Between the lines...

Is there something you're looking for
when you read between my lines?
Something that's not being said?
Something to dress yourself up in?
You can see my lips open yet you seem
unhappy with the things being spoken
Are you not finding my words clear ?
I always thought of my speech as crystal
and the language I use as straightforward
Maybe you have to have the right state of mind
to absorb the metaphors I verbalize

Discovery...

As familiar as my handprint
as foreign as a new film
I want to peel back the layers of protection
to see what they're covering
I want to knead the forms between my fingers
understand every line and curve
touching each of the square inches
and become intimately connected to the surface
read the textures like brail
giving raised clues about the content of the messages
I want to know what sounds can be made
from inside and out
I want to have my taste buds aroused
by the smell
I want the discovery to last long
and for the experience to be mutual

The Unknown

Opening the doors to mystery
letting loose into the world the acceptance
of not knowing
of not needing to know
I use these words to sort through the riddles
in my heart and soul
The deepest questions that need only
to be formulated and released
the answers always remain unknown
and once the letters form words
and the words form into poems
it no longer matters what I needed them for
I enjoy just seeing their form
Letting the sounds become the meaning alone

Free

Silver lines the inside of this hideaway space
lithograph prints of memories replace
pictures of lovers and mothers
Duck for cover in the shade of a branch
Want to take nature by her breasts
and drink until her nectar overflows
I'd like to run with the wildest of beasts
and dance in the oldest of forests
Naked
With not even my stories to clothe me
One day I'll be free from my confinement
Free from the history and space that defines me

Remembering

Sometimes I get wispy
thinking
how it might be better if we were still together
then I begin to remember
the silence that would occur
when our communication was broken
which happened quite often
or the feeling of isolation
that I felt next to you
wishing you loved me
not sure if you would
not sure if you could
I remember everything I gave
In so many ways
and I remember how often you reciprocated
which, until I left for this wasteland
was not on a regular basis
We did have our beautiful moments
Which I've been guilty of reveling
In my loneliness
and inflating
because the truth is that we were not very healthy
for most of our years
so when I can remember this
I am relieved again
that the situation did come to an end
and that we have found a way
to retain a relationship as friends

Good Morning

"Good morning you"
Reverberations of hello
echoing against the deadpan
the waste land of this room
Eyes closed rainbow
of vibrant blues, greens
oceans of memory
you somehow slip between
the violence of violet
and yellows yelling through
window sill, wind is still
glistened morning dew
daffodils are heralding
and leaves are peeking out
Good morning morning
wake up and get me out

Dreaming

I have been so enamored with the ideas
of the symbolic nature of thoughts and feelings
that I am spending all of my time dreaming.
I must confess that my present is static at best
and my daily life is lacking the kind of connections
that feed my heart and my soul nourishment.
So by creating a world of delusional joy
my daydreaming state allows me to escape
into a realm where symbols and poetry can be romanticized,
in, what some might consider, an unhealthy way
but in truth my delusions aren't really delusional
because I don't give them any real weight
that is the beauty of the beauty of art
that is why continue to write

Still have a mouth full of pennies...

Body broken, the system is flawed
My diagnosis is empty
So I keep looking
Playing doctor for myself
I keep trying new theories out
Having more blood tests drawn
and get no definitive results
I will keep on keeping on
Because the symptoms keep cycling back
and its hard to not want to sleep
My mom now thinks
I have some kind of neoplasia condtion
which would mean
that I have a tumor somewhere
some unwanted growing mass
possibly in my pituitary gland
causing neurological breakdown
as well as endocrine malfunction

Playing Games

I've never been one to play
competitive kinds of games
Inevitably the same ones
where a loser in named
Where a score card is kept to keep track
Of relative loss versus relative gain
But that doesn't mean I don't like to engage
in other means of entertainment
games where everyone wins something
Or where there's nothing to gain but enjoyment

Spring

There are birds singing songs I haven't heard in so long just outside my window
I can hear them making calls to one another from tree branches bud-speckled
In just a week's time those trees will be covered in blossoms of many colors
The birds aria's are alarms ringing in the life beginning to stir from slumber

New

My poetic musings for a night's boredom to dissolve
I am placing you somewhere in the stature of muse
since I hardly know more than one night of your energy
I can invent you into the embodiment of "mystery"
Channeling my lost electricity into the creative space
Where new life springs in shoots out of newly warmed earth
and the delicate green must be nurtured and attended
kind of like the seedlings of the newest of connections
My imagination is loose and so maybe running away
it does that when my body feels chained to time and space
so I will continue on the wholehearted notion that
pancakes taste better when shared together with
someone who cares about beauty in places others see as mundane