the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Two Today, Plus One If You Count The Two Tomorrow

Unforgotten private beauty
Every other day,
Not including weekends.
We bent at our weakest points to sit,
To tell each other what's of it
That is our every day,
Connecting in every way
Until I can say that I know you well,
A hope that fills this crystal shell
That fell gracious in your light.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Ms. Bossa Nova

Hello there, dearest.
I know that you see clearest between
The two of us,
But is it true of us that truth enough is
Personalized eyes
Vocalized through a speed dial smile?
Direct connection to you from me,
To the one held equal among social authorities
That rain down from here to hell
And opened umbrellas that shared no faces,
That tie tight nooses with their laces.
You burned their gallows
When I earned your good graces,
Here's an indirect thank you
As I ad lib through dry spaces.

Hurting Game

Another round for the young woman while
This metal dancer twirls to the ground.
It's not that shocking from the cockpit
To land in a soft pit, to break the fall
Or break it all up in a series of
A lonely whistle on this jacket is blown,
Hot Cross Buns in a monotone
For that church child now lost
In the roar of the choir's chorus undeniable.
Release and then think, no.
Release and believe, undesirable.
With all things considered but the other side,
In these arms, you will inevitably reside.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Figure it out!

I don't need lighted maps,
I've been more lost than this.
This is sleep paralysis
And I'm being constantly buried
Under cool dirt that feels heavy on my chest
Pushing out the words, digging myself out.
I'm alone on this one at best,
Besides the gravestones strumming
Some ungodly mess.
Direction and worth are still yet to be found
In the marrow of bones carelessly strewn about.
I'd shout "murder!" but courtesy cuts my voice short,
Emotional reinvestment pressed straight to court.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

The Resurrection

I stand on this holy hill once more,
One last time before mine is up again
Explaining to an angel why this light has to bend:
It cannot break.
It takes to the winds and into the sky,
My own wings dampened, so I could not fly
But I could lie here with a lighter soul,
Tracing the mountain faces
And embracing a goal achieved.
These eyes have been opened
And they drank in a sea of sequins,
A dream sequence complete,
An intervention divine.
I'll learn backwards in time,
Walk forwards in step,
And dream now of what's mine.


Talking horror with murderers
Is talking too soon,
Walking the moon across a true sky
Until you're the one who turns blue
Holding your breath,
But running a mouth so dry.
I am every plane that flies
Over the horizon
And in it, it dies.
Predetermined like barcodes,
It is generic, all the same.
They scan the bars like prison guards
And place numbers for your name.
You counted me out,
The lions are caged and whipped and they shout.
You are nothing but skin, beneath and above,
Blind to the touch wearing fake leather gloves.
You gave me your lions, but you were the beast,
A confirmation as sure as this ticket back east.

Friday, March 26, 2010

See Sun

We hop the gate before 2a.m.
Pushing ourselves over
Pushing against the clock,
With the perfect getaway
In a white Astrovan, flying stellar.
You're young and impulsive,
Never say never.
We youth write songs about forgetting,
So that we would later remember it all.
The night's too dramatic,
But everything's magic
Before the sun's second call.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Hamilton Victory, Defeated at Gwynn

The drummer boy taps his drum
As hollow as the shells that
Run down this hill we protect
With only the hair on the backs of our necks
Singed by the bombs I set off with our flares.
Ironic, once again,
Congruent to what was made pretend.
Will appearances to fear the worst
Adjust before the bubbles burst?
Tell the drummer boy to keep the roll soft,
Either the ether calmed our meager troops
Or the Dealer has come to revoke our youth.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

For A Day In Traffic (Transit[ion])

Here we go, the greatest rewrite.
Windows down so that he might
Catch something he would otherwise
Miss. What are you excited about,
Looking for?
You know these freeways like
The maps on your hand, the creases
And veins that stain a bland blue.
Still, you look at these signs and not know
What to do at the overpass. Exit.
A hair tie on my wrist checks my pulse
And pulls the wheel in the right direction,
A reflection without you, I left it.

Monday, March 22, 2010

For A Day To Go Right

I steal moments
Because they are all that can fit in my pockets,
So sock it to me.
This block once knew me as king,
But now I'm a thief being brief with my impact
And compact with my contact.
The getaway scene,
My hands hold car keys to dreams
And receipts that sing in case I forgot
The reasons why I wish I had stayed,
A life that is best lived in retrograde.

The View Is Always Better From Jesus Hill

This pretty, smog-filled city is mine:
The stopping past the limit line,
The steep green hills and power lines
Buzzing with the current that is now,
That is driving with the windows down,
Thriving on familiar sounds
That kept my feet on the ground
Until the ground left with me,
Ascending several thousand feet
So that New Years was a distant sound.
And somewhere in that smoggy sky,
The fireworks burned out of sight,
The muted booms stayed in their rooms
While I drove home through a quiet night.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Quiet Running Reflections

Braced legs pace in different directions
With their perfect imperfections
From a sober drunk in a serious situation
Who was intoxicated from being lost and jaded,
As he faded faster than written words could have saved.
Proper nouns are erased, the braces come off,
There's a spring in my run, I'm breaking this off.

Friday, March 19, 2010

LED Flight Board

The stars stop by for a drink
Light from the moon, the river and sink.
The lapping water is close to us
With thousands of waves,
It knows it’s us.
This picturesque investment
Manifested itself on an A320 commercial plane.
I’m going home now, but it won’t be the same.
I’m too young to grow this way,
But this runway is a Lite Brite,
And these bright lights dance and glow.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Kite Flyers

To define abbreviations would be rather unrefined
But IHTFP would have to mean the brighter side,
The lighter sky, the clouds lose grip and softly slide
Until the palette of today, are the colors in our faces
T-shirts, shorts, frisbees, and good graces.
They all trace back to when this all started
Youth in my heart and dreams in my head,
We’re renewed and rounding the bend again
Lending out luck and holding out hands
If you lucky enough you’ll hold her hand.
But for now, we’ll feel the warmth through our hair
The sweetness in life, sprinkles thrown in the air.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

The Car Crash Dream

A neon orange violation violently rocks my head
That bangs like the rusted windshield pulled up and let go
To see what measly dollars would be pulled from my pockets
Well at least this time I didn’t forget to lock it.
There is a crowed across the street
The loudest ones are those who saw it
Or who couldn’t stomach spacious metal
Now crushed like a coke can,
One that you’d find up against the divide
Of the subway stairs in which it had pried.
A thousand cranes couldn’t be made
So a metal beast of one had to do.
And as it was removed
The crowd did crowd as gasps and murmurs ensued
Bloody metal and chipped paint,
Mauled, a man who stained the sidewalk and stairs.
I turned around because I couldn’t stare
So instead I prayed to every saint.
God bless, wake me up from this mess.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

The Clearing

I've been reacquainted with the blue luminescence,
True to the memories of my cloudy adolescence.
Brighter streaks were from the ones that we made
With our own hands attached to arms that made wings.
I'll let go of these roses, as they should be left to grow.
That is the sound of spring, boy, welcome it on home.

Reduced To Chitin

The heavens rained bullets
So we took praying for a shot.
We got on our knees in our hydrated clothes,
Our morale bled like ink
From our no-postage hopes
That forever lived in our flak jackets.

Our family lines were brackets
On a tree being broken, branch by branch
To make the arrows that went
Straight through our hearts,
While the rest were used for the monotone letters
Sent to our loved ones to tear them apart.

We whispered heavy hymns
That condensed at the top,
Through our mouths, dry as chalk.
The clots in the sky are hushed for the night
So we rush to the source to find out who is alright.
And the T.V. spoke of some special kind of war,
It said, "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies."

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Rain into the Ground: A Disappearing Act

A concluding sigh tied in silent thunder,
The ghost ship finally goes under.
These youthful times all spent
We wonder where it went;
It slips without a sound.
A disappearing act,
The rain into the

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Head Cocked, Lovely Bangs

There's an absolute balance that throws us all off:
When two veins intertwine, another heart stops
Trying to save us. The vena cava seems unstable
And the aorta contorts and ties into knots
Becoming a complex web, incessantly vexed,
Of flight plans and ambitious dreams woven.
But here are some chords with no strings attached
Finally, a song with no one to match.
It rings peacefully with no one to disturb it,
But it wouldn't hurt to have someone to deserve it.

Friday, March 12, 2010

In The Spin of Every Wheel

Here is your support,
Under the pressure and holding the frame.
Anomalies I cannot explain
Contain the syringe that takes
This place in vain.
And the situation replays in my head
With some nameless face and me instead,
A broken smile and broken speech,
A broken voice, I cannot speak
What I heard being spoken.
All the soft S's and shaky O's
Foil this memory in the purest gold.
But with no sleep in my eyes, I get out of bed,
But I'm glad to see you so happy again.

Preveiling Winds

Lovely, just what might this be?
Street lights, bare trees, dead leaves,
This is the reason why I left.
I'm a crusader trading colors
To the East from the West.
It's been six months,
Two weeks and five days
Swelled my chest and sung
Hoping these lungs wouldn't fade away.
Lovely, above me, the feathers flow
And for once I'm okay with just being alone.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

My First Words After Breakfast In Bed

I'm reminded of some
Beautiful memory that I never had.
A high contrast morning,
And I'm glad you're here to provide some clarity
For the disparity between last night and now,
The sincerity of a breath you let out
As you exhale through smiling teeth.
We burn our hands pulling these ropes
For the strokes of pleasure when it's cut.
I pulled up the sheets and you fell underneath,
I combed the whispers through your hair,
Now light as air, you fall asleep,
Just a couple more minutes
With our souls in a heap,
In tangles, so tender and mine.
It's been a while since December,
I just forget to remember
That forever is a very long time.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

The Second Flyover

Your bravado is too grand to grant you permission to land.
The ignorant gavel in your belligerent hand
Is enough weight for me not to stand for this injustice.
It slams down to mask the sound of your smirk presented,
A blade brandished and serrated.
Whether false alarm or your call to arms,
I'd rather mine dropped so I will not pick up.
Today was simply beautiful.
There was no cloud spelling out rain,
But these words as clear as the sky
Are exactly why I shot down your plane.

Two-Tone Video Heart

I dodged a bullet and felt good about it,
The surly roundabouts
Were teeming with wet fuses,
But I would not be the useful fire
Only used to let it dry,
I would let the ringing linger for a while
Until enough was a enough
And false sparks were snuffed,
Confronted by smiling gun,
I would politely step aside.
And once in the clear I would fear nothing more.
She and I would Scream
From our own respective shorelines.
Having changed for the better,
Having changed for the fun,
We curled our fingers and straightened our thumbs,
Having sung in a way we had not in some time.

Monday, March 8, 2010

Lens Flare

For months it rained,
For months it snowed,
But not once did this river cease to flow.
I was always kept reassured
Of the assertive undercurrent,
Concurrent with little drops of souls
Trying not to get lost on their way back to sea.
Trying to find your way back into me.
They trickle with the roar of lions
And glimmer as a river of intangible diamonds,
Once underexposed due to lack of warm light,
And were cut and forgotten under heavy red light.
But lens flares in your hair are the sign of night's end;
Look up and look good, kid, the sun's up again!

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Melted Sugar Wasp

In a spatial agreement
Between weekdays and ends,
There are no breaths to be held
Nor a need to pretend.
Breathing softly
Hands on the back,
But not behind the head.
Instead directions are reflections
From rivers, windows, all untold
To be tucked away in the folds of my brain.
The thought is a stain that I won't clean up
I missed the elevator twice,
But angels find their way up
Because I always new this life was heaven-sent.
It is nothing substantial,
But of substance nonetheless.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

The Table of Rounds

An overlapping night
Rapping in second English,
Royalty abound in every suit.
Witches cast their spell
So we're possessed by their brew,
In possession of their brew.
It drips on our lapels,
But we're compelled to expel
The demon's blues,
Brought on by no-bed reds
And cloudy-day grays.
The condition for transition
Is intoxication or exhaustion,
It is picking your poison to flush out your toxins.

Friday, March 5, 2010

Changing Frames In Solid States

I heard it coming from a southern belle,
Her spring face suddenly turned so pale.
The temporary unique felt free in her hands
Touching the past with overcast jazz.
Your conscious responses are all out of sync
You're flushed in your cheeks
From the leaks in your head.
These fluid thoughts
Are cooled and stopped,
Solidified in state.
The weekend comes a little early
And in its cradling arms, you're safe.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Lights Out And Then On Again

Incessant dents beat through the night
And take the long way finding light.
Just one day? Sure, it's okay.
Just one more? Yeah, that's alright.
Another night?...Do I have a choice?
Each night I pull, pulls at my voice
Until I'm in silent disbelief.
After all I've been taught,
I've forgotten sleep.
These rings will keep me up tonight
As I hope the bell curve serves me right
Because nocturnal hell starts very soon
And I'll be spinning madly with the moon,
Crashing like the waves induced,
Like flashing hours of no use.
I'll write my wrongs from black to blue
As the color dissolves like visible moon.
The light of day has just begun...
I'll say good morning to the sun.
I'll pay my dues in money, time,
And reach for the stars, but then fall back in line.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Foothill and Volta

My yellow hoodie looks so good,
Shining brighter than the sun,
My wayfarer shades look hipster-hood
Keeping me hot like smoking guns.
But there's one shot I'll take
And it's sporting home attire,
The freshness coming out
Just as the temperature gets higher.
I felt a liar with my coats
To hold my warm thoughts close,
Draping all my sun-soaked summer dreams
In cold New England ghosts....
But here comes the sun!
Here comes that proud Los Angeles one,
Always looking west
When he's looking for some fun:
The beach,
The view,
When he comes home soon,
Oh, and masochistic runs!
He's found stability in the east
And has solved and resolved things,
He's noticed blossoms in friends' lives;
It's the coming wave of spring!

Monday, March 1, 2010

Mismatched Flight Plans

While this empire was built out of guilt and desire,
My brittle bones in a tepee were stolen, broken down,
A stick for a brick from shattered past
To shatter glass as a plane roars over
And I'm drowned by the intimidation's call,
Echoing off of invisible walls.
Pattered inhale and shaky lines,
Lying on a set struck under red curtain fire.
I'll just walk off the stage, I'm late for the flight.
(The conclusion trails off and fades into the night,
The name has been shortened and by now loses sight.)
So now it's time to count the reasons to come home:
One is to family that I can call my own...
And everyone else will pull back like rubber bands,
Trapped under wine corks and fermented bottle caps.
I'll just get on my knees, pray to God, and dig deep
Because I won't find a savior after thirty thousand feet.