Thursday, September 6, 2012

Just leave me alone, but don't leave me alone

I have been alone everyday.
And guess what my reward is,
more loneliness!

Lapin of Lapis Lazuli

Covered bridges duplicate.
The government detests this.
Immediate action is taken.
Render the power of nature
to prove the brides incorrect.

In the middle of the Atlantic,
a whirlpool forms to eliminate
the encroaching bridges.
As the bridges dissolve,
mysterious bunnies of jewel
tone blues are ejected from
the whirlpool.

The bunnies hop along
the quickly dissolving bridges.
The bridges contain the bunny
tsunami controlling their
concentrated magic into the
seaports of America.

The bridges are completely
destroyed which leaves the
bunnies beached on land.

Edit This

I scrutinize my every word
before I make my choice
of thought.
Amuse my imagination
to believe that a sentence
of mine can stand the test
of time.
In gardens I flourish, in
rain I wait, relish the
encounter of something
Abstain from eating
abbreviate hatred
a warring nation
never got love.
Without hesitation,
my grand salutations
as a newer breed of
provocation. *

Tour de ma Chambre

My room is the ambiguous melodies
fashioned to grief, forgotten thieves,
mischievous tea leaves.
Dried roses in glass soda bottles.
Dead and dusty moths scattered about.
Creative clay bowls filled with nature
subjects such as rose petals, crystals,
seed pods, cicada shells, ancient coins,
rolled stones, screws, bolts, and buttons.
I have a very large glass bowl dedicated
to my ocean nature collection.
The contents include crab shells, sea glass,
whole shells, shard of shells, common shells,
manufactured shells, sand, rocks, a dried
lizard, and a tiny plastic lizard.

*I might continue this. I lost steam.
I really just got bored. Bye!

I Only Wrote This, Not Spoke It.

How do I say it just perfectly? I ponder about the three words that I could easily speak. If I write them down, they do not contain the power I envision in my mind. "I can't see your face in my mind," Jim Morrison so hauntingly sings... I feel as though I am at the point of sorrow. I shudder at ever soft whim of his breath that slides the words so perfectly from ear to ear. "Baby please don't cry," he continues to sing. Crying is difficult, perhaps the lucid memories will seep in at the correct time and I will recover.

Impact is as Degrading as Memory Loss

Delaying the sun from sheering
the tops of the roofs enduring
all the cost of burning
to make the phoenix rise.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

A Moth

Fluffy on top,
goo in the middle,
short lifespan,
mother moths grow fat
with eggs
then they can no longer
Mother moths are so delicate
and dry.
I crept upon the little fat
crawling about the lawn.
I became angry,
grabbed a stick,
and impaled them
I am so sick
I am so mean
I am unattached from puppet strings!
This is all my own doing,
I killed the bugs,
the ones I love the most.
I murded the future moths.
The mothers were performing
their task.
I have ruined their lives
and what do I do?
I sit there observing
the crushed mother moths.
Their eggs fly out like
little dust specks...

Spinning into Tizzy

Do not allow yourself
to forget.
Always remember who
you are.

These words are placed here
as more of an encouragement to me.
But I do not know where I am going.
I am driving myself mad by excluding
myself from people.
It's all my fault.
If I try to convince you otherwise,
then it is all a lie.
It's all my fault.
I got myself into this hell.

Out There and Floating on a Raft

Raffia in a traffic-stand-still.
We no longer hear the buzz of monitors.
Our faces capture the glow of the setting sun.

I write out poems containing
groups of people because I am
lonely. In my head I picture
myself surrounded by humans
that enjoy my company,
that laugh at my jokes
and allow silences to be taken
as a peaceful conclusion
rather then an awkward
Alas, these are reveries.
I wish dreaming could
lead me to better times.
At present, I am stuck
in a house and forgotten
by the outside world.
I barely exist in the minds
of others.

I am what my title explains,
out there and floating on raft...

Sunday, September 2, 2012


The bedroom stunk of horrid flesh,
moisture leaked in from a different guest.
A tongue as the pendulum swung
from ear to limb,
dizzy asylum neighbors crawl
about the metal floor.

Lurched inside the thicket of my brain
contains ill remnants of a radioactive train
that flew out of a narcotic buzz,
landed in my post-apocalyptic slugs.
She withdrew her maggot demeanor
toward a swiveling fan
growing out of an October scarecrow man
belted down to a hospital bed.
The IV tubes are empty,
crusty blood clogs at the holes entry.


I am never exposed
but light nor shade,
my poison teeth remain
frightening the lookers away.
I take my life for granted
each time I cross the street,
encounter a bulldozer in
my night's dreaming sleep.
Catacombs are my fantasy,
a golden reward for the poor,
the flamingo wants more.