Trip poetry stuff

A couple of poetry bits taken from my Summer 2013 Trip.

Virginia Beach - (This one was kinda bad)

Footsteps on the beach,
Lights flicker,
looking behind the cardboard cutouts
it's barely held up by the endless lights
which line the murmuring boardwalk.
How does one be real, when immersed
In the capitalist frivolities of our
modern age?  will all this crumble
and be washed away by the waves
of time, like all things we build in the sand?

Knots (somewhat better)

Our hearts tie us into knots
How can we breathe when
feeling has its hands on our throats
and the air is so thick that all
we can do is scream into the night
and wait for it to let go?

Palmetto (A haiku?)

Together for now
Three roses of Palmetto
Will they ever grow?

more angst

how hard it is to hold up this cut out
when the wind blows up from the depths
from where the foundations should be

look at me smiling isn't it great
i love life and everything is perfect
i'm having a great time and i even love myself

except i don't. the wind catches the billboard
and flings it up into the blue sky
what do i really look like now?

stream of consciousness

a homage

please, don't let me forget
when we laughed, and walked in the rain
we weren't worried about getting wet, or being cat called.
when we were in the know, and were the funniest guys around.
or when we stayed up all night, not to study
but for it's own sake, and because
what could be better than getting breakfast
first
thing
in
the
morning
slipping and and sliding down the ice frosted hill, holding on
to each other, while we could.before time
sent us flying apart like dandelions in the wind.
going together to make a costume at the thrift shop
eating together and feeling great not because
of a costume, but because of the feeling of being truly loved.
by being buried in love,
where chance meetings had  infinite possibility.
when life wasn't a thing that took people away, but brought them together.
to run and dance and scream into the night, the same lame songs, but together.
to lie on the floor and to sleep. and dream of love.
And sandwiches in the park. being chased by squirrels.
and all the little moments that i might be just around the corner.
Biking in the rain, and electric candles that flicker in the darkness~
illuminating the possibility that maybe we'd be able to write lousy poetry together forever.

Huddled together side by side
in the darkness of being alive
our candles barely illuminate
the world around us, keeping out
the cold, flickering weakly against the night.
keeping warm but things are still no brighter
is this just the feeling of being free?
with nobody to hold about yourself?
maybe our eyes are just closed.
maybe it's not really dark at all.
what would that make us, then?

shameless autobiography

i had two sets of puzzles.
above the mantle-place
one of sky and one of night.
why did you knock them down
off the shelf and onto the floor
with unrelenting force.
they've fallen from their neat boxes
and have scattered together
into each other and beyond recognition.
some into the fireplace, now smoke rising blind.
others into the silent bedroom, where i dare not venture
for fear of what i might find.
now that the pieces are all on the floor
i can't tell them apart anymore.
the dark blues and lighter hues
coming together - no edges will save me now.
and i can't merely put them away
for the differences that i do not sort will be there to stay.
until someone else forces my things onto the floor
and i'll be forced to struggle through them once more.

Flash Fiction Episode 1: No More Running

“Humans were here. Find them.”

The ‘men’, or what may have once been men, kicked in the door of the empty house.  The small rental looked abandoned, and was scattered belongings were the only remaining residents. A broken cord phone. A bed with a toy story blanket. A Car. The forecaster babbled about clear skies despite the light drizzle outside, until one of the men put a heavy boot through the screen. The only sound was heavy feet on hardwood. One of the soldiers held up a stuffed animal to his mask, examining the dampness. The uniformed man turned to his superior, dictated by the numerous shiny badges on his uniform.

“Tears. They couldn’t be far off, Sir”

“Excellent. Soon we’ll finally cleanse the last of the human scum of this region.”

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the room

. Glass flew skywards, and a tattered skinny man jumped out of the thin wood paneling.

“No”

He swung a heavy fist at the captain, who parried the slow blow with ease

“More”

The man pushed the general and began throwing punches wildly. The other men dived in to pull him off, but it all seemed to happen in slow motion

“Running”

The only thing they found after was ash.

Senior Sermon

Alright, so a quick recap before I post this. I went to a Jewish high school and one of our graduation requirements was to write something called a Dash. Basically, it's a sermon which you have to write yourself based off a piece of the old testament in which you take something from your own life and tie it all together into something you can present to an audience, and possibly even teach them something. My dad passed away two years ago on the 26th. This is for him, and for me. If you have any questions i'll answer them in the comments.

[Currently being rewritten for publication]

On thinking.

"It's always going to hurt to think"
I let that thought soak and sink
into my brain.
In my reflection I can see this drive
How can I help but strive, as it consumes me
To wrap my hands around understanding, even
if understanding is merely an illusion
and in reality just my neck, and in the
act I am choking myself to death.
Am I actually intelligent, or just a moody
deluded human being.

Childhood

Night. Take away my exhaustion and fright
The light of the day burns with it's chains so tight.
Let me feel the vertigo, the wind in my face.
Ride on these swings and look up to space
where great balls of gas fuse hydrogen steadily.
and there's no thought of something else we're meant to be
Watching chunks of space rock streak light across the sky
Not thinking or fabricating reasons to wry my hands in anger at the universe.
The words will slip away. Your name too.
But I can still close my eyes and remember.
And smile, if only on the inside.

Endings

Note: Poetry may not reflect views of author.

Give me no happy endings
No glad uplifting tales
Where after times of challenge and struggle
The hero triumphantly prevails
Because (to be honest) i'm no hero
And I don't know if I wanna see
what comes after.

Dolphins - I don't know what this is either.

You've been walking for a while. You arrive in a lush meadow besides a cliff jutting out over the ocean. Your feet are sore, so you take in the beauty of nature, the sun sparkling on the crystal clear water. You sit down and swing your legs over the edge. Below, dolphins frolic in the ocean blue, doing whatever it is happy dolphins do in the afternoon sunlight. Talking to one another with happy squeaking noises, you lazily eavesdrop on their conversation. You know it can't be true, but it's almost as if they are calling out to you and you alone.

You close your eyes and feel joy bubble up inside you as the feeling of letting go of weariness invades your tired mind. Your body is no longer achy and sore. You frolic in the waves, your nautically dynamic body almost flying through the water. Your body unconsciously learns further forward and your body begins to take on a frighteningly precarious angle, in complete defiance to silent ever present gravity. If your eyes were open you'd see the crags below seemingly reaching up eagerly, as if trying to close the gap between you and them.

At the very cusp of falling off the craggy cliff, you try to check the time. You attempt to reach into your coat to check your pocket watch, but for some reason you find yourself seriously lacking in arms and pocket watches. You flail wildly. Were you not just human? You try to focus but sink deeper into pandemonium. Your dolphin body panics, and you begin to drown, your dolphin friends useless in their efforts to aid you. You sink rapidly below the waves, darkness quickly overwhelming your senses.

You jerk back into consciousness and barely grab a hold of a nearby boulder, just catching yourself before tumbling into the chasm. As you pull yourself up, you look down briefly and glimpse the stone stalactites grinning up from below. You quickly stand up and turn your back to the faint squeaky noises in the distance. You are standing on a craggy rock cliff, the lushness from before quickly fading into lifeless rock before your eyes.

The beginnings of a faint smile cross your lips. “Classic” you say aloud to no one in particular. You check the time once again, and it reads 3 'o clock. The smile evaporates. You are running out of time. You hurry back onto the path which has now suddenly presented itself. Time is of the essence.

Go,

Chasing the hope just on the horizon

Leaping and skating on the thin ice of life.

Staying ahead of worry and frustration

dodging drama, anger, depression and strife

Though i'm not good at skating

And life always cuts low

I realize that ahead, somewhere on the horizon

I might find find the place that I need to go.

If such a place even exists.

Poetry incoming.

Just one more day, and i'll be posting some more new stuff over the coming week. Get excited.

Happy

Be happy when there's no reason to be happy

Be happy when nothing you think you know is true.

Be happy when things that should make you happy

choke the happy right out of you.

Be confident with everything you try to build up.

Be confident when it crumbles to ash and smoke

Be confident and remember to smile and laugh

because all of life is just a joke.

Remember that life is just a vacuum

and any joy is yours to take

but life will not lead you by the hand

success isn't yours to receive

it's yours to make.

For Myself

It's amazing what lies in a droplet of thought

enough to make and unmake the world

I try not to think about it a lot

When I reach for those thoughts my dreams come unfurled

but can drops and scraps keep one going

to a non-existent deity I pray.

I wish I could mold and shape

and that dreams were made of clay

so I could make them real – if only for myself

Haikus from last summer

Dug up some old poetry I wrote while working as a beach boy last summer, trying to burn time as I cooked in the sun. Plus it gave me the opportunity to brag about being paid to write poetry (take that english majors). Most of it isn't perfect, but it's good perspective and gives me the ability to test if my friends are actually checking this like they said they would without having to put in the extra effort. Enjoy

Go to help couple

Elderly race to chairs

Not quite summer job

Try to write haiku

Can't think of good words to use

Give up task before begin

Existence great tapestry

greater than can be perceived

human race but small dot

Man seek to fight cult

Learn what is not mean to be

Go crazy gouge eyes

Present

The realization of a time limit on ones source of happiness has two possible outcomes: paralysis and depression or excitement and re invigoration. In the big picture, all of a lifetime is a brief flash in the pan of existence. Springs of happiness shoot up at random occasionally, and one cannot give in to the creed of despair but must tackle with full spirit the proverb carpe diem.

The beauty in this is that enjoying the present is not just living, but the action of grasping, the effort of reaching beyond the comfortable and mundane. To express, to feel, to act as though this moment, this hour, this day might be the last. To engage fully with others, not merely as a bystander, but as the primary actor in the farce we call life.

Fears, frustrations, anger, anxiety...these are all roots and rocks which seek to hold one back from taking hold of the gleaming goblet of happiness, of experiencing the full beauty of life as not only a streaming black and white film of interactions and struggles, but a beautiful tapestry in which the central figure stands proud before adversaries and friends, with nothing in his way.

Time

Past, future and present, all words used to break up reality into general comforting terms, and yet all seem to give me none. The past is a line of falls and triumphs which have placed me where I am, but the present seems like a carpet which could at any time be pulled from under my feet and the future toil to an uncertain reward. My mind rejects this notion of reality, but I have not managed to find a more optimism projection. I want to tackle this.

Why should I live in uncertainty. Mastery of destiny should rest firmly in my hands. To think of it as volatile magic out of my grasp is to discredit logic, life and my own control. In my state of life, my choices, or lack thereof, tend to have little or no immediate effect. Inaction has been my default, but is unmaking me. Fear of speaking with others, fear of taking grasp of academics, all of this is holding me back.

Love

A trickle of water on a body in hibernation, sleeping through the simple but bearable drudgery of human existence. An existence with luxury and peace of mind, but without purpose. Empty.

The eyes open, but everything is out of focus. Does the water come from without, or from within. The viscosity isn't clear. Is it really water, or something else. Too bad you can't smell emotion.

As attention is focused, time seems to blur. Every drip is an eternity apart. Feelings surge through with intensity but the urge to act is subdued. To be scientific is to observe, not act.

The perspective shifts as I begin to see myself as more than just a body. Enlightened by equally parts water and myself. I sit up and look around. On the floor a puddle as formed.

In it I see a vague image of myself. Divided from the cruel sharpness of my analytical mind. Something not without flaw, but good. Something greater than the sum of it's parts. Something.