Category Archives: Poetry

Drained

I’m so torn and ambivalent,

That my limbs lay dismembered on the floor.

To take a nap so I can make it through another night of hell?

To pay my tithing in blood to my passion?

All day, I crave the taste of gasoline.

I don’t need it,

But the tingling of my dismembered limbs

Would help to take the edge off the strain and burning pain.

Maybe I’ll go back into hiding,

And let the world forget my existence.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

I can’t do this anymore.

I can’t breathe.

Save me.

This Wretched Place

Am I the only one here

Who stares directly into her demons’ eyes?

Nightly, I fight an inner war.

Am I truly alone?

Are the voices I hear just ghosts?

Do they dwell on the things I said?

Maybe I am inherently poisonous,

Self-destructive by nature.

I’ve exhausted all my options,

I turn all the ground I touch to scorched earth.

This place submerges my body in a sea of poison,

And no matter how I tread and gasp for air,

What can you do

When the only interaction you have

Is with yourself and your toxic thoughts?

Painting

Waking up, I let my eyes flutter shut again.

I’m not meant to be here,

But I don’t really know how to call out to those who love me

So they can pull me from my slump.

Separating and distancing myself from everyone I know,

I make a solitary venture to the city.

Alone I drive,

Alone I walk into the colorful shop as the scent of dust fills my nose.

It’s a good kind of dust,

One with great associations.

I’m so focused on my work,

That I completely forget about eating,

And I am so engrossed in the paint strokes,

That I can forget how fast my mind is eroding in this world.

I build my mental state back up as I dump more paint on my plate.

As I perfect the angles,

And mix colors to get just the right tone,

I am completely detached from the world.

All I know at the moment is the color pallet

And the plate I’m painting on.

I want to do this more.

Just for a moment,

Things fall right into place,

Or at least they seem to.

Just for a moment,

I don’t need to question my existence.

時鳥の歌 (The Cuckoo’s Song)

泣きないで、娘。                                                  Don’t cry, my daughter.

この罰当たりな場所に‘さようなら’と言う。               You will be saying goodbye to this cursed place.

もう私の顔を見えないのに、                                  Though you can’t see my face,

もっと静かで易いところへ行こう。                           You will be going to a quieter, easier place.

もう娘の首の縫合が見えない。                              I can no longer see the stitches on your neck.

私は自分の創造に微笑む。                                   I smile at my creation.

いつか、また会うかもしれない。                            Perhaps one day, we will meet again.

でも、                                                                     But,

きっと、                                                                  Surely,

もう会えない。                                                        We will not.

忘れないで、                                                          Don’t forget,

泣きないで、                                                           Don’t cry,

次の世に、また娘のきれい顔が見える。                 In the next life, I will see your beautiful face again.

次の世に、また一緒に鯉は泳ぐことが見える。        In the next life, we will watch the koi swim again.

時鳥の歌をが聞こえる。                                          I can hear the cuckoo’s song.

娘は、今この音の意味がわからないけど、             You don’t know the meaning of its sound now,

いつか、同じ河に旅する。                                      But one day, you will travel to this same river.

その時に、時鳥の歌が聞こえるから、                    In that moment, you will hear the cuckoo’s song,

その後で、また娘の顔が見える。                           And thereafter, I will see your face again.

Visual Neglect (January 13, 2014)

The naivete of the human soul,

And the way that temptations dangle in our way,

Can invoke the greatest of fools within us.

I was too close to see.

Too distant to hear the sirens wailing.

But the truth was just below the sand underneath my feet.

The monster hiding in plain sight

Is so well-rehearsed.

Knows just the words

To make him completely invisible.

Knows just the words to say

So that you see halos instead of horns.

Leap of Faith

On my journey to adulthood,

I have had to cross many cliffs.

Some were easier than others,

but they progressively become more and more difficult to cross.

Sometimes, my feet slip, and I almost fall backwards.

Luckily, someone is always waiting on the other side to catch me.

I have crossed oceans, deserts, and chasms to find my way here.

Here I am again at a cliff’s edge.

The drop off is scary.

What if I don’t make it?

I get weak in the knees, and I get down on my fours to loom over the cliff’s edge.

The fall would hurt, but it wouldn’t kill me.

I’m scared.

I almost turn away from the cliff; there has to be another way.

No.

The land beyond is only attainable through this path.

There will be someone on the other side to see me to safety.

I bend my knees,

say the words,

and I jump.

Trapped

I can see it there,

Lingering just beyond my reach.

And now, I can’t feel it anymore.

I want it,

I need it,

But I can’t have it.

I’ve tried abandoning the chains that keep me here

But the chains keep another kind of evil away.

What’s worse?

Wanting what my body will not take another step towards,

Or living in perpetual fear of the evil just beyond the grasp of these chains?

Even more chains keep me bound here,

Chains that cannot be corroded.

Not by chemicals, nor by sheer will.

They tell me there is no way I can free myself.

And I believe them.

But oh, how unbearable it is

When I cannot move from these chains,

Yet I see everyone else around me walking so freely.

Pursuing their desires,

Nothing holding them back from that which they seek.

It frustrates me to no end

That I am trapped

with no way out.

The Change (October 19th, 2014)

Spiteful,

I try to paint your once golden image

with red and black.

There’s nothing left to see here.

I cross your memory with police tape.

I’ve no business here.

When once we were great friends,

distance put us too far apart.

Can’t say I’m sad,

just disappointed as I paint your picture over.

Something happened here,

and I know what,

but I suppose I just don’t care enough

to report to the authorities.

Some form of betrayal, I like to call it.

But maybe something within you just changed.

No matter,

there is no reason for me to stay.

Starbucks (January 19th, 2012)

Dancing to the beat of today’s youth,

We chug down the street in my clunker,

Going 5 over the speed limit on Midland Drive.

Point and laugh at the passerby

As we walk into the coffee shop.

Smile and wave at the Barista,

And speculate his preference.

Tall mocha for me,

Even in winter.

A venti mocha for my rich friend,

Occasionally a cheese Danish.

And a water for my penniless love.

Sometimes, I will smile upon him and buy his coffee,

Or God will smile upon him and give him enough money for his own.

Discuss the modern day,

Sometimes Magic and politics.

Go to school

And start the fun process again another Thursday.

Bittersweet (February 8th, 2012)

“Raindrops keep falling on my head.”

That same tune repeats in my mind

And rouses those thoughts and memories.

Mouth agape, as if in awe at the heavens.

Skin cold with a sallow tinge of green.

A fonder memory holds my thoughts instead,

When his skin was a healthy pink.

The diner every Sunday was our destination,

But no ice in his water, please,

Though the waitress often forgot,

And saturate his pancakes with the sweetest syrup.

He would smile at my excess powdered sugar –

A mountain of splendor.

“Thanks Grandpa for breakfast,” we all would say.

Often, I complained of the space he occupied in the claustrophobic car.

I revoke all of those naïve complaints,

As a bitter taste haunts my tongue again.

I will douse that bitter fire with more tender sugar.

Every morning, I awoke to the smell of cinnamon and raisin toast.

Though ever so simple, I smile at such a thought,

When times were easier.

I could hear the weights scraping against the boards from the basement when he exercised;

A fonder time.

I remember when the initial fear sank in.

Suddenly, we stopped going out for breakfast.

He no longer joined us for outings.

The thoughts of his heavy breaths

Reduced me to tears long before the call.

I knew it would soon come.

The thought that I could do nothing to help

Reduced me to tears aplenty.

The strain on my father, the strongest man alive,

The fact I could only watch the frail petal spiraling down,

Brought the bitterest taste.

And then, on a day that I truly believed

Could not be plagued by tears,

I was told of his long pauses and immobility,

And the sorrow pulled me from paradise.

There I waited. Watching. Waiting.

Death’s rattle held his lungs,

Setting its timer.

“I love you, Grandpa.

Going to Denny’s with you,

The times you would watch me play games,

The sound of the mouse clicking when you’d play solitaire,

Your singing.”

During a moment of peace with pizza and salad,

We all flocked to his side.

One pulse, and then his suffering ended.

“We’d better make some calls.”

We buried our heads into hands and shoulders.

The reality sank in.

“I’ll never go out to lunch with him again.”

“You don’t know that,” replied a consoling voice.

The tears abruptly stopped,

But promptly started again at the sight of my weeping father.

Tears pouring out his eyes were new to me.

“I hope I mean the same for you

As he did for me.”

“You mean the world to me, daddy.”

I counted my blessings;

At least I got to know my grandpa.

A bitter thought waved to me from afar;

Someday, it will be my own father.

Not now, not for a long time.

A sweet idea caressed me:

Many more years to come to cherish my father.

Grandpa no longer suffers;

This I can smile at.

We will dine again in heaven, Grandpa.

One day, we will.