Trying.

There's so much to consider
and you tell me
you'll love me on my bad days
and my good days.
On my sad days
and my happy days.
But I can't put all that on you...
I've tried and now
I'm trying the wrong way.
You know somethings not right.
I know it.
They know it.
But...I haven't changed it.
Moreover
it's been worse these days.
I can feel my stomach tighten
at the thought.
And I look around and frown
at the thought of what I'm becoming.
Of course you say you'll always love me
and maybe you will.
But really
I don't wanna hurt you.
And I don't wanna be the one
to make you cry again.
I just wanna love you
and be
okay.

Becomings

Sometimes I find that
I'm drifting off slowly.
Left behind in a moment,
but stuck now in the past.
Trying to escape the box we
get stuck in.
I'm not really sure how.
I wonder sometimes
to the far away, the could be's,
and all my wishes that
have never worked out.
I used to wish a while every night but
gave that up to my
long and gone childhood.
Put two of us together and we'd go down
like we are already.
I can't help you anymore.
I
can't
help.
And she's right, she's really right,
but my ears don't wanna hear it.
So I'll tell myself over and over
to shut up.
Just shut up and keep on smiling
and walk forward.
Keep walking with your chin up
even on the days
you are nearly,
almost
dead.

A Solitary Fight

When the worlds at it's loudest
I'm the one lying face down.
My bullet riddled chest, eyes wide, shock,
hand tight clasping my
shot, stinging heart.
Or what's left of it...
The days have eaten away that
vast and utter longing to stay here.
And now we want the freedom.
Our war here, never ending
always crashing, banging,
killing....
Then what?
Do we stay here? Our heavey shoulders
full of the burdens we carry.
Watching the world spin in the colors
we're most familiar with
of gray and hurt and laughter
subsiding into the cruel night.
No...we have to fight.
We have to stand, stand up and shout something
without fear of being shot.
We have to be willing to take the pain,
take the bullets, take
the losses...
I've been ready for a long time but now
I'm questioning what I can do.
Is this war really something worth fighting for?
Really worth all this effort and slaving
and pain it produces?
My answer is yes.
And this,
this is why I'm a soldier.
This is why I will march on.
Farther, and farther, and farther until
they can't see me anymore
and I'm gone.

Waiting

It's only a couple months, right?
And while you're so far away
your voice is right here every night.
It lulls me to sleep, and tells me
I love you. And don't worry
I'll be with you soon.
I believe you, I do.
But that doesn't keep me
from missing you
every morning and
every day and
every night.
And even though my heart
is heavy
and my eyes are tired,
I will stay up every night
just to here your voice until
you're here.

Our War

We are now, as is, a warn torn world.
The desert sand stinging the eyes of youth
here and afar.
The bullets deflating chests
with last breaths and sighs.
The mothers tears and the fathers unheard cries.
And we forget.
We look onward to a screen filled with
tragic news, and heart break.
And as we stare we forget
the most important things sometimes.
Like the silent tears of our neighbors.
Those wars inside homes and
inside hearts.
They're being stung by bullets from the inside out.
Those starving, beaten, fallen.
They are crying, the dust falling
in their eyes.
But we....we don't notice
as we stare onward,
wishfully, but not rightfull thinking,
"We're safe. There's no war
around here."

Artist's Skies

I dont think it's ever summer.
Not for the poets and their words
nor the artists and their pencils.
Not for the readers and their worlds
nor for the actors and their faces.
It's always some shade of winter,
in cold swirling grays.
Such a deceptive beauty sometimes
that makes you want to close your eyes
and dream to other times.
We don't choose such things in our lifetimes
but
we have our destinies thrust upon us.
And sometimes that means
we are artist and poets, or readers and actors.
Either way, we all know the same
gray sky
and how it can make you silent
even on
the loudest looking days.

Song Inspiration 1: I'm Glad You Love Me

"You hold me baby, you hold me here tonight."

The song rings in my ears and
I let it. I let it
stay there so
I can think of you.
And how and why you do
all those things
for my benefit.
I, I'm just a crazy kid
with a heart too free
and dreams too big
for my handling.
But you somehow looked inside
and like magic you fell in love
with who I am.
I can't wait to hold your hand.
Together, us, here
and loving
just for who we are.
You have my heart, love,
you have my heart.
And I think I'm pretty sure
I have yours too.
And we promised forever, for now.
Maybe we will.
Maybe we won't.
But there here and nows say
you're here for me
and you love me
and I'm glad.

You and I

Let's just pretend,
from friend to friend,
that life's just perfect
where it's at.
Let's look back
on all these days
and all the ways
we got through things.
Always together
and we hardly ever
could stand to be apart.
Yeah, well, we made it.
You and I.
We got through those times
we had to cry.
And I was there and so were you.
Just you and I,
and me and you.

Compassionate Losses

If I said we were as strong as we used to be,
you'd say no
and I know that.
But it's how I feel these days because
what is now is not what was.
You used to listen to, know, inside and out
this heart beating inside this chest.
But now I find my confidence
resting on the shoulders of passing strangers.
And, well, you see,
these characters from these painting
and the characters from these books,
well they're almost like friends for my heart now.
And you're a friend just for looks.

Sushi, People, Poetry

Poetry's like sushi.
All neatly wrapped together, piece by piece.
Meant to be taken in as whole.
Because
when you take it apart
and try to swallow it, piece by piece
well then
it just loses it's
intended flavor.

You are like sushi too.
I try sometimes to
pick you apart,
piece by piece,
and see what you're made of;
But that's not what you were
intended for.
No, you were meant to be looked at these days
from the outside in.
Nobody understanding really,
but that's what you wanted and
that's how you are.

Definitions and Hearts

Because it's nice to know someone's there
I will check every five seconds,
impatiently like a little child
to see if you're available.
And when you're not I will worry.
And when you are I will smile.
They say that love is only
for the grown up or more
for the grown old.
But love is infinite
in definition.
Who are they to define infinity?
And yeah, I think
you're the one thing I
am holding onto right now
in this hurricaine filled town.
You're the song in the night
singing me to sleep
with your final words every day
before I rest my weary eyes,
just simply saying
"I love you, love."
And yeah, surely
I love you too.

*A Note for the Wondering*

Just in case anyone was wondering, or maybe because I just wanted to explain...
All of my poems are written on the spot here unless otherwise specified in the title. =]
I really hope you enjoy them.
Thank you for reading, I appreciate you.

Some Words That Never Were.

My eyes, too tired to see much more

than dim light,

bright white,

black type.

It's one of those nights.

The words all

built up,

pushing at,

baring down on

my mind,

my hands.

We don't write because

we have no time.

We have no time,

we have

no

life,

outside the framework of

an education, of

a work force.

It's all too bad. All to

sad and lonely to be

another person in the world

with some words.

Some words

that are too stuck,

too busy,

will never ever be.

And will stay

pushed back,

held down,

tied up along

with the words that

never

were.