My Legs Shake

I guess you don't love the songs,
you just like the way you felt.
You never had any doubts of;
I'm sorry, I'm calling you out.

You'd clap your hands
and stomp your feet,
claim you felt something.
It was deep,
we all noticed your voice.

Your first day of school,
and we were right there.
You showed everyone the songs,
they laughed.

Ryans A Sailor

we play in 3/4 time
as we come out of the wall.
I swear I've seen this once before.
You with your pistol
pointed at the accused.
Were you right at least?
Before your finger did your worst,
were you right?

Wash off any recollection
and call it a day.

Her face is new again,
are you sure it was right?
Louder, please.
And let my silhouette slowly hide the trigger and my finger.

Re: Falling In Love With Your Best Friend

New homes.
Green lawns and cloned construction.
Tigers and sunglasses to compliment
whatever you please.

I kept the radio
next to the lawn chair,
it reminded me-
that I've fallen in deep.

You went away,
but I stayed by Michigan,
killed the radio,
when you walked to the door.

There's way too much work to take care of,
you'd just add hurt,
or some variation.

I Am Not An Artist, I'm Hardly Human.

Witchcraft aided them
to embrace on the water,
but they'd both end up broken
and washed ashore,
along with the other contents gobbled up by the ocean's swell.

Wolves would follow,
worried faces and fond memories.
They'd call it a tragedy,
but there was no avoiding it.

HommaCommaBLDG

Bess,
I called last night.
D'you get my message?

Bess?
Hello?
You there?
I called, Bess.
Well I hope nothing but the best for you, Bess.

D'you get my message, Bess?

The Air Is Exploding, Watch(out)!

The impossibly foggy tree,
diligent in its growth.
Each branch steaming outwards
only to fall prey to October.

People have made nests here.
They've left a mess;
"those that will judge you will say you're aloof"-
of course they would,
you'd have replied before I've said a word.

Past all the thaw,
growing to sky,
April will give you
a well deserved second chance.

You're an endless story,
barely past chapter one.
You're born of paragraphs-

-Imagination played no part.

Morning Light in the County

I've explored motion,
much to my demise.
I've heard of it's doings,
and passed on it's teachings.

I was warned too!
I was told of what [good] would happen.
though I'll never be sure why.
I was warned.

Houston's green sunset is quite the lull,
and you've grown on me,
I swear.

The More I Learn.

The old barn never seemed to rot,
at least not when I was around.
The birds kept nests,
the wood kept cracking.

The fog would ignore it,
while a train came in.
I never stayed long.
Always off.
I've places to go
and things to address.

I belive that's how I met you,
under rain and siege.

untitled.

The sea and the volcano.
I've spent my time there.
Roaring at the sun,
and telling stories to the cardinals.

The wildlandscape could cause pain,
I suppose.
But at 7:02, it seems just right.
No later,
no earlier.
Just 7:02.

The Walker

I'm not dead,
I promise.
I've just been floating.

I'm hardly charged.
I'm just about close to the celebration.
I'm crossing the town line.
I'm coming closer,
without a plan.

I'll keep telling myself,
"gotta move, gotta get out."

Light in day 142

You set the exposure,
and let the flash swallow the chair.
You disregarded the sun
and whatever natural light came in.
That's a bit rude.

But from here,
it needed a frame to me.
It's the only way you can justify your actions.

Next you'll say the sky is water.
You'll try sailing,
won't you?
You'll try it?
But you'll side with your flash.
Swearing by all it has to "show you".
You're missing what doesn't need light.

You're gonna miss how the light gets in day 142.

Day # 20's or 30's?

I've been at it all night.
It doesn't even deserve my attention,
I promised.
Is it wrong?
It even spoke to me.
I promised.
It even spoke.
I supposed it deserved something of my time.

Shaw Street (Another Point of View)

A helping hand,
for your escape.
Surrounded by uncertanties,
you fled to the lavender sea.
Passing the quiet stream,
you rethought some things,
you stopped by the bridge.
You slept. I saw it.
Just like on your fire escape,
you slept.
"Hide me" you'd say.
As you walked pass the light house,
but you were already hidden.

I've been meaning to write you,
but it seems no one believes your address.

Some desserted island, somewhere.

My Side

What was I expecting?
Some profound landscape?
All I found were apartments;
kids playing on broken sidewalks.
What a shame.

Someone should stop it, no?
The yard and their hopes.
I saw her childhood.

I didn't like it.

I expect too much.
I don't like it.

Maybe her bedside will give me reassurance.

Over and Over and Over and Over and Over.

I suppose you're on to something.
I'm leaving,
don't you know that?
I'm sure it doesn't phase anyone.
It's a shame,
I could've done more with the time.
I didn't have to do the things I've done.

Don't be sad anymore.
There's no reason for it.
Don't you know you've got a power?
It's all in your hands.
Please don't be sad anymore.
You can change it.

I believe in you,
does that help?
I suppose it's cliche to say.
But it's the truth,
you've better things to capture while you're here,
I promise.

Please don't be sad anymore.

30 Dumb Inventions

What compelled you,
to leave the light on all night?
We could be spotted through the fog,
then what?

Our little house would act as a guide.
Then what?

I suppose
you could throw the car in drive,
and see what happens.

Chasing birds and pollutants,
you've become obsessed with movements.

You Could Be So Many Things.

I want to go home,
but I haven't found it yet.
I'm sure it lies somewhere South.
I'm a product of labor and lies.

I'm supposed to know
all there is to be known,
and I know that there's more to hear.
I suppose I'm ready to hear it.

A choir will come upon me
and let me know,
that I'm not done.
I've more to.

I suggest I've 5 more years,
until I've all the answers.

Sentido Zona Norte (if we're lucky enough of course)

The hard life we lead,
with feet dragging
and weighted shoulders and tales.
We counted sheep on escalators.
Of course we counted in time,
but did it mean we'd fall lul faster?

I suppose we're all just dust.
Sand holds more importance,
than what we've to say.

The Next Church By The Sea

Yellow.
Lomo London and a bird--
[mid flight] and power lines.

Lets explore and find
which planet makes us comfortable.
Avoiding the infested consolations.
Take some steps, and finally breath.

Trains and marriage.
Your silhouette says it all.

Times Up For The West Pier

We were made from lightening.
Hid our faces from the familiar branches,
we were too embarrassed.
Call it science fiction,
but we'll call it adolescence.

Now,
while fixing our glasses,
we walked on sand.

2 Poems

So will watching the ending of Carousel today, I was inspired to write on my own, no found poetry. I wrote 2 small poems that are both about the same thing, and I suppose flow together well, but I prefer them separate.

The Heart: A Nautical Show

I only think about it,
when the stars allow me,
and the weather-
written all over walls.

This isn't right.

This poem is a response to a poem I wrote about a year ago now, and I remember it quite well. It's still the same topic, and it even references the poem.

Spring (Year Two)

When I have to
write it all out,
the moon comes to
reassure me,
though I'm not sure
the words mean a thing now.

Gavin's Changing Face

The past is a blur,
at least to these boots.
We keep counting days
and made a trail towards
december mist.

We hit are bikes on the city
near the sunset steeple.
It felt right.
We had to scream,
it felt right.

From a second story,
the sunlight is a painting.
Giants in the fog,
and my backyard in Venice...

Make yourself at home,
it's all you can do.

Designs of Delivery

He'd hold her
while she slept,
she'd never know.
He'd kiss her in hopes
her dreams would kiss her too.

He supposed what he felt
was something childish,
but maybe on some other level,
it was something more.

Yeah, I'm sure it's something more.

Practice Day a Poem

We meant nothing by it
we shook hands,
that was that.

I was certain that I cried,
blurring my vision.
I watched you walk on and on,
constantly reassuring myself.

You were right.
It hurt like hell
and kept me up all night.
You were right.

Pavement Loop on the Behance Network

Books!
Brilliant stacks!
Endless pages!
Depictions and pronouns!
Prose and motifs!

One stretched out sweater
to accompany a lamp.
Glasses and my unlimited fixations.

Why hide?
When with you,
I can turn around.
I can give birth to the idea
the lead to my reciting.

But what we do is secret
(saving 55 people) at a time.
Brought bikes to cut our knees,
Our fingers break the inevitable fall.

The physics behind a punch,
the punch behind physics.

Day 7 or 6

Tell Madison it was all necessary.
Her flat never told anyone.
It kept her secrets,
Along with keeping her.
It anticipated her arrival
And the flowers that would join her.

Tell Alexandria that I could've.
I was busy with big sky reflections,
She should've seen the sand.

A guess we should have;
I found the quiet place in the country,
Letting out smoke.
Shouting threats to the passer bys.

Freeman, Montana.

"Throw on your sunday's best
and make me proud."

It seemed to flow
from her palm
and fingertips.
Reciting it as though it were-

Brothers bucking
and sacrificial cars,
mothers in the streets
and the heart's third chamber.
Parallels and verticals.

Vertigo.

But does it float?

I'm awake still, don't say goodnight.

Life on their backs
and warm greetings via hand.
Body warm and blue,
lips as red as stone.
The sheep that flocks,
to the wolf that never strays.

Sleeping bags and glazed eyes.
She'll turn away from a bleeding gun

You used to be alright. What happened?

Paved

Reasons for why I'm returning.
Reasons why I left.
I blame it on a path.
I blame it on logic.
I blame it on my shoes.
I blame it on the gun
that pulled an unforgiving trigger.
I blame it on birds.
I blame it on the ocean.
I blame it on little kids.
I blame it on my mother.
I blame it on my friends,
they knew best.

I guess I blame me.