Saturday, April 30, 2011

Poem #21 Dead End

It has been said
so many times
this is a dead end
no going back
there is no future
no reason to
walk that path
that has been
worn out by
steps already
been stepped
trampled memories
and crushed spirits
filled with judgmental strides
weighed down by fearful prides
that road has been
crossed over and over again
why build yet another bridge
only to see that “progress” burns
we take our turns
lighting each fire
and adding gas to it
it is over
it is so much over
that we come back for more
and reminisce about the
clouds of smoke
we created and
we think we can take
those ashes and save them
just to remind each other
who burned what bridge
who trampled on what road
and in the process
we build yet another path
with another outcome
that we refuse to believe exists
because in the end
we know that this road
has to lead to another dead end
a dead end is the only outcome
possible because this path
is not paved perfectly
there are too many exits
and not enough lanes
there are two speeds:
fast and stop
and the judgmental police
are always watching
waiting to render a
opinionated ticket for
something they have no clue
so we take the next exit
and destroy any trace
of this path because
it was simply not in the plan
and besides its over
even though we do
kinda need to
reach the other side
of this huge hole we
just created with all the
other roads and paths
we left devastated
it would only make sense
to help each other
get out of the hole
this one last time
because it is over…

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Poem #20 Block

I stare at the
blank piece of paper
the thin blue lines
that separate
spaces where words
should be
I stare cluelessly
not knowing what to say
because haven’t I
said everything
that need to be heard?
have I not given
this page
everything I possibly can?
I would write in
blood if I had to
just to let it all out
instead I am forced
to write this poem
with the only thing
that I can possibly
have left
my tears
the only ink
that I can produce
that will allow me
to break this block
that holds me
this block
that controls me
this block
that remolds me
so I need to
unblock me
I need to let myself flow
and stop letting
fear block my
dreams that are
more attainable
than what I first thought
and stop being caught
up in trying to fill
the spaces in between
the thin blue lines
that make up my
empty paper heart
that yearns to filled
with more than nerves
to be filled
with more than words
and I cannot help that
every time I use this
pen to unblock
i feel better than I did
the minute previous
so just leave me this
that maybe on day
i can remove me
from the block
so I can fill that space
with something more
than words 

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Poem #19 Runaway Island

my dear friend
take my hand
I found a place
were we can go far
away from
the crap
that I know you
go through
far away from
the drama
that is our lives
an island that
will allow us
to just get away
from the judgmental looks
the superficial friends
and the games
people play
I call it runaway island
fictitious maybe
but this place is
located on the
side of the world
that crosses between the
I dont give a fuck latitude
and leave me alone longitude
we are all welcome
when people play
with our hearts
and our heads
when we just need
to get away
from the tweets
the facebook profiles
the text messages
because we can never
truly put up global filters
to mute someone for
x amount of days
or unfollow the obnoxious
judgments of people who
think they know us
this is a place that exists
beyond a recession
that is free admission
you never have to worry
about what people say
where we can get over
any heart break
and find acceptance
within the confines
of ourselves
thus returning to
the real world better
admission is not given
to those who lie
to themselves
until they admit
their mistakes
and accept their fate
because karma
comes for them first
and makes them
as judgmental
as the others we
run from

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Poem #18 Interstate Woman

I see you from afar
and I say damn
why cant you live closer
the things i would do
I wont mention
but you have my attention
I can tell
that you have that
ability to make me
forget the past
and keep me
on the present
I am not used to
your style
because I was not
sure a woman
like you existed
I can get twisted
in your essence
of being
pure womanhood
is more of a verb
because you make
me want to take
i look at your zip code
and wonder how many
hours would it take
on the interstate
just to be where you are
how much gas in the car
do i have
if i left right now
i may have to see
because you have
never met
someone like me
I would take that ride
just to spend
the day in your presence
match that sexy voice
to that beautiful persona
match them both
to form that
ideal woman that
we all talk about
but never see
and all I want
is one full day
i would not be remiss
to drive down
just for a kiss

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Poem #17 Upgrade

I am zero for four
and while I have
more hits than Mrs
it seems like
letting go is
harder than manning up
but I take the losses
because in the law
of averages
the wins should balance out
and when too many
losses occur
one has to upgrade
the roster
clean the slate
start over
do better than
the past
the past
was not working
no more games
being played
it is time for an upgrade
Playing hole to hole
was never the goal
just wasted swings
since the game
was never to par
just a handicapped
system where the rules
changed day to day
with no chance to win
only to play it out
to the bitter end
it is time to upgrade
to step up the game
balance the rules
make things fair
get a chance to win
on an upgraded
course where
things are better
than before
and it is never
about the score
who wins
who loses
and who gets upgraded

Poem #16 Can You Share Them with Me?

Thinking about your lips
full and soft
with each smile
I think about
your style
and how I can be
a part of them
will you share
them with me
will you allow me
to touch that
part of your
sensory cortex
that gives you
that reflex
to want to put
your lips on mine
and if I can just be real
i am totally capable
to treat your labial
to all the sensations
it can handle
because this is an art
and I am the artist
kissing you would
make my month
but I will make your year
redefine the meaning
of erogenous
because the simple thought
of this intimacy
will make make
your dreams wet
and all it would
all start with a
simple kiss
to make your bliss
that indication
of where this
could lead
all you need to do
is follow
a simple kiss
a tug of the lower lip
is all that i think about
when I see you
can you share them
with me?

Monday, April 18, 2011

Poem #15 My Friend

someday we all die
we may ask why
we my still try
but in the end
we will still be friends
I will always be there
because I care
you make it easy
to love what we have
a true bond
I dont have to
turn around
because I know
you are there
you have my back
no matter my tears
no matter my fears
you have turned
them into smiles
you have fought
that fight with me
and not for me
and in turn
i have help you
with your battles
took the scrapes
the cuts
the bruises
with you
if you had a cross
i would help
bare it
I would carry it
for you
and with you
I would sacrifice
my mind and body
to make sure
that you were ok
you are my friend
which means
more to me
than I can tell you
so I would rather
just be there
when you are sad
and help you
rejoice when you
are happy

Friday, April 15, 2011

Poem #14 That Moment

There is that moment
that seems to last
that pause
before connection
and the realization
that there is no
going back
thoughts racing
that turn
completely blank
when a set of eyes
hers and mine
in unison
two soft lips meet
and fireworks
are set off
the first kiss
is the difference
romance and disaster
tongues dance
as if trying to
discover where one
begins and the
other ends
an erotic dance
of who can
pull way first
who can embrace first
who can love first
who can let go first
who can lose control
kisses are never

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Poem #13 Heart Shaped Box

If I were to give you
a heart shaped box
what would you expect
to find?
would you think about
chocolate nuggets
with caramel
or cherries
in the center
or cookies perhaps
that you could
carefully pick out
one by one
but what if I gave you
that box
and what you found
was everything
that was me
my love
my pain
my fragile ego
my talent
my tears
my fears
and my mistakes
would you still want it? 
would you unwrap
each morsel
individually to see
why I am so sensitive
why I push away
any woman
if they get too close
why I am so fucking rude
why I am so damn sarcastic
does that same box
seem heavier?
would you take
a damaged box
with all the
contents smashed
or melted
broken pieces
with crumbs everywhere
or would you
prefer that same box
gift wrapped
with a nice red ribbon
around it so that
you never know
that my heart shaped box
was damaged
until it was too late…

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Poem #12 Spoon

cool night
lights out
seeking warmth
from another soul
only sheets separate
me from her
obstacle removed
flesh meets flesh
in all the right places
heat comes from
negative spaces
not even a
pillow can feel
this good
embracing from
front to back
I can feel her smile

she feels my love
through my breath
on the back of
her neck
and backs up
nestling into me
as my arms wrap
around her
this the closest
our two hearts
can possibly get
beating to
the same rhythm
slowing down
at the same time
as we drift to sleep

Poem #11 Insomniac Creative

I can’t sleep at night
my creative wont let me
rest right
it’s like my blood
runs hot with
a fiery passion
a blaze
that will not be put out
until I achieve what
I was set out to do
And if I do sleep
it is a restless night filled
with dreams
of female goblins
who try suck
the very ink
out of my pen
or I am being chased
by zombies that
want to consume
my creativity
but I fight every night
and tell myself
that I will be complete
While I want to complain
about how unfair life is
I move on
knowing my
creative juices will
always be active
I have learned how to write, despite
someone being fucked
in the room right to me
I use that noise as motivation
to not blame my past
but ignite my creative
to another level
to block out the distractions
to maintain my reactions
But I will not rest
until my dreams are
are fulfilled
and I can sleep
a full night
so I wont need
coffee in the morning
I can feel my fate is calling
time to wake up
and answer

Monday, April 11, 2011

Poem #10 The Side Eye

I am not one
to judge another
but what I can do
is give you
the side eye
with my head tilted
to side like a dog
who can’t figure out
what the fuck
he just heard
my eyes locked
as I turn my head
because your
stupidity puts you
out of focus 
when you cry
over your own mistakes
you get the side eye
when you pretend
not to care (when we know you do)
you get the side eye
when you flirt with me
in front of your husband
you get the side eye
when you cannot see
past your own indiscretions
you get the side eye
when you blame others
for your obvious problems
you get the side eye
when you cant figure out
that this poem is about you
you. get. the. fucking. side. eye. 
the side eye
is like a mini death star
that has a laser
aimed directly at your dome
to blow up your spot
because your story
or lack there of
need holes to be
punched into
the side eye is designed
to be universal symbol
of stupidity recognition
without being all
confronting and
avoiding the neck rolling
response one would get
if they cease to be
passively agressive
so to all of those
who make no fucking sense
i give YOU the side eye
as the ultimate act
of civil disobedience
to protest the
crazy ass women
and the dumb ass men

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Poem #9 Roles

We all have roles to play
you play yours
and I will play mine
and in the end
neither of us
will get an award
Every action
has a reaction
every actor
has their script
every singer
has their lyrics
We all conform
in our ways
and we all perform
on other days
we transform
but real life never pays
in wages
for our roles
so while you give
an inspiring performance
on how you my not care
your role has been
because the audience
is not believing it

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Poem #8 My Pen is

you can take my heart
but you cannot take
my pen is
my spirit incased
in the greatest of instruments
and is my mightiest weapon
I used it as shield
and a sword
I can make love to you with it
or I can make the world
hate you with it

i can never be silenced
my pen is
my strength
to move past
the bullshit
the craziness
the realness
and the sanity
that is my existence
My pen is
my extension
that makes me
the man that I am
and ink the life blood
to my creativity
and I don’t need
to measure
the size
of its importance
You can never hold it
the right way
because you can never
write with it
exactly the way I do
but I can lend it to you
so you can see
how unique I can be
how much of a man I can be
how much of a lover
of life I can be 
My pen is
the only thing
that cannot be
separated from me
it functions even
when I am heartless
it functions with no cap
and the ink is never dry
it never dysfunctions
and it is always up
for more poetry

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Poem #7 Definition of a Boy

Weed Smoking
No book reading
pants sagging
yankee cap to the side
smiling in my face
yet thinking your
dick is bigger
when you cannot
last longer than
one of my sneezes
playing women
like dropping quarters
in a video game machine
as if your life depended
on the amount of
ass you get
when you probably
like men more
but you never tell your boys
because you don’t
know how to be one
you are a boy
who may look like
a man but cannot
define in his mind
what a man is
because while you
walk around quoting
lyrics from a genre
you think you know
real men define
themselves by accomplishments
real men aspire
to inspire
they take the risks
they break the mold
they understand that
bagging “bitches”
is actually fucking
your own mother
one thrust at a time
but since you are boy
i dont expect you to

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Poem #6 "X" Girl

When I close my eyes
I see your image
almost like a
construction paper cut-out
you pop out
and into my psyche
with an exhilarating silhouette
your curves are more round
than any circle I can comprehend
you make want to relearn math
just so I can solve for x
and know that circumference
I imagine your skin being
as smooth a silk
giving me goose bumps
every time you place
your hand on mine
i can feel your energetic
soul that gives you a kinetic
power over me that is euphoric
i don’t like weak women
so your mind is as strong
as your body
Your perfections are highlighted
by your imperfections
which makes you the
perfect woman for my
imperfect life
because our flaws connect
like pieces of a jig saw puzzle
with no edges
because our love would be infinite
in a time of finite
Your beauty would only be
measured against your intelligence
you can solve for my x and my y
with an aura of sophistication
that would make me melt
with every solved equation
I would appreciate you
you would appreciate me
we would be ideal
and revel in our perfection
which begs the question
where are you?

Poem #5 Fear Write

Fear in my heart
not sure where to start
or where to end
i cannot pretend
that life is also
puppies and rainbows
but I can hope for something better
I recognize my privilege
because my life is not that bad
although better than yours
at least I can look
in the mirror everyday
and know who I am
and know how I am dealing with
there is no sugar coating
the truth
that all people suck
some just better than others
and while I may have had
a few too many
I know that I am thinking
quite clearly
you just choose not to hear me
my emotions rule me
and make me a better man
because I am in touch
with all the things that
any man should
but rather hide
according to the guide
all men are assholes
and I am more of the
sum of the whole
or the hole of the some
I just rather just freeze
my veins
and become like the rest
go from hole to hole
like a game on the green
but i know myself
I am not that mean
so that just leaves me
back a square one
with thoughts that are clear
and a heart full of fear 

Monday, April 4, 2011

Poem #4 Pressure Underneath

My feet in the sand
I try to draw that line
but I see the sun setting
me against the world
I feel pressure in my chest
overwhelmed with fear
I can see the tide coming in…
Submerged in my emotions
swimming within the reaches
of my consciousness
I breathe water like air
in search for peace within
the answers lay deep inside
the recess of the choppy waters
that is my mental
Name, faces, dates, and times
blend together in a collage
of images like
a high def movie screen
submerged in a pool
the pressure of deep
watery emotions
causes an explosion
of fears
with the ripple effects
irritating old pain
is it funny how ocean water
taste just like tears
but I swim deeper to see
what is causing the pressure?
is there a monster in my life?
whom do I need to cut out?
the further I go
the clearer the water
I arrive to the answer
the water I breathe
become a source of
a shocking choke
a mirror appears
and I now get the joke
an enemy within
truly the reason as it seems
I wake up in my bed
cursing my dreams

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Retail Therapy

I have to admit that shopping is every bit as cathartic as women say it is. Of course, I have gotten into shopping for myself over the last 2 years and it has this strange sense of making me feel better about everything. This is not to say that I am feeling depressed, I have been so focused on my goals that sometimes I do forget that I have to do for myself.

The other thing I realized is that I have never really been brought up with the sense of how to shop. When I was a kid, my mother would take me to Alexanders and just pick stuff out. When I was in high school, things were a little easier because when you go to Catholic School, you can just buy whatever from Macy's and hope it matches.

However, there came a point when I started working and hanging out, that I knew I had to buy clothes for social purposes. We are talking about the 90's here when overalls were in. Needless to say that was a disaster. I am not even sure how I got through college. Shopping was always something that I disliked. I hated to go with my mother because she would take all day and I would hide inside the round clothing racks because I was that bored. But, as I grew older and women began to play a huge role in my life, I began to see how important it was to be patient when a woman shops. I got to see how meticulous they can be, not only about the price, but about the quality.

Most guys who shop will just get anything because it may look good. They many not care about the price or the quality at the same time. I know when I started my venture to really change my wardrobe, not only did I have a woman with me, but I really took an interest in certain stores and what I can do to make that extra impression. I will always remember my cousin looking very neat and clean when we were hanging out in high school. I used to joke about how much of a diva he is but, I feel like I am beginning to resemble that.

In my line of work it is very important to look professional. When I first started working I would wear the collared shirt with slacks because I was more of operational person that did more manual labor than anything else. I had always heard that you dress for the job you want and not the job you have. Once I was promoted, I did change the way I dressed. I noticed the immediate effect on customers and co-workers in terms of how they approach and interacted with me.

So, over the years (and more recently), I have become more comfortable with my appearance. They say that 90% of all communication is non verbal. I try to make sure that what I am trying to convey about myself comes across well which is why I bought two suits yesterday. Granted it was buy one get one free at Men's Warehouse, but if you ever go there then you know that those suits are not cheap.

There was one thing that made me spend all that money...the service. The guy who helped me made me feel important. He never made it seem that I could not afford the clothing. He showed me all quality stuff and when I told him I wasn't sure of the price, he looked me and basically said that anything less would effect the quality of the suit and I am trying to make sure you look good. He earned his money.

It made me think about something that my dad says, "you get what you pay for". So spending as much as I did, I walked out the store really thinking that I am so worth every penny I am spending on myself.

Poem #3 Let Go

There comes a moment
of clenching fists
gritting teeth
tense muscles
eyes water
tears rundown
dry lips become
saturated with
the realizations that
all control is lost
because the mind races
to blame ourselves
when we dont even
know how we got here 
holding on to that something:
the past
a picture
a pillow
a letter
a chain
so tight that
fingers bleed
from the shards
of broken promises
and shattered dreams
the death grip
so tight we forget to breathe

take a deep breath
and release
hold on no more to the shame
unclench your teeth
give up the power
that you allow the other
relax the muscles and watch
the puppet strings *snap*
open your hands
and look at wonder of
a stress free life
let go
you are free from the lies
free from the cries
the excuses
the abuses
let go and become
the beautiful person
that God meant you to be

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Poem #2 My Next

If I had a crystal ball
I can tell where you are
and then I can pass
to you this note
in hopes that it will
find you well enough
as if it was me
searching for you
the Next one
the one who will
put the others to rest
the one who will
pass the test
the one who
finally shows me
that I am not crazy
to give up that beating
muscle that resides
behind my damaged chest bone
that has been cracked open
many times
like an egg against a bowl

the next one
my future woman
that will be everything
I can imagine
that will meet the expectations
without the games
the rolling eyes
and the propensity
to make everything about her
because we would be a partnership
Maybe I know you now
or maybe I don’t
but this poem is for you
all the nights of solitude
sleeping with multiple pillows
just to feel comfortable
will pay off like hitting
the numbers in the Mega Millions
you will be the next winner

Friday, April 1, 2011

Poem #1 Replace

I have replaced my pen
with a keyboard
my dell
with a mac
my heart
for a hole
my life
for a stagnant death
my choices
for a thing called fate
A season of change
and I am still the same
with the same issues
running in place on a treadmill
works on the physical
but not on the mental
my presence may be forsaken
but my poems can't be taken
the keyboard acts like
tiny little “easy buttons”
that act like
control rods
in a nuclear reactor
holding in every
fucking emotion
before I explode
I replace my emotions
with silence
because I simply
can longer release
the odor of that stagnant death
that surrounds my being
that gets held back
like a kid repeating the 4th grade
who never seems to learn
that if you put 2 & 2 together
you better get the same answer
although I often do
addition by subtraction
with my heart
whether it is a letter
or a phone call
saying that I am not good enough
my will is stronger
than any disappointment
than any rejection
because I will replace failure
with success
I will not be known as a have not
or a never will be
i will replace that death with life
that fate to choice
and my holed heart
with a whole heart 


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