Till the Sun Goes Down

Single frames
separate the beautiful
from the simple

But the simple was always
The most beautiful.

Write, servant.
Write my story.

Tear the frames apart
To where I am a warrior
To where my heart is true.

I only write truth,
Layers of halves

I still write,
Attempting still to keep
The sun from going down:

When I will tell him,
I am sorry.
I am sorry for the truth.

Christmas

A stout man layered in green,
And a girl in red.
What happens when she
falls for him instead?

Out of his mind,
His head in the clear
Still ever seeking
To drive out the fear.

He climbs a tree
and gestures for her
"Look at all you can see"
Forget the memories that were

She said, "I will"
And walked away
Through the green
Forgetting her promise to stay

A day gone,
Maybe next year.

Stolen Pages

Sprint away from fears.
That's what they always told me.
A little further,
And I would have.

I sit here in the in-between
Pondering the difference between
Truly there and not.

What, and where?

Can I get back to normal?
Tell me straight.

I cringe in preparation.
Waiting for the words
That would set me broken
On the page.

My face down to the ground,
A hand rests on my shoulder.
And a quiet voice comes saying:
"You've never gone too far"

A burden lifted,
A tear shed on both sides.
Home again finally.

Bushido

A boundary,
Far away tried.

Robes, white and thick
Preventing the thoughts
From straying to abject fear.

Honor,
Simple and elegant.
Arrayed on empty space.

When Will the Future Come? (Haiku)

Still I wonder more 

That I find that myself now

Before the newer.

Happy Fall

A broken home,
And a bruised soul
Sent him running to the small town
Away from it all.

Sweat in his brow, every day-
Odd jobs.
Going somewhere:
Not sure where that is.

His red earphones
That he fixed with his own hands
Plugged into his ears

He'd listen to the music on his refurbished CD player-
Fastened to the fire of the beat:
Then work his heart out.

Enamored by the music.
Enamored by the eyes.

Whispers can't be heard
Through blasting rock music.

But they talked,
They always talked.

But to this boy-
Becoming a man
Was his own path
In this small town.

She was the path-walker
That had dreams to big for
Her frail body.

She wheeled around her wheelchair
Looking for love.

She peered into his eyes through the glass he was washing
And she knew something.

A few months.
A few broken CD's
A few broken dreams
A job interview.

He left, and she stood at his door.
He didn't realize.
He didn't see how much help
Help he could have given.
Help he could have gotten.

Two months, a building in ashes:
Penniless he sat on the sidewalk
Attempting to hitchhike to his town.

His ears bleeding because
His volume is turned up all the way
Drowning out his sobs.

"Dreams aren't anything, are they."
He muttered from his soundless mouth.

A car pulled up.
Faded puddle lights
In the small town
Again.

The whispers.

But when he woke in the morning,
A stubborn heart was there waiting.

She told him to pick his head up
From the depths of her own wheelchair-
And he listened.
Finding what he had always been missing.

She told him defiantly
In breaking tone
"I'm going to walk for you"

And it hit him
That hers were the eyes
That peered across alleyways
And through windows.
They were the ones that believed.

A faltering step.
Fall.

"Again." the boy said.
Fall.

"One more time" said he.
Fall.

A tear streaked face,
And another one sobbing.
"Dreams do fail" she tried to say
And then
He picked her up
And took her steps

"Dreams." He said,  "never fail".

College

For that second
I thought I would go for it
But then my simple fear got to me.
How many flames burn in a fire,
And how does one differentiate them?

It's all smoke;
Beams obstruct my view.

You become most like those
Who you constantly are around,
But what comes around when
The constants are changing?

Unanswered questions.
Students late for class.

Cold is relative (Haikus)

For the long moment
In the middle of the fall,
Staring at her lack

The resolve is here.
But in this now she is fine.
Fine with another.

When the disconnect
And the laughing sound of heart
Meets my own life fear

Cold is relative
I told her next to the stream
Frozen in water

My hapless efforts
I find out that I do now
Know myself better

Trying to find out
Why I liked her before she
Found out that I found.

How does she not see
I do not need a friend now
Enough before she

Takes my heart and runs
Like I did before the snow
Forgiveness is lost

Late

When I said I'm scared that was an understatement.
When I'm too blind to see things when they happen
And too used to second chances,

A late bloomer.

Who's there to admire the beauty then?
Not the flash flame.

I swear I would love to hold you.
And write corny music about you.

I'm new to this.
Second chances were never my Forte.

Sorry if I missed my chance.
I'm trying.

Still?

Moments

I am built of moments
Flashes of color

Figures of fate
Finding out where I am

Realizing somewhere in
The moments that there are-
Exist moments
That are more than
Just bursts of light.

Bursts of life?

Greater Good

I can't see it,
But you always do.
You're always right

That's why I can't ever let you go,
And why I have to.

You still believe me -
I don't believe it,
I tried everything.

You still believe

And I leave.

I manage to convince myself
It is for the greater good.

The Confuser

A boy holds three red balloons

And fills them with their lightest heart

Leave nothing behind,

They are all into that sorry hope,

Fly.

Fall.

Again.

Shift.

Where will it go?

He knows.

He sees

But the bones in his feet wont shift,

Other than pivoting around in an endless circle.

He knows the end of this.

He has done it before.

The end is his flightless feet pulling someone,

Someone greater down.

Marker Cap

I can't seem to find the
Cap of the marker I was just using
Now it will dry up and shrivel
Instead of bleeding through my pages.

Jumper of Bushes

They said we shouldn't
In all our finery
But what is life
Without a picture
Of a boundary being crossed
And a light being shown
Greater than easier.

Yellow

Bubbles light
And happiness bright
A lack of time.
Yellow runs to the store to buy a lime
Because she is sick of lemon's sour
And ends up with sprite and an hour.
She flies with her spring wings
And passes people and sings.

Yellow believes in ever afters
And reads storybooks in the rafters
High above the rest of the city light
Nothing to do except delight.

She has nothing to believe in
Except the sun's loud din
Which reminds her a lot
Of her own life plot.

Most of all yellow is finding delight
In the midst of the fright
Of the colors of blue,
red, and new.

August

The breath of moon air
Crisp and calm
Not cold
Or breathless
But warm.
Just pleasantly this year
But it doesn't hurt to have a fan
In
August.

Photograph

I didn't see you there
In front of the camera,
I walked right past you
And became a memory of light
That wasn't supposed to be.

Word

Heart crush faster
When you realize
That every word
You write is
One word less
Than you can
Ever write again.

You must squeeze
Every last thought
Out of there

Before it is
Too late now.

Momentos.

sorry for being gone for so long.
I'm really great at breaking good habits for no reason


Momentos all around
Life as empty sound
Willing myself to stay;
I end up far away
What keeps me running slower than I can
Is the fact that I can't be a perfect man.
One eye open further than the other one
pointless battles can never be won.
Will I remember everyone I have to?
The feelings of every moment I've gone through.
beating in unperfected time

Good Bad Neither In-between

What if everything that was bad in the world

Suddenly changed to be everything that is good?

The purpose of life would be hopelessly swirled.

Nothing could be anymore understood.

If the guns changed to squirt guns

If the fires turned to smoke.

If people took away all the 

bad things they spoke.

But then nothing would change,

Nothing could be taken.

The far reaches of us would rearrange,

Leaving everything shaken.

Bad is not good,

But it is necessary to hope

To understand what could

Be if there was only good.

Nationalities

When a person comes up to me
And tells me they hate
Those of a different nationality:
For any reason.

It is all
Froth.
Not the good kind that you like:
At the top of a good root beer float.
Instead, the stuff that you have
To dig through to see the good
within the world.

When your fingers get too long

Life is hard, they say;

But I love a challenge.

Life tries to hold me at bay,

And I laugh.

Try, just try to hold me 

Back for a simple second.

Since when was life ever simple?

Wondering from the top of a building

Not about to jump,

But merely admiring the view.

Rivers pass me by

6 days pass me by

A specific thought passes me by -

I'm not sure what it was.

I try to do things for others,

I try to be there for others.

I try to see things for others.

It doesn't work as it should.

Remembering more than I should.

My fingers, encrusted with dirt,

Millions of tons of oxygen, nitrogen,

And all the other gasses in the world

Holding me to the ground.

The hard ground.

Life is hard.

I deal with it

With a friend.

Getting wisdom taken right out of you

"Wisdom teeth do not give you wisdom"
The dentist told me.
and then proceeded to knock me out

I woke up dizzy.
losing sense of direction.

Eating real food was a lost cause.

Yogurt and ice cream
Beginning to lose their flavor

It is the end of the world.

(chubby cheeks due to loss of wisdom teeth)

Wrinkles. (4 syllables)

I wonder what
Would happen if
I took all the
forehead wrinkles
in the world
and lined them up
all together.

Could I count the
Years in inches
or the stress, miles?

Sort of like me
Measuring the
Lack of time in
infinity?

Climax?

Calvary with golden sword
Find no one was ever here before
They plant a flag in the rain soaked earth
And blow their rusting trumpets berth.

The flag blossoms into a tree of advance,
Over hills and valleys they carry their lance.

They must find something to defeat
Or they cannot go back to the shining fleet.
So they look and search the land
Finding something else unplanned:

Something was there before them
Its primal scent searching to condemn.

Fade

Hands of infinite longing held at bay
One reaching for, the other away.
Grasping each other's hands
Dreaming forever in new lands.
A moment, a switch in desire
feelings are thrown in the fire.
A whole half apart,
away, forward heart.
The hands loosen a bit,
As recoiling from a hit.
What is one to do when everything
fades like the winter to spring?

Mail?

Heavy feet on the sand
Sent to her
A simple letter
(Including my heart)
Postmarked to the end
Or the beginning
Of Fireflies St.
Because I forgot
Where she lives.

Circumlocution.
Of the truth.
Exaggerated realities,
But only
For hopeless tragedies.

"I'll just wing it"'
I said
And put
the blank letter
In
My
Worn
Mailbox.

Raining Stars

When the sun falls
Beyond the cool horizon
And the wind calms for just a second-
Before the moment fails,
When it just takes time
To see
At two o'clock in the morning.

This vaunted understating-
Is visible only to those awake.

"What are these fools doing in their houses?"
I ask to myself,
Before I realize that this night;
This is mine.
MY WISH,
MY WISH.
MY WISH!

I'm selfish, I know.
But, I laugh and dance to myself
Under the heaven rain -
For at least one of these wishes
Has to be my own.

Mediterranean and I don't know if you are you

I am so I am so I am so I am.
You are you.
Are you?
Are you?!?
How are not the way to see?
Goodness I have many attachments.
Denied, a lot of this message is not sure.
Losing my name is a bit more about this-
Finding your help with you can be a few months,
Grinning from the other day in the new one.
(Written using only suggestions from my keyboard)

The Dishwasher

He stands behind the sink
For yet another hour
And tries to scrub the Mexican off of himself.
Patches of his worthless skin coming off
From submersion in the cruel water day after day.
The lines on his face getting just a bit harder.

The only reason he continues
Is because he cannot stop himself.
They said life would be better here.
This is what they gave him hope for?
For less than minimum wage,
His life stolen day by day to feed his family?
No.
He is not a slave.
He is a human as much as anyone else.
Why can't anyone see that?

Surrounded by people that laugh at his heritage
When his only drive is for a new and better life.

His english is faltering.
But his heart is still whole.

He whistles an old tune from his homeland,
While people,
Angry at only the fact that he is trying,
Spit on his progress.

Whittling

My thumb,
Watch the thumb.
You don't
want to cut
yourself.

That's it,
A little to the left.

A face forms.

Forgetting Oneself

Whirl in the whirlwind,

Forging the highlands with sheets of brightest blue.

Nothing betraying,

Except the mind of the essential, hopeful new.

Withstanding the essence

or the understated brilliance within me;

I surrender and hope

for the wind to take me past free. 

Yelling for the masses to no one's ears

And letting the world's hope drown my fears.

Sleep Deprived

Back ache
And a strange eye twitch
Are what make
Me want to turn off the light switch.

I need more sleep
But when I try
My thoughts begin to creep,
And sleep betrays me without me knowing why.

Not much time I give
To every word left on the page-
My thoughts are only to live-
And live to see the new age.

The Decision

The man
hesitated
to spend
his last
dollar bill.

He had
grown
connected
to it
while it
was in
his
pocket.

THRINGER

There was a creature on the dock.
It muttered one word over and over.
Time went the furthest it ever had before
For the Thringer on the dock.

He waited for days, months, and years
For the ship to come sailing in.

He was sadly disappointed
When a rusty old fishing boat came.

"THIS IS ALL I GET?!" the Thringer screamed.
And the fishing boat
Turned
Around
And
Left.

Trying to Help

I feel so much for them
They can't understand.
I mourn with those that mourn.
And hope to comfort them.
But I can't do anything about it.
I feel powerless.

Traumas so different, I could not have
Ever thought about them.
Hearts so broken,
That the blowing wind seems
To put them back together
Better than they were.

I can't help.
And helping is all
I've ever wanted to do.

I have failed.
And failure was not an option.

I tried to lose faith,
But all I did was give myself more.
If everyone else can keep going
With destroyed lives
Why can't I go about my own,
Which it is perfect?

I do not deserve perfection.
I deserve to understand
The things I can't.
I can't bring myself
To break the bounds.

Untamed

One ache to untame.

Not enough done:

For who is to blame,

When I'm the only one?

A book I read:

It had many words therein-

Or at least thats what they said

My eyes could do nothing but stay in.

Rising above the swamp's terror

I realized in a subtle change -

That seeing is error,

And the blind have the true sight range.

Warm terror engulfed me,

As I huddled into myself for cold.

What is it that made me flee?

I feel old.

New Hue

The blue pulses ripped
From the motley collection of sky
And collided suddenly
With the hurtful red
Resulting in some sort of new hue
That I had never seen
Before.

The Hue crunched inward
Confused at its true purpose.
Round and round it went again;
Needing to find what it was.

It went again, dizzy.
But the red had morphed into blue
And the blue had turned impossible.
They were stuck
As solid gold.

Bridges of Blindness (a collection of Haikus)

She looked around her
Looking with her tear-streaked face
Will anyone help

She tried to tell him
But he didn't understand
In the underneath

Bridges far under
He still did not understand
For his eyes were blind

He looked across her
And suddenly he saw it
Hurting her inside

Come closer to me
He said to her from across
The bridge of blindness

Stay close to me
She pleaded him for a friend
and he understood

Underneath the hill
A friendship once lost now found
Still thriving again

Change from true?

Finding myself in true,
I led myself to believe for a second
that I could change from my past.
I could learn to love again.

Change is a bit harder than it is made out to be
a little bumpy, a little coarse,
and certainly painful.
Finding remorse in what we could have had
when she left me behind.
and while thinking about that
I stopped to wonder for a second:
will I ever be knowledgeable of who I am,
or is life merely a game of hide and seek?

I don't really care anymore,
I'm content to go with the wiles of the world
and be free,
to roll in the blowing wind-
and to let it change me.

'The Virus

It took everyone in the town in a single night
No time for fear, no time for fright.
It just left them all - still as can be
looking, but nothing to see.

It was as if time stopped for a single breath,
and the dream became stiller than death.

Why do we still wonder who we are
when we struggle to look even that far.
These people are in the same place still,
will you still go where you will?

Wallop

The wall

I hit first

then the glass 

in my short window

that was too small.

repeatedly-

sounding off again.

Wallop.
Wallop.

another glass broken

another stifled cry.

There was too many reasons

to do this to everyone else

but never me.

but I still did it.

I twisted my hand

and saw the reflection 

of what I had become

and walloped myself.

These haikus. are random and hilarious.

Quadruple epic
gnarled sport Greece frog frosted
veal understanding

yodeler green pound
scrumptious nose ginger under
porcupine smacker

wheelbarrow pizza
Submarine anti-sister
frolic in the fear

ingenious helpful
I don't understand that much
watery quitter

forging grids Bros oil
lob regress mower squid help
strengths ending more sent

Kangaroo mortise
wetland snarl in the city
reaching out rope hurt

 

Far Away

The ocean is only so deep
As to make it impossible to reach,
Like a hand
On the edge
Of my reality.

Tingling swaths of sound scream
Stifled by the cruel bands of time.
The voice shattered, the youth faded,
Although its screams are heard.

Frantic writing
Drawing me closer
To insanity?
To sleep?
To the things reaching for me.

Pulled apart at the edges
Searching for the true lies.
What happens when your dreams
Understand more than you do?

My fingers grasp the extremity,
But I crumble, attempting to hold
The weight of everything.

On the verge of dropping
Into the impossible chasm.

The Ocean is too far away;
But too close.