The Act That Kills

Act like you don't care.
Act like it doesn't matter,
the way you walk around
promoting your cling and clatter.

Sit there and mock
my simple cubicle life
and the turmoil I withstand
in my everyday life.

Treat me like I'm a clown
doing my unicycle tricks for you
as if I were a cellar-dwelling piece of trash
discarded by your elite few.

Mock me even further
by throwing flowers on my coffin
like you do to all like me,
like you do so often.

Sit there in victory,
smoking your Cuban cigar,
basking in your glory
that has taken you so far.

But let me know what happens
when you lie your head down
and hear the ghosts you've created
that now haunt and surround.

Lie there in your mental
padded cell you've created for yourself
and think if it was all worth it
while you wait for your destiny in hell.



I previously stated that not every poem would include an explanation but I thought this one was kind of cool.  A friend at work gave me a friendly challenge, wondering if I could write a poem with 4 random words he gave me.  I was intrigued and took his challenge and I will be with future poems as well.  These four words here were cubicle, unicycle, flowers, and Cuban...
...and sed friend greatly enjoyed it, too!

The Powerful Proposition of a Preposition

The mouth opens
and the mouth closes.
The words spill out
as uselessness is disposed of.
What once was thought
to be forbidden
is now a lifestyle
that every day is lived in.
Words that used
to be taboo
are now communicated
fro and to.
They used to possess
a certain power in them
but now show to be
completely hollow within.
It seems a pattern
that was long ago found
will now be nearly
impossible to turn around.
The disdain that is now
freely overflowing the cup
is discovered to be
extremely difficult to give up,
yet there is still a ray
that can coincide
with the glimmer of hope
that is found inside.
However, the change must be
something that will come
from a heart changed
(the only place it can be from).
The last chanced effort
has now come around
before a life's consumed,
before it goes down.

Until Always

Some trouble was looming
but nothing too major
that some communication
could not cure.
They had their fights
much like everyone
but they always pushed through
as they refused to be done,
until...

He woke up to a dawn
that seemed ordinary
until he rolled over
to the company of nobody.
He was wondering where
his wife had went
and where her time
was being spent
until his eyes
opened enough
to spot the note
that was in place of her stuff.
He began to read
the left behind letter
though in the back of his mind
he knew he knew better.
It said...

"I know we said
thick and thin
as you repeated it
again and again
but there was only
so much I could take
before I had
to make a break.
I know you have
something to say
but it won't change
my mind anyway;
so tell the kids
how much I love them
and explain how much
I hope to see them again.
Goodbye"...

His breath was stolen
out of his lungs
as love that once
eternally sprung
was now dead
without any warning
and with no promise
of a brighter morning.
He becomes paralyzed
as a tear falls
down the cheek
that now bears all.
No chance to rebut,
no opinion to make heard,
only a spirit that now feels
it will always be deterred.
A message so important
with so many vital words
will now only always
continue to go unheard,
Always...

Arguments for Mending

The arguments rose,
the arguments fell.
The arguments were
their living hell.
They were enough
to break apart
love that once
lived in hearts.
Now they were given
one last chance
to make this work,
to rediscover romance.
Now time will only
tell the ending
and if there's too much
anger for mending.

The Race

They turn with their wheels following
as their tires do the same.
The screeching of rubber
is all that resonates.
They pass each other
as they are passed.
For some it's a win
as long as they're not last,
but for others racing
nothing is good enough
unless it's the checkered they take,
though it may be rough.
Those who reach so far
to be elite, reaching for the sky,
refuse to sit and watch
as others fly by.
They will go faster;
they will turn sharper.
They will make every effort
to go even further.
They will push the limits
in the name of competition
knowing that in this moment
only that must come to fruition.

It may be just a game
for some who play
but for these competitors
they will never think in such a simplistic way.




My wife read some of my newest poems (some I will be posting on here in the next couple of days) and she asked me what they were about.  I thought back and explained to her at which point she told me that was both interesting and informative.  She suggested I make it known to anyone reading my poems where the inspiration came from so that they could better understand what they are reading about.  I will try to do this most of the time, but sometimes I may not (if the poem determines so, i.e. it can have multiple meanings and I don't want to ruin any possible meanings for any individual reader).
As for "The Race," it is about my kids.  During this summer I have been home during the day with them while they are out of school.  We love to play Mario Kart on the Wii.  I was watching them one day and thought how much fun it is just to watch them play and for me to step aside for a moment and soak that in, and from that came "The Race."

Ruin Where Greatness Once Ruled

Ruin where greatness once ruled,
shambles where legends formerly roamed,
archaic evidence of once success
now mocked with the deceased drones.
The stories of past conquests,
of conquerors, of rulers of crowds,
who were at the top of the mountain they marched
while full of strength and so proud:
they shouted the orders,
the instructions for an opponent's dismantling,
their soldiers attacking in unison
just as they were in chanting.
The rulers would send
their men on the hunt, the search,
as they would watch it all
from their thrones, their comfort, their perch.
The rulers directed their choirs
of violence, punishment, and crime,
something for which all
the subjects would make time.
The rulers would tell subordinates
exactly what to do and move to make
as they themselves would stay out
of violence's and danger's rake.
The rulers pillaged vigorously,
mercilessly, fervently, angrily, too,
taking no prisoners in their way,
but always doing what they were trained to do,
until the fear within them
out of which their actions came
no longer inspired them
but only brought failure and shame.
Suddenly the mountain upon which
they ruled with such dominion
crumbled under their feet
as their inevitable faltering was no longer opinion.
They fell flatly on the faces
that once wore the pride
they would never before dream
to attempt to hide.
Now no amount of status
they would ever hide behind
could save their souls from that
destiny they ultimately would find...

Ruin where greatness once ruled,
shambles where legends formerly roamed,
archaic evidence of once success
now mocked with the deceased drones...

The Model

I want to be the best.
I want to strive to work harder,
to exert my energy,
to teach them we can be smarter.

I want it to be known
adversity can be quite a brood
but they can deal with anything
as long as they have the right attitude.

I want to show how to have fun,
to let loose when the time calls
and when the moments appropriately rise,
to laugh so hard, to the floor they fall.

I want to guide our kids
to show them God's idea of a man,
to show them the world's way
is nothing compared to His plan.

I hope and pray they know
God will carry them if they have faith,
as long as they do their best
He will keep them on the narrow path that goes straight.

But most importantly...
I want to show them how to love,
to show them nothing can have such an impact -
to show them happiness comes from a heart
that puts others above itself, to prove that's a fact.
I want it to be taught and never forgotten,
and for them to avoid, at all cost, any infractions.
I want this lesson to be learned and to be lived
through my life as they do through their actions.

Dark Parade

The rain pours
on a dreary day,
yet another mark
of depression come their way.

They gather together,
they gather around,
the ones who live near
and others from other towns.

Seeing each other
is usually a pleasure
but today is no celebration
due to a lost treasure.

As some file in
others file out -
tears are shed
and sadness without a doubt.

They talk of a journey
that has now finished
as well as a legacy
that will ne'er diminish.

They speak of the morrow
and the dark parade
that rain will follow
from eyes under shade.

They know the grief
will follow them there
from which they will not
soon be spared.

They console each other
out of shear selfishness
so as to not be alone
with spirits and souls that need caressed.

This agony goes on
as eyes perspire
and tear glands can't
help but tire.

Their souls pray
for rest from depression
as their hearts sink
deeper into this recession.

They wish it were all
but a dream
so they could awake
and see hope's gleam.

Alas!
They close their eyes
and pray for their nightmare
to collectively end
and for their reality to be repaired.

Manic Monday (Praying for Tuesday)

I'm trying to write enough
material for the week
on this now manic Monday
that should be far too meek.
I am trying to manufacture
enough genuine inspiration
to write enough down
without the current hesitation.
It seems to be an attempt
(or more accurately an undertaking)
that hopefully will not end
in another failed forced faking.
Even when trying to use
literary devices for enhancement
to lure myself and others
into some kind of reading enchantment.
I fail to capture my own
[and surely others] imagination(s)
like trying to get married
without any of the preparation.
I have some rough ideas
to put on these papers
about personal experiences
and the fantasized capers
but unfortunately a start
does not guarantee a finish
as these outlines of ideas
fade and otherwise diminish.

The clock is running out
on a-too-ambitious-goal
that's plan has so many faults
with nothing to fill the holes.
It appears as if I must now face
a Tuesday with prayers and hopes
that find accomplished hopes, reached dreams
instead of the need for help to cope.

Cornucopia of Options

I'm staring ahead
and just sitting alone
with nothing to do
because I'm the only one.
This has happened before
as now it has again
to form a boring night
that is sublimely plain.
I can choose to write
or I can choose to read
or just re-run thoughts and memories
over again in my head.
I can choose to sit here
in my secluded cove
knowing that later holds
the return of my love.
I can think of the time
when returning home will be a woman -
the only one my heart will commit to,
the only one it can -
or I can just relax
my brain, my thoughts, my mind.
I can let all my guards down
and just enjoy, through an open window, the wind.
I can just enjoy all that is in this moment,
enjoy all that is here,
as my mind, my body, my soul
could not be more content anywhere.

Bother

Disappointed with my performance
and confused by my word choice,
I am having trouble knowing why
I even bothered to make heard my voice.
I said a lot of useless words that
could not mean any less if I tried.
I attempted to tell others of feelings
that fell flat on the paper as they died.
Sometimes I feel as if I have something here
but obviously that time was not today
as nothing read, typed, or even spoken
came across in the correct way.
I am going to resign this post now
and admit to myself as well as others
that I have nothing else of value to say
as no longer will this soul feel the need to bother.

The Force of Destruction

No one warns
of the trouble you cause.
They think it's a joke
almost more than it could be faux pas.
They do not consider
the power you truly possess
while ignoring anything
that a knowledgeable one says.
They do not believe
you are out to kill imagination
while those who know you are
are only overcome by frustration.

Those of us who have been
struck by the force of destruction
need to more fervently warn
the doubters of its seduction.
We need to tell those around
how strong it can truly be
and how quickly it can take potential
and throw it away so purposefully.
We need to remind others
that keeping a guard ready
is the only way to carry through
keeping the path straight and steady.
We must inform the reckless innocence
that nothing can be accomplished
if they give into the whim and temptation
and give this beast exactly what it wants and
fail to guard the minds
that they have been given to be protected.
They must remember to remember
exactly where their head is.

We must remind those who can be saved
that the moment is not lost
and that it is not too late
to avoid the far too heavy cost,
but the time must be now
to ensure a future that is much brighter
than the potentially squandered one
that could be given away without any sign of a fighter.

This Urge

I want to say no to you
but it is not that easy.
I was told I would get hooked
to you that is sleazy.
I wanted to walk away
from the disease I had implanted
in a mind that was so bored
that its time was so mismanaged.
It had nothing to do
and nothing to occupy
as everything that shouldn't have
began to catch its eye.
With time becoming all
that is defined in an enemy,
imagination did not serve
to be good enough in the end for me.
I needed something else
to serve as an outlet
until these insatiable appetites
could otherwise be met.
Instead I decided
to give in to that which ate
as now I have the consequences
I never believed until too late.
I now have the scars
of which others continually warned,
something I have done to myself
but still something I can only mourn.
I should have walked away
before it even came to be
but instead decided it was alright,
even if not for others, for me.
I now can only hope
and pray others heed wise words
that the quickest of undoings
is to give into this urge.

Tucked Away

He's an open book
but the pages are empty.
You could take a look
but there's not much to see.
Some often wonder
what he is thinking
or if that look represents
his emotional sinking.
They wonder if
the words others say
resonate with him
in any relevant way.
It seems as if that
which often, from others, evokes
the strong emotional responses
would be, from him, but a hoax.
This solid brick wall
that others see
is an unsolvable conundrum
to ponder endlessly,
yet with absolutely nothing
to be given away
he will keep inside
what he may tuck away.
The mystery that crosses
all of their minds
is the one that's his curse
and his chains that bind.

Consumerism's Theft

The picture that speaks
a thousand words
now replaces the mind
that was formerly undeterred.
The visual does all
of the necessary thinking
until imaginations that once ran
rampant are now sinking.
The fluids of creativity
that brought us the pictures
are the same to introduce machines
that cause time to be so indentured.
The minds once wired
to be the creators
are now nothing but consumers
with bodies that do nothing but cater.
The drive to explore
is now replaced so quickly
by the parked mentality
that takes in until sickly.
The soul sucks life
out of that which brains breathed it in
as the vast drowning of essence
happens again and again.

No one knows
or even cares
when this will end
or if we will be there
but sooner rather than later
there will be nothing left
as creation disappears
due to consumerism's theft.

A Rod

A smile goes a lot further
than that frown you are wearing
just like the kind words do
as opposed to your constant swearing.
Your ongoing issues
with your bad attitude
are accomplishing nothing
but assisting in your unwanted brood.
You say you want circumstances
to turn around and improve,
yet you change nothing you are doing
as you stay stagnant in your refusal to move.
Your words speak of wishes
of a life that is better lived
but your actions lack the effort
to make it come true and active.
Moaning and whining may seem
to catch some attention
but it has yet to act
as the much needed intervention
for you to stop waiting
for life to get better
and instead to act
as the rod, not the fetter.
Once you make the conscious
decision to be the turnaround
is the very moment your lost focus
will be the treasure that is found.

This Dance

She holds him
and tells him how proud she is.
They cry together
on this day of bliss.
They share this dance
as well as tears.
Her pride for him
for all of the years
overflows in this moment
they share together
in this dance they have
that will be remembered forever.

A man leaves his parents
for a deserving wife
with whom he will share
a happy-ever-after life.
This day and dance
are the culmination today
of a life and relationships
that will last forever this way.

What It Is

It's low, it's rough,
it's harsh, it's tough.
It roars, it screams,
it moans, it gleams.
It cries, it whines,
it's sick, it's fine.
It's short, it's long,
it's right, it's wrong.
It's false, it's true,
it knows, it hasn't a clue.
It's honest, it's a liar,
it's ice, it's fire.
It's genuine, it's a fake,
it's pavement, it's a lake.
It's the world, it's a dream,
it's hidden, it's seen.
It's a promise, it's broken,
it means everything, it's just a token.
It's serious, it's a joke,
it's life, it's a screen of smoke.

Up in the Air

Up so high in the air
flying between the clouds
where all is clear
and nothing can shroud,
a glance out of a window
on either one of the sides
as we briefly shake together
in an otherwise smooth ride,
the beauty surrounds us
in this great, big machine
with a view most all agree
has never previously been seen.
So many among us
pretend this deal is not big
but no miracle of nature
could be anything but this.
We sit back and relax
as the process is smooth,
enjoying the peace of nothingness,
pitying those with things to do.
We wish the landing
would not occur soon
as we can't help but love
the relaxation in the room.

Another Second or Twelve

If only I had
another second or twelve
to think of how to
respond and do so
accordingly to fit
what the circumstances needed
so I could change the response
that ended in me defeated,
I needed that extra
moment to think
but it couldn't be afforded
before time did sink.
The sentence required
an altered structure
for an outcome to change
to lead to an alternate future.
That future was optimistically
anticipated ahead
of its fruition
that is now dead.
The plan I had
fell on its face
before it left
its starting place.
If only I could
have had the time
to speak exactly
what was on my mind,
but alas I acted
far too slowly
for thoughts to turn to words
in a motion planned so poorly.

A Woman's Shutter

The fear that strikes,
the feet that hit
the ground by which
an anger is lit;
the woman hunched,
the woman cowering
under the iron fist
of the man towering;
a complete thought
not to escape
her lips or mouth
without a berate;
the love she once
craved for and longed
now scares her to death
in a place feeling so wrong.
A passion he used
to use for love
now fuels a fury
that nothing rises above.
A relationship that has
become a suffocating corner
has her trapped in the moment
with no way to go forward.
With no flow of ideas
in a mind shut down
by fear for life
that always abounds,
she closes her eyes
(as her stamina is gone)
and prays for the safety
that has long been undone.

As Text from the Past

You hand me a letter
of what I know it contains.
It is full of heartbreak
and unrequested pain.
It tells of the reasons
and explains the excuses
of why we should run
away from the muses.
It expressed the feelings
in words unworthy
so a face-to-face encounter
full of controversy
won't have to occur
or happen between us,
as the easy way out
is your preference of choices.
You hand me this paper
and stand before me
awaiting my reading
that will not happen quickly.
I put it down
on the ground by my side
with intentions of reading
when the pain no longer resides.
I'll let you walk away
without my knowledge of the contents
where explanations arise
that are nothing but nonsense.
I'll read it in the future
as text from the past
because it's too hard in the present
that came to be too fast.

An Evening with a Friend

Having a lovely evening
with you, my friend,
a breezy summer one
I wish wouldn't end.
It started with a fire,
a burst of flame in the air.
The heat caught you
as you began to glow there.
I enjoyed myself
thoroughly as you diminished
wondering if and thinking that
we would never be finished.
Slowly but ever-so-surely
you began to shrink
as my lungs did fill and our time
did gradually near the brink,
yet my brain was overcome
with an extreme relaxation
as my body lounged in its chair
embracing such a sensation.
My heart was loving this
experience together again
until my eyes looked down
to discover we were near the end.
Against my will
and all my wishes
the final ashes fall
with a wrist's final twitches,
the discarding of a friend
with whom a night is shared
until I pick up another one
and the experience is repeated there.

Her Name Is "She"

Her name is "she"
and nothing else
no matter what
the idiots yell.
If you can manage
to look past
the hard exterior
she pretends she has
you will see
a beautiful lady
with a sense of humor
that causes laughter like crazy.
She has a heart
bigger than she lets on
that she isn't often
given the chance to be shown,
but if you let her
in your world briefly
you will truly be
blessed for all eternity.

Doors

So many doors closed,
waiting for just one to open.
We thought we knew the way to go
but seem to have a different sign shown.
Now we are unsure
as to whether or not
the door we assumed was for us
was at all what we thought.
Perhaps we imagined that path
to be the one that was destined
because we wanted it so badly
that it didn't matter which way blew the wind.
We didn't care what the signs
were actually saying
because we were going to listen
to what we were paying
attention to in our heads,
a conversation being created
by our own selfish minds
that were going to force what was fated.
Now with sudden news
that we did not expect so soon
we must grip the reality
that we blocked a moment so opportune.
We must take the notice
that the moment slipped from us
as it hits our collective gut so quickly
we can't breathe and can't focus.
Our momentary dream and passion
that could not be taken away
will pass and fade into a past
that will haunt us for many coming days.

Need for a Pillow

I don't know what sign
you need to receive
to understand how badly
I want you to leave.
I cannot tell you
how much I can't stand
you loitering around here
without a purpose or exit plan.
Do you not have another
place you could go
that would not prevent
me from my home?
Why do you not
have a place to be
that does not affect
my time with my family?
My anger is overcoming
my words and thoughts
as my actions could well follow
though they are being fought.
I am trying not to grow
as violent as I can
but there is only so much
that can be taken by a man.
My body cannot help
but to quiver and shake
as my hands become fists
in a fiery passion that can't be faked.
I am trying to block
the emotions that I
can't swallow or digest
but that still won't die.
Every sense I have,
now extra heightened,
the slightest wrong move
can bring an attack to frighten.
This fighting that I am
trying to keep within
is about to burst out
of my soul yet again.
With nothing but these thoughts
running within my soul
only a deep breath and a pillow
can make me whole.