I have loved and I have lost
More than some, less than others
And it's carved into my being deep scars
Etched into my skin by burning hot irons of memory
And I hold my head high and show them off
"Look! How strong I have been made!
When fate has so often yanked people from my life
And lofted them up and out of my reach
Then struck down my grasping, now empty hands
See how well I sit so still
Hands folded in my lap like a Catholic school girl
Waiting for the iron rule to fall
Never straining to get hold of the shiny new toy to occupy my time and thoughts
To hold my hand
To cradle my head
See how well-behaved and patient am I!"
Because my hands are worn and damaged
In all reality
I'm simply unsure
That they could withstand even one more rap
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
Unchaining
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Welcome to Unchained Utterances! I'm afraid there's not much to look at. The basic idea is that I wanted a place to put the poems I'm writing every day for a 365 project. I don't suppose that I'm the first to do something like this, but I hope that my own personal style will make it unique enough.
Some of the date stamps on this will be fudged a bit, but only to match the actual date they were written. I don't know if I'll be able to update the blog daily, but the dates will always be true to the time of penning.
Enjoy!
Welcome to Unchained Utterances! I'm afraid there's not much to look at. The basic idea is that I wanted a place to put the poems I'm writing every day for a 365 project. I don't suppose that I'm the first to do something like this, but I hope that my own personal style will make it unique enough.
Some of the date stamps on this will be fudged a bit, but only to match the actual date they were written. I don't know if I'll be able to update the blog daily, but the dates will always be true to the time of penning.
Enjoy!
Day Nine (mmm, contrived)
Oh most impressive mechanism
No lengths of engineering can duplicate
Your pristine and wondrous processes
Making cheeks flush
Creating the fluttering of butterflies from stomach to head
Sending waves of sadness shattering from fore to aft
Throwing flames of anger from raging inner volcanoes
Which lay dormant until triggered by minute stresses
Strongest of muscles
Yet so easily destroyed
Dashed by a word
A look
Demolished beyoond hope of repair
But this underground warrior is not so easily beaten
Like a phoenix it rises from ashes and splinters
Rebuilds itself bigger, stronger
More resilient
But with every crack a new layer of armor is laid
This is a self-preserving instrument
Handle with care
If not, you may never be given the chance
To make ammends
No lengths of engineering can duplicate
Your pristine and wondrous processes
Making cheeks flush
Creating the fluttering of butterflies from stomach to head
Sending waves of sadness shattering from fore to aft
Throwing flames of anger from raging inner volcanoes
Which lay dormant until triggered by minute stresses
Strongest of muscles
Yet so easily destroyed
Dashed by a word
A look
Demolished beyoond hope of repair
But this underground warrior is not so easily beaten
Like a phoenix it rises from ashes and splinters
Rebuilds itself bigger, stronger
More resilient
But with every crack a new layer of armor is laid
This is a self-preserving instrument
Handle with care
If not, you may never be given the chance
To make ammends
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Day Eight
Uninspired, slightly buzzed
Wishing life could go back to the way it was
When I was five and had no cares
Adult life... It really wears.
Wishing life could go back to the way it was
When I was five and had no cares
Adult life... It really wears.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Day Seven
Close my eyes, scrunch my nose
Spin around, strike a pose
Hold my breath, count to ten
Say it once and then again
"The sun is good, the rain is fine,
but the only weather on my mind
is white and frozen, flakes of ice
that dance like diamonds from the sky
So come on, climate, throw me a bone,
Just a few inches:
Spin around, strike a pose
Hold my breath, count to ten
Say it once and then again
"The sun is good, the rain is fine,
but the only weather on my mind
is white and frozen, flakes of ice
that dance like diamonds from the sky
So come on, climate, throw me a bone,
Just a few inches:
LET IT SNOW!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Day Six
No new is good news until it's news too late
I had no time to worry
No time to prepare
To make peace
Only empty emotions now
Anger
Sadness
upset
Upset
UPSET
Only the good and the self-destructive die young
You'll never get to see
Just how un-fucked-up you could have been
In memory of Josh Schonlau
I had no time to worry
No time to prepare
To make peace
Only empty emotions now
Anger
Sadness
upset
Upset
UPSET
Only the good and the self-destructive die young
You'll never get to see
Just how un-fucked-up you could have been
In memory of Josh Schonlau
Monday, October 26, 2009
Day Five
Sea of sagging faces
Once unbridled youth
Now clings to porous bone
Memories seep out through deep crevasses
Telling tales of days long past
Once unbridled youth
Now clings to porous bone
Memories seep out through deep crevasses
Telling tales of days long past
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Day Four
Eyelids of lead
Joints of stone
The restless, rooted rambler
Tumbles onto a modern-day cloud nine
All box springs and quilt tops and affordable but exceptional thread count
And ingests the dream weavers
Shaman in capsule form
Turns to liquid over the cotton stripes
Flowing, raging, bursting through space
Time
Planes of existence
Wandering deepest untouched forests
Expanding into the depth-less ocean blue
Covering all the world
Until the sirens call wears off
Gives way to bells and alarms
And freezes the gypsy firmly back in place
Tied down to the heavy, unerring, monotony
Joints of stone
The restless, rooted rambler
Tumbles onto a modern-day cloud nine
All box springs and quilt tops and affordable but exceptional thread count
And ingests the dream weavers
Shaman in capsule form
Turns to liquid over the cotton stripes
Flowing, raging, bursting through space
Time
Planes of existence
Wandering deepest untouched forests
Expanding into the depth-less ocean blue
Covering all the world
Until the sirens call wears off
Gives way to bells and alarms
And freezes the gypsy firmly back in place
Tied down to the heavy, unerring, monotony
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Day Three
I painted on my mask
recited my lines to the mirror
The cold glass believing me less than I did myself
So I washed it away
Let my face drip slowly down the long, weaving drain
Drip, drop, plop
But still mirror ignored me
Refused to show the lie I was so sure was true
"I'm alright, it's okay."
Drip, drop, plop
Tears erase the last remains of my facade away
recited my lines to the mirror
The cold glass believing me less than I did myself
So I washed it away
Let my face drip slowly down the long, weaving drain
Drip, drop, plop
But still mirror ignored me
Refused to show the lie I was so sure was true
"I'm alright, it's okay."
Drip, drop, plop
Tears erase the last remains of my facade away
Friday, October 23, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Day One
This is a poem, and it's not for you.
It's not for my mother, my brother, or you.
It's not for my teachers, my boss, or my friends
The list of who this poem is not for does not quite end
This poem is for me, my soul, my bones
It's not a damn thing except for my own
The rhythm is sloppy, haphazard at best
But it's only for me and not for the rest
So I use simple rhyming and sound like a kid
But I wanted to write it
It's not for my mother, my brother, or you.
It's not for my teachers, my boss, or my friends
The list of who this poem is not for does not quite end
This poem is for me, my soul, my bones
It's not a damn thing except for my own
The rhythm is sloppy, haphazard at best
But it's only for me and not for the rest
So I use simple rhyming and sound like a kid
But I wanted to write it
And now I did.
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