Being In Love Is Thirsty Business

Said this to my girlfriend, and it stuck.


Being In Love Is Thirsty Business

With every breath I draw in,
your scent enters my nostrils,
enraptures my mouth with a delectable taste
that can only be explained as a feast of affection.
I feel your hips shake under my own,
a sly snake that's slithered into my life
in a matter of days,
yet I can hardly fathom a moment
without you in my heart.
You've clambered into my chest,
torn off all the locks that cover this stone safe,
full of fervent feelings and intense emotions,
the things that make my lips move,
my heart skip a beat,
make me jump to my feet
with a mad need to dance
til my feet drop off the Earth
and I fall into your arms helplessly.
And now that you're a part of my inner workings,
I feel these cogs move smoothly,
this crazed and crooked clock clicking and clacking correctly
for the first time since it was made,
as if created with a careless detachment.
But, unless I oil them daily,
who knows what calamity could strike?
So I'll keep your thirst quenched,
oh glorious girl of mine,
for I know first hand
that being in love is thirsty business.

Saving Lives

Today for my Intro to Creative Writing class, I was asked to consider words to describe an individual from my life who does a job that I could not fathom doing myself. Instead, I straight up banged out this poem. This goes out to you, Dad, one of the most under-appreciated people I know.

Saving Lives

Every day he rises
to the worries and woes of others,
building upon his own,
a violent set of Legos,
cutting his hands
each time he adds a blemished brick.
Every day he trudges forth
to do battle against invisible enemies,
both beyond and within.
His hand reaches out
to touch thousands of lives
that may never truly know.
A man shudders in a ditch
as his breath is suddenly returned to him
in a shock of hope.
Yet, another fades from the world,
but never from his eyes,
ceaselessly seeing his dead compatriots
of a cruel and careless world
that will take just as soon as give
without rhyme or reason,
seemingly pointless purposes being carried out.

He's saved countless hearts,
yet his own suffers with every strained sigh,
his own life struggling as he helps others to flourish.
The nights grow ever longer,
blending with day into a gross concoction,
a grayish mold he stumbles through,
a bog that blinds these fools
to his full effect on a thankless lot.

My youthful eyes follow
brawny shoulders and kindly smiles
as he recalls what can only be viewed as tall tales
by an uncertain tyke,
just as sightless as the dismissive and damned denizens
of this troubled town.
But now that I've grown
to stand by his side and in his shoes,
hawk's eyes blossom in my empty sockets,
showing me a truth that wheezes in my chest,
shaking in the effort to survive

the wounds that have been inflicted

over ages of vicious neglect,

knives protruding from my breast

for days on end,

unaddressed, not concerning to most.

I now reach out to the man who raised me

and tug at the rusty sword

that I once swung on as a kid,

not seeing the pain etched in his face

as I plunged it further and further

into his soul,

maddeningly silent and forlorn.

It’s stuck fast,

melancholy crusted around it,

a red plaster holding the pain in place;

but, together we will work at it

with rough sponges and soothing words

so that this saber may one day

be slipped from the stone statue

that once was my father.

A Silent Plea

A Silent Plea

For so long the shade
has blocked the brilliant light
of love from my life,
a sturdy tree
standing over me
like a persistent mom
bearing down on what she sees
as her foolish and inept child,
unable to tie his own shoes
without a helping hand.
And this silent plea
I have cried out to the silvery sky above
has gone unanswered,
quiet eyes staring down in dismay and derision.
Yet, when all hope was lost
and I was about ready to flop down to sleep
beneath your disheartening branches in defeat,
you stepped into my life,
a shining spotlight
that brought the sun to me
rather than breaking down my
growing and healthy life.
Perhaps this is His way of showing
that I'm watering it right
and what I need will find me
under these sturdy boughs
that hold up all my emotions,
keeping my heart in check
so I don't throw it to the wolves
in hopes of being wanted, needed, accepted.
I see now that you know the real me,
a me that most people never even get a glimpse of
within moments of seeing my face.
You are truly a ray of happiness
in a dull and depressing darkness
that has shrouded my life
for longer than I can recall.

I hold out my hand to you
in hopes that you'll take it
so we might run down the streets
with grins on our faces
and satiation in our souls.

Mourning a Man I Never Knew

Mourning a Man I Never Knew

I never met you,
yet it feels like I saw your soul.
I never spoke with you,

yet your words echo in my head.
I never saw your face,
yet I can't seem to get your image out of my head.
You never knew me,
but I perceive you in your passing,
and it saddens me that you had to leave
this world so soon,
slip off the stage mid-way through your performance.
I could have watched that play for hours,
through the laughter and tears;
for though I never had the privileged
to sit in the audience,
a life is always a thing
that should be savored while there,
a delectable dish that marinates in the moment,
and that you chew slowly,
unsure if you want it to ever end.
And yet, every meal must come to a close;
I just wish you had the chance to taste all the courses,
wish that your talent had more time to flourish and grow
into a magnificent lily,
spreading its petals high and wide,
reaching out to the sky in triumph.
But what you gave us was wonderful,
and we will always remember the love
you filled our hearts with,
we tall glasses overflowing.
A place in our hearts will always be reserved for you,
a hotel room that is always filled
with the amazing memories we hold dear
if only to recall the good times
before the world whisked you away.

Paths Intertwined

Paths Intertwined

What happens when a close friend
falls off the face of your life
because of something you did?
And you know what you did was right,
was the best for them,
was what they needed in a harsh and uncaring world...
but will it do more damage than good?
And how am I to know if I never see this friend again?
Will I, now that all ties have been broken,
fragile ropes snapped while I looked away,
and now the very foundation
under which our friendship lived has collapsed,
leaving me shuffling under an empty and un-inviting tarp
for nothing more than a shadow,
lost in the darkness of this world.
But I am determined to find a powerful flashlight
so I might search every black crevice,
every silent alley, if only to know that I did not send you
careening through an ever narrowing tunnel of despair,
that I did not destroy your life with one swift gesture
that was done out of love, but was only a fleeting dove,
a message that flew over everyone's heads,
leaving you in the dust and debris,
battered and bruised by a false guard
stationed in the jail disguised as your sanctuary.
Yet, what more could fairness ask of me?
Could I simply ignore these cries for safety, for hope,
for a brighter candle to hold out in front of you as the days went on,
rather than that wet wick that would always refuse to light?
No, that is not my way, not the path I have chosen.
But I did not mean to choose your path for you,
and I pray you'll forgive me for that,
for the deed has been done, and there's no going back
down the abandoned streets of our departed days.
I just need your promise that you don't allow yourself
to be trapped down one of those boulevards of bygones;
if only you could.

Cut Off

Aaaaaaaaaaaand we're back, and getting straight down to business!
This one comes directly to you from my pent up frustrations:


Cut Off

A silence that screams
louder than the sirens
roaring in my head
now permeates
the peaceful whispers
we once shared.
Whispers of hopes,
of dreams
of a better future,
of getting away
from all the hurt and hatred
that is spat our way,
running down our faces,
cold contempt dripping
off our cheeks
and onto our soulless shoes,
empty of emotion or support.
And I want to call out to you,
scream at the top of my lungs,
let you know
that I'm still here,
that I still care...
But, alas,
this is out of my hands now.
My vocal cords have been cut,
now blowing aimlessly
in the wind,
wishing for a sound
that may never come.
Perhaps one day
they can be repaired
so you might hear my shouts
for your life to be worth living,
for your world to be worth lying on,
and for your heart to be salvaged
from this soggy puddle of tears.
Yet, for now, my quiet compassion
is all I can offer;
I hope it's enough.