Category Archives: Poetry

An Old Random Poem

Electric ants trace

binary paths across my dead skin,

my dormant eyes.

My cold brain radiates waves

of nothing that reach

nothing.

Tied loosely to an icy slab,

movement an impossibility,

digital spit drips down my chin,

unnoticed by a programmed smile.

Don’t try and save me 

from this

technologically advanced coma.

It’s all the rage.

digital

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A Poem Scribbled in Purple

I want to be different

I want to be the person I promised the world I would be

I want to be the person I promised myself I would be

There is no pause, rewind, slow motion,

My life pushes forward full steam

while I linger, hesitate, pretend to meditate.

Staying still is equal to a refusal to move forward, press on,

It’s an attempt to let the past catch up,

a way of going back.

What’s back there that’s worth such a lack of effort?

Nothing real, it already happened, and now it’s gone,

so it can’t be real.

It’s an image, and an image can be perfect,

and in my perfect image of the recent past

I was happy, or so I remember.

I hate the physical space that surrounds me

for leaving my perfection behind.

I tried to take it with me but it wouldn’t budge,

So neither will I. 

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A Short Poem

This is a short little poem, just a couple lines I wrote a while ago about words. I think it’s funny and a little clever if I do say so myself:

A word is just a word

Unless correctly heard

Of course some words

are really quite absurd,

And others, once uttered,

You wish you’d never heard

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Ain’t No Cure for the Summertime Blues

A poem about summer:

An empty street and only the quiet sounds of generic

suburban life let me focus on the sound of my feet

on the pavement, the soft scrape of my soles

on the cracking blacktop.

My fingers find lint in the fleecy pockets

of my sweatshirt and roll it into little pellets,

bite-sized pieces.

My eyes squint against the dim sunlight

currently losing a battle with the clouds,

powerless against the overwhelming gray,

and yet my pale eyes can’t quite stand it.

A pointed brow and down-turned mouth

keep strangers from smiling.

The blank horizon is blanketed in human dust

and all the colors have left, fled this dying place

like they knew something.

I wish I knew something, wish I followed them

to where colors want to be and people know

how to live. I always figured I’d find the answer somewhere

unexpected, but all I’ve got my hands on

these days is lint.

 

As a kid, summertime was so exciting. No more school, no responsibilities, you could stay up late and eat ice cream every day and play all the time. At least that’s what it seemed like. That’s how we like to remember it. As an adult, with no scheduled breaks from reality and responsibility, summer is less thrilling. It’s almost like a 3 month long reminder that nothing, in fact, gets easier, there are no breaks, and if you eat ice cream every day you will get fat. I haven’t had a good summer in a while. Every summer for the past few years something has happened, something that makes the rest of the summer less than enjoyable. What is it about summer time that makes us feel invincible? I always seem to be blind sided by my sad experiences, like I think nothing bad can happen when it’s so beautiful outside. For me, summer has become something I wish to get through as quickly as possible, and that too, makes me sad.

 

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