Poetry

Time stops 10,000 feet above.

Walking down small aisles

Different faces

Different stories

Different lives

I see on their screens

Separated by seconds

Different stories

Different times

Different lives

The understanding that I am not the only one with thoughts feelings sinks in

But the feeling of being 1 in 7 billion remains I am not the only one

I am not the only one

I am not the only one

My face turns toward the window

Time stops 10,000 feet above

The apricity on my skin lights me aflame

I return to my seat

I am not the only one

It’s like the one sound

The dissonant bell you hear

Ringing till silence.

Enough to send chills

Matching the one breeze of wind

Until all is stilled.

Imagine a rose

When the last petal falls down

Quiet to the ground.

Pages and pages

People who read will notice

Turning the last one.

Look up at spirals

Feels like endless flights of stairs

Till you reach the last.

Single grains of sand

They trickle down one by one

Yet the last one falls.

A drop of water

Makes its way down the window

But rain comes and goes.

A note I hold fades

A broken solfeggio

Is all that remains.

A new beginning’s just around the bend.

A bend I’ve traveled often, yet now turn.

With patient eyes, which fall upon a friend,

I try my best to quiet my concern.

As we meander, carefully I tred,

a cautious mind, still learning, not yet grown.

She’s uncomplaining, only steps ahead

undaunted as I enter the unknown

And yet I find that there is naught to fear.

With her I find new comfort and repose.

I feel her care and hope my own is clear.

I’m fin’lly free from Cupid’s doubtful woes.

On new adventures, past a sheltered rift

For on the ever changing tides I’ll drift

Two birds perched in a tree on the white void of winter.

Bright blue feathers stand out against the bark of the deep-rooted tree.

The birds, a marking in the proudly-standing family tree, deeply rooted in its soul.

Long before the sun’s golden rays of light have arisen, their youth and innocence is stark, gleaming in the shadows of the gnarly branches.

The gnarly tree, not left alone by the exuberant nature birds.

The moon surrenders to the sun as its fingers slipped through the palm of my hand. A chorus encouraged by the environment spreads like the act of kindness and love. The warmth of the sun’s golden glow provokes me to engage in nature’s act. And I wish I were as brilliant as the birds in the branches.

As free flowing as the falcons in the sky.

And as cheerful as the chorus of the birds.

The juicy smell of sunrise, like the sweet smell of a cherry blossom picked from a tree, Pierces through my nostrils and into my brain. My eyes close tight in a languid manner. The rosy hue across the sky comes into light like the pulchritudinous beauty of the birds. The cherry blossom lightens up as the birds flap their wings, expressing their proudly-standing family tree. A marking of the tree, deeply engraved in their soul, flies away towards the heart of the sun.

The sun, with its alluring beauty, yawns and smiles at the incoming birds. Its smile, like a glacier among wildflowers, brightens up the rosy hue.

Its glare bounces off of the birds’ attractive feathers and gleams into my cold, frosted eyes. The birds disappear into the cold, white void of winter.

A crumpled letter tossed into the rain

Wilting under the pressure of the sky

Ink bleeding out from center

To corner

An inconsolable grey

Edges, crimped and blunted

Melting down to paste

She’s standing up so high

Please turn away

Don’t watch me cry

I’ll turn the page

One day, goodbyes

Are hard to say

when asking why

Why’d she choose him

Through all the din

Of the clambering crowd

I was within

I learn to hate

He’s innocent

I can’t but blame

Oh, childish sin

I’m still all caught up in the past

I thought we’d be

I thought we’d last

They tell me Erin, she should’ve said yes

But why, if I’m not the best she can get?

Now everything’s white

like an overcast sky

By now she’s long gone

And she won’t see me cry

When will it be blue

The color of you

Who can assuage

Blank slates

All smudged and stained?

You’re a devil

The details

The ways I went wrong

With too much hope

Who held the rope

When stringing me along

I have to choose

To forward move

To prove that I won’t lose to you

And show you that you’re not the end

That I will learn to love again

i can’t seem to find the phrase

for the time in the late afternoon

when a hole through the cloud cover

reveals the sun, absorbing everything

in its grayish white light

like the inside of a flower

where the petals meet the stem

where pigment peels, flakes away

and light enters the world

life and death, all at once

You look at the world like they hung the moon

and painted the stars.

Like they sculpted the mountains from air dry clay

and dug out the oceans with a plastic shovel.

The world looks at you like a passing thought

and a coin lost to couch cushions.

Like you are nothing more than an ashtray that nobody cares to use

and a wooden pencil with a broken tip.

Because in the grand scheme of things,

written by either gods or the drunk who lives across the street, you

are nothing more than a blot of ink on miles of paper or a grain of

sand in the sea that will never see the gleam of the sun.

The river burns when it sees me

Its heart turns gold like an enchanted apple

Encased in a syrup like the best of lies

I swear to you I can see it cry

A cleansing flow full of loam and salt

The wave gazes at me like it’s my fault

Rushing head on, black robes, fiery tongue

I try to explain my plight but I become tongue-tied

Shoulders slumped, eyes fried, I’m a morgue fugitive

She’s the only thing keeping me from ending my life

Batter me, break me, bury me; I’m deserving

I really love her but I can’t make her perceive it

I accept her tide

I ooze like syrup over fresh pancakes

But I never liked syrup.

The sweet taste

Disrupts my quick tongue

Refusing to “Slow down, honey.”

I have this pace at which I speak

Because I use my words like well-worn Nikes

Turned toward the finish line, toward the mountain’s peak.

I run track standing still

Mouth running up the hill.

Like Bullhorn or round table

Like Monroe or Green Gables

I’ll be fighting till I’m able

Chomping at the bit

Bit of skin on my lip

Pop a hip

Give you cheek

Kick your teeth

And I won’t apologize

Because that would be a lie.

I won’t apologize

Because I’ve learned the value

Of an apology

From you to me

Has far too much weight

To waste

On a verbal spar or spat

Hissing like cats

Over what I should or shouldn’t be.

I won’t apologize

Because my mother never taught me that.

She said “The only rule worth following

Is golden and pure”

And ever since then I’ve been sure

That what’s within me is light

That I won’t sacrifice because you think I should.

I’ll decline that offer as respectfully as my Mom would,

Though you may be older and tougher and smarter

Than your image of me.

I won’t apologize for what that image could be.

You should be scared of me!

I am pages unbound and tossed to the wind

I am the silence of a roaring faucet come to a halt

I am the last drop of syrup in the bottle dangling over open lips

I am the crunch and mash of vocal chords

I am the tender holder of these words

I am unabated

Unrelated to your perception.

I am that pair of trusty running shoes

Beaten and trampled

But swift as Icarus.

I am that fateful sun.

And I won’t apologize.

I won’t apologize for that.

So the next time you raise your voice

Or look down your nose

Or cross those arms

I’ll let you,

But I’ll bet you

Will wish you

Would’ve looked closer at me.

Because I run marathons standing still

Mouth running up that hill.

Can you keep up?

Jekyll and Hyde

Since kindergarten, there has always been this one activity

The teacher tells the students to describe themselves in 3 words

I have learned how to win a bet no matter what

And I bet at least five students wrote “unique”

So are all of those students really “unique”?

We’ve been over the factual and obvious

Everyone leads their own lives

Everyone is somehow unique

But are we all really that different?

So different that we can’t have agreements?

It’s so much easier to pick and choose sides.

So easy that there are sides to everything.

There are sides to a table, sides to a spectrum, and sides to a story.

I don’t remember the last time I’ve sit at a circular table,

Without a line running through the middle.

On the news we see both good and evil.

The ones who do the right and the ones who act out the wrong.

We ignore the infinite points of views that we could use

To create a perfect circle of thoughts

But I know we’re only human, not robots.

So instead let’s start with a simple step.

Why don’t we understand the other perspective?

We’re not so different from others, that empathy is impossibility.

Everyone is different, but somehow connected inside.

After all, they were the same, Jekyll and Hyde.

MysteriOCD (A Joke Known Only To Me)

i don’t want to fall asleep

because when i wake up,

i have to do it all over again

…

whispering waves

rush forward,

softly brush the white sand

i feel the warm air settle in

deep into my bones.

i am stable,

i am free

i look at you

you smile,

your eyes a crystal mirror

we push away from the shore.

water kisses the rough wood

of our fishing boat

you laugh,

all sunshine and contentment,

i bask in the brilliance

we row further

now encircled by the sea,

the breath of the breeze the

perfect melody

i’ve searched so long for

then

the wind cuts a little deeper

grey bleeds into the sky, no longer the exploratory blue i’m used to

a low drum thuds

off in the distance -

thunder

all at once

everything is gone.

your face is riddled with shadow

my lungs ice over

i can no longer see the sun

a wall of water,

pure black,

comes racing towards

our little boat -

our little island

it’s too late to turn back.

we’re trapped.

trapped in the small space

between stars

it hits me -

a mound of liquid bricks.

i feel my chest crumple

my arms fly out

i am at the mercy of the sea

my body folds

under the dark current,

no match for the weight of the world

everything in me is screaming to run

hide

scream

to take a breath

i can’t tell which way is up

i am directionless

i am meaningless

what has my life been?

i am just another naïve victim of the ocean

whoever said death is peaceful

had some screws loose

i can tell you firsthand that it is

utter hell

every step of the way

i fight

i fight

i fight

nothing helps.

why can’t i accept my lot?

then

something solid gently nudges my back

i falter,

unable to acknowledge this twist of fate

i feel sand beneath me,

the air rushes back

the sun returns,

blinding.

i shield my eyes

i sit up

confused

there’s our boat -

perfectly intact

i look out at the sea and shudder

hostile 10ft waves still roiling

but the clouds have disappeared

you are there

smiling

as though

nothing happened.

i blink,

you grin.

“ready to go again?”

i blink,

your dimples pop.

“what? but… you just saw me drown! you drowned as well …didn’t you?”

but i take one look at your eyes

in that moment

and i know,

oh i know,

there is something

horribly wrong with me

you beckon once more,

you say we just need to get back out there,

to go

in spite of fear

but i can see the tide

growing stronger,

still searching for me,

longing to devour me

in its watery depths

“we paid for this boat”

you tell me, sensing my hesitancy

“i was really looking forward to sailing today.

and, i mean, you didn’t really drown”

“i’m sorry,”

i croak,

still shaking

my head still whirling

“i can’t go back out there. why would i ever go back out there?”

“you can’t just turn tail and run at your first ripple

because, believe me, it gets much worse

if you try your best

if you give it enough effort

the journey and what’s on the other side is worth it!”

your smile is glued to your face

now it infuriates me

“how could anything possibly be worth that?”

i yell

“if this is a ripple, why would i ever want to keep going?”

your brow shoots up

your head tilts

your eyes burst with questions.

you don’t understand

“please.”

you whisper

“just come out sailing with me. i love you.”

they love me.

they deserve so much more than this

they are counting on me

i’m wasting their time, money, affection

they love me.

i’m a freak

i’m going insane

i’m weak

i’m an oxygen thief

i’m a disappointment

“okay,”

i say.

i die for the second time that day.

…

i don’t want to fall asleep

because when i wake up, i

have to do it all over again

Always hoping for more and more

as joy falls dead at day‘s bitter end.

But we are children at our core.

We‘ve found it dangerous to change and explore

as fear permeates, then madness descends.

Always hoping for more and more.

While maturity and integrity can build rapport,

soon anything else only offends.

But we are children at our core.

There is no time to rest and restore.

So we make time with family and friends.

Always hoping for just a bit more.

The year grows scarce, and we ignore

how desperation and anxiety become our dens,

but we stay children at our core.

Despite everything, the day to day chore

of it all, we may see a new kind of trend.

Beginning to hope for more and more,

all of us children at our core.

oh love, what a concept.

how she can smile at you once and

suddenly you have changed

not only mentally, but physically:

walking a little lighter,

standing a little taller,

as thoughts of her consume you. and

every word she says

is like gospel to you:

there must be something divine in there.

whoever created love

must be ashamed of themselves.

how could one sentence another

to endless agony, eternal

anguish, if for a moment of bliss?

she is my center, a one-time obsession

descended into necessity.

how fleeting this happiness could be

who wouldn’t want to fall in love?

Everywhere we look we see our worst enemy

The shadow of those we strive be

We see a version of perfection

Through society’s instinctive collection

Models sculpted to be flawless

Prestigious college graduates

Hollywood fame and glory

Though we only know part of the story

We see our flaws in mirrors

Like seven billion others

No one’s ever perfect

Because that’s the human defect

But we all believe we can be the exception

The single star of the human condition

We’ve all cried tears of unworthiness

Thinking imperfect means unhappiness

Inspecting our face of scars

We forget our inner stars

Worried about self image and prying eyes

We’d even wear a façade we despise

Because everyone likes the person I want to be

And I want to be the person everyone wants to be

Someone out there wants to be me

But I forget and focus on what I see

Through everyone’s eyes we see a reflection

A reflection of what we deem to be perfection

Her eyes are gorgeous and her smile is appealing

Hair parting like a willow fall

If I see her again, my emotions will rise

Fill me up bright red like a maraschino cherry

I want to fly very high so I can see her from the sky

Like a magical star, she shines bright

Dappling the clouds in a panoply of color

If I could, I would touch her luscious hair

But for now she’s miles away

From a hedge’s length

See me

Notice me

But she’s sitting there, distant

Stone-faced

Cold

A plaque by her toes

And on those ever-changing tides I’ll drift.

In silence, save for hushing waves upon

a tattered ship, storm-swept what once was swift.

Survey the harm, ask why I’m sailing on.

Together we’re a hush-ed hurricane.

On shipwrecked shores I thought I would awake.

Her honesty felt much like her disdain.

I wonder if she knows that I still ache.

T’was a surprise, but it should not have been,

for I’ve felt tension in our air for weeks,

and e’en her kiss had tied tight knots within,

for I am not the person that she seeks.

Still I sail on, a selfish try, unsure,

and far from home this journey will endure.

I hope you understand that I’ve a lot on my plate

Call it a feast for a queen

Call it a meal of mistakes

I try to stomach it, hunger it,

just feels like a weight

Weighing down down

don’t drown

Hold the floodgates

So I just work,

Waterworks

Through days off, pays off

Go berserk

And I make progress

‘Gainst the tide

And wish like them that I could slide

Into the pool

Without the rule

Of a desperate queen

Acts like a fool

Forever hungry

And ever cruel

To herself ‘til

These wildfires cool

Emotion is long lost, so deeply concealed

Within wretched history of our stars

Pain was gone when they found it’s eraser

But along with the relief of hurt, gone too soon

Never has a child shed a tear since last year

But I can’t seem to recall smiles on faces I knew

When the darkest of hues became voids

We stopped finding any of the light

There was no value to the eye or to the heart

In feeling the weight of a casted shadow

But after all the light was diffused

I wonder if people see much more than haze

No tears of sorrow, no tears of joy

Without pangs in the heart the world’s so dry

If we thought that the sand was once coarse

Now no more sweetness in soft for us to taste

Gone, the harsh sounds that strain the ears

But no one’s let melody sink deeper than skin

No fatigue that overlaps the time of day

But rested comfort doesn’t calm the mind

I think memories have been lost

For no one cares what the future brings

Rid of all the clouds, rid of all the stars

Everyone lost sense of the comparative

The kids who ride away through suburbs

On hand-me-down bikes with broken bells

Hoping with any no-ones who will listen

That they escape this place in time

A good friend describes it as a fly trap

I’ve been caught

I’ll bike down to the bay and lay in the water

Contemplate drowning myself for hours

When i finally rise from my soon-to-be grave

I'll reflect to a broken mirror of a gas station

Use IOUs to pay for sour candy

Throw them at fish until i get my fill

I’ll bring my favorite books to you

Anatomy, chemistry, poetry

Help you know what you already understand

Not about the subjects

But about me

How I’m built from random chance

The melting of DNA and those who gave it

The dominant and recessive ATGC in my cells

How despite everything i am who i am

How two X chromosomes can make a man

How the inside differs from outside

How i stop myself from being free

I remember North Dakota

I know how it suffocates you

But is freedom to me

The memories of when i was there

The thought of going back

Every time you remind me i’m free to return

I sleep that much better

Grand Forks is the last stop before Alaska

On the route i'll run on a damp summer night

In a scarlet car when I deem it time

To tear music across the countryside

To live unhindered and unknowable

To finally feel alive

the world feels empty when you're not next to me

but who are you

and who is me

and i can see it

the reflection your downturned face makes in the mirror

i can feel it through the glass

the muscles pulling taught into a frown

and i know that carnivorous feeling

something clawing at the brain

a desire for freedom that cannot be tamed

and i see it and i know it and i feel it

your neck against my hand

breath picking up

then nothing more

Like it was never even there

Then i get it

The push away, subtle denial of it all

But your smile, is crooked, cocky, and kind

Something genuine, and tasty

But still bitter, like wine.

And i see how it reflects back into mine

Wildfire boys

Wandering fountains of youth

I'll hope to tumble into those waters again

Sinking in until nothing remains

But my spirit resting

Head still and clear

Besides one thought

A collage of them

Stones my river runs over each night

Until i run from it

Rebirthed in a body

That fears 4 letter words and failure

But they are still around

Walking holy grails

Stealing my breath

And letting me fall

Deeper into them

For 15 years that I have seen through my eyes

I’ve collected my share of anecdotes and lessons

Moments I’ve cried and smiled, been surprised

Starting to climb a mountain, I’ve risen and fallen

My favorite things have always been stories

The triumphs and tragedies in history and fantasy

I’ve turned pages with anticipation and worries

Only to realize today that I have my own story

But I’ve realized that my story is different

In a way where I don’t need to turn a page

Some moments are just so perfect

I don’t want to step up to another age

Maybe this is because I can live with fear

The fear of change and the fear of new

Characters on paper don’t have tangible tears

But in life I can feel every hue

But here I am today, on marker 15

Looking ahead at a foggy future

I don’t think I’ve ever been so keen

But I only have 15 pieces of the picture

Today I’ve realized I can stand in one place

But still manage to open new doors

Everyone can win their different races

Whether it takes 15 years or more