Monday, April 22, 2013

Desire's a chore

The stain life leaves is but feversome yet.
I've only just begun and already I hate.
Used is the powerful word I cannot restate.
For it is harsh on the ears and much more on the faith
Of living passed all that is hard.
A memory in progress
Is presently fogless
It's current and fresh
But this isn't a plus
It falls under a plight
A darkened room with foreign doors and keys that seem as foreign or more.
A possible way of escape does exist
While a vague implication is made and insists
It's sealed in pain
In lust
In love
A false lore of such
Can't result in much
But dust on the mind
And dirt on the floor.
It's left me with nothing desired.
Desire's a chore.

Friday, February 22, 2013

A lawn so green

Everybody's having kids
Everyone is taking shits
Nothing seems to ever be
Seemingly so obvious
Saying things that need be said
This class is fucked
My heart is dead
A violent phrase
Poetic enough
To violate space
Perimeter snubbed
Cut into halves
And into fifths
Diminished sound
Turned into shit
A harmony
Not quite in tune
So dissonant
Just like the truth
Abstract essentials
Creep into this
Mind of mine
A waste of time
And space it seems
Disregards me
This poetry
This life crazy
At times I think
How nice it'd be
To never think
Or ever be
It calms my nerves
It helps me breath
New life into
But that's not me
Ands that's not truth
Truth is I'm
nothing like you
I'm not through
With life and it's
Sense of humor-piece-of-shit-
Way to make things somehow fit
Reasonably meant for something more
Owner of green lawns galore
Just over the fence of self-doubt and dismay
Runs the stream of consciousness ill never embrace
Or so it seems.
And so I breath
So I'll believe
One day I might
Own a lawn so green.