an open book

(keyed rather quickly)

An open book is but a page. We read then turn, it slips away. Another page another day. We write it down, call it a play. We say it's life, the book we read. The one we wrote when stuck in grief. The one I write seems drunk and brief. But enough with me, I'm not in need. The papers thick just like the skin, And ink can bring clean to an end. It's scars remind us to give in. It's poetic. It's love is oxygen. And if we breathe, we'll end the story. The actors involved will all ignore me. I need their glow and "Hello, good morning"'s. I guess I'm saying I'm feeling boring. I think in fiction (life leaves me snoring).

alliterating the day

(written in 2008)

A littered nation gasps -
As alliteration acts,
And maps out malignant masochism's mask.
+
plus

An illiterate ancient wave
Of what alliteration aint:
Poetic prostitution, politely placed upon my plate.
...
still

I scream, pleading, for
Clarity in metaphor;
A bittersea of ignorance rests atop our ocean floor.
"   "
wait

I idled, intuitively interested.
Befuddled by the body, but beauty was rested.
The mangled mentioning of metaphor made me lose my mind..
I swore i'd teach them all, helping 'simile' be defined.

Hi, I'm simile, I've been fumbled & forgotten, like truth.
A metaphor, used correctly, can help you climb past your mental roof.

A pretty way to say goodbye:
Painting petals till they cry,
"I'll not be blooming, not tonight."
So, you won't be blooming? 'Doomed' is right.

the Subtle Sinderella

(written in 2008 a la self-discovery)

It was an angle she hadn't seen; or hadn't known better.
An angel who hadn't dreamed, or hadn't seen the starry string.
She often hid to sing and it was hard not to let her.
It's what i thought when I met her, she often thought of silly things.

I'd pause to find some cause in dreams,
"It's because our dreams are where we find reason to pause."
She'd often scream of bears and paws, I never found any.

Many a night, she took to flight. She never shook the oak's cold blight.
And moss swore they never met. Forever touched. That night, she wept.

T'was brief, but grief and applause filled the sunken air.
A drunken tomb felt unholy and my mangled mermaid fled the glare.
Felt the fair wind flutter..."I need space to grow and care,"
My old murmurmaid muttered. Then I left her there..​

mirror envy

(written in July of 2014 a la reverence)

I try to see myself, it brings me health.
The shelf I sit on brings me wealth.
Not money, no, the brain is helped.

A mirror helps me, sees me, knows me.
It often shows me all my glory.
It often leaves me drunk and lonely.

I reexamine to find my worth.
The frame holds mirror like I hold earth.
I find it when I'm finding hurt.

Reflections are vital.
To frown is to smile.
You stand on your head just to prove you're no liar.

I see myself like mirrors do.
That dusty glass leaves me renewed.
That dusty glass reflects light like moon.

In acknowledging this, my mind feels frayed.
Not shame, but it comes out that way.
I can not blame me on my brain.

I'm blinded now but trying to leer.
I'm happy now but dream severe.
Switching places with the me in mirror.

I V O R Y (a castle, an ocean)

(written in July of 2014 a la bewilderment)

It started from hope and then sprung from the mote.
The castle soon sung of the dreams it had wrote.
It refused to lay broken, instead it soaked in the quote:
"I am but a man and you're but a note."

He knew his walls would always stand afloat.


A fan of the land, but still fine out at sea.
I do my best writing through the eyes of she.
A tree, underwater, is still standing free.
So, I long to stand beside it, hoping it guides me.

Would be my ivory, family tree.


For children stay children until they admit:
The problems they see...well, they're half of it.
Unfit to empathize with the eyes that commit,
They decide to push, point fingers and spit.

I quit too, but don't you think that befits?


I'm aware of the meaning, but find it difficult to hear.
I know that the silence of love comandeers -
My everything. I fight it but have felt it for years.
It's not that endearing, but is the only thing joining me here.

A castle, an ocean and love fill my air.
I beckon them closer, but forget what to do when they're there.

growing bigger (not bitter)

(written in July of 2014 a la exile)

It was the fourth step; distorted depth.
Hands held the head that wept.
We slept between the cold and mean
Existence that we swore we'd seen.
And that we swore we'd seen enough,
But eyes will close when faced with bluffs.
Encased in dust, the road was rough.
A tough and blinded bed of rust.
A bed of trust that turned to lust.
Of course, the coarse skin was enough.
And no remorse we ever felt
Could warn our torn and heavy selves
That knees held up arms that couldn't be helped.
Like shelves, they finally fell.

"Free Yourself", she'd often say,
But I had already turned away.
And faced the taste I'd set in stone.
She was exactly what I swore I'd own:
What I swore I wouldn't lose
If choosing was a gift to use.
And 'being' was a gift we got -
And so there we were. But now we're not.

She was the goblin princess, I was her crown and throne.
The 7 sisters warned me of the gift I couldn't own.
"You aren't aware and/or you haven't learned.
What makes you think you will not burn?"
I shrugged them off and dove right in,
But insecurity and misplaced priorities win.

So, now she's free. I'm trying to let her be.
I'll never be fine when I am but a memory.
It's in my blood...no, it's in my head.
A picture of perfection was a picture of us above my bed.

The moon still comes, I guess she's got a crush.
She baits and bade me to her touch.
She swears this strife is for the best.
I say, "That's trite", but still nod 'yes'.
She begs me to stay stuck and to let myself feel.
"Don't numb out the meaning - the grief is surreal."
I know that she's right, but it hurts to admit.
I'm proof that running will only remit.

Or, rather, it proves I'm a kid.

deserve her (or don't)

(written in '08)

In the forest, it seems, I'd feel suddenly pleased.
An attempt to up-heave what my walk slowly feeds.
Though, at times, it's as if it's never seen:
A good meal. So, it keels over and can feel itself eat..

..itself

A laugh comes from tickles, while my life ends near ripples,
That have found themselves deeper than any philosopher's riddles.
In the middle of ending, but began when the sending of settling was mending/defecting.
I'm condescending? Is that really the honest ending?

How conclusive is this(?): it all makes me wish,
That I had the nerve to serve her what my heart wanted to give.

"Deserve Her or Your Part's Given to Him"

Hark, the herald angel of sin.

lived to learn to gather

written in december of 2008

i felt you before i saw you. i saw through the haze my town of birth had hastily set. you hate when i wept. i felt the lament, it was my heart, not my head. this was the first time i left it. you can understand how it wasn't easy. you always said you did, because i'd always wonder and ask. i swear each insecurity i held so secure inside my flask. a mental den/unfiltered men. i learned what to expect and what not to expect, and more importantly: what was fair to expect. still, i live in expectancies that haven't made the full blown leap to entitlement.

to learn is to live. we lived together. we learned to live together. well, we were meant to live together, and learning things was a treat. i used to like to treat you like the goblin princess, so fierce and fare. you pierced my soul, my heart, my mind, and left me senseless and unaware of the fact: you are the face i might not stand to see, if not standing there right next to me. now, with blinders off, i can't stand to see you as anything but reluctancy. it's this reluctant sea of honestness that cost us this. i promised/wished to pleiades, "free us, ..please."  the seven sisters feed on both our thoughts. well, we knew the cost was eternal life. we knew that, right? renewed in life. we should have never lived in our old lives. they cursed us both. the lack of changing writhes and contorts it's now forlorn shell, to sort out hell (which, once, was called our wishing well).

a vapid waste

written in 2013

but of course the coarse and worn out skin would give away, evading him.
it's safe as sin but clear as clouds; in fact, her tact would come and bow -
to say a hymn or to sing it out? that's exactly what she is about.
she left the crowd to vapid waste - a rapid chase that ends in place.
it ends in hope that hope can end, and dreams become the lives we're in.
and stars become the girls we chase - what's worse than longing for a long gone face?
what's better than holding the one we choose? Dying for her so as not to lose.
Lying to her - no, don't waste your time. There's no ceilings for this endless sky.
there's no feelings that i haven't felt - no evidence i didn't melt.
when i was young i felt the belt - but now i'm old and hit myself.
it's true, i'm old and haven't stopped -  to settle in the life i bought.
but i meddle with the minds i've caught. there's medals there for those i've lost.
the ones i've lost are the ones i've met. it's cruel - it resembles theft.
it's wrong - it's as though a net was cast over them, atop their heads.

that's a verse to explain my curse. I'm the goblin prince but the kids are worse.
and the princess? No, she don't sing; she's torn....the curse i bore, it hurt her more.
she lives in thorns and feels the prick. she's resentful, and i'm deserving it.
i reserve my wit to bail me out - no doubt, i fall when standing proud.
no doubt, i'm lifted when i'm loud - not gifted, all i do is shout.
the clouds that once could stand my weight - won't wait. i taught them how to hate.
don't wait, it's probably coming late - the gift i bare stays in the shade.

deprecation stays to say a prayer....
i invite it in, bring it to my lair.
it's sings it's notes, they're cool and fair.
it has advice, but it doesn't share.
neither of us mind nor care.

that's a riddle to explain my disease - i'm trapped but i could get out with ease.
but bars bring bars - i guess i'm finally saying it.....
i fight heart to find art and then make it.

the new you meets the old me

(i don't remember when i wrote this. it's long and i'm longing so it works for what i'm working with.)

He knows his patience isn't something getting bigger.
Cool to trigger any sort of feeling that pours liquor.
Lick her wounds when healing fails the way she covers you from hail, the way you carried her from hell.

A hellish game; i want no part. I crave my heart. To think is smart.
I think we're smart but who can tell. I swear from bottom of your well.
You wished me well, but what is this? I fell and now i'm shaking fists.
You fell and leaned in for a kiss. In hell you swore that we were kids.
I kid and joke and look to paint. You sing and swear just like a saint.

I swear my father taught me this, he said don't let yourself get pissed.
He said they'll never let it go if you yourself can't find the flow.

The ebb of time just hangs and baits.
It's like a clock, ya what a saint.
I keep hoping that the wait is what will help me find my shape.

She swore she found me first with words; i found myself immersed.
It hurts to think about the curse of hers or to imagine her in skirts.
What's worse? I've seen her without shirt.
She felt it hid her worth. I knelt and buried her in dirt.
She asked why, i called her 'Earth.'

I called her gaia, called her spring. Hated times when time would leave.
She'd quickly take me by the sleeve. She'd kiss my stomach, moving me.
What would i see? Living beauty.

Like a muse no noose could hold. A dying wish, not centerfold.
Undying kiss when i would hold.

It's true i fell for you too quick, it's true you persuaded it.
You saw the wound and licked. I saw the moon and tripped.
Right before i found the floor i noticed you were wanting more.
Though i would give you oceans, all you wanted was the shore. 
So tidal waves came to remind me of the trees that i'd been climbing.
Of all the once upon a timing...of all the stars that blind me.
The 7 sisters, yes, they know me well.
I see them when i visit hell.
i hate them all. I hate their song.
They know they carry me along.
I know they carry me along, it's why i always drag my feet.
So if you decide to grow up, you'll know where we can meet.

untitled

keystyled on 08/21/12

once upon a lie the hopes we've hoped for came alive
the hopes, they're hopefully not lies.
we joked and sang our favorite lines.

 the night, itself, was cold and thick with stares
the stars themselves pulled up their chairs
they starve themselves, wishing we were theirs.

 it's true, you knew it too. we spoke real soft to save the mood.
'the night is ours', you sung the tune.
the sight of stars, the life renewed.