Sunday, October 16, 2011

Handicapped


There was once a girl who had broken left foot and needed a crutch.
She found a boy who was more than willing to be her crutch.
She placed her arm on his shoulders.
Together they walked.

The time then came that the girl’s foot had healed.
The boy was still willing to be her crutch.
He offered to carry her where she pleased.
She declined and walked away.

The boy was left alone.
He looked down at his feet.
He noticed that his right foot was broken.
He needed a crutch.

The boy found a girl who was willing to be his crutch.
He curved his arm around her waist.
She placed her arm on his shoulders.
Together they walked.

The boy’s foot healed, and he left the girl still willing to be his crutch.
The lonely girl looked down and saw her left foot was broken.
She looked around her and saw a boy standing near her.
He was standing on his left leg, for his right foot was broken.

The two looked at each other a long time.
Then the boy, still on one leg, hopped over to the girl.
He seductively curved his arm around her waist, caressing her as he did so.
She tenderly placed her arm on his shoulders, tussling his hair as she did so.

They kissed.
Then the boy took a step.
The girl took a step also.
Slowly they began to move forward.

After a time the boy’s right foot healed.
The girl’s left foot healed as well.
The two carefully placed their newly healed feet on the ground.
They stood stronger than ever before.

They turn to each other and smiled.
They embraced and kissed again, never stopping, never letting go.
The two ex-crutches had found love.
Because love is when you lean on someone, and they lean on you back.

The two of you lean and create a perfect balance.
The two crutches become a tower.
That tower will stand when everything else is gone.
That tower is the shining beacon of humanity. 

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Discharge


Art is a lighting storm at bedtime. When it happens, it draws a lot of attention. Some people are scared of it and some don’t understand it. Some people despise it and some ignore it. Some people have even been hurt by it. But those who enjoy it are welcome to behold wonderful spectacles that illuminate the dark world surrounding us. It is loud, bright, shattering, but you are safe viewing it from where you are. All you have to do is enjoy the shocking, pure energy that has appeared in front of you. And there’s no reason not to take the time to enjoy it, for it is free. You can be delighted, frightened, and an eerie combination of the two. You can take a picture, but it will never capture the astounding majesty of what you are seeing in that moment. Observe the strokes and the patterns placed upon the canvases of varying dimensions. Your eyelids are drooping low, but you won’t let tiredness get in the way of the beauty. I feel the worst for animals; they can’t comprehend it with their limited minds so they run away from it, and hide. I think they wish for a higher understanding so that they might be able to appreciate it. 

Monday, October 10, 2011

Landing Love Side Down

Your love is like butter and I am the toast.
I'm tough on the outside, but your love is smooth
And spreads all around me, filling in little nooks and crannies in my mind,
Your love then seeps into me, makes me softer, and transforms me into something new and rich.
Life without love is toast without butter, what's the point?
You'd only be left with something hard and dry.

            P.S.    Also, If you get love on your fingers, its incredibly hard to wash off and even then you still smell of love to those around you.

            P.S.S.    To those who don't like butter on toast, this poem does not work if you replace "butter" with "jelly." Jelly is sticky and messy and too sweet. Although I guess by that definition "jelly" could be love in romance movies. Twilight is a bunch of jelly.

Smoke

Our bodies rubbed together and we created a spark
Which kindled a small flame.
That flame grew over time, we fed it
With the laughs and nights we shared.

The flame grew, demanded more fuel,
And you left the fire to die.
But the fire did not die, it found
Its way to my heart, and nested inside.

There it grew to enormous heights,
Feeding off the sadness stocked to the ceiling,
The fire was pleased as its spiked tongue licked the walls
Of my soul, puncturing it deep and bleeding hope out.

Once the flame had warmed my heart,
I would snuggle close to it and dream,
Now I run with my mouth spitting ash
And my heart charred and black.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Before You Take My Hand

DISCLAIMER:
I can't promise you forever, hell I can't promise you a year. But what I can promise is that you are one of the most beautiful things I've laid my eyes on. I can't say that I love you, because I'm afraid I'll have to take it back. But what I can say is that moments with you are ones I'll never forget.



I can't take a bullet for you,
Because hey, that would really hurt.
But I will pick you up when you're down
And I'll dust your clothes of dirt.

I can't always be there for you,
I've got my own life too.
But when I'm there my life is better
Because I'm sharing it with you.

I can't promise you forever,
Or say I love you either.
I can't always be there for you,
Or take a bullet neither.

These are the things I cannot do,
I know this is not what you're used to.
There are things I can't do that's true,
But everything else I can do, for you.

A Metaphor

My life is the last donut in the box, sitting there alone, after all eleven have left, it's a little stale, it's a little beat up, but if you take a little time to warm it up and pour a glass of milk it will be the best dessert of all time.

What I'm Really Trying To Say

I can make rhymes so easily,
It just comes to me naturally.

I guess I just have to be in the mood,
Right time, right place, right attitude.

Now I can make rhymes all the live-long day,
But never get to what I have to say.

And what matters now, what it comes too,
Is that I just want to say I love you.