Lies

Just one drop
Lick it clean
Dribble the last drip
Upon your cloying tongue
Swallow it with pride
Like you drank its remnants gratefully
Suck your teeth
Run your tongue around your lips
Don’t let that go to waste
Just that one last drop

Don’t let it go to waste

You know better than to believe

His lies

But sometimes you want to.

 

Renewed 2016

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inkling

there dallies a small inkling:

the power to change or withhold

the chance to fold or grow old

and never know…

although something inside

echoes

that Regret will not crow proudly

and Instinct will

 remain the

truest guide.

2012

Doomed

I step into the dire murk

Knowing it’s only crystal clear

On the surface

I lazily watch the swirls of slurry

And as the syrupy sludge

Comes up to take me

In its slimy clutches

I breathe my last

Wholeheartedly

Before I drown myself

In regret.

Waiting to know

I write mindlessly
Not knowing what i want to mean
Not knowing what I’m supposed to want
I reach out to no one
And feel no one needing me
But that’s not true
Everyone needs to not hear
Me out of chorus
Out of tune
Out of order
Out of sense
And searching for my own understanding
Because no one knows how long that could take
And who but i…if even i come to know…
Know what i really need to know?

taken aback

taken aback

sharper, cruder, more sourly distinct

each time

i encounter its unexpected appearance

and then i realize

i’m really not that surprised

after all

but just for that one moment

i let my naive heart fail to grasp

what experience expected all along

two little saplings

two little saplings

their limbs cannot hear
each others’ leaves rustling
shushes of sweet nothings
they only feel the soft caress of whispered wants

their leaves cannot see
how with each season
the branches reach, yearning towards them
they only feel a newborn tendril’s touch

their hearts enclosed in trunk
spread out their rooted love
and rejoice
when they taste
the same rain
and bask in the same warmth

two old gnarled trees
know of a love
they feel it within
beyond what they know

but they know.

thought alone

we are strangers to ourselves

only our thoughts know us better

and yet we hide their likeness

fearing only we have thought alone

evaporate

“The storm doth walk the seashore humming a mournful tune”
– Emily Dickinson

darkening shadow
sits high on misting pane

his beckoning words thrumming on taut string
the tapping syllables within the tin can tring

lazy fingers soothe
a bitten round
on silken shoulder
its swell still ripe
from being plundered

among
pitted sands,
petals, dewy-sliced
lay pierced remains
of the thieving drunk

shelter hides
the sopping invitation
muting the call of lowing reverberations

eying bait dry asunder
lightning flailed
still unheeded thunder

he will await
to finally reach up and
evaporate

 

inkling

there dallies a small inkling:

the power to change or withhold

the chance to fold or grow old

and never know…

although something inside

echoes

that Regret will not crow proudly

and Instinct will

 remain the

truest guide.

shhhh

endless melodies melt into me…leave your trace…i beg of

you…leave an embrace

soul leave me without myself

bliss lift me into clouds as tears trickle me down me

breath flows to breathe words that will never be heard

shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

don’t say it…notaword….not….a….word.

i know you felt it as i…