Friday, April 30, 2010

The Gardens That Have Dried

I want you to hit me
I want to break the skin of your madness
I want to remember the pain you crept up inside
The stir in your eyes was unremorseful, but at least I grew in your fire
Relinquish your pain, remind me of broken times
Put me on the battlefield and have no mercy tonight

I remember being on the edge of good and bad in your head
I remember singing songs to rock me to sleep in my bed

Kinda wish I hit you back
Kinda wish you felt my back hand too
Tears made their way to my floor
Now it’s your turn to flood the gardens that have dried

Now it’s your turn to feel the murder of beautiful love
It’s a crush, it’s a step, it’s a kick in the side
To lay there on the dirt and see my face forgetting you’re alive.

I’ve got dirt on my knees
I’ve got burns from your outburst
You will make it alright
I did and it’s part of the fight.

No cruelty intended
No pushing allowed
I just want one shot
For the hundreds of lonely nights

(*MESSAGE TO READER: I was never actually involved in a physically abusive relationship. These are just extractions from my experiences with jabs to myself in a non-physical sense.)

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Some Things Never Change

Hanging upside down

Watching the world go by

Suspended in my universe

Of laughing through this moment I have bent


Rewound the memories of swinging on branches when I was young

Never knowing the reenacting of our species on the playground

Hair upside down and blood rushing to my face

Smiling about my talents of holding on with no hands to brace


A mystery how the gravity never brought me down

I'm sure more than a few have had their fair share of broken crowns

Yet the pump of yelling calling cheering felt warm to hear the sounds

The swoosh of wind and current of gasping

Made the world go by so fast and flying behind me, all in the joy of monkeying around

Monday, April 26, 2010

50 Yeard Line

Tackle me
Pull me to the ground
We’re going to need some sturdy surfaces for our party
Grill me to the stakes
You’re going to need to tie me down at times
Clumps of grass and dirt make their way in the sky
You’re the only one I’m seeing
We can get as dirty as we want tonight
The bruises come
The tears will shed
Count down to blast off
We’re going intergalactic with our missile fires

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Parked in a Parking Lot on the Side of Blossom Hill After the Sports Mart and Before the Overpass

midnight passion

dark blues

glimpses of reds

moving fast

hands flying

whispers cooing

bodies pressing

hearts beating

chests thumping


laying on top of me

laying on top of you

traveling places in our eyes and minds

feeling the muscle in your thighs

tight grip, locked up for the night

making love, I’ve finally won this fight

forty five mintues of never letting go

parked in a parking lot on the side of Blossom Hill after the Sports Mart and before the overpass

we rolled back and forth

and made up for lost time


the moon was the light I used to see your face

the stars brought us closer, as we rocked this beautiful car right into outer space


I still feel your body pressed up against mine

I still see the colors of the world through our eyes

making their way to haunt me these lonesome nights

making their way to remind me of the whispers gone so quiet

and your face across from mine

of your body touching mine

of the knots our tongues tied


for forty five minutes we wrestled hoplessly with all our promise and might

the best parked car ride of my life

Parked Near The Haunted Convent in Los Gatos

Parked cars

Move fast

Tempted bodies

Warm up unwrapped

Suddenly eyes dance in the starlight

Pushing the boundaries we said were drawn earlier in the night

Slightly letting go, smoothly giving in, to temptation that has risen

And set these souls on fire

Breathe of life, now I see where the name comes from

I wasn’t living before this tango of sin

Resuscitate me, revive my insides

Remind me there’s danger to keep me alive

A moment of truce

When two worlds collide

The cushions begin to rumble

From the tossing of lives

Making their way further and further

Causing earthquakes in my mind

Hungry for your romance

But it got forgotten with our demise

Something still reminds me of the car ride and the thrill

Somehow just the kiss, was the dangerous and unforgettable part that kills.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Where Do All My Memories Go?

Where do all my memories go?
The ones I forget…?
Pebbles on the beach that could call no other place home
Stars in the sky that make it light just a little bit more
Fish in the sea that make it just a little more colorful
Books on the shelves that add just a little more knowledge
Trees in the forest that make it just a little more full
Flowers in the garden that make it just a little more dreamlike
Love in my life that’s made me a little more strong
Friends in my life I’ll never forget
The places we’ve been, will keep our memories

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Sticking My Neck Out At The Shooting Range

Some things are hard to say out loud.

Be it the controversy, the sacrifice, or the truth.

It’s ‘the land of no return’.

A sudden vulnerability.

In a moment my image changes.

My reputation is up at the shooting range.

Words can be fired back and I may be standing all alone in front of this bull’s-eye.

If not, the eyes share their expressions unreleased.

Dodging bullets I can bear.

But walking in the same line day in and out will rot my youth, individuality, and potential.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Continuing The Understanding Of The Almaden Woman

The woman we saw every day, never going anywhere but by foot

A mystery as dark when she roamed our lives continues in her sudden disappearance.

As old as the trees, but as confusing as life forms from another planet.

She burned a place in our memories. Of the loud silence that is made from taking life slowly.

Few of us saw the true look in her eyes. The searing voices of a history none of us knew.

A closed book. With a lock and no key. But perhaps that why she was walking. Trying to find the way to uncover the answers to her questions.

Cars driving so fast. So blaring in the streets. It leaves little time and room for the mind to tick.

Wheels turning in our head as quickly as they do on the road explains the answers in front of our noses we’re too distracted to unveil.

Buried within our history, or floating somewhere in our destiny, we’ll never reach them at this pace. The answers just can’t keep up with the questions. And we’re walking in circles when the answers’ within.

Where was she walking to and from?

I wonder who knows. But perhaps that wasn’t the point.

Maybe she found what she was looking for long ago past.

And kept it in with her through every step she took.

I Keep Them Wide Open

Dirt, rust, smog. Burns that make their way to the core.

Clean is a brand new toy I like to take for a ride on nights to the town.

But the grunge that’s rotten into my soul is a part of my everyday wardrobe; naked or completely covered in Gucci.

My eyes have gotten weary but I keep them wide open for the hope that I may find something else as beautifully tarnished as I am.

Dents in my body are part of the game;

when you’re fighting for winning against endless tides

Call it my anguish.

Pungent thoughts from stirring poisonous gases.

But nothing will stop me from bearing green leaves to fight the chemicals lofting in the universe.

And these may just be fightin’ words.

Still, I know you live in places that trash you too.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

The Crowds

Is there an adverse affect to finding out who I am?

Is this just a journey to separate myself from the rest?

To find a place no one has been to?

To settle myself in hills no one else can reach?

To see stars and valleys only I can bear witness to?

Will these bones be strong enough to make it down the hill every day to join the crowds?

And will I be able to fit in again after my mold is so distorted?

The strange thing is, when I do, I always seem to encounter people who seem to come from places just as far away as I’ve come.

Whom have seen valleys no one else has seen.

And can tell stories of their constellations no one else has told.

Their reform doesn’t seem to have fit the mold anymore eighter.

And I love them for this courage to have disregarded it completely too.

Sometimes I miss the mold and it’s disillusionments I just ran through when I was younger.

The way I could hold my breath and find excitement in looking up that hill.

But back then, there weren’t any other people who seemed to be coming up or down from the hill either.

Either I had my sunglasses on again or perhaps I wasn’t looking at all.

I don’t know how I made it to my home in the hill tops.

Or why it seems so cold when I am up there by myself.

But I find warmth in knowing I’ve met people who are making homes in hilltops of their own.

And that we’ve both got bones feeling from the trek, or boots tracking in the dirt. I like the wear on my soul. And I like the toss of molds happening at the foot of the off beaten path.

They’re always the first to go. And now less often picked up when coming back down to the city streets.

And it’s something to remember more when my house feels so spare of the naive comfort of similarities.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Stories Never Told

First kiss never came
But it didn’t stop the flame burning in my heart
Reciprocated passion. Tempting to dance together in a tango that would last forever
Holding out, far and wide. Never letting go. Praying love will stay despite
Finding out that you were alone. That someone saw your fire
Seeking love in distant places. Leaves this story in pieces
Shadows still linger where this bonfire once enthralled
Remnants of the spirits that have seen us through this all

Stories never told, yet kept inside our minds
Remembering every word, and humming every tune
Bending all the rules, that the world allowed us to
I kept my heart in lock and key waiting for your light
I felt it once before though stagnant
I reached but never touched
I saw but never knew
The spirits that first drew me. And brought your spark to view

I sang but never heard
I steered but lost direction
I found a voice to say my peace,
Though your message said, “mistaken”
Paths rolled out like nothing changed -
The time that passed, I knew -
had made me feel untouched, less burdened
When nothing came from you

I’ll never chase the years I spent
Burning strong for you
The story wasn’t hard to read
Just foretelling it was true

Written Nov 12, 2009

The Rabbit Hole


How deep does this go?

Can anyone see me?

I’ve tripped and I’m coming toward the ground in slow motion and all the world is running through my mind.

Not a thought of the pain

Not a glimpse of life before



Letting go of everything around me

Wind pushing from all directions

Peacefulness in my weightlessness


Love be my catcher

I close my eyes I could fall forever only in knowing you are falling with me.

And we’ll catch each other somehow

Senses overlap

And time doesn’t stand a chance

No one can see us

Everyone can see us

Invisible passion

Tangible connection

Together we stand

Divided we fall



We all fall down

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

All of a Sudden

All of a sudden

It came from the corner of my eye

Swiftly coming into view

Coursing electricity through my veins

Charging the sockets of my eyes

Hair on end with nowhere to go

Lost direction but I know I’m heading toward you

Fever, fever, hundred and three

Sweating, breathing, gleaming, at thee

Pump pump my heart’s the bass of the beat

Is this attraction? ‘cuz your magnetizin me

About Woe

My photo
Words are our outright melody and no one else is going to play the songs you feel but yourself. Let me be more esoteric....just kidding. You may ask when reading my poetry, why do I use metaphors so often? After thinking that through, I honestly don't know why. My guess would be that language, though freeing, can also be restrictive. Especially in terms of expressing ourselves in attempt to understand ourselves. I, personally, get stuck in gears sometimes and I like to expand and break through traditional understanding of the concept at hand. I like to read what I'm feeling in different forms, and see if the language can lossen up more.