Take Care

What can I do?
You’re flying right now.
All the strife, hate, despair,
doesn’t matter so how.
This shouldn’t be how.

You don’t even know
that she went above.
Two seconds too late—
the flight of a dove
Ending the love

I know they will give
you attention and praise.
Usually, I would tremble
at that pathetic gaze,
but now my mind is in a haze.

You let lust take control.
You have made some mistakes,
but why do I want her
to come back, no matter the stakes.
Such a thing only takes.

The only real victim
is her with the defect:
fighting a tumor,
losing her respect.
Now all I can do is reflect.

He will give you the world;
the other his heart.
The confusion and sorrow
are not even the start.
For you lost some of your heart.

What do I feel,
remorse or disease?
Did I once hope that you would feel pain?
How could that appease?
It doesn’t appease.

No one deserves
to lose that much more
when the terms and environment
weren’t that good before.
You exit the door.

I really feel sympathy.
I give you some hope.
No, I don’t want to forget.
I will still say, “nope.”
Just, here is some hope.

She’s still in your heart.
She will always be there.
Even when you have moved on,
she will still even care.
Good luck…take care.

The Sequence

Eyes wandering. Can’t hide.
Anticipation. The restless side.
The time. The place.
The time to go.
Unknowing.
The unknown.

Arrival. “Hellos.” Words of embrace.
Slight Awkwardness, then the definite face.
That first pulsation.
The feeling inside.
Doubting.
No place to hide.

Comedy. Tragedy.
Everything, yet tranquility.
Quick glances. The heat.
Hearts ignite.
Beginning.
That sight.

Flowing blood. Perfect grace.
No other wants. No other face.
Hands. Neck.
The growing passion.
Determination.
My only reaction.

The after party. New “highs” and “lows.”
Staleness. Haunting “no’s.”
Wishing. Regretting.
Staying alive…
Hopeless love.
Not really alive.

The Summer of Venus

With the beauty of your body
you transported me to Venus:
A constant Sunday afternoon
to share between the two of us.
You sledded into my heart
on a translucent, snowy day.
I started to curdle like milk
as my mind went astray.
Like purple colored jello,
I want to wiggle in your embrace.
I want to dive into your eyes
and live inside your face.
To be able to fly
throughout your flowing hair
I want to rap you with my arms,
and bite down on a succulent pear.
Crackling like a firework,
I become a finale of reason.
This love is a halcyon summer
and I don’t want a change in season.

Open Grandeur

This morning was lovely. I had to take an extremely challenging chemistry quiz from my eccentric teacher, but other than that it went by pretty smoothly. This week's schedule is actually flexible so I excited about that. We might have a snow day in Berlin tomorrow so I could be able to....sleep!

On that August afternoon
we walked from the car
as the conversations of the trip
disappeared into the air.
The path was very nostalgic
with roots and leaves scattered
over it, making little areas of growth.

We appear out into the open
as my eyes open up and
take in all of the ocean, rocks, and mist.
The waves smashed against the
World’s jagged foibles
and took the power I once
thought I had.

Then you placed your arm
around my stricken body
as if you were showing
me the universal grandness
of the world, yet
you held me there to make
sure I would not dive in.

All those times including this one
you were showing me the world—
from when we painted the flats
to look like Victorian style porches
to when you gave me
a documentary on art and
life.

Now as I look out and
smell the salt cleansing my mind,
I understand something about
I, we, the whole world,
and yet, like the sea, it is too
big for me…
…to grasp it.

The Story

Sitting down at a desk
with the pen of time—
the ink seeps onto the paper
and stays permanent in fabric.

Infancy: a preamble of fogginess
because so many window wipers
have wiped the slate anew
Starting to discover the nouns of
the new exciting world

Childhood: where the story is
a constant adventure and
you are one of a group of
monkeys causing mayhem and
discovering the verbs you own.

Adolescence: the dark plot-changer,
where those monkeys turn to savages
and fervor of reputation is
expelled into the air.
This ambient gas creates
an unidentifiable definition.

High School: where the flow of
the story starts to become dynamic
Adjectives of who we are and
what we are going to become
make the writing gain
complexity and depth.

The future: what will you
write with your pen?
Just remember that the
dark, regrettable ink can
be blue with achievement,
or red with fault.
For now I will write an ellipse…

Jeers Me Ever So

Tomorrow I am pump[ed for my first play rehearsal of Once Upon A Mattress as co-director. I am really excited for this play to get underway. This weekend is our Key Club scrap booking party! I am really excited for that also...ok enough from my world, here is a poem.

Your counterfeit face
is not welcome in this place.
It jeers me ever so.

Cleanliness, you have none.
You hold to my heart a gun.
Your face bleeds in me ever so.

Let the promises come down
against my skeptical frown.
The mystery confuses me ever so.

The promises are like rain
on your face, so vain;
these promises give opulence so.

To me it is like acid.
I am definitely not passive.
The rain corrodes my soul ever so.

What will it take
to exile your face, so fake:
the picture that nightmares so?

The sludge of your disgust—
bathe in it I must.
It burns my skin ever so.

You infect like a virus.
It is all quite preposterous.
You have lied to me ever so.

Now you have forced out your wants.
You smile still haunts.
I want to forget ever so…

“One, Two, and Three”

This is for the three people who opened up my self-confidence

Remembering now as the sun starts to rise
on every watershed to this day.
I know the sins have drew us apart,
but my memory will still stay.

The first day I met number “One”
was truly a sunny March.
The kindness and propinquity I found
brought me through all that was harsh.

The air that day was as sharp as
an inhaler going in my self-confidence.
This story will continue
and my current position will make sense.

I went to number “One’s” abode
with creatures eating my hope.
That is when I entered the house of Aggravain.
It deeply smelled like laundry soap.

The connection was made
and then I met “Two” and “Three.”
These two were obviously familiar
with the world I just began to see.

We played video games, watched movies,
and walked outside.
Our friendship became a knot:
the incandescent glow which no one could hide.

Late nights were when
the polishing of our knot occurred.
I can’t believe that I once
thought of this as absurd.

We all had different personalities
this is but only accepted,
so here is how our vices
brought along our separation.

Pride named ranks and
started a monarchy.
“Two” and “Three” both had this
and they both are clear to see.

I will admit envy was my vice
that would make me irrational.
I tried too much to make a connection with one;
I lost that same exact pal.

Avarice and wrath: the final crowbars that ripped our knot apart
The broken hemp and rope
mixed together with my insecure heart.

Is this only if that now
we go our separate ways?
I have grudges with “Three,”
and I have “One’s” acidic May.

Now I have new friends,
new goals and a new passion.
I still see some of you
throughout your change in fashion.

I know someday you will
look back at what I am now.
Maybe we can fix our knot
still to acknowledgement somehow?

All I know is that, like
three handprints on my soul,
you all have made me who I am;
that part of me is now whole.

Once Stained, Then Fade

I don’t understand where you have gone.
The friend I once knew seems to be following a different song.
Your interests seem to have changed from kindness to physical gain.
Did the microchip of others’ influence finally make its mark or stain?
That deep stain of the hubris of one;
when all the people are gone is the show really done?
Is this eyeliner guilt, security, or shade?
All I know is that your memory seems to fade.