(Not quite) Yesterday’s Poem [9]

I wrote this a couple weeks ago, actually, and wasn’t sure about posting it. Insecurities and all that. But why not? It doesn’t make any sense, it won’t hurt anyone. Here’s a poem.




If I said ‘yellow’

would you address my claim –

would you turn into a blue-sayer –

would you ever take me seriously again?


It is not ‘yellow’ of course –

nothing is ever yellow

and yellow is indeed nothing –

but could it be a color at all?


Could it be an absence of color

before it becomes an absence of words,

of feelings, of yellows?


Think about yellows, talk about yellows.

And lose sight

of meaning

as I repeat yellow unto you.

For it is not ‘yellow’

– it is LOVE.





Yesterday’s Poem [8]

I got bored yesterday. I get bored a lot these days. But it’s not just that, it’s never just that. This is the more, I’m thinking about:

Snow White

It’s snowing.
Like memories snow flakes swirl
through the air.
Hitting the pavement.
Building new ground
to stand on.
Or slip on.

Troubling thoughts
of troubling memories
I slip on.
And the ever-present
of misunderstood convictions.

Why? does difference mean alienation.
Why? is there a better in an equal state.
Why? is nature being blamed,
framed, defamed, beaten and resisted.
Why? do I even still care.

And nothing does feel right.
And everything is a messy state of mind.
The slush of once pure snow
is causing accidents,
is causing my mind to slip further
into the dark.

There’s the ongoing nagging,
the insistance that life’s not right.
Or maybe it’s just snow and cold and ice,
the weather of a troubled mind,
the winter of a broken society.

Yesterday’s Poem [5]

So, maybe I wasn’t in the best place yesterday. I watched Kill Your Darlings and got a little swept away by the world sorrow.

I see a dream

written on the wall.

It has no end,

no beginning,

is all middle.

The sour sting of drink,

I tumble over forgotten chains

tied to my wrists.

The charm of the ever-believer.

The curse of my paralysis.

Have you been to war

like I have?

Have you fucked

your closest foe?

There's no string in the shoe box

to tie me down

beside you.

We have been high and drunk.

We tried on life.

I pause the movie, the illusion of my genius.

There's no written consent,

no formal request

to overcome my demons.

It's all in a dream

and the sneakers under your bed.


Yesterday’s Poem [4]

I watch a lot of Criminal Minds lately, but it does not hold all of my attention. So here goes the poetry – the serial love poetry.

The Love

u take for granted.

The Moment

of your surrender

to desire,

to the other soul.

The Love-ly


’cause we’re alone

in our humanness.

Lonely, Lovely Human,

go to love,

gotta love,

got a love.

And a soul-ution.


Yesterday’s Poem [3]

Valentine’s Day special – I was drunk and watching Transparent‘s 2nd season (so, don’t blame me!)

To be in love
the feeling
the person
the indescribable

The fucked up
of feeling,
no, having feelings
for another

I didn’t call.
Because I didn’t want to/
couldn’t get involved.
had my heart broken.
felt — That.

I’m so not ready.

Yesterday’s Poem

Love, Untested

Looking into you,
knowing you.
Barely knowing you,
but owning you.
My love, be fair
and fairer even still,
robbing me of breath,
of precious air.

And there is nothing
you can do or say.
Nothing sweet and nothing cruel
to stop me in my
true pursuit of you.
My happiness, my shameless sacrifice,

Though worlds apart, though raging rivers
in between,
our souls still yearn for that one thing.
A thing both holy, but unholy made.
Your love, my love, I hold to me.
Until our bodies crumble, our sins reviewed,
I love you always – reality untold.

(Let’s try something different today, I thought. I wrote this yesterday after reading some of Shakespeare’s. Suffice it to say, my crude poetry is not worthy the comparison, but I guess, he inspired me a little.

Poetry is such a secret pasttime. Most of the time, I’m not even sure myself, what it is about. Yesterday, words seemed far more important than meaning. I apologize for the use of ‘thing,’ it’s unrefined and yet sometimes the only word for what one seeks. A thing. I seek.

Well, I hope you’re all inspired these days, maybe to more than poetry [unless poetry is the thing you seek]. Have a good week, lovelies.)