Please excuse me for a minute while I ramble. These are a compilation of pieces that have touched me in some way. Be it in their message, or the sheer poetic genius of their form. The poets are people that I do not know, have never met, and have perhaps exchanged words with only once on DeviantArt, which happens to be a playground of sorts for people whom I lovingly call
My only reason for sharing these with you, dear reader, is for the sheer pleasure of reading these poems. So just bear in mind, these are not my words. Merely the words I wish I had the panache to pen before others had. These are a reflection of my inner thoughts, the feelings I could never quite write, the vague recollection of dreams that slipped through my grasp only to be found in the words of another.
I hope you come to love them as much as I do. Enjoy.
006-Are the ice caps melting?
and I laughed.
And I’m not sure.
It’ll destroy the world
Everything was different in the summer;
The mandated inhalation,
idleness of busy school hallways
dims and dulls (leaves a constant haunting murmur)
to simple, expected laziness.
The world walked by
unexpectedly turns vibrant, opaque.
She offered shy summer-camp belly butterfly flutters
and I forgot “girls had cooties” when she gave me
a peck on the cheek and her heart
all wrapped up in a strawberry fruit-rollup.
We used to
Racing our responsibilities through
emerald curtains of leaves,
evading the sunshade of affectionate rain-showers,
until we did inevitably trip
flip and slide
across the finish line and into
grandpa’s unruffled swimming pool.
Everything is different underwater;
If you let yourself wholly go;
drift with the flow,
the realization that you must
might not hit you.
the same hand
and how I shake at the thought of
sprawling, city-sized manifestos of the self.
sketch your soul in five lines or less
and the outcome can hardly minimize the input.
but, oh, to spend a lifetime
catering to a monumental silence –
that is something worthy of praise,
and the slow crawling horror of a dream.
I wrap my life into plastic crates,
twining it over with masking tape.
A year to put this dream on hold
and brave the strange, brave the cold.
I kiss the edges
of the postcard you sent me
imagining the places
your fingertips brushed against the images
as you picked it out for me
feeling the soft touch of skin
instead of the glossy surface of paper
beneath my aching lips,
breathing in the scent
of your cologne
and I continuously read
‘i’ll be home soon’
so eventually it will be true
and no sooner would my eyes
glance your handwriting
that you’ll be at my door, waiting.
words are the translations
and i speak the invisible architecture
of my body.
there are back-lit hills
in every direction;
dark crests that hold
the inevitability of the sea
on the other side.
recollections go out like
the vapid ribbons of breath,
occupy their origins
as fragments of myself.
i am everywhere
i’ll ever be.
the other side
is a perpetual expulsion;
is exclusive and perpetrating;
is the establishment of desire.
i follow the iron shove of the river
to the lake, green with cold.
ice rides the water
and the careful geometry of chance
like triangular wax sheets.
hold what might be hands
on their way out to where
the river widens absurdly
gray ascends, turns the clouds
a dirty purple. the wind never stops,
has nowhere to stay.
i reach the end of possibility,
the border of limitation;
i am the only one here,
so i speak to myself
about what is already well known.
the tongue curves over the living paragraph
of the voice,
understood beneath the intimate bias
of my own ears.
words are the evidence of actions.
translating the wind into motionlessness.
what have i done?
everything is at once.
it all remains
and is carried off
toward the long train of the horizon.
here i am,
all of it
nine reasons why you should
nine reasons why you should never love a poet:
we like to hear things like ‘you’re beautiful’ and
‘i’d die without you’ but deep inside we always know
you don’t mean it.
and it just tears us apart slowly, no matter how much
we love those poisonous lies.
and when you ask ‘are you okay?’, we’re going to
answer with ‘i’m fine’. and you’ll hear that
even if our bones are shattering inside of us and
our hands are trembling from all the hurt that we go through.
because we play our music too-loud-to-bear so that,
when we’re all alone,
it chases away the thoughts that come with the silence:
things that haunt our nightmares and reasons why
we don’t like to be alive.
we leave too many s p a c e s between our letters because
that’s how we feel. all a.l.o.n.e.
and maybe you’ll change that for a little while, but
in the end, it’s all the same.
and we can connect with books and movies and music better than
we can with people
so excuse us if we cry in the theater, but not when you walk away.
sometimes, we get paralyzed from the brain down, but
believe me, we’d cry and beg and ask you to stay if we think
it would change anything. it won’t though.
it’s happened before.
because we will wish upon stars and eyelashes. and
we will wait for 11:11 and when we cross the imaginary line
they call the equator, we will wish for something.
we will not tell you what, because it won’t come true.
and we won’t care if you laugh or plead,
we’re not going to tell you.
we love the ocean and the mountains and the forests because
they’re wild and free and we can forget our names, our lives there.
and because there, we can believe we have wings, or we can dive
into the deep, dark waters and never come back.
and we are us, ourselves. not because
we chose to be,
but because we don’t know who or what else we could be.
we will mix up our forevers with nevers and
always with i-wish-but-i’m-not-good-enough-for-
and you will hate it, even though at first you will ignore it.
because you might be able to give us love, but
all we will give you is something that doesn’t make sense.
and i want to tell you that there are
but i want you to love me so
i will not tell you them.