Even I - 10/14/13

Even I can't fall in love with the moon in the sky,
even if I try,
not matter how I try.
I can't pull the stars out every night,
not with all my might,
no, not with all my might.
I can't turn a scream into a lullaby,
that would make you sigh,
that would make you cry.
I've got nothing up my sleeve,
nothing up my sleeve,
anymore.
I've got no more parables
to keep you warm,
to keep me warm.
Even I can't fall in love with the moon in the sky,
even if I try,
even when I try,
no matter how I try.

Writer's Block - 11/25/12

The night could give
so much more inspiration
could my fingers bare
the cold.

The Photoelectric Effect - 11/25/12

I cleaned out my idea books

to make room for textbooks,

set down my quantum books

to fiddle with computer programs,

rid my mind of poetry

to welcome in philosophy,

turned away from all I felt

until I thought no more.

But the stars don't care

how you interpret

quantum mechanics

or what images

you make with them

or how you came to be,

for they are

your creator,

the still image

of their past lives

making its way to you,

slowly.

I turn away and the light

cannot be said to shine.

When I do not write about them,

they do not wait,

yet are still where I left them

when I come to my senses,

turn back around

and see.

The city lights are star,

fallen on the ground,

and the path I take to see them,

a black hole's event horizon,

dangerous and dark,

Nine pm out on the bluff,

with cold stars of night air

burning my burnt fingers,

and stars of water molecules

rippling down below

and stars of thrilling melodies

ringing from the bell tower

and stars of my own,

palpable as I peak

from under a branch

and the city glitters into being,

stars of probability functions and many-worlds

collapsing in the existence of many-minds

but somehow always the way I see it,

and only when I see it.

Each scientist and poet

got their fame

by listening to the stars

and reporting what they heard.

No more or less

could ever be said

about anything in the world,

but stars and stars

is all we are,

little nuclear reactors of light

so bright

our after image spans the solar system,

pushing further everyday.

What I Found While Wandering In The Cold - 01/13/12

Had I not been so blinded by searching
I might have stumbled upon
exactly what I needed
far sooner than I did.
 
It's like with love,
it comes when you aren't looking for it.
It's like with happiness,
it appears when you ignore it.
 
A gently bubbling fountain
in a deserted garden square at dusk
may lack the same denotation of
a zen garden,
but the experience here outweighs the old memory
by the same magnitude
as electric and gravitational forces.
Metal herring perch in metal reeds
and ask to be lulled
by amateur poetry.
 
My heart leaps as ripples mirror the figure of a man
and I hope my life might become a movie scene
for a brief moment.
A thousand ideas bubble in the time it takes to look up
and discover the illusion.
 
So love alludes me.
So happiness flees.
So what?
Search brought blistered feet
while wandering brought serenity.
Flirtation brings crushed hopes
while alienation sparks poetry.
So the sky is cloudy.
So the air is cold.
So what?
I find more comfort
on chilling granite
than in the sea of voices and warmth.
My body runs cold.
My mind runs cold.
 
Let me ice my heart.
Let me bathe it in this freezing fountain
while my soul escapes through forgotten tears.
For any tears that would fall
would ice on my cheeks,
and someone might ask questions.
 
And still I long for warmth?
For arms to hold me,
body heat to comfort me,
eyes to beg,
“What is wrong, darling?”
 
Warm, loving eyes
that expel heat wherever they look,
melting hearts of ice in their gaze.
And still I long for eyes to look upon me
and to warm my drowning heart,
let it bubble as a liquid in that freezing fountain.

Such a Waste - 10/06/11

If you could be a frozen butterfly -
Rainbow shrouded in ice,
Glazed over,
All hues masked to white and blue;
A frozen beauty
Held in the grasp of the ice
Preserved
Petrified
Perfect under the microscope
Crystalline structures dangling
Like jewelry
From gossamer eyelashes,
Purple from the frost -
Would you leap into the nitrogen
Entrap yourself in glaciers
To be thawed in hundreds of years?

The pretty, frozen butterfly
With her heart chained to her wrist
A sliver in her chest
Singing a bloody ragtime
As she sleeps
A deathly dream
Her blueberry wrists
And raspberry thighs
Sigh longingly for the warmth of wrath
To awaken them
To a murderous tendencies

It Takes a Certain Kind of Person to Ruin Snow - 02/24/11

It's snowing,
snowing in February,
angels of ice glittering from the sky
with the grace of stars,
in flurries
in gallops
in dance steps
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3
I throw my head back
and let their cold kisses hit my tongue
before the bickering
and the fighting
overwhelms my senses,
cuts off the feel of the cold
and smell of the water
and the taste of the flakes
and the sight of stars falling to the earth
with a dance.

So, broken and breaking even more,
we walk home
past the pretty, purple strip club.
Woman on their break,
their cigarette smoke meeting the snowflakes,
dashing together like star-crossed lovers,
but eventually both dying;
past light posts that illuminate the snow drift,
showing each dancer in her own spotlight,
then each flickering off stage;
past spouses holding hands
with their children laughing.

Snowflakes hit the ground and melt
but the atmosphere my family creates
makes it feel like they turn to water
before they can even hit my face.

A Cat and a Vile of Poison - 01/12/11

The snow drifts
And settles
And melts.

All that wishing
And thinking
And hoping
And praying
And crossing my fingers
In more ways that I thought possible
Pulling
Ripping
Slipping
And then gripping the edge

That was it
That night
Months ago now
Long gone
A moth in a flame
Dead
But it still sticks
With me
Like the dead roses pinned to my wall
From my heart-shaped box
Pluck a spike from my heart.

It used to be filled
With memories,
Hopes, fears, dreams
Lies, pride, schemes
It used to be open
You used to know
But Schrödinger will show
Now that it’s closed
You can’t know

A tiny, tiny gesture
And the emotions,
The openness,
The sharing,
The magic of us,
Of the intimacy,
Of being close mentally,
Emotionally,
Every way,
Was lost to a tiny gesture
Surly not even meant
But preformed
And the box was closed

Dead and alive

Diamond Blood - 08/23/10

Out of
The blackness
Of my mind
Two lines
Start to rhyme
There’s a beat
A spark
Of heat
In three four time

CHORUS:
Baby it’s raining diamonds
Can’t you see ‘em shining?
Making dents
In the cement
Or is it just me?

And don’t you know
It’s starting to get cold
Wind is blowing
Seasons showing
All the colors you can’t see

Who am I, who are you?
Does it matter what’s through?
Skin or blood?
Dirt or mud?
It’s all diamonds to me
END

Every scar
On my brain
Every memory
Of pain
Is all here
To entertain
In lyrical harmony
Or perhaps
Cacophony ?
Whichever springs
From misery

{CHORUS}

Tell me
Truly
Does it matter?
The diamond rain’s
Pitter patter
And the
Dying night
And fading laughter?
Flying knives
And red rivers
In the disaster
All just part
Of the universe’s
Coded chatter

{CHORUS}

Skin or blood?
Dirt or mud?
It’s all diamonds to me