Poetry :: Text

Your life like the cigarette
We smoked behind Principal Lynch’s office
Before 1st Period class in 8th grade
Fast but liberating in its
Adolescent rebellion

Like the leaves of tobacco
Mixed with toxins and chemicals
Burning brightly and glowing like amber sap
Then (t)urning to embers of ash

Your life was over before we had time
To reach for another smoke

---------------------
full. moon. burning. white.
soul. dialated. raging.
sea of emotion.
--------------
tides of emotion
settle into existence
force of gravity
-----------------

An epiphany
Of symphonic distress
And harmonic duress…
A beautifully sullen
Melody
Like the beauty
Of each impending
storm

-------------------

Bittersweet-

We used to joke and say
you wouldn’t make it
past 25…
You grinned
(he actually said this:)

“yeah- and when I die
don’t cry
know that I’ll be up there
waiting for you…
waiting to kick your ass”
We all laughed and knew you were serious…
even if it was a typical thing you’d say…

Well, I can’t help but cry
and this must be the first time
I’ve actually wanted to get my ass kicked…

You were the
ultimate alpha male-
strong muscled
and masculine in mentality
but underneath you were
deep
kind
and gentle…

The only time we ever exchanged
words of endearment you were piss drunk
“I Love you man!”
“Hey Guys, this is my friend Jeff- the coolest,
most down to earth
f***8r ever- and he can tear it up on guitar~!
My boy Jeff- God I’ve missed you
man…”

I know the caveman code prohibits
such sober exchanges of sensitivity
But I could see it in your eyes… I knew you meant it…
And I know you could see that I meant to say it…
Now- only drunk on sorrow
(not much different than your fore mentioned state…)
I say with a sober heart-
I love you man…

----------------------

Like the discordant
Jazz chord
Awkward and unsettling
But free spirited and
Full of soul

Like the orchestra’s
Melodramatic movements,
…love, …death, …joy,… and sorrow…
Complicated patterns,
And emotional silences
Between the cacophonic crescendos of classical catharsis…

Like the Death metal opus,
Frayed around the edges
Like a machine driven ,distorted, screaming, and mechanical grind.
Yet beautiful in it’s abreact release of cosmic vibrations into the depths
of existence…

Like the Old bluesman,
Worn and wise -
his guitar
antiqued, scratched, and
held together by the mere
Necessity of its existence…
(Without it the songs of millions would
Remain unheard…silenced forever)
It’s
Tinny
Wooden
Out of tune tone-
That with heart
Soul
And
Passion,
(for each notes inherent song)
Sings more beautifully
And soulfully
than any
Stratovarian musician …

"Luck."

it's like a 3 legged
one eyed
deaf dog
named "lucky"...
_____