So what will follow here, these are a series of incomplete poems that I jotted once upon a time, sometime in the past two years. I am feeling compelled to just put them up, put anything up, put it to rest. By placing it here, I know I will finish some of them, and the ones I do not I would not finish anyways. Without further mention,
the Incomplete Works
Whispered Once
I’m bleeding,
from the thousands of razor love-wounds,
your words have worked across me,
I’m reeling,
from the strength of your convictions,
your memory has memorized me,
I’m toppling,
from the torch of your touch,
from the fire of your fingers,
consume and complete me.
Deeper than blood and bones,
Desire unmoving as stones,
Let me whisper but once,
Love you.
Charming jilted
Salty sorrow drips silently,
wet cheeks, withheld whimpers,
charming never jilted so well.
Coughing, gasping, vacuous cries,
silent screams heard throughout the atmosphere,
Unable to cut these ties,
Bad Morning
His muted cries
splash across cyberspace skies
it’s late again, these early morns,
Remembering,
with that forlorn face, those dead eyes,
merely observing,
he’s forcing rhymes
out of cover stories and time,
a war, of head and heart,
of head and hurt,
it’s always this way,
there’s only one thing that stays,
past actions, past crimes,
no poet can piece this bloodspattered canvas
into a sunrise.
this story lays barren, this guilt too apparent,
these thoughts too familiar,
these bodies too limp,
these friends too far gone,
DeadHead
Dead head walks in her dead head way,
dead head talks about nothing all day,
Dead head makes a sandwich with a smile,
oh so filled with guile,
Dead head talks too loud, tries too hard,
Redefines the word slut and scarred,
what’s left of regard,
cannot be used to ignore,
looking at her and thinking “whore,”
shallow and vapid,
how could an image deteriorate this rapid?
DistanceDrawn
Distance-drawn emotions,
unknownfilled-yawning oceans,
this abyss of trust is far from full,
do I lack, do I lack?
Remorseless
Is this what I’ve become?
Whose next to succumb?
She tastes of tequila and tar,
and now with this one, how far?
So lets’ Twist, Twist, Twist again.
And forget what we never knew,
there’s plenty of time before when,
and much to do before there’s too few.
and much to do before there’s too few.
Guilt
If I cry repentance!
If I cry sorrow, salt traced trails,
at next glance, still this fails,
for trust is not a bridge,
once burned easily rebuilt,
the nature of guilt,
stops me in my tracks.
What use are these facts?
If I cry repentance,
tell me, how much sorrow will I create?
In Just Life (Edited)
in just life,
when fuckups are common,
with whomever can't be unmade
when emotions rise, alcohol flows,
and
in justlife,
when fuckups are common,
and it doesn't matter who got laid,
when who rides, someone's heart cries,
and the question written in sweet sweat is only - who knows?
and yet somewhere,
empty wine bottles overflow, ashen covered carpets,
beer stained walls, vomitstrewn toilets
a day only, a lifetime,
wrinkles,
and
injust life,
sometimes, hope dies
but what is there to say?
injustlife,
when fuckups are common.
hearts fade.
Lambacts
Watching another one’s tears,
their sobs falling on deaf ears,
my callous heart’s got you beat by years,
slow pulse (scar tissue) yeah so what’s your issue?
She’s alone again, and no its not new
It’s just the end of high school, of the last few,
and somehow, we all knew,
Content
Laying back, scent lingers lightly,
warmth where she was fading slightly,
content.
Mirror Moments (Prose Piece)
Ice cold brings a semblance of clarity back to the room. Opening my eyes in the moment after I plunged my face into an icy basin of water,
I blink back the rivulets of water leaking into my eyes from my hair and brush back unruly short black hair.
Something happens when you stare at yourself in the mirror, some forced self-reflective moment as your eyes connect with your own eyes.
Mirror Moments (Poetry Piece)
Mirror moments catch,
the scratch of the match,
illuminates this face,
whose eyes are those,
that such hardness shows?
Whose soul is this,
that such darkness grows?
even when her tongue tasted of tequila and tar,
there wasn’t such a thing as too far,
Tell me, how long mate
til this sorrow cannot wait?
Ode to Morningstar
So bright, so white,
an alabaster rose
high above, the unwinged dove
tell me is this love?
UpDown
so tell me when your head's screwed on backward,
when your up is down
and your
d
o
w
n
is
p
u
tell me, when your world’s spiraling,
and you can no longer see the floor,
tell me, when you can no longer run,
and there’s no place to hide,
none,
when what’s left is pride,
and we bow our heads in shame,
tell me, what fixes what we became?
Vaccuous
Vaccuous,
whistle of wind
through the empty spaces,
where we sinned,
through the empty faces,
Dry,
too tired for tears,
though drowning,
too filled with fears,
whose counting?
Empty,
of a semblence of verity,
without a semblence of sincerity,
staring you down,
lies with crystal clarity.
Alone,
tremulous triumph,
defiantly desperate,
“I’m the guy who can’t rhyme,
Doesn’t rhyme, doesn’t understand rhythm, meter, or design,”
Weary Wanderings
