Categories
Poetry

Cycle of delicate wash

press delicate

Categories
Poetry

Yes

The answer to your question
is yes.
It was on the tip of my dream
the way you weave yourself
into my unconscious
the words you use to endear me
sway me, bring me to your green side,
you know i’m there. all the other poems
mean nothing without you.
you told me this morning
how you love my beauty, art and my heart
this is the message the red trees whispered to me this morning, as I explained why the moon is still watching us.
you turn on my sirens
to all my no’s
and watch my lips say yes.
i’ll be your little red corvette
been waiting decades to hop into your car.
stop raging against the words, the world, can’t stop humanity, can’t stop gum control, the Democrats, the Republicans, the Liberals…the fight feels useless
leaves you powerless
full of anger
that needs to be kissed.
Then i see it
the lion in the sun,
and it feels right
you know how fate needs
some kind of human intervention
for clearly
i would like to see your eyes
again
perhaps live a lifetime
in a few hours
by the mountain
watch mother earth
perform miracles.
yes.

Categories
Poetry

Debris 

 #poetry #poetryisnotdead most of these typewriter excerpts are from my poems, some are not.
this one is from “Hanging on a boy’s arm” which will be in my poetry book. My release date is June 22, 2016. I was hoping to release one book, but the publishers want to make it into two books. 

Thank you again for reading and your comments. I truly adore you. 

Categories
Poetry

in the universe

#poetry  

Categories
Poetry

#poetry In the night

#poetryisnotdead

  

Categories
Poetry

Unknown

 #poetry 

Categories
Poetry

In the waiting room

Forgot my notebooks
my appointments locked me up
out of your box for a day
breathed perfectly
shaking off security guards
flirting in front of my daughter
walking in malls
of the living dead.
Watching you charm
the nurses
is he always like this? They ask.
My smiles are tired
my love superb
like a classical piece
Chopin opus 9
its ups its downs
its climax.
I needed that breakdown
to stop me from smoking
drinking
now I feel too much
numb it
with your body on mine
I don’t need modern love
too old-fashioned
too old to keep up
I’m so fine
in the waiting room.
My time to write
to heal
among these expert doctors
touching my breasts
my heart
when it belongs to you.
Crying to songs
my vampire make up
smudging my creases.
I am feisty
only he can handle me
in your wildest dreams
you wouldn’t want a wife
like me
not even a lover for a day
I’m not that type
not a true artist at all
keeping the drugs
under the pillow
the cancer behind
the counter
where no one can reach.

Categories
First novel Poetry

song

You talk some trash and watch me vacuum in my knee socks

phone in my back pocket

my headphones on so loud can’t hear the soccer scores

you like my ponytail

ignore the players

and end up all over my spring blouse

unbuttoning my friendship buttons.

We walked on St.Paul all night

chasing our dreams

together

and kissing in cabs

I remember everything

the flashing reasons

I love you blow up in my face

erase the scars and build new castles.

You know how to fall in love with me

for decades, finding new things

to love

not being pulled in by my witty lines

my poems

but my real legs

on you.

You know exactly where I was when I lied

and you loved me anyway

chasing me down

showing me how you are the only one

who can handle my locked up days.

Play me that song

none of that new crap

but the one you sang to me

at your bar

in front of a live audience.

This is what keeps me close to you.

Categories
Poetry

Surrender

The line up for free coffee
is growing daily up until
they too
take away the free love.
Not something I am unaccustomed to
all I crave is
the surrender to your clever ways
play me anyway
I’m game
raising flags at red lights
stopping my heart from beating
to feel yours
hiding away under the life machines
holding on to technology
like doctors
who are poets in their own way
like us
saving lives
with words.
It seems redundant to write
how you
have the words
I want whispered in my ear
you have the hands
caressing my skin
and all the other ordinary words
poetry stems from
but ’tis true. Yes.
Shakespeare is in love again.

I found these words scattered
around from six in the morning
where my notebook lay empty.
I raise my love to you
and bore you to death
with my obsessions
and that is how easily
you can forget me.
You are the air
I am of the earth.
(And this is another reason
I will surrender
for both
need each other
more than they know.
It could be science.
It could be love
it could be none of the above.)

Categories
poem Poems Poetry

Sitting in my car

If you want to know what I thought
all you have to do is ask
and when I said
well nobody walked out of the theatre/
most of the audience don’t know why
they laughed on cue/
rolled their eyes when needed/
and romanticized all/
because what can you do
in denial of your life
bring out the ties and sex acts
one by one
you can butt plug your existence
or pretend you know why he doesn’t want to be touched
like most men do
or why she likes her ass slapped
like most women do.
I can offend but a prompt is just that
and fan fiction is still fiction
and New York movie critics
need a sundown on this topic
and Madonna needs an opinion
all wait for the review
just have your own fucking nonsense bottle of wine with their logo
plaster it all over the sites
like someone wants to be you.
How is that
no one cares about what the waiter said last night
arguing with me while he knows he is wrong
didn’t high school end?
Never
it goes on
with every new Leader
or heartbreaking news story.
Watch the news in pain
as literature drowns
and best sellers float
but my book will not bring out all the kings and queens
and if you read or not
nothing changes
it’s still Friday and tomorrow is Saturday
drinking and waiting for The Hip to feed the soul.
Another -33 day in love with the guitar and sounds
of refusal
to sell out.
Sorry, to disappoint
but it has to be done
every once in a while
to see how
there is nothing closer to fiction
than reviews.
Every reader
wants to escape,
I hope my rope
is long enough
to touch the ground.