moist drops flung by a fierce wind
cascade across my chest
spring's green leaves rip past me
fly into traffic, sticking to cabs
A tumble weed hat rolls past
it's owner weaving through walkers
and joggers

Watching the mayhem of spring
an unfamiliar man in a coat too large,
worn through, ripped at the seams,
looks at me, our eyes me
He asks me for change
Tearing my eyes away I continue,

Briskly walking, never stopping
It takes more than one man to stop me
as poor as he was, I'm poorer still
No amount of coin could enrich my life

Clinging to what's mine
a cold wind to my bones
Skin and bones, no heart, no mind
just a body in motion
the wind and rain threaten all that I am

I'll tread until I reach my end,
heaven or hell or and an endless rest
in the mud, where I crawl like a worm
covered in a film of slime, of blood
the light at the end of this tunnel

Smack me so I can breathe,
Cut my only tie to my old life
With a wail and tears like the rain
with no less violence
Instead of tears perhaps sweat
I work to hard for simple tears

I've taken it upon myself to make my nephew a little children's book for his third birthday. I'm talking pressed and printed and everything. This is why you do not see any new poetry or profound thoughts, I'm surprisingly putting a lot of thought into it (and my Nintendo DSi..shhhhhh). Seeing as this is for my nephew, you all wont hear or see much about it. Sorry

Sleep entices yet eludes me

Ruffling through the leaves
the wind sings it's soft song

Eyelids droop, I endure

Hangover 2

Headache, not so much
I drank until life seemed to move in fast forward.
God hit slow motion this morning.
random thoughts zipped through my mind,
now they trod through slowly,
every footstep makes an echo in my mind
like thunderclouds gathered in my head, rumbling,
a stampede of thought.
A pretty metaphor to say i'm thinking
I'm not, my mind is empty,
a blank wrinkled paper with a sticky tongue
snatching organized thoughts from the air
It took me 4 minutes to think of this line
How I define hung over

Mothers Day

Motherless, I celebrate nothing,
just another day I will try and re-
member how my mother looked,
laying beautifully in her coffin.
Too young, I bent to kiss goodbye

back where she is buried, air and
sun and the whispers of her voice
caress my face, the closest
I could ever feel to one I'd lost

Boredom

Oh my god, my mind isn't built for idle standing, listeing to nothing and hearing everything, waiting for anything that will get me to move. I could bleed tears of boredom without a second though to who would see them drip from my skin and pool on the floor, a resivoir of empty thoughts and lost ambitions. Work? This isn't work, it's childs play. It's mind games, mind fucks, social interactions i chose to ignore for my own well being. Why talk about philosaphy or the game or the pussy i got last week when I can bitch to myself on a piece of reciept paper.

In a chair, a window open wide
will qualify as outdoors-

gusting winds and brief drizzles
lock my cell door of doubt
the siren song of birds won't
lull me from self imposed prison

eyes can see the idle face,
gray storm clouds hover
the chimes of beckoning call me,
rung by the winds of deceit

A hummingbird might hover out-
side my open window ignored
blurs of blue and purple curiosity
beckon eyes that don't quite see