I’m in the mood to post some of my poetry. Don’t ask me why. Some of it is very old, some of it is new, and some of it is from the last year or two. Have fun guessing which is which.
Not A Simple Smoke
Photographs
are easy to burn
and a lot goes with them
it’s not a simple smoke
but everything they represent
escaping
being set free
liberating
and that’s how I make it so easy
to just walk away
regret is such an ugly motive
Games People Play
What a fool I’ve been
to believe that it could be
anything more
than a game
of
hide and
go fuck yourself
Rain
And so I ran
quietly, quickly
with careful steps
avoiding outstretched hands
of hope and reassurance
tiptoeing beyond
lush forests of emotion
clinging to my numbness
while ever adjusting
my protective blinders
and all the while
she still flows through me
like rain
there is no stopping
nor a pause
as I narrowly escape
any resurgence of pain
Life
this is your life
on autopilot
you get up
you take a shower
you go to work
to sit at a desk
making decisions you
don’t really want to make
because
they’ve already been made
by someone with a better
smile.
this is your life
on autopilot
you have no illusions
about being different
you know you are normal
and you hate it
the suburban house
the perfectly trimmed grass
you probably pay the neighbor’s kid
to do it
just so you can sit in a chair
and say you are living the
good life
right
this is your life
on autopilot
you take short jogs
to pretend you’re desperately
trying to change something
in your life
instead, you’ll keep jogging
one mile until you die or your
willpower gives up next week
the fact that you failed
to continue jogging is also normal
and you can trade stories
about it with your neighbor
this is your life
on autopilot
Fidelity
he is seen with other women
and we are not surprised
it is not shocking, only what men do
a symptom of their pride
but for her, we are undone
it is a lady and her lover
when she slips into second tongues
says one name and not another
if we are patient, he will return
his lust spent fast on others
but she slips once and is gone inside
a new life for a lover
women take lovers
while men tell lies
and her betrayal is the only
unexpected
Snow…
quiet sadness
October
snow in the mountains
Worn boots kicking at fence posts
barbed wire sagging
a tired mule nuzzling
a weathered hand
Another year drawing to a close
another string of seasons spent
ignoring what the high desert
and common sense have tried to say
The mule’s eyes are left searching
but the boy has grown and gone
from fence and valley
as this hardy beast will pass
in a few short summers
Days left are coins
in the pocket of a poor man
Build a fire
Burn a lie
while the snow sneaks
down the mountain
looking for a boy
grown and gone
Blood Like Mercury
blood wants blood like mercury
magnets, attracted
a flash of all things that flow together
and roll over to sleeping shoulder
payment for the dews extracted
to be left flowering
if our bodies were as such
I would have known
we would not have spilled so
but lapped ourselves up
and gone on
along towards something different
but then again
we were not pulled
only laid down
end to end
pole to pole
until they told me
that you kissed him