The Boy I Knew Named Ryan

Tonka trucks and Spider Man
Rattling cans and unwanted hands.
Ryan was a friend of mine
who wasn't treated very kind.
We knew each other
like so few
and loved each other
like few can too.
Trading cards and cartoons
Blood and fear in red baloons
Ryan was a friend of mine
I lost him in the cruelty of time.
We knew each other for a little while
and loved enough for lifetimes.
I miss you Ryan.

Me and My Bag

"Me and My Bag" (10-27-06)


my eyes glaze over with emotion
and I watch her.
she cries into the closest sleeve.
theres a poetry to the shudder of her shoulder
as she limps helpless into the most empathetic of them.
perhaps she feels a terrible loss.
I think about her.
if i only i knew how to feel that.
meanwhile I hold close to my bag.
some dirt dwellers pass by me and they stare
they stare at my bag.
They may think they want what is inside.
But it is mine.

I watch the children smothered in masks and paint.
sometimes I imagine them as jack o lanterns
everyones face is carved into what someone else
chooses.
the lights flicker from the eye,
shallow and deep,
until someone else chooses to blow the fuse.
if i only i knew what they felt like.
meanwhile I hold close to my bag.
some laughing piranhas pass me, gazing.
they stare at my bag.
They may think they want what is mine.
But it isn't theirs.

I watch my reflection each time I stand up
as it hurdles to catch back up with me.
every time I move, I never let my eyes stray from where
I've been.
Mother always rose up in the casket to say that.
the ideas pickle and pounce.
which one will it be?
if only i knew which one they want me to do.
meanwhile i hold close to my bag.
some deserving victims pass me and I calculate.
they stare at my bag.
They have no idea they want to die.
But the decision isn't theirs.

Me and my Bag of Judgements
keep waiting.
Waiting for you.

So Much


the lightbulb flickers and frolics from it's dangling thread
and we sit under the influence
I turn to you and say so much without ever speaking
You look back at me and reply with your smile
the cackles of the carpet feel smooth against our limp bodies
doubled over as the music dances out from the speaker
those words used to mean so much to me once
I became myself perhaps mid way through this verse
in a tunnel I stopped breathing in
You were there
I touch your skin, warm and incandescent
You tremble underneath, cool and ebullient
what ever happened to that time and that place
I remember it sometimes
parked at a railroad crossing
or alone with my thoughts as rain scatters
across the clanks of the ceiling over my head
do you remember
or is it easier to ask me for my memories
this night will mean so much to me
as the passion increases and molts into the cloth of our desires tonight
the next time I'm waiting for a red light
and I hear Alice in Chains on an oldies station,
You will be here
flattering my need to stay young

Hooded Figures


Along these broken paths
our feet do tread.
It is the age of immortals,
blasphemous of their own shadow creeping
through sidewalks and empty corners.
We must be cautious of artificial moon
as the cancerous sun approaches us at godspeed.
You must collectively look everyone in the eyes
to let them know you have the ability to communicate.
We shall all steer through the hooded figures
floating up the cracks of all we walk upon
along these broken paths.

Cracked About The Face

i knew you were going to do that.
i could see that your eyes were working in time
with your body
for an ultimate disclosure.
responses flow from you in glances of vanity.
the shards of the mirror will crack
when I take my lips and strike the chord
that will show you how much
older
we are both getting.
wise up
bitter are those who didn't live their life.

Frankly

Whenever I'm Frank,
people stare intensely
for they are unsure what will happen
next.
Whenever I'm Frank,
its always when Joey
knows the truth is more important no matter the
cost.
Whenever I'm Frank,
I really am not
for Joey is quite frankly the one with the
frank.

This one was published.

She Slays Her Harp

She slays her harp and the blood falls like rain
across the billowy edges of Earth.
her tears trickle and crack
the vein canvas is illuminating to
those who do not understand.
her fingertips fire,
her eyes burning cancer into the purist.
the love swallows,
the hate teases tongues with obscene language.
She slays judgment upon the harp
and the sentences cascade from the sky
flowing music from our bleeding hearts.

Focus

closing in on
the closest thing
to what I
want to do
with my future.
if only
i could
concentrate and focus
on
one thing
at
a time.

Cotton Town

Miserably unreal
it hides behind its crimes

If you stop and close your eyes..
The giggles will paralyze you with fear
The tears will drown you in their pain
and this Cotton Town
may swallow your ideas
of the good old days.

The Caretaker

I am a caretaker
Precautions crawl around me, slinking through my birthdays.
People assume I'm strong
so they take their cares and share them with me.

When a caretaker sleeps,
his head cannot rest while missing a shoulder
and his ear cannot hear the problems invading his dreams.
He has usually leased them out on a fabulous spur.

A caretaker am I.
One shrouded with his inability to finish his own aspirations
The demands of the job can become too strong.
So I place blame and pound another nail in the coffin.

This caretaker is a failure
with the need to succeed

Total Request Line

those bubblegum vapors
rise into the cracks of art and
selfless musical advice.
the drums are squashed
the guitars are plucked apart
the microphone is choking on the singer
you can sway your head
but it is all
so very
pointless.

Put Yourself In Check


sometimes the distractions of a regular day
are so vivid you'll synge the scalp around your eyes.
when you tap dance across to your car, keys in hand,
you may not realize what tasks are at hand.

you may become comfortable at the right temperture.
emotions are heavy to lightly spin around the living room walls.
decadent conversations that may appear to have meaning
fall ever so gently
and get stuffed onto the curb with the other garbage.
there are things you must do.
places you must go.
the ever perennial fear of the robot
may light the fire for your next cigarette.
after all, it seems everyone is trying to kill themselves
so that maybe they will have experienced something outside of
reality. pills have become napkins for the gluttony of attention.
maybe it's because "reality" floods the television's flourescent lights
calming the flavors of entertainment.
one burst into the mouth
may leave a permanent taste.

i have been smoking too much
right after I stopped drinking so much.
i watch too much television
"On Demand" perhaps gives me a sense of control
in my chaotic existence.
sex becomes tedious
with every routine orgasm.
maybe i should think long and hard about that next doughnut.
i am needed too much
yet few have a towel to dry me off with.

you have to put yourself in check.
something is always waiting to destroy your kingdom.
perhaps even those who love you the
most.

Temporary Wishes

Everyone has a simple wish.
Somewhere along the transcendant ideas spewing forth from our palette.
I have been desperately trying to figure out mine.
Sometimes I think it's Love but Love is indeed around me for the taking.
Sometimes I think it's health but I feel I'll live longer than I'll want to.
Sometimes I think it's Success but everything has a price.
Sometimes I think it's talent but I know somewhere I have that.
Sometimes I think it's excitement but I'm often tired as well.
There's always a temporary wish.
This year it's merely surprise.
I have always expected too much in every way.
Everyone has a simple wish.
However, the complicated ones burrow like ticks
across the barking dog who wants inside the door.

Gushing

there you are again.

when i close my eyes as thoughts dry
and finally succumb to the darkness,
i have to be afraid.
whether its the people i pass walking alone at night
or the past which waits to eat me alive,
i know it is coming
sometime.
i have dreamed of them slashing my throat,
mutilating my body,
burning the remains in a hazing terror.
they are close.
just as close as I am to falling asleep.

there you are again.
don't kill me..
i'm not ready to die

The Skyway

uniform is leaking in the desperate humidity
my ears distracted with Steely Dan
my hands clutching the quarter and dime
to give me a ride.
the moon is weak to the illuminations of the naked city
I am alone, using my body to push through the stile.
steps are apparent yet elevating ones entice the easies
The soundtrack meets my arrival to the top.
everyone is lost in their cell phones and fear.
words rarely creep upon the ash-laden floor.
the marquee says "fourty seconds until"
time is quick and without remorse
I step into the Skyway.
smooth across the water
the lights remind me of how much my paycheck
keeps me from experiencing.
gliding along with Mechanics as my temporary God.
Work is ever near as this drive
is ever dear.

Sublime Indulgences


sublime indulgences rattle the cages.
these are the things
that keep you in touch with the Animals.

I watch the reptillian lady slither her smackers
along the honey bun, oozing it's puss across her chin.
The growling guy next to her, clinching his IPod with his grippers
tossing his head to the bangs and blisters of his loud artistic expressions.

sublime indulgences rattle the cages.
these are the desires
that keep us in link with the Monsters.

I notice the homeless dragon puffing out his fire.
the camels burn faster than the kleenex he dropped the waste upon.
I pretend not to notice the fashionable ogre spitting at
the mere humans who passed him by during his Wrath.

sublime indulgences rattle the cages.
these are the practices
that keep us en route to the same end.

As I wait on the bus, my smackers smacked the twix bar,
the caramel lathering my guts with sugar.
I keep my headset close so no stranger may pass.
I burn an ember after quitting for a whole year.
I come home and spit these words at you
so you may indulge my judgments on your sublime Machine.

I Glow Along Edgewood Avenue


roaches jump quickly across the sidewalks at night.
fire ants howl at the grass to get a good meal
once in a while.
shadows foretell what is coming
and what will never catch up.
the moon bakes the dreamers
to lure them to a nocturnal preminition.
the stars are the shadelamps
for the people afraid to turn all the lights out.
I glow along Edgewood Avenue.
as the roaches scramble beneath my working boots,
I step on one from time to time.
The darkest parts of what you may be feeling
shall glisten as the Sun
when the day concludes
across sleepy lips and eyes.

Accused


the words come tumbling after
as your sentences adjust themselves to whatever
you are feeling.
you have every excuse dormant in your subconscious
until provoked with a confrontation.
from there on, the superficial disguises
make themselves apparent.
flesh is bare when there is nothing to cover it.
the skin will become raw
if it is dirty.
I know what soap you hibernate with.
there isn't a sponge on the Earth
that can obliterate what the rest of us
finally see.

Odd Ryan wrote:That was so good

I'm okay at poetry.

Thanks Ryan!

Puppet Master wrote:very powerfull and seductive <333

Thanks Lynny! SMOOCH!

Stranger At A Party

You fondled the appetizers

You swayed lightly in the corner, on the couch

You hoped noone would notice

or Did you secretly want someone to?

I watched you pretend to laugh with conversations you weren't in on.

I watched you try to decide whether what you wanted to say was witty enough to speak

You sucked on your Corona quickly,

wanting to loosen your insecurities

so that maybe you could be your idea of yourself.

I wanted to speak to you with all of my soul

Just as much as you needed me to.

But it's much too crowded in here!

Easy

Easy is

the

hardest word

that

difficult

ever heard.

And the most difficult thing

for hard to achieve

is the easiest puzzle

for you and even me!

Desktop Delicious


I sign in.

And with that comes a feeling of something

A feeling of people I care about

people whose opinions actually make a damn to me

People I may never meet

except in dreams of conversations and otherwise

I stand naked before them all the time

and they are not at all judgemental.

How I love signing in to this

desktop delicious!

Conveyor Belt (For Jake)

I think of you so much and the promise we made.

Both of us brought down but we gave each other strength.

You told meyou would stop them for mewith yourplastic sword

And I said I would shoot your Dad with my existential pistol.

You hugged me when I felt like the powerless boy mutilatedon the floor

and I kissed the scars your Dad laid upon you that wounded your heart.

As army men and Garbage Pail Kids surrounded us,

We became what is most important in life.

Then I had to go and we always said

That one day revenge would lie upon their heads.

I wonder where you are, sweet Jake, the warrior

Working somewhere on a conveyor belt? I hope not. You're much too wonderful for that.

Dusk


The morning brought me tragedy,

waking to the new day.

The sun had a blistering reveal it didn't have before.

My coffee tasted as bitter as anything could ever taste.

The air smelled of a desperate tomorrow

and I could only wonder what to do

and who to turn to

before Dusk settled in.

Black Cat

am outside of my shallow workplace,

cig in hand, mind afloat.

There you came, black as night.

I watched you flow through the parking lot,

intimidating all you ran across.

I wanted to be as you were.

Maybe someone would recognize

what I can do with one slow walk

on a dark fast night,

not letting anyone pet my ego away.

"A PUPPY DIGGING A DIRTHOLE WHILE HIS OWNER HITS HIM WITH A TREE LIMB"

Why have i dug the loose dirt away?

This run, jump, choke routine gets older every day.

For Kurt And Who You Made Me


A voice is gone.

It began as a faint shrill I had to find.

It wound up a deafening squeal I had to control.

A voice is gone.

All Apologies are heart shaped boxes

of bleach and lithium

that we sit and drink like pennyroyal tea,

dumb and smelling of teen spirit.

Rape me again,

Please!

I miss your voice, Kurt.

Cages


Some people claim there is a symmetry to life.

I have heard such tales of true love, fate

and alot of obnoxious fodder that ties it all together.

I have seen dreams come true

and I have seen them come apart.

I have stood in the arena,

charging the bull with every last piece of dignity

hanging off of my flesh

and I never saw the symmetry-

no matter how many times I was throttled into the

cages.

Maybe Math was as insignificant as some people said

Or perhaps I am just locked in tight.

Social Life


Slithering is what they do.

They will crawl amongst your bare toes

and slice them open, each to each

forcing you to fall-

smacking your face against hard surfaces.

They may touch you and all at once,

you will feel you belong.

But as they molest and pick apart your remains,

the last words you will hear will be

"I am your friend".

Talking About It


Lips silent and with no pulse

She cleans the dishes, wiping away

the residue from Mouths.

Lips vibrant and with no emotion

He curses the television, stripping away

the defenses of Hearts.

Lips almost and with near progression

I watch words fall, love tumbling

from not talking about it.

Maybe we should say something.