If I throw enough big words at you
will you go away
and like a dog
chase this bone of contention
that dominates this conversation.
Wax loquacious
I can't get a word in edgewise
with opaque interpretations
or sideways
and a subliminal hope.
Can’t we just agree to get along?
I’m weary from sorting through
These veiled meanings.
©2006, A.B.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
It Is What It Is
It is what it is
Yes, it is
An excuse
A way
To ignore
To push away
To pretend the world
Is black
Or white
Nothing in between
A verbal slap
That says
I don’t care
About you
And what you say
Burns in my ears
It makes me want to scream
And throw
It
Back
In your mouth
©2006, A.B.
Yes, it is
An excuse
A way
To ignore
To push away
To pretend the world
Is black
Or white
Nothing in between
A verbal slap
That says
I don’t care
About you
And what you say
Burns in my ears
It makes me want to scream
And throw
It
Back
In your mouth
©2006, A.B.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Empty Promises
He promised me a coffee can filled
with crayons of many colors,
just like Joseph's coat
of many colors...a symbol
of love and adoration.
But I had my crayons
with which to color
my world.
He promised me a card written
with a lover's words,
just like Shakespeare's sonnets
filled with cherished words...a feeling
inscribed for a lifetime.
But I finally saw the card
and it was completely
blank inside.
He promised me a mountain topped
with a wood-framed home,
just like the Biltmore estate
where we would be together...a lifetime
of magical moments.
But I couldn't lose enough
weight or self-respect
to stay.
©2007, A.B.
with crayons of many colors,
just like Joseph's coat
of many colors...a symbol
of love and adoration.
But I had my crayons
with which to color
my world.
He promised me a card written
with a lover's words,
just like Shakespeare's sonnets
filled with cherished words...a feeling
inscribed for a lifetime.
But I finally saw the card
and it was completely
blank inside.
He promised me a mountain topped
with a wood-framed home,
just like the Biltmore estate
where we would be together...a lifetime
of magical moments.
But I couldn't lose enough
weight or self-respect
to stay.
©2007, A.B.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Omen
One of those mornings I woke up late...
Kept slapping the snooze 'til a quarter past eight.
Dragged myself out of bed and moved to the door...
Stepped in a puddle the dog left on the floor.
Climbed in the shower with not enough time...
Soaped up my front and rinsed my behind.
Drank coffee in gulps that burned the top of my tongue...
Searched for socks and jeans but turned up with none.
Ran out the door and prayed the whole way...
Hoped this wasn't an omen for the rest of my day.
©2007, A.B.
I write poetry when I'm bored. I write rhyming and metered poetry when I'm *especially* bored.
Kept slapping the snooze 'til a quarter past eight.
Dragged myself out of bed and moved to the door...
Stepped in a puddle the dog left on the floor.
Climbed in the shower with not enough time...
Soaped up my front and rinsed my behind.
Drank coffee in gulps that burned the top of my tongue...
Searched for socks and jeans but turned up with none.
Ran out the door and prayed the whole way...
Hoped this wasn't an omen for the rest of my day.
©2007, A.B.
I write poetry when I'm bored. I write rhyming and metered poetry when I'm *especially* bored.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Avoidence
Walls empty and back to white.
No more signs of my life.
Boxes waiting to be filled with...
Dishes, Glasses, and Forks
Clothes and Shoes
Paintings, Pictures, and Drapes.
Calls from my mom with lists of things to do...
Rent the Truck
Call for Help
Get rid of Trash
Good Byes to friends and loves
Good Byes to my old life
These are things I avoid on a Tuesday night.
No more signs of my life.
Boxes waiting to be filled with...
Dishes, Glasses, and Forks
Clothes and Shoes
Paintings, Pictures, and Drapes.
Calls from my mom with lists of things to do...
Rent the Truck
Call for Help
Get rid of Trash
Good Byes to friends and loves
Good Byes to my old life
These are things I avoid on a Tuesday night.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
931 Cumberland
In 1998 I sewed together
bed sheets to hang in the windows
so I could lay securely on the
old green sofa
guarded by the plaid barrier.
I felt
strong and independent
in my six hundred square feet
of carpet and linoleum and
left behind furniture.
Within the rotting, drafty walls
we forged
alliances and spun tails
and nursed a broken heart
or two.
Neither time nor space
will strip away the moments
that I left there when I said
good-bye through
blinding tears.
©2007, A.B.
bed sheets to hang in the windows
so I could lay securely on the
old green sofa
guarded by the plaid barrier.
I felt
strong and independent
in my six hundred square feet
of carpet and linoleum and
left behind furniture.
Within the rotting, drafty walls
we forged
alliances and spun tails
and nursed a broken heart
or two.
Neither time nor space
will strip away the moments
that I left there when I said
good-bye through
blinding tears.
©2007, A.B.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Ancient Reflections
What struggle
cloaked your mind
and consumed your sleep,
leaving you stranded
with numbing, rambling thoughts
that made a weaker man
crumble and cave
to sordid devices?
What constellations
charmed your conscious
and filtered your conceit
into a vague reflection
of your life and choices and led you
to believe that in the moment
you were in flawless agreement
with right and wrong?
What shackles
us together through
the long-drawn dance of dawn,
where the struggles somehow still
dance around our heads
in the faint, faint light of nearest stars
that still have a way of mutating
wrong into right?
Will you weep
with me tonight
and seek absolution for what
cannot be revoked
with force or death or
wishful thinking,
no matter how desperately
a soul burns?
©2007 A.B.
This is very much a poem in the works. I have a feeling it still has some evolving to do. I spent a lot of time lately thinking about the Biblical David and how I was always taught to view his life of depraved sin and unequaled communion with God. Looking back at the stories I see just a man who did what any other man in a similar situation could have done. We're no different today.
cloaked your mind
and consumed your sleep,
leaving you stranded
with numbing, rambling thoughts
that made a weaker man
crumble and cave
to sordid devices?
What constellations
charmed your conscious
and filtered your conceit
into a vague reflection
of your life and choices and led you
to believe that in the moment
you were in flawless agreement
with right and wrong?
What shackles
us together through
the long-drawn dance of dawn,
where the struggles somehow still
dance around our heads
in the faint, faint light of nearest stars
that still have a way of mutating
wrong into right?
Will you weep
with me tonight
and seek absolution for what
cannot be revoked
with force or death or
wishful thinking,
no matter how desperately
a soul burns?
©2007 A.B.
This is very much a poem in the works. I have a feeling it still has some evolving to do. I spent a lot of time lately thinking about the Biblical David and how I was always taught to view his life of depraved sin and unequaled communion with God. Looking back at the stories I see just a man who did what any other man in a similar situation could have done. We're no different today.
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