Tag Archives: writer

Office Lights

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City Street At Night Wallpaper Desktop Background by Stina Haglundh

 

In the dark of night, the city burned

Lamp haze illuminating out towards alleys and their mysterious corners,

Ordinary objects of notice depending on circumstance

Lining the drive forward one beacon after another

 

The car encapsulating our secret, you distant

Yellow windows arranged into faces peered down and I just kept thinking,

“how many of those poor lonely bastards are still caged in their towers?”

Whether intentionally or not

 

It was at this moment that my voice betrayed me

Completely consumed by the lit geometry of society

I didn’t feel your attention, didn’t hear your question

But there I was replying to something worth answering

“I hate it here.”

 

The last word trailing off into the hum of the car engine

Shadowy fingers of night reaching out and grabbing any response given,

I found myself silenced in the despair of confusion

Bewildered by my bizarre state-of-being

 

You kept driving to the center of everything

The weight of your hesitation creeping over the center console,

Isolating my thoughts to focus on sensing rather than seeing

As we always tend to do

 

Eyes glued to the graveled shoulder of pavement

Never daring to confirm if you were still in the car with me,

Knowing and questioning through the silence

Feeling insecure and lost in the absence

Thinking back, I’m not sure where I meant by ‘here’

The metropolis mirroring my favorites of experience,

Chicago, New York, Dublin, Miami

Visions design a conglomerate of what it is and what I’d like it to be

 

Claiming architect to discern the meaning, if any

Retelling the story as if there’s supposed to be an epiphany,

Over and over the memories tickle reasoning

As flashes of office lights dance behind my eyes

 

I am grateful for car rides ❤

see no future in the present

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….As we continue to ask the near and far

Who are you?

When the response is always

Me…You should have known by now….

 

Shadow fingers buried in mind, persuading thought to dream beyond the edges

Lemonhead wishes squeezing out juicy substance until there’s enough to drink;

With his sour mouthed staining back of hand to wipe away the taste before grabbing pen

 

A golden tool for a dedicated scribe, a powerful King of the abandoned

Irony lives on in the dead as we continue to play pretend in this fucking shithole;

Extra flutterings to penetrate those of yesterday who see no future in the present

 

I am grateful for art ❤

Insert Title VII

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I’ve taken out my pen at least ten times within the last ten minutes

Every time I set out to write a profound line or statement

The ink dries up and my mind wanders to numbered lists

 

Vibrational tinkering

Jingling

Repetitive nonsense

Off-key but

Playing its own

Dramatic melody

 

Been here before, balancing on the tightrope

Obsessing about answers when I don’t even know

I have really enjoyed perusing your train of thought

 

A little boy fell off of his bicycle

Scared and all alone

He grabbed the sidewalk for its warmth

But ended up getting burned

Crawling around on all fours

He forgot how to walk

Abandoned, hurt, and sick of himself

He never made it home

 

Scraping out the ash from the bottom

Lighting up and hoping for one more

Fingers burning but still I don’t stop

Finally, there is something to feel

If I were honest with you

Then I would have to believe myself

There are moments when I doubt everything

With too many thoughts to figure out

It’s always the last hit that

seems better than the next

 

The sun sets on restless minds

Attracted by shiny gems glowing

Ambers in the eyes of who’s looking

Momentary distractions demanding attention

Versus simply enjoying the moon

 

If dreaming were easy than more people would have less to believe

And less to think of as real

Even if reality is never something we understand

 

There’s a special price to pay for

Being above all of the rest:

Creatures hovering through the rain

But never getting wet

Watching the animals below as they scatter

Shielding their faces with the backs

Of their hands

No attention to what’s overhead

As they run for cover

 

Even if the rain falls

Creating sad, long lines down the pane

I can still find myself

On the other side looking in

 

I am grateful for fluffy snow ❤

Midwest Winter

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Devoting self to voice for a moment

In trying to interpret this introspection
Noticing the land ahead lays bare, dead in winter
With memories of golden shoots of grain to haunt the road
and the passengers within the constraints of the pavement
It is here that our World becomes isolated within the embrace of Love
As ‘Maxwell’s Silver Hammer’ plays on the stereo
Adding to the absurdity of contrast in us versus everything else
I find myself loving you more with experience
Perhaps it’s only when I stop thinking to take notice
That this is what happiness means to me
I am grateful for being on the road ❤

Monthly Archives: June 2014

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Bite into the Onion

I said “bite into the onion!”

Only because of a memory of

sitting at some stranger’s apartment

feeling hungry:

 

The countertop was an aqua shade of blue

But not the good kind of blue that
reminds me of Caribbean waters

It was dirtied with specks of black and green

a form of modernism that some

person imagined ideal for eating

 

I was analyzing the marble

only inches from my face

Instead of focusing on the objects

and shapes alive and breathing, those

dancing around in their frenzied confusion

There was a chef of sorts, making his

claim to fame from the hours spent

grilling at one of the downtown bars

 

He was watching me and I only

realized because he told me and

I looked up, saw his affront

Staring intently, as if he were challenging

to inspire embarrassment with a shade of

question, for me to offer an explanation

Or, maybe both…people always

tend to think more thoughts than

what seems plausible;

An apparent stereotype of my own

relating on close mindedness that only first

glances can conceive

 

His stature was clear

The game was on, without both

players realizing when it had started

A chess match apparently already won, seeing his

daggers slice and tear through the

layers of vulnerabilities on the surface

Wearing his best victory grin, he

came closer thinking the game was

over as he thought about his checkmate

King riding Queen in complete

dominance

 

All of the while keeping his hands busy

pretending to cook something and

almost abandoning his own disguise

to celebrate his achievement

Peeling back the first few layers

of the onion, slowly and methodically

More interested in appearances

than anything substantially filling

 

That was the story, the tale in my mind

When I tried to explain myself to a

different person later on in life

As if I could relate the feelings and emotions

of one moment and transpire it

into the next

“Bite into the Onion!” was met

with distracted thickness and

judgment of appropriate responses

 

A different chess game, perhaps

With no victors or losers to give

attention

Only me and my bad breath

with the pieces laid out on the table

Ghost Horses

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You think you have us all?

Your hardened eyes of intimidation

Gazing out past your mind’s view being

directed by the tip of your nose

Egotistical, sprouting seeds of hate

that wilt in sickness in between every

sidewalk crack and old pavement road

of the crumbling cities

Spreading across the earth with the poisonous vapors

catching on the wind of all of the mouths;

breathing out silent screams of hatred, lust, and painful sorrows

Perfect white teeth, once braced, now

shielding the sharpest blade this place has ever heard

Twisting, rolling, folding, until truth is created

We ride tonight

We ride tonight

(Two times for the dramatic effect as it clicks in your head, remembering similarities)

Do you ever feel afraid at the repetition of intensity?

Snapping you out of your purchased complacency

brought to you, kindly, from advertised drugs

We’ve always said that our Ghost Horses

were better for riding through the clouds

I bet you look over your shoulder and

wonder that very thought

Do you see me coming for you yet?

Everyone loves to live and forget

Perhaps you’ve misplaced the lines that trace my face

As it’s gone absent and has been replaced with the

disillusioned and treasured pictures that you see now

Moving on to the next distraction of popularity

Changing looks, bodies, and thoughts

Each day passes brings us one day closer to reality

(I am he as you are she as you are me and we are all together)

What is the ultimate plan again?

I’ve repressed the madness building up

within your contemptment

General Cronie I am at your command!

I’ll drink the poison sold at

your 7 Day Store

I’ll gulp it down as you howl

“As You Were!”

Swallow Swallow Swallow

Three sips and I’m still thirsty

Come on, come On

I’ll cheers on the last drop;

we’re all a little bit crazy, right?

 

Dear Child

My tears fall down

drop…drop….

 

Draining my soul

as I think it does

What can be said about

the monsters of this land;

From a time before we were

promised the mystical “everything”

and nothing but a happy ending?

My tongue’s cut out and

wrapped up in bloodstained linen

My eyes sewn shut while

my wrists are bound tight together

I tried, Dear Child

to stay alive long enough

to fight

But there are those who

choose to be the wiser

of this world

Sacrificing it all for the

perfect escape from truth

Blinded by expectations of brightness

while we all drown in the light;

begging for blackness

The power lies within the

weight of our pockets and

not within the weightlessness

of our minds.

 

 

***

‘Keep My Head’

I was looking down

one step closer and then the next

Feet light, bouncing

to the rhythms in my mind

The blue skies stretched down

their hands full of love and contentment

Kissing my clothes, my hair, and my skin

With a destination unclear, I knew that the only way to go was straight

forward, aligning myself while

maintaining my distance between the borders

Of the protective trees standing tall

with their green leaves waving

to say hello and

grab my attention at a particular

moment, my face turning to

take a look

 

 

You were there and

I knew, even if my eyes

didn’t want to believe at first

Not much taller than me, you

appeared shorter under the

massive pine trees hovering above

but that’s just the first response

to any questioner’s thoughts

Until I saw your face

and then my heart just stopped

You were happy, the happiest

I’ve ever seen

With your red flannel plaid shirt

and acid wash holy knee jeans

Just you, standing there facing me

wearing a noose tied around

your neck as you held

the other side in your right hand

Now, heart racing uncontrollably

Feelings peculiar and potentially uneasy

 

 

The world in 2D with its

shiny pictures and glossy scenes

An alien to the plastic smiles, or

so I want to believe

Unless there is still hope

but you didn’t speak and

now I regret these thoughts creeping

into every story that I hear

or think to understand, any of

These reactions that I’ve fought

Could you possibly relate to any of this at all?

 

***

Teeter-Totter

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seesaw

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It’s your turn to rise higher on the teeter-totter

The momentum slows as the weight of mind gets heavier

up, down, up, down

We follow the motions accordingly

Pushing self harder off ground to claim the highest authority

Friends on the playground, enemies of the mind

Must be stronger! faster! smarter! to WIN this life

up, down, up, down

Puppets to one another as our fragile strings sway

Sneaking in and out of thought as the hanging tendrils fray

Assuming ownership of answers from our unasked questions

Admiring self to prove worth, especially when others show weakness

up, down, up, down

Your success doesn’t endanger the promises of my own

Your intelligence doesn’t discredit what I’ve learned

Your beauty doesn’t make me any less than myself

The hate builds with every created comparison we choose to accept

up, down, up, down

The balance shifts as we continue our impasse

Schoolkids fighting for domination of attention

Stopping to take notice when opinions of ridicule seem best

Using chance to display rank with each hasty judgement

up, down, up………………………………………..

 

I am grateful for some quiet alone time. ❤