Your smile is my tears
damned up behind my
tight tongue that doesn't
dare look at you frowning.
Squinting back nausea,
holding my stomach in place,
and I don't want to look at you,
"I can't take my eyes off of you"
X3
Melody, Melody, Melody
Looking at me.
Gray burgundy rows
of chairs,
endless spiral stars
down... downwards... down.
Perpetually holding exhalation,
blinking back worry,
biting lip... biting pain,
pain in the palm
of my hand, nails in hand.
Clench
and tighten and cut into physical.
Don't worry...
..don't worry.
Rock-a-bye baby, and goodnight...
& Winken and Blinken & Nod.
[breath]
and your eyes are my smile,
(when they're clear) and can't lie,
flowing free from soft slumber...
Note: Love this poem. Love it with all my essence... as I love the song that S.M. wrote for it. Hate the pain, the guilt, the shame that now form a heavy greasy and dirty veneer over it. Hate and love humanity and this poems constant reminder to me of humanity's potential for comfort and destruction.
[Untitled] - date unknown.
Take away my pain
but replace my felicidad
with fear--with sadness--
and your hands, holding mine,
I won't tell you why,
but, I'm scared...
and filled with sorrow.
You want me to run
sonriendo to you,
but, I'm crying
and they're pulling
my arms,
my heart
mi virginidad
and you want me dancing,
singing to you,
but here they are
taking turns
violandome.
Rainy day...de lluvia:
I bare the scar
of a seal undone,
hidden behind confidence.
Demons
pushing down,
barricading my femininity
in a shroud of thorns
chilled with inadequacy.
[Gorgeous] - 2004 Spring/Summer
Dark night,
in fog and quiet,
talking to you for hours
I watched the sunrise.
We had stopped talking
and I had lay in bed
watching intricacies
in shadowed ceilings,
trying to ease spine tingles.
Rolling over,
through trees:
a red glow.
And so I reached
and tumbling to the floor
hobbled to his window.
Paint spilt upon the sky.
A paper napkin,
As the colors seeped and spread
inching their way across darkness.
Boy in the bed
who wasn't you,
and I put on my pants and shoes.
Taking keys I left
To chase sunrise to where it met the ocean
and the mountains across the bay.
Damning the existence
Of concrete, cars and culture
I wished for nothing more than nature
Nature and you and me.
So, I whispered up to redwoods
and trees with glittering leaves,
let me stay in this moment forever.
But, I, not living in fantasy worlds
Moved on and back to his dark room,
pulled off my shoes
sat on his bed thinking of words you had told me.
You called me gorgeous,
And I let that thought hold me.
Note: Another one of my favorite poems of all time. I wrote this after a beautiful sunrise in Santa Cruz where I walked out and looked up at these gorgeous, gorgeous shimmering trees. They only shimmered like that in the early morning light. It was ethereal.
[Ice Cream] - June 11, 2007
I want ice cream between my toes
Erotic execution. Slushy sleepy silence
as the sunset slowly slips, and fades, and goes.
Vanilla, like purity-- Your words. We
believed in timelessness. Or endlessness? And magic.
Strawberry sorbet: when it was madly
delicious, truly capricious, triumphantly tragic.
Butter Pecan, when we got comfortable
Creamy complacency in the existance of a mistake
and it became altogether irreversible.
And, the Chocolate Wedding Cake
of our amorous accident [ our lovely loving wreckage]
melted morosely into a miserable mess
beneath my feet.
[Untitled] - date unknown (sometimes this makes sense to me...sometimes it does not. It was a challenge I gave myself)
Always alone and
Broken bitterly.
Clearly clouded.
Drowning dogmatic dreams
Easily; eagerly; emptily.
Fallen freely from
God.
Helpless hatred
in inconceivable
Juxtoposition. Just
kicking kind
lives. Lonely
moments meshed
noticably near
ordinary
people. Please
quickly quell quiet
resenting rage.
Silent solitude simply
teases the torturous
union under unforgettable
valiant victories.
We want, we wait, whispering
xeroxed
yearnings: yesterday's youthful
Zeal.
Note: I bet you can guess the challenge? Anyone's guesses on what I meant are great too. I know what I meant.. I'm doubting it got conveyed though.
[Untitled] - date unknown-- another challenge
History is hidden
Inside the pages of a book
Still closed to eyes and minds.
This is what repeats itself,
Or fails to
Rectify its surroundings as
Youth stays blind,
Reacting idly
Of things that 'matter'
Till, too late, we
See that those who reach out
In vain for help, create our
History and our tomorrow.
Note: And what was *this* challenge?
