Ha

I screamed into her mouth for her to stop.
The Swiss Alps were calling me
To turn over in my grave
As the swift grace from heaven denied me.
P-P-P-Pleasure
Eminated from the light of the devine
I fell to the floor
Consituents of the devoid operators
Lent me a hand.
(See
This is just my normal mind.
Everything is fake that I speak.
Triggers.
You're all just triggers
Poorly acting triggers.)

Spark. Spark.
Zap.
Electricity is fired off
And my fingers take the brunt of it.
Ice it down.
No.
Put spoons in my mouth.
One way or another,
I probably won't survive this madness.

Shocked!
I wish to show you my face.
But then
I'll just tell you.

There are eyes.
They are closed.
There is a mouth.
It is open.
(I hope you've formulated
Some great idea from this.
It will be the last time you see me)

Degrees of burn
Are seen from the inside.
Oh so superficial
Are the scars of the past.
The future holds the true path to a literal scathing.
No death will occur
(Well, later)
But it will be when you do not pass
Onto the other side.
When you find that there is no River Styx
For you to erase the past.
No Nirvanic fountain
That helps alleviate those that pained,
And start a new life.

A new life.
It is what we all wish for.
Hundreds of times over again each day,
And should the time of day be where
The sun shouts at you from high tide in the sky,
Please do not quiver.
There is no earthquake.
It is just me.
And the memory.

A

Jay-

Grow up on a street.
Water and blood pool together like brothers.
Sirens beat alarms to the punch
In the dead of night.
The night is dead.
Today,
This was the wrong street
On the wrong week
Wearing the wrong shirt
That had an array of too many hues of the wrong color.
A black Benz rolls up on your right,
Scratches and dents from chain link fences
That it met with a purpose.
Assumptions were made,
On their behalf
Not yours.

Lying on the floor of your beautiful city
The government buildings are astonishing from this angle.
The water next to you
Knows what you are going through,
As you and it mesh to become one.
You could scream,
Point at the Benz with rims full of "Them"'s
But now, you're mute,
As your voice has no purpose.

John-
He wakes up.
He wakes up and goes to work
To pay the bills.
He comes home;
Makes dinner and brushes his teeth.
He falls asleep.
He dreams,
Dreams of rosy lips and green gowns almost emerald,
Like her Olive eyes that never dart but
Glide
From side to lovely
Side.
She laughs, and so does he.
The sun sets,
In a glory of fire and extinguished flames,
And he wakes up.
He wakes up and goes to work
To pay the bills.
He comes home;
Makes dinner and brushes his teeth.
He falls asleep.
He dreams...
He wakes up.
He wakes up and goes to work
To pay the bills.
On the way,
He crosses a street.
He never looks twice.

Pigeons scatter,
People look-
He can't tell whether to breathe fast,
Or to hold---
A woman runs to him,
Screaming for the policia.
(She may save a life today)
Holding his head in her hands,
She finds it hard to look down at a dead man dying.
But she does.
(It will scar her for life)
He blinks.
The sun is eclipsed by her young flowing hair.
(His blood flows freely)
Her hair is black.
(He sees Saint Elmo's Fire in the sky)
She screams,
And for a split second
The sun is obscured and her eyes are a green that
He found as a child in the grasslands behind his house.
(His childhood is tainted red)
He smells lavender.
His eyes close.
He thinks he hears things,
Like footsteps running and the
Driver of the car exclaiming reasons
That aren't particularly important to John anymore.
He slides his hands into his pockets,
Looking for a phone to call his mom
And tell her he loves her.
But he forgot it today.
He dreams...

Don't HAve a Title YEt

Whispers inside the stationary vehicle
Are louder than the metallic movement surrounding us.
Spires rise to the sky
At variable heights.
Heat rises and falls
Circulating in the empty atmosphere.
A certain fury can be felt.
Lavender implosions swallow the world
On your left and right
Allowing drops of rose to spring forth from the ground.
Fire burns impressions from the past,
To create ideas of the present.
Emancipate your feelings of this placebo love.
Condensation on the inside
Lets you draw words of romance
That those on the outside
Will misinterpret.
But what will happen
When the engine turns off and the sun goes down
And the pedestrians leave
While only stars and streetlights alone illuminate our path?
Will an affirmation of us be discovered?
Or shall desire overcome it all,
And burn all the roses?
Even when these roses have never embraced snow.

Lines Written with Futile Hope

You are as real as the moonlight on my hand.
Doesn't it feel beautiful.
So sentimental,
But not enough.
Lamentation for the day that has passed,
The one that was young for a while,
But realized that it could last for so short a time.
A small while,
As the tides rushed the shore
And overwhelmed the coasts
Showing clouds of dying color
Through its liquescent window.
Time, minutes of sadly minute length,
Evacuates the clouds from the sky,
Defeats the bluebird's song and the
Evergreens' everlasting effervescence;
The presence within the atmosphere is now gone.

When Autumn comes today
Will it show colors?
Will the dying tree,
In it's last flourish for light and glory,
Refuse me the yellows and reds that would line these long streets,
As I keep the aqua-tainted ocean in eyesight?
Transitioning into a biting frost,
All I can see are the lines of smoke-entwined snow on the pavement,
And bare oaks of brown,
Swelling with the scent
Holding its breath
Until I pass, and then exhales.
Animals burrow into the gardens that don't provide,
Into homes that don't exist.

The day is broken,
While I sit among the pasture of leaves
Freshly matted down by my own steps.
I wish to mend it
But my fingers are decrepit and mangled
From brushing them through miles of wilted grass and lonely fences.
Healed just a bit,
I smile when the sun turns red.
So simple, it sprays a mist of rose within the sky.
But I turn to the Eastern shore,
With dejection fastened to the heart.
And hope for more.

Mr. Eliot

Why, Mr. Eliot,
Does my hand fail me when I write without meter?
It trembles like a distant hurricane
Close to shore.
Why am I inspired by rain beating upon my roof
By birds eclipsing the sun so gracefully
By love unfulfilled?
Take a portrait with me, sir.
You are long gone,
Dead years before I had seen lavender skies.
I am gone too
With each line I dedicate to your legacy
Creativity is invoked by many things,
But should the past be one?
Non-verbal seance,
The only sound is the candle's flicker,
My scratches at paper.
Each line I write makes me sicker.

The women, Mr. Eliot,
Why, the women come and go.
Boats rock to and fro
Drinking four glasses of chardonnay
Ruffle, rest, and call it a day.

Beg and plead to build a shrine.
I have no talent
I refuse to behold tradition.
For, Mr. Eliot, you refuse to listen.
Please be witness to the light above my head.
Spotlights in the blackened sky.

-She twists the rose in her naked hands.
We spread heavily across barren lands.
Angels swirl lightly over islands with lovely disposition.

I fall backwards
Hoping for someone to be there to save me.
Eyes above spy down upon us.
Wonder who I am.
Where I am going.
You cannot care why,
As streaks near the moon reverberate
While I try to envision what is not here.

First Poem by NMQ

Everyday he works.
Gets up early to do hard work.
goes home
He used to work hard at home too.
but back then at least he had his family
his wife, his child, his parents
Here, he might have a friend, a cousin, an acquaintance.
at home he wasn't alone
Here, he is surrounded by strangers everyday.
Secluded in his new environment.
His new life here full of shiny new things and his newly found friends
Are they just enough to fill the void, to erase the memories?
of his life when he used to work for a life he could enjoy with them

NOTITLE

Probably the longest poem ever. But yeah, I just wanted to write..


Into the well dives my wish
But the prospect of return is dim.
I threw it in upon a whim.
Hoping my misfortune would turn around.

With my nose to the ground
I hunt for the twists and turns of life.
Cut down our trees with a dull knife.
Tie them together. Call it a boat.

When the waves pick up, I hope we'll float.
But that's based on a hope and a prayer.
"I could predict this" Spoke the soothsayer.
The sky tonight, it has too many layers.

We could see, over looming towers and sky-bound skylights
Birds flying over head dive into the night.
Reds and Oranges; The dying sun dies out of sight
Leaving us standing in a field of green.

Leaves abound make rings around
Two souls lost. Lost in the middle.
Of a forest? A field of artificial greenery?
We look to the sky, and back to the earth, to find what it means.

Too many things are attempting to come full circle.
I am the lawyer in a trial,
And the suspect is full of undeniable denial
While I ask questions, prying at the truth.

"You and I, we are just youths!
We wish to seek the truth
Striking at the ground, making sound
Loving the other by claw and by tooth."

Primal desires overcome false mires,
Leaving our feet dripping wet from the dawn.
Speak of stupid passion and child-like desires
I retract and detract and sit down on the synthetic lawn.

Oh, the fireworks that do not explode.
A slow-motion, recurring episode of dramatics
Poetics and romantics. All is hopeless. All is lost.
I threw my last dime into the well. But more than that, imagine the cost.

My hands are numb. Maybe from the frost.
But the frozen tundra could not sway my mind.
Love is the last horizon to find.
But I am lost.

So when should I come back? How should I react?
My smile shall fall heavily among the bric-a-brac.
And so I detract. Into a shallow hole in the wall.
Waiting for an ever so distant call. Ever so distant.

I will never ask "What is it?" I will reply
With a whimper or a sigh. Something that will bring you nigh.
And I will pry. Sixty times with no results.
We shall depart amongst these solitary tumults.

On purpose, I will be lost in Delaware.
Somewhere far from here. Somewhere never near.
Probably the days will linger.
As I remember the days I embraced with the alto singer.

Monsters in my closet. In my car. In my launder.
Force me to sit and ponder.
Will this do me any good? Am I a runaway, or do I just wander?
I wander for wandering's sake. So I must return.

As the fire from the inferno burns
We takes turns. Jumping around. Feet never truly touching the ground.
But then the humor of it all
Become sadly pivotal.

She walks away. She walks away.
Becoming the greatest obstacle of the bunch.
We sit to lunch. The way she walks. The way she brushes her hair...
Again, makes me question. "Do I dare?"

But I don't. I won't.
She enters the door. I hold it open. "I'll take your coat."
Chivalry comes high to the forefront.
High upon my stallion, I forget about the hunt.

Sit down. Order. It is all so jovial.
Speaking talking, I listen. Interested in truth. Interested so.
My, does the day go. It goes and it goes.
Until it is night again. And we depart, my friend.

Marks on hands, simple tallies of love.
Or is it love? It's love. Wait?
The night does wane, and the hour becomes late.
My significance dies, along with the date.

Logic dictates the next maneuver. My rook guards the queen.
Sacrifice its life. But for what, I must ask? (And so does the rook)
By hook or crook, we'll survive it all.
I read it in a book. For we, Love in the time of Diphtheria.

The snow comes down. Cats and dogs hide away.
Blackness overcomes the house. Differentiate between the night and day.
But you need no coat. No blanket. Socks are an option.
I ask "Do you shiver?" and you reply how you may.

Younger and younger we are not getting.
Clocks have broken down. Worn down. Letting us forget
That which we must let.
We must let. I must let. I must let you go.

Bury me in the Sahara. Or in the depths of Africa.
I am Mr. Kurtz. I am dead.
I have floated to the bottom of the pool. Dense as lead.
Just do me a favor and paint our sunrise red.

Laugh away. For the rest of your life.
That is all I wish. That is the last coin flip.
Heads or tails. It doesn't matter. It never mattered.
My lips and teeth will miss you, among the chit and chatter.

The note said that you wished
(I quote the latter)

For a new day to come.
It said, lying upon my table,
That you lived within a fable
And that you wished to love someone.
That you hoped for a dream come true
This wouldn't last
Wounded, bound in a cast,
You didn't know what to do.
I ask who am I to mend this ruse?
The day is done. The night is cold.
Trivialities, they do grow old.
So to pain my mind, I ask, what's the use?

I fold the letter and hide it in my jacket
The cars on the street create a metallic racket
I look. I look for days. Drunk from wine, my balance swerves.
Lonely at this party, I drink more wine; eating hors d'oeuvres.

Gone are the days when we laughed. Laughed and cried.
Gone is when silence was all we replied.
Gone are memories which we promised we'd keep.
I'm in a pine box. You'll probably refuse to weep.

Violins, cellos, may you hear me out?
I do not know what you sing about.
Only chords of strain and softness strike me blind.
Rain pounds heavily upon my eyes. I am cast with doubt.

Struggle. Shout. I turn around and fall into a whimper.
The light dies near, I fear to say. To say I say with confidence.
As my dreams of a picket fence splinter gone.
We are strangers, here forever, now to hence.

And whence shall we leave again?
Beg my pardon. I must mean meet again.
Because this cannot happen twice. This cannot happen three times.
This has to cease. But I must ask when.

Thunder strikes this very house. I do not know how strong this roof is.
Earthquakes shake, take a toll on my foundation.
My foundation. The ground does shift.
I lift to heaven high with no elation.

Clouds take my sky. Commandeer the panorama.
Manipulate my scene from serene to what I deem sublime.
From a distance, your voice echoes.
But that is just the to-and-fro's of the cellos.

The sea must mellow out, one day, while I am still alive.
Birds flying over head, quit their gliding. Fall rather than dive.
Brick by lonely brick is taken from the foundation
Of my sea-side house. Atlantis is home to lovers before.

The picture's blurry. Your dress is green.
Life is not what it may seem. It isn't. It really isn't.
Specters are transparent, as so they appear.
I fear, that I'll stutter. I have failed. D-Dang.

Bang. And then we're bang to the beginning.
By my tally, I do believe you're winning.
Fooled me. I forgot it was a game.
Fooled me twice. You forgot I had a name. My name?

I don't remember either. Jay? Blake? Jake?
They're all the same. They wind up dead, or simply living.
Oh, darling, isn't it just so riveting?
When will the conclusion come? When will it come?

It comes sooner for some. Postponed for me.
As the sun goes down, I walk with glee.
The tree means nothing, in the larger picture of it all.
Slow down time. Please. Jack. Jose. Adderall.

Get me off this world. I'm dizzy. Busy. The days,
They come with ease. But knocked down twice,
It does suffice that I'm left with scarred knees,
And hollow chin. Throw the coin. I love these whims.

Struggle? Beaten down? You left this garden,
To love the plush and lavish lifestyle of the town.
You walk with them. She walks away. She walks away.
She has walked away. Everyone, this is parlay.

There is time. Oh, there is time. For visions.
And then revisions and decisions of those visions
Incisions. My heart divides from my soul like nuclear fission.
But alas I'm still alive. My eyes have mist. My eyes have mist.

Do you understand? I tried to explain the gist of it.
Hearts divide. Explosions in the sky. Words unspoken.
I throw a token. Deep abyss. "I love you dearly, miss."
Swing? Miss. Boxes. Letters. Dawn. Dive. Goodbye.

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