rise again

September 5, 2017 § Leave a comment

when the ocean falls
but rises like a bird dives
then rises as a carousel dips
and rises to the falling winds
which rise like a smile turns
and rises like the sun sets
but always, always rises.

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Mind Games

November 7, 2014 § 1 Comment

I wish I could be introspective every single day
I dream of molding thoughts abstract, like artwork out of clay
Construct idealic phrase so fast, leave audiences beaming
Pen existential metaphors, of which no ones knows the meaning
I wish my mind was free to mull over eloquently structured phrase
I would write down all my profound thoughts and not run out for days
How nice to conjecture Kafkaesque verse with flair and frequency
It’s just a bit hard when my mind is filled with thoughts like, “Gee, I have to pee.”

spoken word at the uptown arts bar

October 24, 2014 § 2 Comments

they stood beneath the spotlight

underneath the dancing dust
that drifted and fell in lazy patterns
and clung to their lashes like snow, yet they stared ahead

they stood beneath that heavy light
and took hazy swirls of smoke
upon their shoulders, they stood
so serenely

beneath the light that blinded
them from the crowd
they stood and spoke
in an effortless tongue that felt
and fell upon surrounding ears

and I could never see
myself in them. They were another species,
I, just a detached observer
taking in a spectacle,
like animals at the zoo.

they stood beneath the spotlight
that cast so much blinding light
onto every inch of who they were
and they couldn’t hide
behind the rusted microphone stand

and when they spoke
they were anything but caged

they were so
very, very free

pulse

August 7, 2014 § 3 Comments

if we repeated the same words
again and again, like heartbeats
keeping pace with life, like drumbeats
shouting above the melody,
calls of meaning and rushes of sound
that keep time with our rhythm

it’s like we want something to change
it’s like we need something to end
but those words just keep beating,
like my heart for you.

question

July 21, 2014 § 2 Comments

does anyone else
use their fingers to count each
haiku syllable?

ok good.

blank

July 18, 2014 § 2 Comments

possibility
is an empty page just waiting
for meaning to fill it

uncovered

July 10, 2014 § Leave a comment

I find hope at the bottom of drawers
caught between pages
stuck together by time
written in a hurried hand
rushed ink that speaks
meaning from years ago
still waiting on wilted pages
for an ear to listen
calling from its home
to be lifted from those pages

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