Category Archives: poetry

the girl that got away (a poem)

if you catch a glimpse —
of a girl, blonde and bronzed —
will you call out her name?

if you call out her name —
will you break her heart —
or will you keep away?

if i ever see you again —
whether on earth or in sky —
no worries, not now, not today.

for that girl you broke,
blonde, bronzed, strong —
well…
she’s the girl that got away.

porcelain thin shell (a poem)

sometimes i wonder if
my heart is a black hole
that sucks everything
into it and spits it
to where no one knows

sometimes i wonder if
my skin is just a sheath
that protects a knife
of pointy bones and a
set of blood red teeth

sometimes i wonder if
my eyes are a silky veil
that conceals all that
is within and outside
my porcelain thin shell

juxtapositions (a poem)

juxtapositions

i want to be found,
though i am always lost;
i wish for a blush of love,
yet i cannot bear the cost.

i ache for more time,
though i demand it gone;
i hide in fear of the night,
yet i never see the dawn.

i wait for tomorrow,
though the present goes on by;
i feel so numb to it all,
yet i always say i’m fine.

i dream in sweet color,
though i see black and white;
i hate it when i am wrong,
yet i will never be right.

i wonder if i’ll see you again,
but i think i’ve lost my mind…Continue reading “juxtapositions (a poem)”

i don’t understand myself (a poem)

i don’t understand myself,
and i probably never will;
these oceans of chaos within me,
and a desire for any little thrill.

i hate how people are so selfish,
yet i’m the most selfish of them all;
you wonder why i never talk to you,
and i wonder why you never call.

i know i’m a walking contradiction,
and my weary legs can’t take much more;
yet my brain refuses to run idle,
even though my muscles have grown sore.

yet i want this life i live,
despite the pain i have caused;
the scars became my memories,
in the midst of all my flaws.

parasite (a poem)

there’s something inside me,
crawling up my spine;
it webs and weaves within me,
searching for my mind.

it grows and grows deeper,
into my bloated organs;
at times it shocks electric,
and others it lies dormant.

there’s something in my lungs,
and it burrows into my skin;
it chokes and stings my cells,
a reminder of my flesh and sin.

it grows and grows inside me,
deepening while i sleep;
it conspires to take me over,
but never will i let it kill me!

do you see me? (a poem)

if i close my eyes–
i see an endless sea;
glitter of warm gold,
how you mesmerize me

if i open my eyes–
i see this cosmic black;
embers of dying stars,
fallen from my grasp

if you close your eyes–
do you see the light?
or has your sight gone cold,
with the dark winter’s night?

if you open your eyes–
tell me what it is you see;
gold, black, blue, mystery,
or do you see me?

the things we say in the night (a poem)

i know the things i say in the night,
intensify in the soft moonlit chill;
i know the things you say in the night,
inspire you with a mean little thrill.

i know the things i do in the night,
sing me sweetly to a cosmic sleep;
i know the things you do in the night,
make you feel like you’re in too deep.

you know i’ve said too much in the night,
prepared a ghost story or two;
you know you’ve said too little in the night,
concocted your lies instead of what is true.

you know i’m mystified by the night,
though i’d rather fall into a dream;
you know you’re chained to the night,
and i won’t ever hear you scream.

we know the things we say in the night,
mean more to one than to the other;
we know the things we say in the night,
cause us both to smile and to suffer.