dreamer

September 27, 2016 § Leave a comment

every thought becomes caught
on the next in my mind
it’s a web chasing time
in a tangle of silk
that falls from my grip
gently tugging at reality
the outline catches light
and a path intercepts
only to be swept away
by tessellations of sound
and thoughts that surround
thoughts of what should be

but what about me?

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Remember

April 30, 2014 § Leave a comment

I thought about you
flipping through a story held between pages
different than the ones I wrote before,
this one holds questions and pauses
created in rushed script,
of a time far away but filled
with clarity and a foreign place
we were two separate people, but together
we felt, and perhaps we still do
and I can’t help but think
that the things that change the most
in life aren’t the people,
but in fact, the memories

Beginnings

April 17, 2014 § 2 Comments

I opened up the spiral book,
pages filled with words,
etched carefully on paper, purple pen
a fervent scrawl, filled with meaning
from nine years past.

I wrote with conviction
as strong as the coffee that still stains
the pages and spreads ink
and distorts the words penned
from a familiar place that rushed
to fill the pages of a nearby notebook
with notes of beginnings and of ends.

It’s a story I once knew
so well, that now sounds like a fiction
from a distant place,
from another’s hand.

silence

April 16, 2014 § Leave a comment

Silence is a friend
to the harsh and biting,
words that bounce wildly
across wooden rooms
without borders, but an enemy
to the timid, the thoughts,
hidden words trying
to see the light of an open eye
finally taking them in.

Uncommon Sense

February 15, 2014 § Leave a comment

What is it that holds you
back, from reaching
the always-sought after
ever bewitching
slipping through fingers
personal Utopia
place, where
you’re meant to be?

If it was doubt, you would not
have ever dreamed of this
place, to begin with

If it was fear, you may not
have even made it to this
point, a remarkable feat of courage

If it was ignorance, you could not
have seen this place so clearly
detailed and superb
resting at a peak

If not these, then what?

The most dangerous barricade we face
may just be none other than
practicality.

Still

February 14, 2014 § 2 Comments

if the world still spins
among an expanse of unknowns
and our blood still flows
through an amazing maze
and gravity still heaves
burying sandy beaches
then why must we remain
still

Every Word

February 7, 2014 § Leave a comment

every word
and story written
penned
etched on paper
can be read in daylight
by any searching eye
but the pure, tragic
emotion, the space
between lines,
the breath unheard
that gulps
and swallows
dialogue and meaning
before it can stain
the pen’s canvas
will only ever
begin to be
understood
not by the one who studies
the text, but
by the one
who holds
the pen

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