Posts published in “Poems”

once upon a time
i fell a rhyme
with swift hands
not understanding
what may have been
but that’s all, that’s all we got/
what might have been/
what could be/what should be/
they don’t matter now,
but somehow, somehow
i’ll let you know one day
somehow, somehow
i’ll let you know one day.

there lived a boy
caught up in the rap
of an everchanging system
lost in the lies and caught up
in the rap of the darlings dangling
with nothing but cheese to the face
and no maze but what’s screened
preserved and monitored;
there this boy found
a girl, a princess, She,
who never needed introduction
but the greetings of her subject’s knees/
a clapping of the softest kind/
and this girl, She, this princess,
kept her distance from the boy, Him,
likening Him to some others round the bouts,
but he knew better and felt She would, too,
with a little time and tender kisses
of the hand, a gentle gesture of a twisted man/
she laughed, they played, she, this Princess, they
flashed faces from between garbled soliloquies
forced for not a second spent wasting typings
was too much by the ones around, and
so, too, they, She, with Him, gave theirs, but
through these they sought repentance,
acceptance, a game mentality
much the peak-a-boo with little smiles and
audio files tossed around without a knowledge of
the contents, just the tone and
what it meant to one side/the other
being left to decipher the outcome/
well, they, these two, Him with his She,
and She with her Him, played games until the time came when all was silent, for one had found a meaning more than what was meant, and, though no words were given straight from the mouth of other, took them as being hallow’s claim, and, through them,

you learn more from a laugh, a bubble
[than a cry, a chuckle, a sadness, an anger][ing]

how close the tip to fabric, touch

these beating veins know nothing more
than your face, as tide knows but shore.

I once slipped on these words, but I think I’ll let the words speak for themselves now:

I never gave a fuck unless I was sure someone else would.
Maybe that was my problem, I thought you did, too.
I never thought of you in the way a lover may; I only thought, waited, wanted you to be who I didn’t think you were, who I saw you could be, so I could walk away with no regrets, with no remorse, but that never happened, except with little things, and the little things always weigh the most. I wish the world was flat, but You’re Too Damn Even, and opposites are needed.

Once,
upon a grey moon,
I stared at this man, a
man I wronged several minutes before,
but never gave a thought to succumbing to
this thought of regeneration, a thought of
handing over my pride to be His, and
I feel there’s a rush, now, a rush I never
felt before except when I knew
a mighty hand had fall’n ‘pon me and
this Man, He, He needs me now as He
needed me then, and
now I’m ready to let Him know I
am sorry, I
am sorry.

have you ever been so happy you
smile and blind the sky
hold high your head and wished the world
would fall down so you can
rise
everytime i smile i think of YOU
and her, and her, and her, and her,
and her, and her, and her, and her, and her/oh, her

do you ever ‘magine
those private times
one day would be
recorded,
held sway
in lack of
sightings
/ah,
those cherished moments
i always wished were known.

nice experience,
but i’d like to have my own some day.

imagine a touchscreen-based system
such as a touchstream
where fueled typings become
a way in which to feel
the words
— much as blind,
however, completely ‘vined.
.. ah,
the prickled few
of finger,
held to view in rise
of spires, whole-handed.
but who holds not
when r’/’yping gives
most note, though
screen with perceivable
impulses
reaches both ocular
and tactile
combat’
of stream.