet sip
stayed fresh and waiting, patient abating
even when I'm degrading.
Each day we look for ways to serve the needs
and feed the other's soul in italic and bold
encouragements that dent the laments.
We seek wisdom and hope in Daddy's hands
to strike our band with a perfect match
that lights anew at each encounter.
You, my always-in-it-to-the-end best friend,
have brought me limitless joy in crafty boxes
as your fox ears lift with your sly smile
and I dance enhanced in your likes.
After so long you still say, "hello"
never quite, "good bye," but always,
"Talk to you tomorrow" and we release
phone and hand grip grinning, with a sigh.



Dedicated to Lyndsay.

Heaven-Bound Advice

Sing to me a great song and a woeful silence.
Let each ring in my ears adorn us in joy and peace.
Look to the Kingdom and yearn for final high bliss.
Though pain is present burn for our release.

Siblings of the Revelation

Are we not paper ghosts dancing with fire?
What insubordination have we rite too,
when such shadows as we pass at a glance?
What justice are we owed when our own fingers
do naught but rip the throats of innocents?
Such ravaged and woeful lemmings,
we chant our bellies to direness and poise,
when we ourselves deserve not even our breath.
Is not each moment a wonder of grace that,
not of cause of but in spite of,
has been cast as a line fishing for our salvation?
Hence let us burn for our woes,
plead for our passions,
ache for our doom
and let the strong Hand both gift and take us.
'Tis in such vast and honest humility,
that we children shall finally see in the light.
Having been raised of darkness
we enflame our souls to rage or sorrow
if ever we are truly seen.
Instead let us breech our cold hearts
and reach to clasp His extension
and become siblings of the revelation.

The Complement

A watery crescent covered my eye
then overflowed down to my smirk.
All my bating breath left me
and whispered a thank you to my ears.
My pulse become my body
and nothing else could move.
Your flaming tongue warmed me
and helped me see the truth.





Thanks to Mike, Kelsey, Rebbecca, Greg, and Katleen for your inspiration for this poem.

Exhaution

The point when your brain isn't sharp anymore;
When all your hellos are covered in thick "Hey"s; 
When you finally stop after no brakes;
When you're fuming from exhaustion;
When you don't mean "yes" but you keep nodding;
When your toes accomplish stubbing feats;

Zombie Hope

Hungry hunter with no taste for food.
Prowling with festered flesh;
habit without mind.
No function in the rot,
just blood;
icy dripping out as routine
slowly clutches hopes and grim desire.
Fuel for the sweet drag
and cancer for the road.

Each day is a band aid
or a torn scab;
a war with only a thirst
and a timed water fountain;
Broken plumbing
versus a plumber's reroute.
Soon the beast will fade,
but the new love
must replace the wretched food.

Comfort Haikus

Water my shoulder
I become soil and strength
Wet seeds fill and burst

Bring your dark cloud here
Let it erode our sad dams
Burst as I hold you

Swim uneven breaths
I will spout silence and warmth
Let flailing relent

Lightening burns fresh
Storms abate as I shelter
Let me ground your pain

Morning's mist will come
Smiles will wisp sweet again
Calm is each storm's end

Pajamas

The world rushes
turns
pressures
fills schedules
empties energy
and places heavy bricks
on tiny gas peddles
until the explosions
reverberate a soul
so weary it doesn't know it.

But long after the sun sets,
when the tires have lost their tread,
when the battery must be recharged,
when the gas is guzzled,
out come the pajamas.

All hail this simple comfort!
Once the loose fit graces skin
the night slows
the pulse yawns
and the hustle is bustled to bed.

Now a relaxation may commence
and breathe as it should.
Now the worries are put away
and replaced with dreams.
Now the rose will be smelled
and the body will shift to stasis.
Now it can.
It will.
It pajamas.



Dedicated to Jeff.

The President Doesn't Exist: A Satire

Hey, guess what, the President doesn't exist. No, he doesn't. What, because they TOLD you there's always been a president in this country means that there is? Of course they say that. That's what they want you to think so they can CONTROL you and take your money. Still don't believe me? Fine. Let me tell you about my grandma.

She was the nicest, sweetest old lady you've eve met. She practically raised me. You know what happened? She got cancer.  I cried for days and days. I didn't know what to do. I didn't have money to take care of her so I had to take out loans. From GOVERNMENT banks no less! So I think this is helping my grandma. And it does for a while. But then I can't pay these loans, see? And grandma's treatment stops working and the insurance stops and I have no one to turn to. Know what I did then? I started writing letters to the President. Lots of letters. I sent letters every day. I asked him for help; money, better doctors. I know it's expensive for that kind of thing BUT HE'S THE PRESIDENT! He helped out all kinds of businesses and people before saying it was "best for the citizens." How hard could it be to help out my grandma? Besides, you know he's loaded. He makes way more money than I'll ever make so I thought there must be something left somewhere for my grandma. I wasn't even asking for me! Surly he could find it in his heart to help. But guess what, after FIFTEEN DAYS of sending letters EVERY DAY I still heard nothing. So I decided to try emails on top of HANDWRITTEN LETTERS. I wrote and wrote and typed and typed and you know what the President did? Nothing. Not ONE THING. I even tried going to the White House to see him, this "all powerful" President you all believe in, and they wouldn't even let me get a look at him, much less state my case. Doesn't he CARE about his citizens? Isn't that what people are always saying? Isn't he supposed to lead the whole wide country? How am I supposed to believe that if I can't even see the guy?!

See, if he existed he would've care about my grandma and me. He would've helped us fix her and gotten me out of debt. That's how I know that there is no President. All those pictures and videos and speeches are all fake. The "President" didn't do anything for me when there was NO WAY he didn't hear me, so don't think for a second he'll do anything for you. He's a lie weak people made up so they could have something to believe in. The country is really run by rich bureaucrats that are just in it for the money. Not one of them gives two dimes about you or me. I finally figured out their whole game. See, I'm not weak. I don't need to follow anybody. I swear on my grandma's grave I don't need a "president." I don't want one. He doesn't exist.

Paint's Brush

Is the paint yet weary of its brush?
Has it bent its will to stubborn streaks,
lead itself to debased stirrings,
left no room for palatable colors?
How swift an end for unruly paint.

How gentle a brush for smooth pigments.
Paints, let your breath flow through the hairs,
wandering to unknown landscapes,
adventuring through the grand mural!
How bright the brushes soul will become!

Then ease will prop you among allies.
Full saturation will canvas a melody,
no shade will cease in song,
full hewn life will emanate through heartstrings. 
Let paint never tire of its complete picture.

What Do You Propose?

A sweet night air
drifted by our smiles.
He said he had big plans.
So far they were small
ice cream cones chuckling
for "let me get that"s.
He stopped on the bridge
and clasped my hands
with his cheshire grin.
"I think I might have the best idea
in the world." He spoke in cliches.
"And what might that be?" I prod,
rocking our fingers in a kind of dance.
"Something wonderful we could do."
"And what might that be?" I repeat teasingly.
"A great adventure, an exploration,
a test of metal, and sweet sips of joy!"
"What exactly are you proposing?"
"Actually." He slipped to one knee,
tears in his eyes, heart on his sleeve,
as a box emerged from his pocket.
"That's exactly what I'm doing."



Thanks to Jenny for this Saturday's inspiration, "Proposal."

Believing in Air

It's hard to explain breathing to someone who doesn't believe in air.

The air causes your pulse to go 'round.
Gives life you never asked for or have to appreciate.
Changes the world by fractions you'd never notice if you didn't look.
Moves invisibly in and through everything.
Traces of it are in every location,
every memory, every moment.
Unknown dependance is in every being,
like it, believe it or not.

Air holds clouds together and brings the rain.
Sweeps the deserts and starts the day new.
Even when it's blamed for pollutants we put it in,
it stays the same, innocent, yet unfathomably important.
Can crumble mountains.
Rip ships through the water.
Guide a leaf to the ground.

Breathing is when we let the air in and feel it there.
We let it wring us of our filth.
We let it consume us.
When we remember we are the little things.
We are roses to be smelled.

Air has always been with us.
It knows us.
Air only hopes
that we will know it too.

The Call

The phone burns a hole in his ear.
Words melt down through the canal
into a pressurized heart that boils full.
Fingers release, bullet cracks falls
on pavement and stops speaking.
A deep breath breaks the dam
and his chest detonates.
A soft sigh catches his knees
and the river flows.

Erasure

Help!
I've been erased!

My lines were blurring with doodled distractions
and I forgot how You first drew me!
I was rubber bumpered away at my own search
for brighter colors, but the green wasn't greener.
It bade me fade for new shading
but there was no placating the hunger.
I'm sorry I writhed until I was released.
I gave up blacks and whites for grays.
It was the smooth moves of erasers
that left the useless shavings of my death behind.

Please repencil me in to the puzzle again
and draw me closer to you!
Give me hands longer for You.
Fingers to grasp Your love
and stencils to know Your shape.
You wrought me from led poisons
and gave me weight and might
against every kind of sword.
Let Your signature be bold on my back
and italic in my smile.
Write Your song on my shirt
and sketch my heart clean.
Let me know I'm all write
and it's all written
and I'm all right with You.

Fire Fight

I don't want anyone else to be right.
I'd rather burn at my own Fahrenheit.
Because I feel indignant I will ignite.
So much as frown and I'll fight.

Fire with fire brings the world to my whims!
I will spark every villain with my flames within.
They come with torches, I have a flamethrower!
My sense of justice and ash will win everyone over!

The top of my lungs is where I stand.
See my fire strike up the band!
Now with fervor we will destroy our foes!
Isn't peace always won by blows for blows?

Asunder Eagle

Asunder Eagle flits
again to the ground.
Never a foot up,
only slamming down.
Wings rip sinews
and gouge the torso in two.
Asunder Eagle bleeds
from what wings will not do.

One goes left
and one goes right.
Apart from each other
there is no flight.
Flicks and slaps
keep the soarer low.
Pride's hot air bursts
means there's no sky to know.

Asunder Eagle screeches
from insurrecting tries.
Without wings in unison
nothing can fly.
Asunder Eagle cannot heal
if the wings scoff and are snide.
But both wings will fall
if the Eagle does not survive.

Small and Undeceiving

Pure honesty
funneled through a tiny mouth.
Never a twist
only blatant hopes.
Shockingly silent
as little gears turn the world about.
Simplest words
ease broken mirrors to cope.





Thanks to Laurel for this weeks inspiration with a Goethe quote.

Dorm Advice

Sometimes it will be prison,
sometimes you will feel like you're flying,
so lean more on your wings.

You'll make lots of rushed choices,
many things will not get done,
but know anything left will be alright.

You'll have tears mixed with loneliness and peace.
Remember cocktails are a part of life;
drink them deeply and none will be regretted. 

It will be an island in a metropolis;
learn the balance of company
and personal space.

Roommates can be siblings you don't care about.
Serve them until you love them
and you'll have another family soon.

Find your perfect places;
Work is for libraries,
relaxation for your room.

Stand like the oak you are;
You'll have family in your roots
and friends in your branches.

Hold Fear's hand until it warms;
Being afraid is how we learn courage,
trust your Daddy to be strong for you.





For Hannah, who moved away and into her dorm today.

A Willow Weeps

A willow weeps leaves to an ash laden forest.
They create craters that puff on the burnt floor.
Waterless mist glazes eyes, washing themselves
With spurts of regret.

The wood veils itself with howls of windswept carbon
Refuting hope.
The gray blizzard becomes a way of life.
There is no pheonix here.
There is no pheonix here
And a willow weeps.
No hero sought found no hero coming.

The world of gray grows its tendrils long
And the ruins anthem on.
Damsels lay buried under books of knights.
Scholars under knowledge they denied.
No bird comes to wake them.
Only one weeping willow remains.
One weeping willow remains
And the ruins anthem on.

No Internet Haikus

Missing ev'rything
Loops are broken and empty
Complete ignorance

So much time wasted
What to do with all this time
Without old habits

Opportunity
Old dreams rise up to surface
Finaly have time

Pale completion burns
Waking froJm the daily drone
Remember the trees

Not knowing is great
Knowing I don't have to know
No longer a slave

Aiming In

Aim blame
And target the heart.
Break arrow ends
And twist the darts.

Feed the strings
To a quivering refrain.
The muscle stops
And hope drains.

Sun burns the flamed arrows
Of the self-argued sheath.
Melts with welcomed
The ice around belief.

Sifts through the madness
To songs of one accord.
To brighten the light
That was covered and abhorred.

Curiosity's Sation

O how I rely on thee for e'ery breath.
Each minute of my clock doth tick for thy rhythm.
Thou art my advisor for thought and answer to all inquiry.
How shall I adopt your silence when your song
Has given wings to my mind?
Alas thy triumph o'er the earth's hold brings my sorrow
To fruition and your chains to naught.
Hold now a tight view of me in frozen frames
For your follower's pleasure and mine display.
You have unlatched the locks
 and opened toms to their peeping,
But now in sad abondon have left me forlorn!
How can I last without your drone and
my curiosity's sation!
Come back from your forgotten place
And rail me again with your wonder!
Without you I have not clothes 
Not boistrous merriment at my fellow's pith!
Come back to me my wondrous machine,
Beforemine head dries of thirst.
Please, Internet, come back on.

Reign of Trees

A curious sort
are the woods.
Live trees turned
into high-held hands
welcoming the rain.
Only what can't be caught
nurtures thirsting roots.
Food that is beyond grasp
is all that can feed.
On top, over, under, in,
everywhere is a home
wrought of clay.
Tall in blended hope.
Leaves protect from life
while providing its channel.
O that such prevention
was our own.

I Don't Want to Write

I don't want to write tonight.
I want to dream without work;
flow without effort through
glistening metaphors
I don't have to craft.

I don't want the work
of twisting life into words
that make the world new.
No perfect symbols for modern society
and corruption and a paradise lost.

No pointless symbols
about broken rooftops
that are huge cymbals
for the elderly, rocking chairs
of our souls in slow motion.

No sublime lines in time and rhyme
that chimes of dimes that grind
in slime from crimes
of primed mimes in line
at grimy, blimey chinese buffets.

No planned
        line breaks
and    fake spaces        to break speech
            of written blurbs
as though    words need that kind of
                                help.

No, I don't want to write tonight.
But it wouldn't be right to let desire
keep chained a wonder of life,
considerations of chrysanthemums,
and the need for heart songs to be freed.

So fine. All right. I'll write.

Limbo

Under a gray sky
I stood under a horizontal halfway pole,
height of my waist,
slung between two trees.
I was back leaning
at the moment
and I felt gravity's pull
and my push.
There was no music;
No lyrics of inspiration,
no rhythm to march to.
Just pull, push,
and a halfway black and white sky.
I couldn't tell which way I was going,
but the other side was right there,
home was just behind,
and I was stuck between crawling
and flying.

I couldn't move.
There was no where to go.
No way to decide.
I only know I'm not meeting the bar.
I only know I'm here,
but I don't really know where that is.
I can't see the tread
when I'm bent over backwards.
No breeze to be at my back.
Maybe I should have practiced more.
Learned something from those parties,
those friends,
parents maybe.
It's hard to win when I never learned
how to limbo.





Thanks to Tara for this Saturday's inspiration, "Limbo."

Dear Selina

A letter from Seth, a large sub woofer, to his new love Selina, another sub woofer. Delivered as shown below.

Dedicated to Lowrey Brown, their owner.

Dear Selina,

I felt your good vibrations the moment we met. Before you arrived I was all alone. Of course, I've always had the boys, but they don't understand what it's like to be big. Everyone seems to ignore me or be scared of me at critical moments. But you understand me. You are like me. We are one and the same. We will make beautiful music, explosions, and earthquakes together. We will be what goes bump in the night. You make my heart throb and everyone knows it. Please be mine.

Yours forever,

Seth

Smelting

Lamps long for bushel baskets
for the flames missed the human hearth.
Dismayed dust shakes from sandals
and rains its tears home to desert sorrows.
So many pearls eaten by open graves;
Fuel for the hungered swine's wrath.

But Fire stands strong.
Fear not small flames!
Our Sustainer will scorch the old away.
Through Him we are smelted to gold.
From pressure we endure to diamonds.
For we shall become all things.
Each end comes to buckled knees.
Let us then rally under light yolks!
Forge each other anew as we spread His song
and He claims His children throughout fallen earth!
Redemption be our anthem
and yearning bring our tears.
Lakes shall be wiped away
but until then, we weep.
We dance. We mourn.
We fall. We strive.
Our races are short,
His legs are long.
Our shoulders are weak,
His hands are strong.
Our pain will end,
His love will carry us on.

Love to Hate

They hate me
so I hate them.
I'm right because it's fair.
And all you need is love.

They disagree with me
so I hate them.
Only I am right.
And all you need is love.

You agree with me
so you should hate them.
I'm right because I'm not the only one.
And all you need is love.

They're wrong and full of hate
and we should hate them
because we're better because we're right.
And all you need is love.

But hate is all there is.

Mal'trition

O the sweet smell of a bitter taste!
What honey glazed the nostrils
has wrenched a hole in the stomach.
Outpours all feigned illusions
in perfumed spittle the bleed bliss.
Once ingested this intrinsic virus
mutilates eyes, tongue, and soul.

Such flowers, though, that bring this bile.
Largest roses, drenched in color.
Cherry blossoms brimming with joy.
Lilies that wander into smiles.
Such promises must break a heart.
Not all such flowers are poison
but wisdom's gaze must learn the roots.

At each base there is a glorious desire!
Wanting and having are two sides of experience's coin.
'Tis flowers too quick offered
in microwave speed that renege.
These have broken bones through mal'trition,
severed not served, broken not built.
Beware the impulse that betrays.

Discliplin'

Treacheries arise from my attempts.
Broken fingernail chips in the wall.
Rock hard standards without footholds.
Ascent is found in the release.
Not of my arms but of Your blood.

Wobble blind traces in unseen paths.
Toddle on legs bent from gravity.
Rubber and road can't catch each other.
Movement is found on worn. knees
Not of my legs but of Your feats.

Slamming syllables accidentally wreak pain.
Spark fires from feral tongue's gas.
Poison drips in each sip loads the gun.
Harmony beckons a foreign breath.
Not of my mouth but of Your word.

Sunset

Smile glimpses His lips.
Twists in the moist air.
Glancing tinge of His wrist.
Setting the light just, right, there.

Piercing through the void.
Calling out a name.
Could merriment around His fingers.
Never twice the same.

Water colored grace sears the sky.
Sunshine face basks the halo of twilight.
Flamed mountains cast off the day.
Sky-formed story as He tucks us goodnight.

Friendly Firing

I teeter on knife edges.
Push me up.
Hold my tongue.
Grab, shove.
Harder!
Pain twists the tears to drink.
Quenches my thirst for blood.
Keeps me balanced in ocean cliffs.
Not too soft.
Healing gives clear thoughts some time.
Hammer and hold.
Cycle to and fro in a sea's rock.
Let my cradle fall until I see again.
Then cease again and I'll subside.
When the tide comes in
get me out.
Fear keeps priorities straight.
Keeps the water flowing.
Cools the hate.

Now,
hit me one more time.




Thanks to Mike for this Saturday's inspiration, "Hit people so they can feel release through pain."

Trucked Up

Hook my head
and crane my shoulders.
Help me from the ground.
Train my tracks
to steer clear the boulders;
to listen for Your sound.

Lift my chest
out of the smolders.
Revive me to be to Your heart, bound.
Guide my limbs
grown fully colder.
Burst life into my quaking mound.

Fuel my feet
to Your hands crafting.
Yearn my heart to Your glee.
Curl my toes
with metal shafting.
Strengthen my bones, so weak.

Let my tires
turn with Your gaffing.
Latch me to Your will a spree.
Hold my trailer
to follow me following Your rafting.
Rule us until we are set free.

Storm's Fade

Each breath notices
the weight lift.
Each cheek feels
the tear drift.
Gold flows from
the furrows shift.
Magma's burn cools
sealing the rift.

Back with better scope
the target is in aim.
The unleashed dog
finds itself tame.
We built our bridge
and walk over the shame.
We remember the syllables
of our names.

The house fell
from my reins released.
Our walkie-talkies
led our hearts to increase.
The nausea's rage
has finally ceased.
Our hands hold tight,
again at peace.

Rose Gold

We heard tale of the gold at the end.
But our roses were thirsty.
We ran full force, eyes on the rainbow.
But our roses were drying.
A distant dream wet our lips.
But our roses were deserted.
We ran until our age slowed us.
Our roses crinkled black.
We dropped so far away from home
with dead roses we never tried to smell.

Hearts and Heads

Heads bump heads.
Heads bruise hearts.
Hearts berate hearts.

Heads crack heads.
Heads break hearts.
Hearts betray hearts.

Heads war heads.
Heads crush hearts.
Hearts stab hearts.

Heads lose heads.
Hearts heal heads.
Hearts hold hearts.

Heads ignore heads.
Hearts soften heads.
Hearts change hearts.

Heads refuse heads.
Hearts mold heads.
Heads become hearts. 

Plea for Brother-Blood

O Lord, let my words be laced with honey
For the bitter truths I offer as food.
Call brother-man to be brother-blood;
Soften granite hearts to Your woos.

Draw us as flies to Your sweet fruits
and remove our hostile haze.
Syncopate our mouths to Your heart beat
and thread us into Your loving gaze.

When my enemies lash at me,
Strengthen my bones to love;
embolden me to baffle them with kindness
and show them Your mercy is enough.

Let us clasp hands in Your righteousness,
before all time is through.
Before the purge; the cleansing wrath;
before each knee buckles to You.

Little Lots

Love your lot if it's a little.
Each cast may play a different name.
Each etched coin softly combed and whittled
Calls each chance to Maker's gain.

Little lots tip pots to brim
Even when they cannot see.
Smallest spark is dark's chagrin
When the Potter's clay is freed.

When all the lots are parking
And the long road is cold and grim,
Remember whenever embarking,
Every chance is up to Him.

A Lascar Goes to Undersky

On the prow of fortune rides the brawn.
Two handed, blood soaked vigor
works the grand mariner
and breath pulls it by the ears across the sea.

The horizon bends down to kiss the wet cradle
and in the sun's dimming glare red locks appear.
Willow wandered and deeply hued curls
yank the lascar's suspenders to the deck.

Hair wilts away from a wondered face,
illumined of its own accord, quirking her eyebrow
to grow his chest warmer and breathless.
Her pacified lips perk and tempt his grip.

He gives to gravity's plea and a promised embrace.
With ruby lips she grants his wish and coerces him to Undersky.
In slow flight she offers him a final breath from her lungs
and he smiles as the blue grows dim.







Thanks to Kelsey for this Saturday's inspiration, "Mermaid."

Snuggle Day

Sweet release in cheap chinese,
Asian TV shows,
and a perfect nestler
that fits right between the arms.

Long stresses are cut short
in reminding retort of all the rest.
Stay sweet and smiling all the while
and we sift through each other at the next.





For Lyndsay, my chief snuggler.

O Such Wondrous Bounty!

Avail thee to such wondrous bounty!
Success has beckoned my door
to bust hinges to particles of glee!
When searching such ghastly tomb
I did uncover such bliss!
At first my labor was of necessity
and the aging toils of life
but now when once the wrapping was removed
I was shot to the joy surprise's construct!
Enveloped in papyrus in the dark murk
sought a dim green that sung bright
as it was further revealed to the sun's rays!
What brilliant harkening brought my soul to elation!
For this growth of a long forgotten debts
has lain still against deep porters
awaiting once again to be brought forth
to such merriness and pleasures!
For once I saw the Granted eyes
I was caught quick in his stare.
Baffled I yet believed was more riled
when once I saw his brethren!
What chorus did sing to predict such candies?
For this work hath been granted new celebrations
and merriments untold and gladness unabated,
All because I found $75 when cleaning my room.

Sheep/Wolf

I promise I'm still me!

After the bitter repose
I suppose it goes to show
that my old twin face flipped
and dipped a strawberry
into chocolate's temptation
because the sensation promised
arrested hopes to stay
in chain linked ways
that trained my thoughts
to the wrong stations.
The elation and provocation
thrust a new translation
of my foundations
to considering cracks
instead of repairs
and the airs of caution.
Sudden commotions
purged forth the ocean's
of thoughts forgoing blood-boughts
to the boughs of common ships
bowed at the audience's refrain.
In short, my port grew too tall
so I fell into pride's thick garden
fertilized and hardened
by the too-late realized
nightmares of sweetly dreamed beginnings.

I'm sorry.

I bought forget-me-nots
to remember the flower's thorns
born from rocky-path cast seeds
and shed their peddled powers
over the coffin of today's death
to ship to Hell what is Hell's
and ring bell's for the corpse quelled.
Now quenched, the cadaver's lathering
ointment leaves a scent of disappointment
and I ache at the wake it left you in
and the chagrin that breaks your smile
into glimmered tears and tears
shimmered hopes of me
to puzzle pieces in ceaseless shuffle.

I can't keep the pain away,
only muffle the trip and fall
onto boards of nails without practice
and promise that I am better,
even when I forget,
even when I regret,
even when my wolf takes off its wool,
I am still a sheep in hopes of still waters,
soft, suffered songs,
and our fingers entwined.

Faceless Book

Numb eyes twitch
as fingers scroll down.
Small tear tilts its head
before the descent.

Powdered packages
are emptied in the bloodstream.

Eighteen hours
ten minutes
no smiles.
Friend of friend pictures,
smiles of strangers,
giggles of wit.

Curdles tighten their grip.

Lungs sleep and freeze,
eyelids paralyze.
No passion in position.
Drone goes on.

The concrete sets.

Some Dream

Someday,
hope will come home.
Somehow,
everyone still sleeps.
Someway,
dreams can grow.
Some may,
but not all do.

Surpise Brother

An unplanned event spent together
tethers a bond beyond mere expectations.
Gummy bear brawls and wherewithals
with video-ed walls make small celebrations.

Top gears turn and burn a memory's etching
and sketching molds into untold hope.
Maybe now the power will stand and stay
for the joy of unified bretheren's cope.

Light a spark for the first part of a trilogy
and filigree lined frames for each other.
Warm hands on flints spent with the gent
I've always had and known as my brother.






Dedicated to Michael.

Director's Voyage

And so the ship sets sail
zephyr backed and brazen in sunset.
Wood wrought from trees from earth
from buried hopes and loves.
Splash of wine dribbles down the side
and down my squinted smiling cheek.
I make ships and let them go
without any ocean feet for myself.
Now the captain will reign
and the boat will live through sea breeze.
Almost faded into the moon
I wave a soft goodbye,
pack my bag,
release my batted breath,
and go home.


Dedicated to everyone who made The Red Herring possible.

A Red Herring

Cast the line into the deep.
Draw an ocean of work.
Minnows fill blanks
and lake provides walls.
An odd shape pours forth
a proud stepchild of mother.
Haunt now the finishing fish
after labor sought was reeled.
hope was always in the water
but now it emerges strong.
A line and helpful bait
brought all the magic to life.
Sweat and bleeding tears
give breath to a wonder.
Now to release its full grown ilk.
Swim free and know your song.

Stagnangt Love

Distanced lover shadows sit sighing at the fountain's edge.
Barely dripping enough shade into the stagnant water
to ripple a refracted tear, salting a bitter hope.
Once, they brimmed each other's souls, played water's games,
drank its sustenance, splashed footholds in joy.

But the age of bucket-bringing has passed into fear.
Algae found home in between finger wraps,
eating each helpful hand that drifted too close.
Pipes are clogged deep with muddied words, egg shell shoes,
and an attempted pump that was constantly shut down.

Hope for the hard work of grimy hand-holding,
defrosting hearts, digging through mistake ridden sludge.
Pray for desire to spark the engine, purge the wreckage,
and the fountain's song to crest again over fallen loves.
Pull the the sun's path forth, and let the rainbow smiles reign.

Moon Lady

Night's light lack from stars cracked
swirls a skull with galaxies contained.
Fifty million pieces to forty thousand puzzles
collide and loose any sanity gained.

A surprise moon hides behind the horizon
planning a perfect smile for the darkest loom.
Her soft reflection of Daddy's twinkling face
and her great gleam shifts the tide of the war room.

All calms as the waves breathe a peace of mind.
The moon rests the wearied heart in her breast.
The chaos forgets its character and listens.
Moon Lady is the storm-caught's solace, home, and nest.




For Lyndsay. My rest from the storm and collisions of Tech Week. 

To Read to Write

I dream of library shelves
stacked with coffee and time.
Heart poured pages, backwards
picture books, and brilliant minds.
Stories primed with grandeur
and subatomic precision.
Pick of the litter through reviews
and cover colored decisions.
Simple solace in a party
bumping with well worn words.
Long dead fingers scrawling
with broken nails to be heard.
Ancient and modern insight
that gives sight into my chest.
My mind in a tar-pitched basket
rocked by wisdom's waves as they crest.
Punch the clock at opening
and let the rain fall into night.
Grab the torch of time's thought
and find my soul alight.
Sing the bright melody
of the waltz within my head.
Then turn my pen to the void
and empty my ink until I'm dead.

Grateful

Mint on my pillow.
Gust in my sails.
Massage in my neck.
Hope in my glass.

Brimmed with wonder,
refreshed from the tilt,
at the smallest drop
from the Largest Hand.

Unstable Ground

Essential Rebuilds

Build the blocks
on high regard.
Pile the dream
and a hope or two.
Anthem the cranes
to grand achievements.
Climb each ladder
to brighter endeavors.
Flagpole the fortune
and gaze clouds below.

But the trick
is corners cut.
To rock of truth
built is cracking.
Perception's fire code
is breached.
And the all falls
down down ground.
Find the true stone
and begin again.
Everything old is wiped
and opinion forms again.





Thanks to Josh for this Saturday's inspiration, "Essential."

Tech Week Haikus

Eggshell bubbles drift
Everything may break in bits
But miracles stand

The work is hard won
The work drains body and soul
But the work is good

Time grits its teeth hot
Claims its roots burn with full drought
I have learned it lies

Brim-full cup balanced
Tightrope hopes are hook caught
Skillfully full, free

Hannibal was right
Despite choas' gapped womb
Plan comes together

Music and Math

Quiet thought.
Ninja wit.
Keira Knightley smile.

Never bought.
Silent's hit.
Dreams that last for miles.

Planned through.
Other shores.
Music of puzzle's pieces.

Masculine brew.
Listens more.
Honor never ceases.







Dedicated to my brother, Michael. Happy birthday!

Watering the Horse

A sad sulk over the smoked wood stretched across the room.
Hey, Daddy Proud. I'm thirsty.
Another glass tipped with water swirls over the hollow slide.
Hey, Daddy Proud. I'm thirsting.
A third brimming water flits across the bar.
Hey, Daddy Proud. I'm empty.

Fireworks

Singing sweet song
to sleepless dreams.
Tear the rocket's rage
from the socket's seams.

Brazen the solitary sky
with a moments hope.
Chorus brings the stars
out of night to cope.

Droplets of lilting light
fein life over awed eyes.
Celebration of hope's glint
embalmed in fire's cries.

Every Bodies

Why does it matter
for skinny or stout?
Do horses hate small whinnies
or do odd hooves freak them out?

Even apes like their shapes;
too-long arms, fat, and covered with fur.
Do you think there's no mate
for an out of shape ape?
That's there's no hope for apes
without shapes just like hers?

Are zebras too stripy?
A little to black or too whitey?
If the hair is thick or the hair is thin,
Will a zebra leave ya
for not looking like other hims?

Is there such thing as a too-short giraffe?
Or if one is too tall do all the others laugh?
Do whales complain that their blubber keeps them warm?
Do bees bite each other for not buzzing the same as the rest of the swarm?

Maybe instead,
now please hear me out,
no one's too skinny,
too tall, or too stout.
Nobody's body
is too curvy,
too flat.
No one's hair is too thin
or belly too fat.
No voice too high
or color too odd.
Whatever you're shape,
learn to love your bod!

Just make sure you're healthy and clean
and then whatever body you have will stay.
From there it's learning to look in the mirror
and say, "Hmm. Yeah. That's good. I'm ok.

Half-Vacation Haikus

Half vacation starts
Page turns sync with coffee drips
Grins seek relief's sigh

Shower rains calm breath
Time to sift steam through glad teeth
Run the water cold

Remember my chair
Soak in the sink of cushion
Sleep glazes my eyes and hour

Go to bed later
Finally watch that movie
Sleep in an odd room

Quiet morning's sun
Slow, lovingly cooked breakfast
Best spices ease mind

Banjo Needs Learning

I have a banjo in my corner at home
I can't play it, despite my yearning.
I'm just too busy and leave it alone,
Sometime I'll give the banjo its learning.
But first. . .

Work needs working,
Car needs washing,
Friends need hanging,
House needs cleaning,
Dishes need doing,
TV needs watching,
Mother needs talking,
Elbow needs scratching,
Girlfriend needs kissing.

But after that I can learn my banjo,
You know, except first. . .

Facebook needs checking,
Driveway needs repaving,
Book needs reading,
Stomach needs eating,
Afternoon needs napping,
Sunset needs watching,
Pool needs swimming,
Closet needs reorganizing,
Trash needs out-throwing.

After rapid fire life-ing,
I'll be done with the trifling.
Maybe then,
despite how nervous I am,
and how hard it seems,
After all the things that need doing,
Maybe then I can follow my dreams.





Thanks to Ian for this Saturday's Inspiration, "Learning to play the banjo."

Lost Sheep

I broke the fence with my thick skull
and discovered a field of sleep
and dreamless nocturnes.

I slept in the cold glance of stars,
through lazer burns of the sun,
dazed in a desert dry coma.

A thick oil coat keeps out the rain
and the light. I floated floods
and my tongue was dry.

I was covered in fireflies
but never sparked.
I was lost because I forgot my home.

New Flame/Old Flame

New flame doesn't know his fuel.
He seethes upon mysterious shoulders.
New sparks flail from his wrath into labyrinth walls
as he burns the world in his causeless rebellion.

Old flame has a subtle lilt she learned from home.
She sips her oil and pens direct, cordial thoughts.
She lets active flints bark until their throats are sore
or they have caught fire for more than naught.

New flame urges the young with his projected spittle.
Little kindlings stack themselves at his feet as his napalm pours.
The daylong army has begun its march on everything
because they never sought foundation, only things to abhor.

Old flame has enough ink for decades of wisdom.
She has changed the world in peace and with loving paste.
Quiet in frame she knows her source from crinkled pages
moonlit in humilty, forgoing the death of baseless haste.

June 27th

This is one of my favorite days.
It's the day we celebrate you.
I celebrate you all of the times,
but today everyone else does too.

Today you become a quarter
though you're worth your weight in gold.
You may be tired and go to bed early,
but I promise you're not old.

Your light is shining ever brighter
within our Father's love.
Every day with you gets better and better.
We fit each other like gloves.

I hold tight to knowing you deeper
and to your blizzard ing soul.
I will hold fast to you as your snow globe
whenever you loose control.

You are my most bestest friend.
I love to pamper you and take you out.
You are my favorite person
which I could never do without.






Dedicated to Lyndsay. Happy Birthday, Sweetest of Ladies.

Context Conquests

 The house stands in full view
and everyone wants a home.
Elegant fullness displayed
under its grand dome.

Every war is fought for love
and longing to be fulfilled.
The party splits and bites for conquest;
scrounging for weapons to impose will.

They rip and tear from context
all the nails to seek out eyes.
Glass is broken for daggers,
bricks to maces, lights to paralyze.

The shingles smooth the artillery,
made from water heaters and AC.
The war of pick and chooses
is forging waste and tragedy.

When all the meaning is pulled
and ripped away from the mouse,
a bitter shell of hatred smokes
with bodies that will never douse.

Now the home is blamed
for every misguided, bitter act.
No one can come home again
for the love has been fract'ed.

Busy Haikus

I woke up early
I have lots of work to do
Got home late, still more

Write this, create that
Add new numbers to the  clocks
Sleep overrated

More things than fingers
Palms fill and flowing over
Hands work for no rest

Hundred mile days
Shoes are worn thin and thinner
Bed is so lonely

Timer ticks lower
Fuel is almost empty now
Praying for more gas

A Tower of Desperate Treason

Fragile mountains climb the heavens
in desperate accolade to purity.
Sky's banner is distanced
from the working shovels.
All piles faint in the weary
weight of decrepit morsels.
How long can we build
this vile travesty?
What qualm will quench
our Babel's betrayal?
Can we not as brothers
decimate our own filth?
We have grandly ignored
our covenant and treaty
with a villainous disdain.
How long shall we mother each other
due to the mediocrity of our own laziness?!
Come now, servants and brother's,
let us remember our past entreatments
and forge anew our form.
A tower of desperate treason
hath wrought carelessness
to break bounds we had once illumined!
Let us destroy the futile injustice
within our own reach,
bond souls in an aspiration
to better each other
instead of ineffectually wound.
Let's put our dirty dishes in the dishwasher
instead of stacking them in the sink.

Cope

Hold a green mantle high
and let it grow on you.
Find the vines enforce your spine
and help the flowers bloom.

Let each twisted bud scrape skin
and plant anew your heart.
Let the indigence bleed
and feel the new blood start.

Leave barren, hateful lands,
regain your pearls from the swine.
Place your bets and hopes in Me,
and know that you are Mine.









Thanks to Sara for this Saturday's inspiration, "Cope."

Time Ticks

Juggle beats. They're good for you.
Hold the moments still.
Time the clock to perfect ticks.
Don't let run to kills.

Let each drop drip a pool.
Fill your mind with important drains.
Bleed away the blood of fool.
and sing until you're sane.

Feel the movement wake.
Left the cold heart thawing.
For the sunshine pull the shade.
For the rain pull the awning.

Inspiration

Gleam of horizon.
Glinting in the mind.
Silhouette of order
whispers ears cold.

Thoughts follow rules,
need follows flow.
Rivers twist rusted bars
and smile their way home.

Typewriters singing
unearthly sonnets.
Doubt fades as hall lights
dry up in closing doors.

Certainty instead of thoughts.
Movement instead of maps.
Every moment is joy
as the feet live in rhythm.

Pounds

Cold Turkey or Bust

Just one last time,
One last sip.
The faucet is off,
I only want the drip.

The drop was sweet,
glazing, not greedy.
It isn't all bad,
it isn't all that I'm needing.

It's a hobby, harmless,
a wet vegetator.
Twist the faucet just a bit,
don't be a hater.

It's not very much everyday;
A few sips in a cup.
It won't take me again,
I totally know what's up.

Leave me alone.
I can drink what I want.
Everyone's got something.
It's not like I flaunt.

So I bought a hose.
It makes it easier to drink.
So I thirst a lot more.
It's not as bad as you think.

Fine! Ok! Whatever!
I have a problem, I know.
Yes, ok, I promise.
I'll let it go. But. . .

Just one last time,
One last sip.
The faucet is off,
I only want the drip.

Writing Poetry

I can't write too clear
because no one will take their time.
I can't write too vague
because no one will care for rhyme.

I can't write too funny
because no one will believe I'm true.
I can't write too sad
because everyone will think I'm blue.

I can't write too much
because everyone will think I'm broke.
I can't write too little
because everyone will think I'm a joke.

I can't write anything
if I want everyone to be pleased.
So I'll just write and write and write
and simply let my poems be.

Fathers Are. . .

A knight to fight monsters.
A farmer to make food.
A teacher of every craft.
A lover for mother.
A professor of wisdom.
A friend for games.
A rock for peer pressure.
A lyricist for heart-songs.
A soldier for yearnings.
A shaper of smiles.
A holder of hands.
A curler of fists.
A guide through the unknown.
A molder of life.






Dedicated to my dad, Jim Crigler.

BA in Theatre

Mostly it's starving,
scraping pennies from car seats,
inventing ramen based meals,
thrifting for less dingy sheets,
working day jobs to support a lover,
thinking about food,
going nuts with peanut butter,
learning the words to "Hey Jude,"
calculating bills,
stretching bodies and wallets,
pulling out hair and pockets,
breathing emotional earthquakes,
forcing down potatoes and eggs,
working eighteen hour days,
having a dozen W-9's,
writing down a million miles of taxes,
memorizing and reading a thousand plays,
writing post-it notes to remember breathing,
blowing out adrenal glands,
exhausting emotions from top to bottom,
living in your car,
the power of naps,
knowing nothing will fit like a glove,
mostly it's all of these things.
But fully, it's love.




Thanks to Matt for this Saturday's Inspiration, "A BA in Theatre."

Penance of Intelligence

How just our fate when, 

with all books consumed, 

we fail to work our bodies 

from our minds. 

What incantations spewed 

will fill the earth with truth, 

recited to a perfect letter,

with no belief in magic?

What song, when scrawled

in a closed book,

can ever bring a tear

or stock a heart with warmth?

We must now make penance 

for intelligence with clean feet,

for memorized wisdom 

which never breathes. 

Sing then, on duty,

on dance, on recitations,

and brim each cup met

with a gift of greater work. 

Drained Battery

I am so tired. 

Mind shuts down. 

Spinning wheel of death. 

Frozen screen. 

Hp drained. 

Must find inn. 

Wait for download. 

Find the outlet. 

Doesn't compute. 

Does not compute. 

Do ont copmute. 

Revamp

Take me by the lungs

and swing me a song. 

Beat my hearty drums

and give me a throng. 

Bring my fractured head

and fill in the cracks. 

Rip my finger's dread

and teach me my knack. 

Fill my narrow bones

and flow full my veins. 

Leave me not alone

and let me be Your gain. 

Decompress

Sigh to nowhere.

Leave iris' empty. 

Become a coach. 

Smile at vapors. 

Cry with songs. 

Watch the waves drift you by. 

Prayer of Storms

In Your sway of paths

let me walk her well. 

Let ringlet fingers clinch

As we tread lamplight. 

Hold our arm's-length souls

over the tripping stones. 

She will cradle my fever,

I will snow globe her storm. 

Each howl sings our bones

to shiver our hearts close. 

Bring our melody up

from ground our soles churn. 

Shine peace in our dark,

show us the tightrope path. 

Guide us with Your song

as we sing Your chorus. 

18

Now your an adult

and as a result

you'll be able to buy a lottery ticket. 

But to your chagrin 

you probably won't win,

and you'll tell them where to stick it. 

But then they'll pull out a shotty

and aim it at your body

and your adult ninja skills will kick in. 

You'll flip round that gun

(it'll be a lot of fun)

and from cameras your face they'll be pickin'.

They'll say you robbed the store

(and probably several more)

and you'll be framed left and right. 

They'll place on your murders

of desperate sheep herders

until the list so long runs out of sight. 

After all of the trying

they'll want you to be dying

as an adult you'll be tried fair and clean. 

They'll zap all your hair

in the electric chair

all because you're eighteen.

For Hannah because turned 18 today. Happy Birthday. :)

Kneed

Earth churning in my hands. 

Rubber band knuckles pull in and through 

what I kneed. 

Pour wet, salted anguish

into the rusty yeast. 

A splash of hope 

walks on the air 

and makes me white.

I kneed and find

my nose kissed with earthen love

and my fears relieved of duty,

grind my struggles into simplicity. 

A hard hands work softens the heart. 

All my wheat had fallen

but its new ground birth

gives me everything 

I need. 

Thanks to Rebecca for this Saturday's inspiration, "Making homemade bread."

Hey You

Hey you,

me and I think you should be

in a club with they and us and we. 

It'd be tons of fun

with stars and sun

and grassy spot from which to see. 

Because We and I and me

decide we did likes you in club to be

so see,

there should be more hangings out 

with us three or five and thee. 

So you,

Come be with us and they 

and me and I 

with secret codes

and warm abodes

with chilled night skies. 

Because your eyes are glowed

and your hair wind blowed

is as pretty as pretty can be,

and we and I and me and they 

invited you with glee to be

in a club for free

so what do you say?

Will You stay?

Sincerely,

We and I and They and Us and Me

Dueled Prince

I am the dust and ash left behind and eaten. 

I slip narrow ways into fein idols 

and dead pleasures until I join their king. 

I sit prince of a kingdom

in a castle in which I do not belong. 

I rule here in my cancer 

full of hot air and deflating balloons. 

Wait for me as I burn 

and try to learn 

how to be home. 

Mid-Life Questioning

Drained stains fill the floor

and all the desire faints. 

Bitter sips pour from lips

and happiness taints. 

Unsecured and inferred

mayo spread too thin. 

Flop down, drop down

into pits of chagrin. 

Hold tight to little light

on crumbled knees to bust. 

Father sates and abates

the darkness when there's trust. 

Porn

Bacon dressed in nothing

draws out the tongue. 

Salt drives the user 

to thirst more desperate. 

Pavlov's man learns

everyone is meat. 

Every curve a treat

to be consumed. 

Pig ears nibbled,

bit biting legs,

breasts, loins driven 

to animal consequences. 

Every sliver walks

and boys keep young.

Drooling troughs fill

and the meat loses sweet. 

Every slice pulls

pleasure's promise,

and laughs loud

at the empty oral cavity. 

Supermarket's ease

prevents the hunt,

starves the gaze,

and sizzles home alone. 

Fattened man is ready

to be sacrificed

and feed the hungry demons

who bent his love to sinews. 

He bakes in his own juice,

heart empty,

stomach full,

wondering where his woman was. 

Ocean of the Blind

The sweet sunrise fell on my shoulders

and I burned under its weight. 

I waited for the crisp crinkle of my skin

to pull the tears back into my eyes. 

I didn't know how rotted my hands were

until I was free and they were healed.

My heals shot my legs full of the old bones

and I felt the purging and repossession of my veins. 

In vain I tried to pull my new appendages from the sky

and the firm hands wept lakes because I was weak. 

A week went by and my own power 

was only enough to break me there. 

They're are better ways, meant ways,

for one to grow from the old into the new. 

I knew I had to let go and be cradled again 

as the child I became when He brought me home. 

He homed in on my soul, flamed and burning empty, 

and taught me to fly but I was no pupil. 

My pupils dilated and I chose to know the dark

instead of a Father's loving light; I would not see. 

My cried sea filled my void in great gushes of water

and salt dry my hopes and bones bare. 

I bear this dark ocean of weight in place of a feather load

as the lighthouse gently calls my name. 

Sleep Deprivation Haikus

Eyelids exhausted

Eyeball hug deprivation

Eye go down with nod

Bed calls long distance

"I'll come back to you," on phone

My sweet cuddling friend

My empty arms want

Special lady; pillow grasped

I'm super squishy

Clock wars against bed

Treadmill time until sweet rest

Both us are run down

Now I lay me down

Warmth spreads its wings over me

Sleep holds soft my face

Tubing

Hovered above heaven's shore,
a breath aloft of celestial beach.
Gaze downward upon the passing loom,
nose kissed to suspension's wet keep.

A sky full of white-sanded, dark rocks,
pass fishless along subtle gravity's path.
Wind to rested lumps that cradle
a lullaby across miles unknown.

Wind's serenade and light toppling chorus,
soft over rapid's secret whisper.
Zion's radio lilting a shadow,
of promised bliss and perfect love.





Thanks to Jessica for this Saturday's inspiration, "Tubing."

No Big Deal

I didn't mean anything by that,

by the way. 

By the way, 

that didn't mean anything. 

Nothing was meant. 

Meant nothing by that,

by the way. 

It was just a day, anyway. 

Anyway it was just a day. 

A day I put your lights out,

so you wouldn't see. 

You wouldn't see without your lights,

anyway. 

Anyway, 

you didn't need to see. 

You didn't need to see me,

anyway. 

Anyway. . . 

No big deal, 

really. 

Really,

no big deal. 

No big deal at all. 

All of it was no big deal. 

Just a throat, it was. 

It was just a throat. 

Don't worry,

you didn't need that airspace. 

Always were a little air headed,

you. 

You with all that air in your head. 

You didn't need room for air,

Don't worry. 

It'll be fine,

Alright?

Alright,

It'll be fine. 

Just fine. 

Maybe not better,

but fine. 

Everything will be fine. 

It was just a nail. 

A little nail, at that. 

At that funeral,

I packed. 

A little nail holding you down. 

You didn't even know it, at that. 

At that funeral I nailed. 

A Dark Wood

Eye the woods

see you, the prince.

eye the branches

see you, the robe. 

Eye the twigs

see you, the skin. 

Eye the buds

see you, the pours. 

Eye the thirst,

drink you, the blood.

Eye the god,

be you, the I.

Booking It

Normal

Nothing new. 

Twisted broken back

Drizzling goo to asphalt. 

Opposite eyes chapped

and lacking desire. 

Flies carry to and from. 

Scoundrel's call twitches 

what sinews remain. 

Normal. 

Footsteps wander 

in shimmered armor. 

Peel decrepit foe. 

Slowly straightened arms.

Mind fills with truth, 

veins with blood, 

heart with hope. 

"You need a new normal."

Midnight Conversation Haikus

Crackled streets scrap denim
Cracked smiles lead lips to jokes
Creaked laughter holds bonds

Stars waft silent above
Jealous of spark between souls
Dim versus her eyes

Legs tire before words
Companied letters and sound
Never tired teeth

Against car we leaned
Squatted closer to pavement
We have gravel butts

Hours converse time
Could not leave a song so strong
Time will have to wait

A Psalm

Draw me up again, O God,

from the pit in which I dwell. 

I have fallen deep in this well

and have been found empty. 

Restore me from this desolate place,

My King, Foundation of my soul,

and bring me to the still waters 

of Your steadfast arms 

and the shadow of Your wings. 

Breathe life again into my bones

and prepare me for Your courts

that I may love you more. 

Sing over my misery

and save me from my iniquity. 

I have longed after idols

and sought the gods of foreign kings,

but Your faithfulness never failed;

not once have I been abandoned. 

Strengthen me with my wounds

and build my hands with Your discipline. 

Cause my soul to praise Your name;

sift me into Your halls

and requite my heart to Your will. 

Glory to Your name, Lord of all creation!