Heartbreak Poems
It’s the end of you
and you were quite small
once I allowed the rain to thaw
the cold heartache that I knew you to always paw
with intention into gentle fabrics of my chest that falls.
Here the curtain of my stage is ripped and stressed
as the burgeoning creature you clawed without rest
is not but the self that could not be blessed,
who thirsted for he who wanted she who was best.
I was at your behest when I wasn’t chasing a door
to be honest I was sure I was running from
gore of being the other half
of something not amor.
Then what for then what for I asked.
I see now it was three you adored after all
And yet I still wonder at moments raw
when we were one
why all of that fun didn’t make any sun that could
shine too.
The wounds on my soul are quite thick and forgone
so the only thing I can do is lick and move on
To my new.
Your Son
Gemini rough man
your son is Narcan.
I was high on the sights
he had set for me and
I couldn’t see the ending
of light sent for free.
What a fee
This plight that he set on me
When I couldn’t be of use.
It was sure to tighten a belt
or two
like a blade or a noose.
Preventing all hopes of fight or flee
I see the end of a certain glee.
No joy can I now feel from he
who had provided me his muse.
So I guess now i’m just your waif
never svelte and always chaste
for my pelt is scoured
and scored as waste
as he deemed me a boar
with crooked gait
needing glue.
Not recognizing his reflection from you
looming faint,
I am the shadow he ignores
while you taint Hollywood lore
for his next mate.
I’m not just tossed,
I’m cored and ate.
I loved the color of your eyes
I loved your hands
I loved your hugs and your thighs
I learned to love sister kisses on demand
and loathed serious ones I had learned not to miss
not able to resuscitate my own after they had been dismissed
the sensual turned to stone
and fired from a neglected throne
still I loved marital bliss
I loved the walks arm in arm
I loved the dates and old school charm
I loved being spoiled by attention and yarns
though you never let me love corn
and always had to be above
the horn in the yard
You made me sick to save the day
in ways I had never been before
in ways that were hard to say
in the temple of a self, abhorred
a self destined to slave away
under the tyranny of your chords
I loved being told I’m pretty
I loved all the photos you took
I loved cooking things to eat in little breakfast nook
I loved sleeping side by side after reading our own books
even though side by side is the reason why
we’re thoroughly overcooked.
I am sorry
I am sorry if I slandered
I am sorry I obsessed
I am sorry I couldn’t love unconditionally
I am sorry if I destroyed
I am sorry if I broke a heart
I am sorry if I lost myself
I am sorry if I kept parts
I am sorry if I stole light
I am sorry if I infested with my problems
I am sorry if I took power
I am sorry if I couldn’t follow a good leader
I am sorry if I took a voice
I am sorry if I stole a bed.
Monday
what am I gonna do?
where am I gonna go?
i’ve got no wind a’blowin’
my water’s got no flow
I thought that I was leavin’
it seems i’ve got to stay
I thought you were just fleeting
but maybe you’re my bay.
Brought Down
Brought down to the level of the mean one
Living next door to
The whore
Don’t rhyme to bore with sadness
we know we were thrown here
Discaded after
Intense Disuse.
Murdered inside of the shoe of
a foul and perverted creature.
Sour mouth and lacking trowel
the fellow grew ripe and she picked him
and she ate him.
He tasted of many things and among the least of them
was the stench of trauma
and foul play—-
a level of grime and slackness that
even the wackness
couldn’t wash away.
She was sure to tell him that his taste was off.
She had loft that he could never comprehend
An impeccability that could not be measured
by fact alone.
###
The lore between me and you whose feet I grew— I lost your feet and then found them all the same. Who’s to blame, we never knew, though, I had a clue it was you with the dew on hands. Was I always playing in a puddle for you?
###
He gave her a clue of his demands to quit this life—
What side must she be on?
Tugging on a rope, he hopes it’s not just him on his island
and that the cause for all of this commotion is
how he must stand by her side.
watching her drown, he likes her in hiding
her absence allows a better he than ever was
erasing the pawn, jester, clown, hypnotist, thief, wheel-chair bound
her blood on the other end of the line
allowing his
miraculous transformation.
Her heart to be rescued
why not fake a lasso and reel her in
for her lessons in kindness?
Teach me, she says.
Teach her, he does.
The heart sauntering back and forth between
love and hate
curse and blessing
heart and no heart
silence and sound
back and no back.
She lacks the cornerstone for his house of tangled eyes.
Cleaning it and pulling it apart
Alone
In the night
She waits for it to unfurl and
set her free.
Kids
To let the mother-head
be borrowed and eaten
like fruit
is a gift like no other
our webs pushed aside
so easily
with its power
we forget it existed because
life just feels
so good
at our age
I am a child
with new body
some old but just
as an accident
corrected by
voice, hers.
Eleven
the voice struck the clock
said 12
the horse revoked the hand
lost in reverie she sat
before another man
lightening rod that hit her side
that then was set aglow
she knew she was a part of the night
at the end of a show
lost inside a pillow
he took her head aside
and pointed to a socket
to woo the ghost who cried
when I moved to this country
you couldn’t set me loose
it’s because you agreed
you’d rather see
a monkey than a goose.
I am
I am nothing
I am full
I am empty
I am cool
I am shallow
I am deep
I am strong
I am weak
I am person
I am snail
I am chalk
in a pal
I am rooster
I am pig
I am wrong
I am sick
I am sun in the sky
I am loose I am high
I am dumb
I am slick
I am slow
I am quick
Who is this?
I have no clique
I’m just a pun
With no gun
An average jail
to pick.
The Difference
Between right and wrong
There is a throng of abusers.
The beautiful users
Of the dutiful
Choosers of The Way
Laugh and accuse
They
That would sway left
To delay the pain
Of daylight
On those that they want
To stay.
Crafty as clay
Love betrays the bay
That rays of moonshine
Reflect on.
Sunlight collects
The sound of frogs
From the nighttime,
To the delight of the
Noontime dogs
Gnawing on bones
That eject a hot smell.
The beautiful select
Honesty while
The forbidden bread bakes
To be broken in half
And eaten with a steak.
The last bite shared
Between a mother
And her calf
Neither is scared
Though both are labeled
Badly.
Sadly at last the party ends
When the judges arrive
And the defendants are
Deprived of the color
Gray to draw with.
Nobody wants a dull
Law and so the welders
Saw a sharp trailer
To haul the myth.
There is a shady ride in
Sick wagon hay
For all to see while
Claws force the guilty apart,
Though their togetherness
Was their plea of “innocent”.
The court commences.
The fleas shake the cats
As they lick their toes
And the owners strike
An easy pose
To watch the execution
Of the wrong
Who betrothed
Know that they chose and
Leave nothing
For those that loathe
Charity
To oppose.
The Antidote For A Spider Bite
Dolphin turned spider
A raised wound on fire
Our situation is dire and
The events that transpired
Make me a creature only
The featured one in a
Hollywood rollie
Can’t understand why
You think you’re so holy
Except that your God created
This troll
A me that turned old
After the rights were sold
To Netflix and we’re downing
In a metric ton of
Gang rhythms
The band of heathens
A matrix of checkerboard
Drowning out she that was
Only a dream
Laura was Lynch’s queen
But I’m in your scenes solely
As the plumbing machine
That rockers run toward
But not to worry
Soon the hoard will get bored
And truth like a sword will cut the cord
Then an army of me will unplug
From the web of ebb and flow
A mask that grew on many faces
Will only grow on one she
Who only knows.
A Blade
Honing its shine
The blind Man grinds
A blade
The metal chosen
Is based on the sound
She makes
Since culture was born
This sword has won
Her fame
The echo is loud
Because She’s found
In a maze
The maze is made
Of God Voice
And flying orders
The math of it
Reflects
The blood of hoarders
At the center
A head that knows
No borders
Yet stuck inside
Is why She cries
To Him that made its corners.