Saturday, July 30, 2011

Words

Words my old companions
my missed friends
where have you gone this season?
Surely not the garden where
I sit in sun in search of you
looking at flowers I cannot name
and birds I would rather see in my plate
you aren't there my old friends,
I wander here and there
observing a colony of ants
governance over who has the fate of
the dying bumble bee,
I watch them gather, oh what little people!
And then i look from here
to there
eyes settling then wandering off again
to the rusty fence of my self-made
prison
to the squeaky gate of captivity
but I've seen the world in all coats
and watched the neon lights turn on
and off and followed
of swarm of yellow cabs with my
eyes,
there is nothing for me out there
no words in the crowded streets
poetry isn't waiting in lines
and getting off and on and off
and off metal that makes you
go go go
Words, you aren't there either
you have left the dingy bars empty
and the disco lights dim
My friends you've left the city
so there i sit in a forest of plants
unknown and political insects
wondering if you are among them
lurking in the trail of the tiny slug
voyaging the expanse of my garden
or perhaps you jump with the grasshoppers
who are Tarzan to my uncut grass
making loud noises as they jump from
stem to stem.
My old friends, come to me, I'll
wait day after day still as that honeybee
that watches flowers like hawks
ready to pounce on them
as though they will run off
leaving him like you did me.
Adamantly I wait and wonder
and search and hope
amidst little strangers
for my friends to return.
Words beloved
words missed.

I loved for Myself

I loved for myself,
Me and my aged scars
That still felt like they were on the surface
Me and my drenched hair from too many
Times standing in that rain
Waiting
for this man or that
To finally come back like he’d promised,
This time I loved for me
Me with my box of broken promises
Juxtapose to my jar of dreams unfulfilled,
I loved for the Me stagnant, stuck in the
Mirror looking at the face of misery
Wondering how long it would last this time.
I loved bestially this time,
With all that was left of the me who’d
Made the seat by the phone her bed
Waiting
For this man or that
To finally get around to giving me
some of the love I’d given generously.
This once I loved for myself
For the Me that I once was unwillingly,
The one with a face smeared from good old
Tears.
Me with the heavy heart despite its cracks,
Me with little inside left to keep gravity
From letting me go.
This time I loved for Me.
Me the broken
Me the shattered
Me the dreamless dreamer.
It took all and everything and much more
But this time
I loved for myself.

I found Myself in April

I found myself in April.
owing the world everything and the stars the world.
I had nothing to show for the drenches I put my heart into and the holes I slept in at night.
The wilderness absorbed me, one and all.
I found myself in April
needing something I couldn't have and loving someone who couldn't love me.
There I was relying on little specks of faith
Life dashing right by me.
I found myself
A pile of unreasonable questions aligned at my door
and nothing to hold me to the ground.
Stacks of mail and all the signs of a life I wasn't living.
All traces of me quickly fading
New air not settling.
Funny enough
I found myself exposed in my natural form
emotions had finely caught up with me and there I was
a vague replica of the me I have always been inside.
And the mirror never lies.
the impostor seated in my seat
parading around with my dingy unkempt hair on their
head was in fact a me I had suppressed
A me I found in April.