Forced Ambidexterity

I'm a student of

compulsory ambidexterity

Training myself to

push pencils

with one hand

and push myself

deeper into the floor

with the other

To pick at old wounds

while

laying the foundations

for new ones

Or

wave goodbye and hello

at the

same time

While one hand

struggles to throw my notebook

into the lake

the other shoves it eagerly

into my chest cavity

I end up merely

a water-logged body

suspended in a collage

of soggy paper

Judge

Judged by your tone
Judged by your skin
Always on the outside, never within
Fudged for being yourself, not given a chance
The judges are afraid to be judged
The victims are the jury
And when they go to the stand they can tell their story
How being yourself is better than forcing yourself in
As you step down you know you will win
So when you are being judged just smile to yourself
Because the ones judging you are afraid to be judged themselves

Dead Meat

Where did our enthusiasm go?
How did the detachment grow?
We've been left to it
We're expected to know
how to hastily grow
through layers of waste and a cruel film of sleet
through mornings of hard-pressed obscurities
through evenings of insistent deceit
all while learning to stumble
along cracked concrete
We're feeble and ambitious
We're dead meat

Recess Rendezvous

Anyone that knows me, knows I don't see dreams when I sleep or just don't remember them, maybe its cause I day dream half the time I'm awake.

Reminisce of a simpler time

Little girls playing school yard games

I'd chase you around the monkey bars

In a world where we lived for recess

And puppy crushes

This was life

Where we cut out paper hearts

And you hop scotched through my head

Waiting for that bell to ring again

To chase you around the swings

But I gave up and there you sat

Sitting right next to me

You looked at me and smiled

Never once did we say a word

We just sat there... pumping our legs

to the heavens

Higher and higher we swung

School bells rang again

And our thirty minutes of

Beautiful Silence was through

With puppy dog crushes and cooties

And fast beating juvenile hearts...

This was love

Happiness... Is Not a Fish.... Maybe a Smile

Sitting alone,
quiet and silent
in darkness,
I ask myself,

What is happiness?

The answer
refuses me,
unrelentingly,
I pursue
only the shadows.

Fallen and slain,
Another day arrived
Caught by surprise,
I faintly heard

Those words
gained my attention,
for unknown reasons.

Words,
of a mystical kind,
I want
to see again

Something so simple
it could only be as such,
What you taught me
was truth from the start,

Happiness, is just
a smile.

Listening to Our Lady Peace -  awesome band check em out if your into Indie/Alternative

Does this sound Romantic ? it doesn't right?

So i did some writing this week while i was at the neighborhood park doing my normal routine(staring contests with clouds), and ended up with this.....Does it sound Romantic ? it doesn't right? cause the two people i've showed this too already(pre post) have been pointing in that direction .... when that wasn't the intention...

i ~ the most selfish of vowels.
asked me for myself, today.
red folds inebriated, shaking.
with the scent of cut grass.

i ~ the most beautiful of sights.
asked me for my visions, today.
asked for my dreams.
those in color.

i ~ the damnation and salvation
asked for a heart, today.
asked for a soul of that tree
in the garden

i ~ asked for u.
u the rock
on which I shall build
my home

a home for u
and i

wasted hammered drinking high intoxicated crunk smashed pissed shitfaced stoned trashed plastered hangover tipsy sloshed tanked buzzed blitzed hungover wrecked inebriated

Once,
Long ago
I heard that
The sky strikes scribbled tomes
For a bit of dancing
And wine after nightfall

Shatter
Jolt
Plunk
And
Crumble.

I wonder if this is the way
That the heavens intended
Rotting therapeutic confection
and fizz.

My face, distorted
Reflected in carbonate
Pour me another

Come on, bartender
Nourish our souls
‘til we fumble
And
Fall.

Snap Shot

I imagine you waited on the moon to come out,
you're just one of those people who would love to doubt.

Because fate wasn't, seeing it your way,
yearning for truth, eyes muted gray.

Possibly, my picture is all wrong,
maybe you're laughing, still going strong.

But for the dark haired boy, who moved last August
going strong seems a twisted way to be remembered.

Ugly Little Flower

Flowers on sunrise, glistening grey
Holding heat on purpose, if it may
Colorless. Odorless. With nothing to say
But basking, and breathing in such a way

Lonely old hillside, home to its heart
No lilac stain on my petals, no art
So tender and frail, at this young start
Living in your warmth, falling apart

Treasure now, and hold dear
Before leaves wilt and can no longer hear
Share with me your heat and hold me near
Without your sunlight, I'm living in fear

Kneeling At The Altar..

Down at your head of tussled hair
Shifting along stiff pulsating length
Lips shaped in the form of a oval
Forcing back already stretched skin
Teeth abrading my length with care
Muscles shivering gently in aftershock
Knees wilting as stomach bends low
Gripping your hair and body harmonizing

Fingers ringing the base
Steadily moving as you begin to frig me
Hand caressing the groin and squeezing
Cheeks crumpled tightly as she suck
Hips moving against mouth in urgent thrusts
Length caressed by its warm wet walls
Moans crescendo in ecstasy
Hands guiding your mouth

Swelling with accumulation
Glands on fire and aching
Climaxing abruptly with an upsurge
She swallows and start again.....

Resurrection

Longing for resurrection
Though it questions my sanity.
Emptiness,
A hole left seedless.
Truth be told,
Ghost in a life of beings,
Exist
Pulsate
Breath
No bits of life to resurrect.
My eyes, hide nothing.
Though I hide them.
As I long to be
See

Few of My Favorite Naughty Things

The thorns on roses and the whisk from the kitchen
Bright flash in my eyes and her legs spread wide open
My hands in my back all tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

Cream on her lips and a hot heavy fondle
Doorbells a ringing disturbing our coddle
Wild tools and hard thrusts and light but firm choking
These are a few of my favorite things

Black lingerie all wet from tongue lashes
Cheeks red and sore from a few light whip-lashes
Silver-white ice cubes that melt on your thighs
These are a few of my favorite things

Smeanie meanie!

Tough and mean you appear to others
Gentle and kind you seem to some
Smiles that last for days
Laughs that makes them gaze

Here I am thinking
Wondering how it would be to be like you
There's only one problem that stands in the way
You don't do as you are told.

Restaurant that existed only in imagination

Just across the street was Montmartre,
a high class restaurant that existed only in imagination, such a long time ago.
People casually strolled by, examining the restaurant with great approval.
The beauty of it all was well, quite harmonious.

Above the restaurant painting fell a stream of stars.
A trail down so far of glowing stars, a trail as far as the eye could see.
Cheryl sat beneath the stars holding up a card for all to see.
Peace was all it said, and then so did she.
She sat in a bucket beside seven others, all grinning, all laughing,
while a rainbow came down below the buckets.

Rayne was not to be forgotten now, a soul upon the checkerboard clouds.
She also swirled, and twirled, and danced in the sky.
While Evelyn watched from her corner, way up high.
Up high she sat on paint droplets of blue, of green, and of gold.
She listened to the song below her and she did just as told,
she let her mind at rest, then she let her dreams run free.

While Mary Jane sang softly of bearing the essence not of a soldier,
above her in the clouds rested Serra, who never stopped believing.
“Life isn’t about finding yourself,” said Tara. “Life is about creating yourself.”
While Larisa would have to agree, she also would say,
That Life isn’t measured by the number of breaths we take,
but by the moments that take our breath away.

Restaurant that existed only in imagination, such a long time ago.

For the living....

Warn our world
About humanity
War our world
Before it’s gone
What doesn’t kill me
Makes me stronger
And I’m not sure
I can hold on
When you know the truth
Then you live the truth
When you live the truth
Then you know its true
Believe in now
Before it’s gone
You’re so damn close
Try to hold on
You should probably
Take what you can get
But don’t blame the man hiding up the stairs
Live like you’re dying
Keep it pure but
Don’t stop trying
Just to be sure
For the love of the game
Let the games begin
Say “I can”
And then dare to live

My House

There are no windows, just walls, its pretty plain, no fancy wallpaper just walls,
no furniture, no tv, no chairs, just cold stone floors,
but you can hear the wind howling through the chimney,
yes, there is a fireplace, and you can still see signs of a fire,
if you pay closer attention in the darkness,
you can still see the wallpaper, faded though,
you can see the chairs, chewed to dust by the termites,
and in the kitchen you can see the wine bottles on the rack,
dust coated, rotted corks,
on the floor there are mere signs of the rich rugs that illuminated the floors
gave warmth to this house, yes there once were windows,
when you could see the outside,
and a while ago it wasn't so cold,
but the dust turned cement and plaster,
and the fireplace went out
now you see nothing,

this is my house.

Take a Guess

Riddles me this riddle me that
firstly defined by God, then redefined by man
a need, a want, a yearning, a fascination
That makes the heart crave what the mind doesn’t understand.
were a being becomes a possession

Riddles me this riddle me that
Accept it for what it is or what u think it should be
as its conflicts with bliss on the brink of what could be
A beautiful association proceeding to procreation
preceded by confusion succeeded in Institution


From an abstract perspective I’d swear it didn’t exist
just a four letter word that probably started with a kiss
just a lingering fondness with lustful emphasis
Some say it’s bliss, truth be told, I have no clue what it is

Riddles me this riddle me that
Take a guess at what im uttering about?

Nothingness

I've sway in Nothingness
For Nothing precedes me, Something Lies in precedent

Throughout my life I have Nothing to look forward to
Had Nothing, wanted Nothing, but Something had a Theory too
Hypothetical, but in my Experiments and experience it never came through
So I stay with the Fact that Nothing will always stay true

Silence, Peace, a state of Nothingness
The difference between Movement, Insurgence, Fury
The Space between my right step and my left step
The moment right before the World was created and Mans slither

I am as Rich as Nothing
For Nothing is as Rich as Me
I talk not of money
For my stain is different, from green I'm free

The thought between Frost's inkpen and roads not taken
The Blank pages of Dickenson's Novella and Poe's Sonnet
The speechless History before Homer
The sinless seconds between the peeping-tom and the Keyhole

The silence between the faulty Parachute and Gravity
Nothing is the satisfaction of Something's Parody
The expression between the 'Finger & the Trigger' and the 'Bullet & the Body'

In the worst forms of Something
Comfort is found in Nothing
Confusion is the expression of Something

So the next Chapter of my Life, the next Stanza that I write
Is of ...

Hollow Distractions

Unconscious fever led me
to a shallow grave
I assumed that the effects of the
bitter pills were wearing off but
still, i’ve lost my way before

On similar days I have, written
A song without words, skated
until my night runs out and
smoked my insides dry

All hollow distractions though, this
insider dealing is the root of
our problem
pack your bags and change your
smile

The Little Train

Bitter, bright,
sweet, tight,
a sinful,
a tinful
of tiny little could's.

the little train chugged