Writers Therapy

In Self Conscious

2010-05-25T13:53:00.000-07:00

My head aches.
It starts from the back and is slowing moving its way forward.
I cannot stop its path to my emotional state.
I lay a victim of pain and self sacrifice.

Is it my fault I take the world so serious?
I can't help it that I seek perfection.

My back aches.
It hurts when I lift.
My feelings are fragile and even the little things seem offensive.
I am sorry in advance.

Time?

2010-04-29T20:14:00.000-07:00

We talk a lot about time.
We don't have time for this, or time for that.
More time, spare time, your time, my time.
Do we have enough of it?
Do we appreciate it?
There is so little time for friendship, for love.
Where is the time to learn.
The time to relax.
The days blend into one another. Do you know what day it is?
Not the date on the callender.
What day it is to you?

Seven (What Is Life)

2009-12-04T22:58:00.000-08:00

All the poems in this volume were titled in numbers. "Seven" meant the next stage of life.

I am going through life in record time. Without even trying I was on my way to eat some more sh*t. Was my mortality really just a series of dirty words?

I am going through my life in record time. Working my shift a day earlier because all the clocks are ahead of my watch. Then sleep walking through my usual array of insomnia.

Praying for an Escape

2009-11-06T22:40:00.000-08:00

I used to have the freedom to see the sun.
These days I am locked away inside my mind.
Help!
I want my old life back.
The seasons are changing.
The weeks are turning into months, even years.

American Dream?

2009-04-06T15:35:00.000-07:00

You can take whatever you'd like from me.
(And you have)
I have nothing left.
(And you know this already)

If I must be with nothing than I will learn to enjoy having nothing.
Then we will see who has the last laugh.
Yes, I want a white picket fence but you take and you take and you take some more.
My pockets and my soul are empty.
I am tired and I am taxed.
You leave me not choices and ignore me until I can no longer stand on my own two feet.
Then you feed me with food stamps.

You can shovel whatever bull you'd like by me.
(And you have)
I smell nothing.
(And you know this already)

The lessons I once knew and the drive I once had are now all but gone.
I will live within myself and stop pretending I can make my world better.

There Has To Be More To Life

2008-12-24T20:24:00.000-08:00

I wake up in the morning without a thing to say.
I am not happy, nor am I sad.
I am a victim of being average.
What I believe is not important.
Everything is synical.
Speech is filled with bland stories of yesterday, today and tomorrow.
I accept friendship is on a hollowed ground and love is on a need to have basis.
This life is so fragile.
It sickens me that everyday I grow more resentful of how much I hate being right all the time.

Old Views In A New Age

2008-12-08T21:00:00.000-08:00

Who I am, what I am.
As if I have any fulfillment within my soul.
When shall the sun rise over my world views.
Make me believe there is truth and justice and love.

I wander in a wreckless haze.
Blinded by my heritage, blinded by my society.
A nationality of mass stupidity.
Why won't everyone just shut up!!!!

You all think you are so smart.
Your values are sickly and plagued by old morality.
Judgement is reality and judgement is an illusion.
Will we ever have the sense to know why we live?

My Pitch Is Life

2008-06-26T21:51:00.000-07:00

Many days have come by the side of my desire to be a better human being. I want to score a goal.
Just like any player on the fields do. My pitch is life. My strengths are my weakness. I am coached through the hard times and savor the victories in between.

I wish for my life to be worth something more than just a dollar.
I wish to be remembered for something.

The agony of always being in the pursuit of glory is a tough sport.
I work hard and hope it pays off in the end. Sometimes I feel jealously for my opponents. Often I am too busy to just enjoy this beautiful game. My pitch is life. My offense is also my best defense. I play through the pain and heal way past stoppage time.

Filter Me

2008-06-11T17:21:00.000-07:00

I am masked when showing my love.
Expressing my feelings is not something that comes easy for me.
I want to kiss her, but I don't know how to really kiss her.
It can be intimidating when one's ego needs to be purified.
Therefore, filter me.

Filter me with the compassion to keep my mouth shut and just let the moment take its course.
Let my maturity show my sensitive side to her.

Showing my feelings is not something that comes easy for me.
I want to romance her, but not in the same old way.
There has to be a healthy balance between candy and flowers.
Therefore, filter me.

Filter me with Laughter.
I don't want to take myself so serious all the time.
There is room for two in this paradise.

What Is Wrong With Love

2008-05-26T19:36:00.001-07:00

My feelings are filled with confusion.
I love her and I hate her.
How is that possible?
Should it be this way?
Is it always this way?

We have so much in common.
We have nothing in common.
What is wrong with love?
I am at the mercy of forgiveness.
Mine and her's.

Silent Heart

2008-05-13T22:31:00.000-07:00

I have just closed my heart. I can hear the sounds of a constant agony.

I have isolated my love.

I rest on a whisper. I realize I am alone like an old habit. When did I turn into the past. Did I miss my future? I forgot to love you. But, passion is all I needed to give. I forget to tell you. But, communication is all I need to provide.

I have isolated myself.

Once Upon Me

2008-05-12T21:31:00.000-07:00

I pay the price for the creation of my serious nature.
I work too hard.
I think too much.
I give into reason
and I doubt my own faith sometimes.
The joke is never on me,
because I frown from the attention it might bring.
I am as serious as my sullen expression.
I have no monitary trust in how I spend my time.
The cost is too high.
The desire is too weak.
I give and I give and I give.

My Mind Is A Blank

2008-05-11T17:23:00.000-07:00

All I know is digital, but I feel very analog.
All I'm told is FM, but I only hear AM.

The real spoken word
is left unspoken
as I sit in the back
of a house of prayers.
I only wonder
if I am valuable.
Who am I?
A block of memories.
A series of chapters
without a clear sense of reason.

All I watch is in color, but I enjoy is in black and white.
All I learn is right, but all I know is wrong.

Roses Are Red...

2008-04-09T18:24:00.000-07:00

I bleed
the color red.
I cannot imagine
a world
where true romance
is an endangered species.
I cry
in the room
behind my thoughts and feelings.
I have yet to understand
why I care
so much
about my humanity.
What frightens me
the most
is being alone.

I hope she calls me back...............................

Journeyman

2008-04-02T20:14:00.000-07:00

Time is the ultimate power in the world. I cannot buy into the feeling that I am so very vulnerable. I wander helplessly trying to find my way when all the while the journey is the way. The journey is life.

Not before, will it be too long,
and not after will it be forgotten.

I am the journey through the ticking and tocks. I make my bed in the shadows of being one day a photograph scrapbook. Never more the man with a good job or a beautiful face. Perhaps hailed in the value of wealth even though the money was never enough.

Sterilized

2008-03-19T17:20:00.000-07:00

I stand out in complete isolation and speak out softly with very fine exclamations.

I wear out my longevity and stain my new order.

My wisdom is matched only by my lack of knowledge.

I hope in the new and I pray in the old. My fantasy is vibrant and my reality is bare.

Tomorrow might be a little to much for me.

Virtue

2008-03-14T20:21:00.000-07:00

Please allow me to enjoy the beauty that exist in myself. As an enlightened spirit, to be mindful of thought, and to be mindful of feeling. To have no grievances. To feel no burdens.

Everything is within creation and as it should be.

I love and live in personal sanctity. Gathered in my resolve, my crusades, and all my moments. To have no regrets. To be in good time.

I Am A Craftsman

2008-03-12T19:12:00.000-07:00

Do not be fooled by the cold climate of my words.
I am actually very excited to be living.
The realm of new discoveries is within me.
My daily life is a voyage.
Time is short.

Long, long ago I was bored within.
The mornings cried out to me and I cried with the mornings.
All was shadowed by the clouds in the night sky.

Now I can see the moon's light.
Yes, I am very devoted.
I've been working hard and waking up early.
My voice is cracked and my whispers are repetitive.
But, I can hear my healing and feel my desire.
Building within my abilities.

Light of Dark

2008-03-07T16:45:00.000-08:00

The circles....
around my eyes....
tell the story....
I hold within....
my confidence.
I make more sense....
than this world....
gives me credit for.
The wisdom....
that is released....
out of my palms....
is a useful tool.
But, I lay awake....
at night....
trying to figure out....
how to be at peace....
within the universe.
If only light....
could travel....
through walls.
Maybe then I could see....
through the differences....
of mankind.

My Comfort Is In Life

2008-02-24T12:18:00.000-08:00

I could be wrong, but I think my sunrise might have started when I began to think in the spirit of own own mortality. Life is indeed short, and living within solace is no way to live at all.

I might be making a mistake.
I might be running in the wrong direction.
But, I'm here in the now.
This day will be complete.

I don't claim to have a grasp on the edge of living in a world of cause and effect. I only choose to believe my purpose outweighs all the other alternatives to not trying to serve my spirit well. My weakness's are only in my head, and within my determination is the power to seize each sunrise.

The Battle Between Experiences

2008-02-11T18:09:00.000-08:00

First, I wanted to be like
every other successful visionary.
Then, I cracked open my lungs.
.......Sat around.
.......Started to breathe.
The pieces of my eternity
were laid upon me on a rock.
A rough surface of life and experience.
Tomorrow I will begin to examine myself.
What am I and what do I stand for?
.......Safety and security?
.......Discovery and chance?
The next day will deliver
a new mess to be cleaned up.
The hours will pass by quickly
until there is no more time left.
Peace is tranquil
when every last ounce of sweat is lost.
.........I live for hope.
.........I live to dream.

The Fear Within Failure

2008-02-08T17:09:00.001-08:00

I made a mistake.
I was afraid of the future...
Take me!!!
Take me!!!
Screaming, yelling, wishing....
Give me!!!
Give me!!!
And it would eventually grant me my destiny.

I used fear to guide me.
A path of arrogance for the future....
I'm stupid!!!
I'm stupid!!!
Now I am stuck.
I'm sorry!!!
I'm sorry!!!
I have no choice but just to survive.

Supernatural?

2008-02-04T20:18:00.000-08:00

It was a whisper.
I think it was from someone I knew.
It was a whisper without words.
I heard only references from my past.
I was told to be brave!
I was told to live life!
The fear of failure is something we all have to overcome.
The chance to be significant is not so obvious.
You could fall flat on your face.
Lose you stature, lose your faith.
But, on the odd chance you do succeed,
what might the reward end up being?

Paper Moon

2008-01-22T18:13:00.001-08:00

After crumbling my last sheet of paper.
I finally understood what had eclipsed me.
I had nothing to say.
Nothing to write beyond the spaces.

Nobody would care to question why the corrosion of self reliance is wisdom.
Everyday I feel strange because I do.
Because beyond ordinary is brittle words.

Every once in a while I debate the wake of my words.
Is being sensitive without showing emotion a curse?

A Graduate of Inner Sanctum

2008-01-21T11:43:00.000-08:00

I think before honor.
Love in symantics.
My degree is in apologies.
Exposer is,
and invertion isn't.
Affections rise,
Vunerability denies.
Before reign is commottion.
After fury is fatigue.
And, peace is the center of sanctum.

Happiness Can Fall From Rainbows

2008-01-16T15:03:00.000-08:00

She is from a rainbow.
Vast in the colors of life.
Brighter than sunshine.
Cleansed from heaven itself.
She was born the bounty of my something sweet.
A true blessing onto my heart.
I didn't know love could go beyond blessings.
But, harmony was in my arms.
And, peace was the soul survivor.
She is from many small stars.
In and out of the twilights.
A world within my new world.
My emotion beyond love.

The Great Divide

2008-01-14T15:12:00.001-08:00

I don't want us to separate our feelings for one another. I am tired of the restless bed sheets. We could sleep soundly if we would only communicate above the fights and fires.

Too many arguments? Perhaps, we expect too much. Perhaps, we say too much. We are both to blame for the open soars we have inflicted. It is our aggressions that has become our wall.

I still can see through the foggy windows and glimpse at our first days. We were truly in love. We warmed the cold nights and laughed until the clouds were upside down.

Too many apologies? Perhaps, we said too much. Perhaps, we said too little. By now we've heard it all.

The clouds that cover up the moon are not forever. If we stick around long enough its light will shine. Our love is a reflection of light. We need to stop forecasting gloom at one another. Perhaps, we could start again.

The Day I Lost Journalism

2008-01-11T14:38:00.000-08:00

I was buried when I finally came to my senses.
It was time, to become a man.
It was time, to become a patriot.
It was time, to feed my bottom line.
There were no flowers on my grave stone.
Tears and sentiments went by the book,
and this book was written of lost dreams.

I reflected a quiet casket of sadness the day I woke up.
I will not be a voice of the people after all.
It all got lost in translation, lost in economics.
Tomorrow and it's other days will find me behind a shadow.
It just won't be my shadow.
Freedom and sacrifice are now edged on my forehead.
Without soul, without a light,
I live for food and drink without salvation.
My passion has been rendered cheap and without much enterprise.
Armed with only a few survival instincts,
I step aside without much use to pad and paper.
I was made a victim and became my own killer.

A Universe Of Self

2008-01-09T15:11:00.001-08:00

The week turned into another new year and I still don't want to be alone. There is no dimension for silence. Seclusion is the bondage I wrap my existence around. When did I go into my black hole and let loneliness separate me from my eternal star? I am more afraid today than ever before of my current standing with the sun. I am a great distance from where I once was as a man. Nobody can make me happy, when I myself don't know what happiness is.

The Storms That Cloud My Judgements

2008-01-06T13:25:00.000-08:00

What is the weather when I am isolated in my own thoughts. My mind is supposed to be my umbrella. It will shade me from the suns of laughter. It will block me from the winds of inspiration. It will shield me from the rains of fury.

Perhaps I think too much and therefore forget to feel on the inside. Maybe I am as serious as I am mysterious. My thin and straight laced exterior gives blame to my thick blood and conservative brainstorms. My beliefs are strong. I stranglehold myself with the obsession that my life be clean and organized.

Peace within memories and protect me from my amnesia. Peace within love and protect me from laziness. Peace within compassion and protect me from intolerance. Peace within pleasure and protect me from my addictions.

Good Side

2008-01-04T17:12:00.000-08:00

I'd like to address you as my good side. Address you with stamps, lick your envelope with kisses.

There is a part of me that takes pleasure in your emotion. The same part of me that takes comfort in your bondage. The true nature of my beast is within your bosom. I am wild to the sense of your touch and feel.

I'd like to appeal to your sense and grace and return to you the same generosity for that which you have given me. I'd like to unpeel all the layers which have made you the beautiful woman you are, and carress the fine fragrance within your embrace.

All Is In You

2007-12-31T15:39:00.000-08:00

I will tell you what is on my mind.
The Earth, the sun, and you.

You are the wind in my hair.
My memories in love.
You are all things sacred to me.
My dreams in love.
You are the foundation of my emotions.
My happiness in love.

I will share with you what is in my heart.
The passion, the desire, and you.

My Holiday

2007-12-26T17:03:00.000-08:00

I stood out in the cold winter air. I watched my breath leave my soul. Icicles touching the bottom of my twilight. I was alone for the first time on this day. The trees were bare as I was bare. The clouds stood still as I stood still. The wind was calm and I was calm.

This was the holiday I'd been waiting for. A break from the hustle. A chance to hear myself think. A dream within a portrait of powder. Peace within me, peace within the moment.

The Expectations Put Upon

2007-12-19T07:43:00.000-08:00

Ever think you do the best you can and it's still not enough? That is what this poem is about.

I think without asprin.
But, I dream with asperations.
My headaches are desire.
My anxieties are for real.

I want to be a good student.
I want to be a good son.
I want to be a good lover.
But, I don't have the time.

I see without glasses.
But, I look with shades.
My focus is sometimes limited.
My vision is jaded.

Whatever I do, I do out of good intentions.
Whatever I try, I try to meet those expectations.
Whatever I make, I make the best of it.
But, I don't always succeed.

I listen without music.
But, I echo with static.
My range is narrow minded.
My qualifications are limited.

I've never been struck by lightning...twice.
I've never made the same mistake....twice.
I've never fooled with my heart ...twice.
But, I take responsiblity.

Our Preoccupation Is Possession

2007-12-17T10:39:00.000-08:00

I wrote this a while ago but you wouldn't know it since it could have been written today. Where we are so brainwashed by the media into believing we need to buy our happiness.

The world is a series of mind exhibits.
We are raised, cultivated, and established to have a work ethic that employs us to sigh five days a week.
Our mission is pain and suffering.
Our reward is the weekend.
Then we serve a new master.
The glory road we travel is enlightened with goods and services we don't need.
We think they fall from outer space,
but they came from our own backyards.
The surface of our fears is that we don't have enough of the little things when infact the car we drive is too big.
We are told we are not good enough, pretty enough, tough enough to buy into a commercial stereotype.
Fuel and self esteem is in short supply and Monday always comes quicker than you think.
We consume too much and deliver so little.
The gifts we give are not wrapped with a bow and ribbon.
We share nothing.
We expose our insecurities, not our hearts.
We sell our souls for cheap leather and brand name designers.

Succumbing To Attraction

2007-12-16T10:51:00.000-08:00

I think it was about time I entered a poem dealing with another kind of human emotion....... "lust".

Cutting through the back-talk of sexual innuendo.
I thrust toward your mind and body with total affection.
What are we? Who are we?
At this moment we are beast of burning feathers and silks.
Flocking flames of sense and touch.
Mesmerized by lust, compelled by attraction.
A new experiment? A new story?
Orgasmic! Hot!
Pushing across a mattress of wild berries til dusk.
Waking up undefined with moans of life, love and serenity.

21st Century Household

2007-12-13T19:18:00.000-08:00

More sarcasm from me.

The backyard is a vast oasis of life, liberty, and the pursuit of the next mortgage payment.
The kitchen is a meeting ground of cooking, cleaning, and capturing a second of your child's time.
The bedroom is the grand stage for love, honor, and the obedience of who is right.
The living room is a big vaccume of time, space, and the next frontier for your tivo television programs.

Cruelty Free

2007-12-13T18:07:00.000-08:00

I am not one to push my views on people. However, I write from the heart and this is from the heart. If this poem offends, I have plenty about love and loss to read on this blog. In any case this is not about becoming a vegetarian, its about choosing to buy caged free from your grocery and avoiding factory farms.

Today I discovered the world.
I discovered myself.
I want to live in a vegetable garden.
I don't want to fill my body with confinement.

Range Free.
Cage Free.
Cruelty free.

Today I discovered my voice.
I discovered power.
I want to be a better consumer.
I don't want to turn a blind eye to ethics.

Range Free.
Cage Free.
Cruelty Free.

Today I discovered my humanity.
I discovered principle.
I want to make a difference.
I don't want to be alone.

A Good Crush

2007-12-12T10:27:00.001-08:00

Nobody is perfect for us. But, while we think they are, it's great.

I know I have made her out to be more
than she actually is.
The truth is sometimes not important.
I thrive off false hope.

I don't need to be told
my expectations are too high.
The real deal is somewhere between a good centerfold.
Only my imagination matters.

I understand the natural flaws she is bound to have
will eventually awake.
All dreams must end and reality sets in.
My inspiration thrives in good times.

From the distance that I see her,
she has inspired me to love.
With healthy body, mind and soul.
Instead of being well grounded.

That perfect image I have created will erupt into a blaze.
I want to feel the burn.
It transcends all my fanaticism's.

Committed To Each Other

2007-12-12T01:12:00.000-08:00

This was one of my few attempts at trying to rhyme. The title of this one explains it all.

Love is the past to both of us,
and love the future must be.
No other waves will ever stray us into forbidden seas.
So gentle is romance to close our eyes,
and set our emotions free.
From the alter of our spoken vow,
to vestal purity.

Racing With My Heart

2007-12-10T17:21:00.000-08:00

A love poem I wrote using race car metaphors. I tend to judge my older stuff a bit harsh. What do you think of this poem?

With each of my passing laps around the race track......all I can feel is the ever-increasing rate at which my motor is racing.

No matter what I do, work, play, eat..... she is constantly on my mind. My motto about being in control when behind the wheel.... is once again in the repair shop. I am a fine tuned machine unable to work under these strenuous conditions.

I am finding it difficult to breathe without her near me. I am way past the red line and over-heating. Whatever I do to keep busy, my mind is detoured back into a road block facing her sweetness. My love is at an all time high and moving on a collision course with my heart.

I Wear Black

2007-12-10T16:11:00.000-08:00

1997. I was in college and this was really just my way of making a statement about how materialistic people have become and how its affecting the world we live in.

What is the color of my mood supposed to be?
We live in a society where greed runs in charge.
Where how you look on the outside is more important than the planet you (f-word) to get it.
Therefore, the image I project in plain view for all the world to see....is inverted.

I wear black.

The corporate beasts that run this world are petrified and unstable.
A "Citizen Kane" incognito.
The addition of their subtractions is only going to weaken whatever goodwill is left and any hope of a better tomorrow.

I can't be the only one who cares about something more than keeping up with pop culture.
My temperature is above what's considered normal.
The sun is in my veins.
The colors of the rainbow are just blind folds that people wear to shield them from the harsh truths about their wasteful lifestyles.

I know who I am.
I know this world needs changing.
I don't need possessions to make me feel better about myself.
Black is the only reflection I need to keep me looking outward instead of inward.
Vanity is wasting our natural resourses.

Single Family

2007-12-09T05:43:00.000-08:00

I am entering my most personal poem yet on this blog. It deals with my family and the relationship I never had with them.

Where is my tribe?
My family was not my family.
They were just a bunch of cannibals that I had to share the television with.
We barely even spoke the same language.
I spoke of love, while they spoke of themselves.
Our resemblence ended with the photo album.
It is such a burden being an orphan within my own mind.
I was placed in a single-family household of emotions.
I was feed a pack of abandonment and have to raise my family with concerns of starvation.

Countryside Garden

2007-12-09T01:27:00.000-08:00

This poem is a story I made up about a young man who is unable to express his affections to a woman. I used garden references in an attempt to make this poem sound more fragile. If I had written this today I would have understood that love is as fragile as it gets. Meeting girls was a topic of conversation that came up a lot durng this time with my friends.

Pasture sweet pleasantries you able minded romantic.
You make winning the love of a women's heart seem so easy.
I wish I could be more like you..........

My story is not the same.
It begins with my competitive desire to win the love of a flower.
It grows every time I talk to her.
I would put on a cunning smile and listen to her with best intentions.
Sadly, nightfall was only a day away.

Deep in thought, I still wanted to win her love.
I scatter my brain with idea's of grace and grandeur.
The next day the rue raindrops showed on my leaves of self doubt as I failed to make a good impression yet again.
There was no streams and meadows in my countryside garden.
But, I kept trying.

The next morning I woke up from a sleeping bloom and shaded my self pity with a song about her.
It was a whole-heart outburst about the spring and her eyes.
I could hardly wait to give it to her.
But, I could not.
I hardened like a grain of sand and flew away with the next wind.
I hit the ground as an uncertain seed needing encouragement to grow into a man she could love.
The gardens of romantic splendor don't apply to everyone.

Blanket Feelings

2007-12-07T14:41:00.000-08:00

I think there are moments when we all feel isolated. For me, that happens when I am stressed. The term blanket feelings comes from the idea that when we do feel alone from whatever is ailing us, we are our own vice as well.

I can't put my heart on the pulse of what is freezing me.
All I know is I have been feeling very sick the last few months.
So, I've have been sleeping with a blanket over my head just to stay warm.

The sum of all my chills is based on the feeling that I can fix my own problems.
The truth is...I can't!
I don't know how and all my attempts have left me gridding my teeth.

My only recourse was to organize my soul.
So, I've been cleaning around with different detergents .
The results brought me even further exhaustion.
With each passing day I cleaned more and more.
I soaked up plenty of dirt but still find even more between my fingernails.
I was still feeling very ice-olated.

I am so tired now.
After days of working my need to clean house.
I am down to my bare essentials and have raised my therometer to a boiling point.

Medium

2007-12-06T09:08:00.000-08:00

1991. I was in my high school history class when I started writing this and it eventually became my first poem. Before this I wrote stories where the main character was my outlet to express myself. It deals with my attitude towards those in charge of me as a teenager. Eventually I wrote several other Medium themed poems.

Are you feeling confused from being a part of generation X?
Are you tired of living in a society that has already experienced everything?
Do you find yourself stuck behind a history book?
Do you think your forefathers showed a lack of principles?

You are not alone.
I think the past is full of false heroism.

Are you following the path towards righteousness?
Are you developing into the adult everyone hopes you become?
Have you kissed all your hopes and dreams goodbye in order to make everyone else happy?

You have a decision to make.
There is a war going on and it is fought with opinions.

Consider yourself part of a similar medium. At this time in our lives we are stuck somewhere in the middle between the small and large people.

No Control

2007-12-04T11:15:00.001-08:00

I think this is something everyone can relate with, so I decided to put this one on the blog.

My world is the creation of being powerless.
All I ever do is make..... excuses.

I have no control over anything.
It's very hard to accept that.
After all, I'm a control freak!

I can't make anyone love me.
(As much as I have tried)
I can't make anyone respect me.
(As much as I have tried)
I can't make this world a better place.
(So I haven't even tried)

I'm Confused

2007-12-04T10:17:00.000-08:00

I wrote this a few nights ago. I was in a sarcastic mood.

I'm confused.
So my calender is all booked up with my handwriting.
I sure wish I could read all my abbreviations.

I'm confused.
So everyone wants to celebrate the new year.
I guess my deductible is due for a recharge.

I'm confused.
So she looks even better without make-up.
Why didn't the commerical ever mention that was a possible side- effect.

I'm confused.
So the score was right before the game even started.
It ended zero to zero.

I'm confused.
So a vegetarian eats from the heart.
Everyone else eats the other body parts.

I'm confused.
So what was the name of that song I just heard.
You know the one without words or melody.

I'm confused.
So I never heard my mother laugh.
But, she sure loved a good comedy.

I'm confused.
But, I still refuse to change my mind.
Call me stubburn, so I will still argue with you.

It's In Her

2007-12-03T12:25:00.000-08:00

2007. I wrote this watching my wife sleeping in bed.

I think about her more when she is happy.
It's her smile!
How her cheeks perk up and raise the temperature ever so slightly.

I think about her more when she is asleep.
It's her lips!
How they pucker together as she breathes in a steady and calm sexuality.

I think aout her more when she is rushed.
Its her voice!
How it sounds in a fast rythmic passage slowly running out of patience.

I think about her more when she is excited.
It's her energy!
How her face lights up the mood even in the most calm circumstances.

Dating Game

2007-12-03T12:10:00.000-08:00

1997. I wrote this after I had a terrible date. She was flirting with other men and I even turned down getting some. This poem really needs to be read slowly. I wanted key words to really sink and images to go through the readers head.

I stand and see my own teeth in front of the mirror of the bar!
This gives me a chance to brush aside all my anger.
I was so worried about my breath and how it smelled that I forgot to look at her in the mirror.
You have no idea how many victims are laughing at me.
The remains of her last meal are still showing on her teeth.
He must have been a nice guy too.
She gets around.
When she comes into contact with a man,
she does what she was born to do.
Chew! Chew like a carnivore.
Now you understand why I travel alone sometimes.
I have an appetite too, but I never let it get in the way of my good nature.
She is a filthy habit that I must break.
I didn't plan my evening to be this way.
I wanted to have dinner for two, not be feed a pack of lies.

I had to walk away.
Atleast that gives me the opporunity to play the dating game my way.

Lonely Tonight, Forever Lonely

2007-12-03T11:43:00.000-08:00

1993. I was a shy person back then. I was very proud of this. I even read it on stage once. That was big for me.

Lonely tonight, forever lonely.
Those are not just words you know....

Lonely tonight, forever lonely.
Why whisper it when you can scream it.....

Lonely tonight, forever lonely.
And yesterday will never be the same again....

As I hide behind the bushes that grow taller and taller each spring,
I stare towards the girls my own age.
They are so intimidating, so different.
I know they can see me.
I hear them talking about me,
and I wait.
I wait for the clouds to bring the rain.
I could say so many profound things to them if I wanted.
But, the signal gets muffled by all the noises that persist in my weak tongue.

Lonely tonight, forever lonely.
There's a lot I can do with spare time.....

Lonely tonight, forever lonely.
The heart is and echo of self pity......

Lonely tonight, forever lonely.
And the birth of the future begins and ends in the same breath.....

Gray Leaf

2007-12-03T11:18:00.000-08:00

I was very happy with my writing skills when I wrote the stuff in "Gray". I always thought my stuff is blah, but the ones I had in this volume I thought people would actually think were cool. This one is about how I came to realize that everyone comes from a disfunctional family.

As I stand before thee.....my family tree,
I can't help but see all the different flourescent images that make them behave so badly.
They are different shades of gray in my opinion.
There is no perfect world.
Nor will there ever be one while I'm around because g-d wants it that way.
Those who suffer with belief of family values are destined for a life of self sacrifice.

The true colors of the rainbow are sometimes camouflaged with a dull primer that simply allows the ruins of our lost souls to deal with the adversity a bit better for a long depression.
How else will we be able to stand the test of time with the very people we came from.

My only regret is not being able to see their real faces from the very beginning.
But, I'm sure there's a reason for that.

We are all in the image of a leaf.....
We work our way around our family tree...
We live.
We grow.
We love.
A leaf in the mix of a bundle.
Without color.

Value Priced Commodity

2007-12-02T11:51:00.000-08:00

Do you think that the people you hang out really care about you? I wonder sometimes.

I am a warm hearted guy if people ever took the time to really get to know me.
The truth is nobody knows me.
They judge me by what I can can do for them.
I am a value priced commodity with a face.

If I speak my mind, I am a bastard.
If I keep my mouth shut, I need to express myself.
In the meantime I need to keep selling myself.
I am a value priced commodity with a face.

Everyone expects me to listen to the same ol' story.
As if I have not heard their gripes before.
Do they ever just stop complaining.
I am a value priced commodity with a face.

Trying To Win Your Heart

2007-12-01T16:12:00.000-08:00

I write my best when I am frustrated. This poem expresses my feeling after an argument with my wife. I am still mad at her but I love her still the same.

I should quit while I am still behind.
I have never been good with competition.
And even if I do win
by some odd stroke of luck....
what does that even mean.

Victory is so judgemental.
It affects people differently.
Who is to say anyone really cares.
Sometimes I don't even care.
Winning is just instant gratification as we blind ourselves from the simple truth that tomorrow we will still be someone's employee, someone's customer, or worse someone's slave.

I could be your #1.
But it will only last for so long before you grow tired and I become ancient history.
I am a sad version of the new version, soon to be the old version of whatever you used to find interesting.

I am just like everyone else.
I can't win for trying but I try anyway's to win your heart.

Thirteen (Heaven?)

2007-11-30T23:43:00.000-08:00

In the end.... a happy ending.

If not for the wind...
I could not have found this place.....
I am to be greeted by the same spirit as before me.....

What a wonderful place.
The blues, the greens, all the colors of the rainbow.
Is this heaven?

The Day

2007-11-30T11:06:00.000-08:00

I wrote this way back in 1994. I always liked this poem which means nobody else will. ha-ha. It was my way of trying to explain how I felt when I had lousy day of doing the same old routine things again. Keep in mind I was 18.

The day, no less rises from the same chain of events.
It begins to mourn and ends with a good night.
If I could only count the number of times the sun has abandoned the day, I too may be able to relate with its pain.
Is there no going back?

The day, no less rises from the same lazy greeting.
It follows the clock around the moon.
It sleeps with the window open.

Follow the dream of a sunset strip.
Walk with me in good company.
Smell the flowers as they begin to bloom and eat dinner after midnight.
Make the mourning wait for you and take a nap when you feel like it.

As An Adult

2007-11-30T10:53:00.000-08:00

You know those days when it hits you that you're getting old, or atleast older. I wrote this during one of those days.

I must be getting more emotional as an adult.
The other day I cried in a movie theater.
The main character and I had a lot in common.

I must be getting smarter as an adult.
At the dinner table I didn't finish my plate.
Instead, I stopped eating when I felt full.

I must be getting bored as an adult.
Someone told me about a brand new song.
I heard it by someone else before.

I must be getting simplistic as an adult.
My wife told me to relax.
I did some gardening and thanked her later.