Tag Archives: grow

Eighteen Years and Twenty-Somethings

Was picking up pieces when you
Gave me a reason to be
Falling down the middle
Crawling ’round a little
And I see that space in your head
And I want to fill it in…

~*~

I want to throw my irrational fears down my favourite set of stairs

And fade away the wounds that once defined my unsteady hands

I want the chance to breathe without polluting my lungs with ashen doubts

Drag me out of the skin I’ve beaten within until they can understand

.

So take the breakdowns that broke me up and replace the faulty intuition

The devil on my shoulder won’t compare to the angels in the television

Hang up on this week-long hangover and stop hanging my neck by the rafters

Still deluded by bad choices and old mementos and happy ever afters

.

The kids are not alright these days, and their clothes are stained with sad

But I didn’t think I know that I knew until I have it bleeding out and bent-up bad

So there’s a little cold weather, that’s gonna get a little better, maybe there’s a little sun

Maybe it just doesn’t exist in my head, maybe my moon will have someone

.

So maybe hope doesn’t belong to me just yet, and these noisy voices won’t shut up

Maybe I’m suffering from silent anxiety, shot through the ceiling, it won’t stop

But this time I won’t let it win, I’ll catch it by the tail and let myself spin

Spiraling all the way to space, I’ll crawl through constellations until I find that something.

~*~

I won’t lose my grip, don’t let go
No, I won’t lose my grip, don’t let go
I think I found that something
I think I’ll finally breathe right in
I think I feel that love I won’t give up
I think you soaked into my skin
So much has come from nothing…

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Be Something

Nobody thinks what I think, nobody dreams when they blink
Think things on the brink of blasphemy, I’m my own shrink
Think things are after me, my catastrophe at my kitchen sink
You don’t know what that means because a kitchen sink to you
Is not a kitchen sink to me, okay friend?

~*~

If I were to collapse

On myself and care

About the way I speak

And how I do my hair

Then I wouldn’t be here

Then I wouldn’t be dead

I’ll just be an old memory

At the back of my head

Yes, I want to grow up

But I want to do it my way

So I don’t need any handouts

Of so-and-so’s displays

And I’ll take the challenge

But with no instructions

Leave me to figure out

And trip again until i’m done

Because life is meaningless

All this shit doesn’t matter

So I’ll take my chances

And test the deeper waters

Then if I fail, well just be there

To say that “I told you so”

Even then, I wouldn’t care

Because this I know

At least I tried my very best

And I claimed my stakes

Instead of just simply regretting

That I never made mistakes.

~*~

Are you searching for purpose?
Then write something, yeah it might be worthless
Then paint something then, it might be wordless
Pointless curses, nonsense verses
You’ll see purpose start to surface…

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anatomical dissection: bones

when i was a kid

i broke my left arm

when i climbed up

on our neigbour’s

backyard oak tree

.

and when i grew up

a scar grew with me

it climbed up when i

fell down and spread

to the rest of my body.

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The Castaway

Do you feel you’re not enough?
And impossible to love?
Or like if you spoke your mind
All your words, they would be too much?

~*~

You’re all growing up

And sailing across the tides

Without my untied knot

To render your destination

Oblique, to the oceans unknown

Where a red X marks the spot

.

Uncharted islands, they are

Waiting for your faint signal

For your toes to touch the shore

And your joyous cries to echo

Ringing against the salty breeze

For the treasures you have yet to adore

.

While I sit here, marooned

By my own spiteful conviction

Still tethered to tedious safety

I am unafraid of change, or voyages

Though; it seems, that they both

Are still very much afraid of me

.

While you celebrate among your kin

And depart; to further and vaster horizons

I can only bid you all a great farewell

As I’m stranded, not to my own volition

Shipwrecking paper boats and throwing coins

In my own shallow sea at the bottom of the well.

~*~

Well, I stepped back from
The doubts overtaking me
They were breaking me
So I know what you’ve been through
Don’t you stray or run away
From the good that I know you do…

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bang bang

a yesterday

or two ago

i watched

my child

grow up and

get married

.

but today

and in the now

i watched

my child

fall down and

get buried.

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La Bella Fantasia

“I swear that I can hear you in the wind…”

~*~

little phantasmic phantoms dance about

growing flowers at the garden of my mind

waiting to pluck out each bluebell and daisy

to fashion the wreaths into something kind

the playful zephyr is a fair weather friend

lulling each berceuse to sleep until the end

orbit sending me high into the atmosphere

but i won’t fall, no—i have nothing to fear

listening to the cherry blossoms that hide

in the boroughs where there’s a tinkerbell bride

and the mystical creatures would understand

with every speck of dust, a magic that enchants

.

but the delphi hearts and oracular tongues

speak of stories and brier thorns that selfishly clung

to innocent naivete still stubbornly preserved

though only to the pristine youth that it deserves

the wily eyes staring into the darkness osiris

as the nettles grow wild prevent cogent dreams

they scoured the atlas looking for eternal citadels

the nondescript pangs unaware of incarnate bevels

shrines that i pray to now submerged in irascible sins

incoherent adages leaving bruised indentations within

will the pixies be daunted? will the elves repatriate?

Quietly accepting the moiety of their unfortunate fates?

.

but beneath the black and white of underground paradise

is a fair place for scathing asters and aureole mirth alike

beyond the curlicues of charcoal smoke that paint the stars

a gossamer love decays, recording a dictaphone of past wars

in an imbroglio of lotuses, past the wafting scent of sandalwood

on the horizon, a transit of venus, a crescent smiling platitude

thoughts as crystal clear as seaglass, reflect candid illusions

show a bouquet from the spectres, a plethora of guiling ruminations

amid the taste of camphor and lead, i return to lacklustre reality

wondering and pondering when i’ll get lost again in my crafted fantasy.

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The Horticulturist

One by one the days fall beside us like yellow leaves
We have no conscience, oh, what we’re becoming
Month by month the rings on our tree trunks
Like old wise eyes grow wider
And winter lends them a dead disguise…

~*~

all the times

that my pretence

falls away to reveal

a dissecting evil

crashing against the

enamouring dopamine

of your crystal eyes

and whenever the bats

residing in my belfry

bite in rabid shreds

as i told you the reasons

why i don’t need the sun

to watch over my lies…

i didn’t know it hurt.

and even when your mouth

moved to speak of the

florid diamonds leaving your

bones with every suspended

breath i took, still i ignored

it, and culled the butterfly wings

you were only beginning to grow

crushing them for my own fool’s

grey stained glass interpretation.

i see my sorry mistake now

what an envious tongue i was

to impede and torture change

and wring them dry in deception

shivving the lunacy fringe deep

in my virulent, violent strain

perhaps the sense was never mine

to keep in mine caustic waste.

you merely wanted roses to

bloom in your pulsating thorax,

but my scissors never gave

you the chance to do so

and a different shade of scarlet

touched your skin that day.

but despite the endless famine

that haunts my soul, there’s

still thistles to be removed,

fertile soil to be revived, and

you handed me the trowel even

when i already lost sourly to you.

it’s another chance to repair all

the misfortune, to mitigate all the

repercussions, and to plant a

thornless blossom in this stygian

garden of choked weeds and demolition.

i won’t count my stars before

they paint the sky with yellow fire

but i can always count on the

misbegotten heart, sparing

another courtesy for the misguided.

no more plucking petals from

shivering deoxygenated lungs,

no matter how temptingly pretty

they may be to my twitchy fingers;

may the poisonous chemicals

no longer adhere to sprouting foliage

and murder them in cold blood,

may the flora in ingenue poetry not

be mendacious and remain untainted,

and pray let this withering, barren

desert of a garden be resplendently

efflorescent and verdant with life once more.

~*~

Now time, like an ocean, knows tide, like a notion
To toss about the house and lose inside the couch
Piles of our thoughts run miles in the dark
Just trying to get home, age by age
We rime with our seasons’ rehearsed routines
Still turning and returning…

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fleeting

you’re growing up

so fast and i can

see the neon lights

slowly flickering in

your hopeful eyes

here’s to cavalier youth

that’s yours to keep

i only pray that i don’t

ever see such a glow die.

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not tonight

I found a place I can sit, a place where everyday light
Hits like the palm of your hand when you’re reaching
For something that’s balled up in the sky; that’s the way
I like to see myself, reaching for just one star at a time…

~*~

no, not tonight

i won’t be lamenting

for permanent rain

lights muffling sense

like cotton stuffing

in my rag-doll brain

.

no, not tonight

i won’t be grieving

for weathered hopes

symmetrical analogies

sketching out dreams

in my hoarse throat

.

no, not tonight

i won’t suffocate within

my claustrophobic no’s

i shall free myself from

my bedroom walls and

give myself room to grow.

~*~

I heard what was a song inside the earth
I put my ear to the ground and I sang with every
Word, see, I got lost in the sound—
I felt so safe inside the sight of the sun
I really think I’m home now, I really think that…

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Sidewalk Outlines

I’m half remembered, halfway across the world
Twice removed from a second home
The shadow of a ghost in an old haunt
With a lease on life, ’cause I can’t afford to own
When being young starts getting old
A new place saves face or so I’m told
Be the new kid, on an old block…

~*~

Chalk letters and chalk outlines

Of your body in the blacktop

Playground games that defined

The monsters I couldn’t stop

.

I’m always critical of critics

Casting stones among its kin

As short-sight lovers kicked

Caution off the curbs to win

.

My criminal words misleading

The restless radio remembering

Those vertigo grenades I threw

And I never thought it through

.

Friction turns to sparks but

There is no fuel to feed me

A life of lies, forget-me-not

Legends of a falsified story

.

It’s a big mistake, a big revelation

Towards problematic medication

Substances crafted to taste bitter

Pretending to make me feel better

.

Mechanical cities erasing our names

So say goodbye to playground games

Struggles turned to memories killed

And your chalk outline is left unfilled.

~*~

I’m just a moment, so don’t let me pass you by
We could be a story in the morning
But we’ll be a legend tonight—
Cause you and I, we’re alive
But just for a moment…

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