Slice

I am sick of these poems

This demographics warfare

Night after night

Mic after mic

Across the country

Labels collected and struggles hoarded

In the battle of 'who's more repressed?'

But before you rush the stage

With hisses and fruits

Hear why my poem is that of the ugly kind

I am sick of these poems

As I am sick with these poems

Each of them bargaining with empathy

And playing to a crowd

With an optimistic faith in common sense

And humanity

And each of the perfectly placed punctuations

Begs for a slice of my heart

Directly proportional in size

To the amount of disparities and demographics

I have no choice but to give into them

As each poetry lives to tell a story

Of pain and longevity

Waiting in line to a room full of heart butchers

Ready at their slicers

Only one voice could possibly be missing

The voice of the room

Whole and unified

Fighting sighs and indifferences

Giving way to a struggle cliche-d into the

Hippie term 'revolution'

Fuck it.

Call it what you will

But it's not Armageddon

It's simply the poets Collecting our Works

To understand the level of empathy we

All seek in others

Is too in ourselves

The underlying passion is an adventure

Seeker with a hound dog scent of camaraderie

I am sick with these poems

My own tally-marked demographic novels in tow

Bring to me what I'll bring to you

Immigrants helping rape victims

Children of abuse racing for the cure

Inner-city victims of the deepest strands of racist tensions

Plowing through the rover-red-rover lines of language barriers

Gay feminist vegan Pagan naturalists

Devoting more time to the halt of genital mutilation abroad

Than they do to their own PETA-driven causes

The penniless building monuments

To the women who got the vote

See each other

As the poem in your hand

And heal the sick

with

these poems.

The Gambler

And so at least I know

It's me

That is feeling, climbing, explaining

Circumstance and indecision aside

I am this now

There are givens given

And hypotheticals discussed

At the seminar of 'What Next?'

Oddly placed in Vegas

Gambling and affirmations aside

I am standing, smoking, looking

At all the tables of play

Knowing it's me

Who has a very clear decision to make

To take over as Showgirl

With the deepest positive affirmations

My titty tassels can elicit

As I strip down to strip down

I realize, life is null and void

N/A

The sigh of relief is comparable to Katrina winds

And my stage name is born

There are no answers

What is-s

What was-s

And what will be-s

But no right or wrongs

No answers

Just questions

And I stop yelling at the microphone

Stop blowing dice like my life depends on it

And start shaking my fringe

And showing off a new look of pretentiousness

Because I wonder why people are attracted to men that treat them like shit

Not because I know they are

Swinging tea-bag insults in your bifocals

And thumping to the mirrored disco balls

As multi-faceted

And reflective

As any given noun or situation

One can imagine

Too smart for your own good

Thinking yourself dumb

Breathing

Smoking

Staring

Asking

Giving the disappointments and teases

And picking money off the stage like third world

Toddlers pick trash from land fills

Why?

Good question.

What does anyone lower himself?

Is it because we are raised to see our standards gleaming

High atop the landfills and mountains of history books

Pages screaming of struggles for indignance

And the very concept of a standard of living

Eat pac man gulps of our existence

For life

And the assumption that we all lower ourselves

Just to bend over to the ground

I know my dressing room standards

But life is hardly ever back stage

Its down center

And the lights will rise

When the horse races are over.

So I ask the lights

My questions

And gladly stretch

For my next bends to the floor.

Gestate

There's a rambling staircase
Creaking shrieks with every quantitative step
Every bottle of potential and kinetic
Starting and pause
Forcing bold decisions and outright statements
Similar and replicated in the twisted
Mangled inner self importance of every
Mid-block Maslow sparkling mysterious
Diamond shine pyramid
It begs for an understand of the dialogue
Of chapters void of need; dead-centered on character
Development and evolution
I sit atop the railing
Legs dangle to the sides
Do I slide? or step
Unable to mimic or mime a mime
I see-saw between chapters

Down on the cold basement cement
Barefoot and bleary-eyed
You call to me to make a decision
Watching the grand staircases of Titanics
And theatre halls in my peripherals
I compare and gestate
Screams from the basement door
Remind of errands and chores
But your voice beckons a decision
Slide or step...
I wrap in the options
And gestate
I paint imagery of gliding para sails
Drifting down staircases like the ruffles
Of sea foam fishtail cocktail ensemble
I drool over thoughts of mountain climbing
Hippie granola ambitions
And I call to you push me
Up or down
But touch me
In the direction only your eyes can know
Are the most
Beautiful

Collapsed

Domesticate me.
Pour me into a bottle.
Shake my ingredients and rethink my recipes.
Because gently and tenderly I rethink my own
I toss my inner monologues (and admittedly dialogues)
Into passionate little girl holiday snow globes and watch the petals dance
When a gentle smile breaks its way onto your face
And the sunlight from a day we have seen nothing of
Glides into the darker corner of your eyes
And shames the shadows of the room
For haphazardly attempting to emulate the dramatic darkness of your hair
When I discover a new concentration of color, a freckle, a mole
A sleep sheet crease taking hotel stays on your back and face
I am reading a book that is changing my life
I am uninterested in the daylight
Nor the moon
Only the slowly faded dances of time and placement of light
From right to left as the day passes
And I feel content knowing your position in my arms will change
Only as circulation is lost and cramps creep
So we change our forever embrace and lazy collapse
Sighing occasionally like tired beasts content in winter
I am with you unproductive and unchallenged
However busier and deeper in thought
Than the most hectic of school days or think tanks
Fallen like a golden gown of a golden queen in a golden age
Limp and lifeless but somehow with more grace and presence
Than when before I was draped across a beautiful bare back
Collapsed and gentle
Breathless for hours, constant in space
It is but nothing for me to plan my days around inactivity with you
Seeing as I have no clever illness nor disorder deemed official
By the pharmaceutical wizards of modern medical masterminds
I can offer only a poor mans apology
As blame is a virtue of the richer
I can offer only an apology for not throwing my emotions upon the nightlife
And arranging symphonies to be played out of rooftops
Great dinners to attend in the honor of our engagement
But rather hours of lethargy and sluggish behavior
But I beg an explanation
Draped and collapsed
Fallen and gentle
Touched in soft breath by the days progression
My heart beats so I’ve run the deepest marathon
Into the height of the Andes
Stripped of all oxygen and pacing
Regardless my stubborn appearance
As a person of hummingbird premature heartbeat
I feel still too weak to experience much more
Than experiencing that of you
And I
And sheets
And pillows
Cigarettes and wine
And conversations
Finally someone I am more interested in than myself
So interested, in fact
I spend little time explaining a thing
You deserve more, it’s true
Scores of novels and pages of tutorials
On the inner workings of who it is holding you
And I’ll uncover more as I go
Peel as you see fit
But peel as you lay
Collapsed and draped
Inanimate and domestic
In charge of whatever
Shaking my holiday globe
And laughing at the shadows in the room.

Scene Selection

I have felt the ticklish breeze
Cross over my face and run through
My hair like rye
Seen the credits role and waited
On the repetitive
Unglamorous
Menu screen
All the while waiting for a sequel
I am listening to the droplets
Forming stalagmites
And standing, guilty, in a puddle
My life is changing
Skipping forward
Chapters at a time
Sometimes
And patiently breathing on chaotic mountaintops
Sometimes


The main event:
Reoccurring and threaded
Ever so pleasantly
Through the pages
And templates of my everyday
However
Would be that the best of howevers
The gusty bustling
Cluster fuck
That I have come to know so gently

Sometimes its just moonlight
Tickling the curtains
And cold January breezes seeping
That cause your forearms to goose bump
And just seeing that transition
The proven breath of life full action
Run across your skin
Makes me jealous in ways that cannot be blamed
On infidelity nor electronics

But of skin cells
Holding tight
To hold you in
I want inside
Or you outside.

How unfair to ask death or sex
To a person incapable of controlling emotions
Damn me all to hell and back
But I want closer.
And isn't that the ultimate scream of the lover?
if nothing but...
I am at a plea to not just watch your freckles
Dance as you laugh and keel
And pull back in a confused and scared place
Of moving right back into a belly laugh.


No,
I don't ask to watch your beauty markings
And perfectly places symmetries experience
Life
I ask to experience that
Life
With them.

Sunlight comes soon enough
To melt the hearts of winter.
What happens to the fern, ever green
Through winter
But an even greener bloom?
I am grateful for your greenery

I am not satisfied to stop.

So squeeze me, for lack of
A better word.
There is rarely a better word anyway.
I am struggling here to find the placement
Of sounds as we stand.
So
Shut the fuck up
And squeeze me
Until I melt into you
Or we die there
Together.

There are two outcomes:
Death or sex
Unfair,
But asked of young lovers
Impatient to get at what’s good for the getting.
We have both been bad.
Only the good die young.
Squeeze me
Until I am your freckles.

Whisper

My blood starts to rush

Cheeks starting blush

Heart pounds in thrust

Voice turns to hush

When the story of us

Is spoken on tongues

Of others

I am without you

Just one part of two

Awaiting my cue

And I had no clue

To tell you the truth

But oh now I know

And oh how I know

And I swear I’ll show

You more as we go

But a life lived halfway

Just rambling for days

Words cheaply made

Proudly displayed

But then thrown away

Then discarded

Have caused this drought

This sense of doubt

This shyness I feel

At confession

Because to my dismay

I’ve nothing to say

To give such a weight

As description

Our words are afloat

Carrying me

Weightlessly

Preciously

Simple and real

And to say how I feel

Might sound appealing

Most of the time I want to

But to give our hearts weight

Is to tempt fate

With tying those words to the earth

And earth is to tying

As life is to dying

So though I am trying

Tonight I’m not lying

I’d much rather hear

Soft on my ears

The story of us

On the tongues

Of others

Let them see where we are

Who we were

Where we stand

Let them lament

The precious present

And compare to our past

Let them hope we last

Let them laugh

At our facts

We will unpack

More weight from our backs

And soar to the stars unspoken

Unbroken

And untouched by time

Blurring the lines

Of yours and mine

Doing just fine

Silent

Divine

So stay with me here

In this stratosphere

Where the skies are clear

And the words we hear

From people so dear

To us

Tell stories of lust

Stories of love

Stories of trust

Stories from tongues

Whispered in love

Whispered in hush

Whispered because

They are whispered of us

Divide

Divide

Most people probably don’t think twice
Spending days nicely
Iced over
And stagnant in thought
Don’t got what I got
But aren’t quite as lost
I am not most folks
The way my thoughts flow
Is just so damned…over
And under and just in case
So lacking in taste
So very taste maker
Wondering questions until my head overloads
But if you don’t know
I’ll just get it over
I am not most folks
And sometimes I wonder
To myself deep under
Those quicksand covers
And fly-paper sheets
What’s okay about me?
What’s expected of these
Situations I seek?
Am I old enough to love?
To find someone?
Is it just lust?
Or is he that someone?
Am I in the right time
In some sort of time line
To pretend to find
This perfect guy?
Or have I
Found this guy
Whom with I
Cross divide
Multiply
And swan dive?
Or has time
Outlawed this deed?
It’s no secret
The rushed pearl-lacking shells
Both family and self
Have pretended to love
And done nothing but rush
While the upper class mock our haste
And now I lack taste
But do I care about taste?
Or am I just lying to myself?
Which self am I tonight?
It’s hard to spot lies
When I don't know who I
Even am tonight
So I decided
I am just listening to the arguments
Letting ladies and gents
Of the booing crowd run free
I will close the debate
And leave it to fate
Just watching it play
Out in my brain
As the voices rush the stage
Freed from their cage
And fight to the death

One voice reminds me that I never tear down
I never start from the ground
And destroy my shit
I never edit
I never just sit
And start from scratch
Ideas are hatched
From ideas and piled up

But then another voice joins us
And tells me I keep dreaming
About the plots that he’s scheming
To keep on cleaning
His sheets just for me
So I won’t see
So I blindly
Run through
With no clue
That he’s fucking two
And I am part of a team
I actually dream
Day nightmares
Voice two takes me there

But voice three is quick
To get rid of this
Or rather build on as I said
Inside my head
It’s loudest yet
Voice three has led
Me into the peace
Some of the greatest artists I know
Tear down and rebuild just so they grow
And get a better sense of the piece
And tend to its needs
Remembering
Only the best of the first
For the rest of what’s left
So perhaps I’m scared
And take myself there
So that I am aware
Of how great it is here
Where I can still steer
Myself in the clear
And there are no Dear John Voicemails
Just smooth sailing
So perhaps my fears are artistic
I just don’t realize it

Voice four comes in
Like a goddamn siren
Blaring some shit
About how crazy this is
And how much I focus on love
How cheesy I look is disgusting
I have bills to pay, addictions to kick
I have a job that literally makes me sick
I have school and I’m broke
And my god who knows
The last time these bones
Had a glass of milk or a gym visit
So whats with the shit?
Who cares about this?

But I promptly tell voice five to get
Voice four to sit
The fuck down.
Voice five comes in not loud but real
And cuts off a slice
Of the silence
And we sit and chat
About how great it is that
From where I’m at
The world is happiness
And I have everything to learn from
And nothing to lose
And a man I adore making me choose
Between the voices that quake
With cosmic vibrations
And I get the sensation
Of them all shutting up
All becoming one
Voice number five
Is on our side
And I breath a sigh
As I decide
Once again so am I
And return to my
Originally scheduled program

Where you and I plan
The next five holidays
Take turns hitting play
On ten million voicemails
Six thousand emails
A million soft words
In both our bed’s curled
Up in our arms
Snoozing alarms
And walking with exhausted smiles
Waiting inside of
These quicksand blankets
And flypaper sheets
Finally
Knowing tonight
It’s perfectly fine
For me to divide
My mind
A million times
So long as voice five
Will close the blinds
Shut my eyes
And silence my
Insecurities
I’ll meet you in sleep
Wadding deep
In the pillows that keep
My head company
In place of the heat
Given so sweet
From the man responsible for these thoughts.