Expectations

 

Consider:
Whether the path
Paved and light?
Whether the status quo
With dimmed delight?
Whether the bed
That is warm
But vacant?

To walk,
Where jagged craggs abound?
To be,
Where certainty can’t be found?
To sleep,
Upon a rock
Laid with chance?

The stage is set
Miss Havisham,
The heart has flamed
And dimmed the forge
That blackened my face.

A seed of ambition-
A better than-
My mind was tamed
And so engorged
With want that won’t erase.

Weigh:
Between the difference
Of need and want;
Between the height of ambition
And being arrogant;
Between the distance
Of a dream
From covetousness.

Subtract
The vanity in possession.
Alight
The baseless assumption.
Return
To what is deserved
From wanton excess.

The chain’s been filed
Mr. Marshman,
The mind has cleared
And lit the fire
That led my way.

A tree of hope-
A could become-
The heart that feared
Began to aspire
A better day.

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Disgruntled

 

The clacking of the keys make
The fires of my guilt flare.
I should be working,
I should be doing what the man told me to do.
These letters are for the discontent.
These lines are for the numbers,
For the unpaid hours,
For the useless favors,
The wait,
The suffering,
The dimwit succeeding,
The ass-kissing.

I am talking to you, silly boy.
“What do we do about this?”
Really means
“Do your job, moron.”

I,

The proverbial man
In a leather catsuit
And fur-lined cuffs
Whip
Whip
Whippit good.

I suckle the sweaty balls
Of the bureaucrat
Jizz is sustenance

I close my eyes,
Rationalize:
“It’s a delicacy-

Ball sweat

And bullshit.”

Spread your cheeks
Clack-clack-clackety

The ashes of my guilt
Bore the phoenix of my wrath

I shouldn’t be scribbling

My pen is

A middle finger

Up your ass.

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Seeing Mark

 

Venti Vanilla Tea Latte
White chino
Jeans
sneakers.

Was it a year?

Was it several lifetimes ago?

You look like you
Didn’t even see me coming.
You avoided my gaze,
I weighed the weight
Of sadness you’re bearing.

Grande Coffee Jelly
Black shirt
Jeans
Sneakers

It was a year.

It was several lifetimes ago.

You weren’t you
The way I see you now.
The one I let slip away,
I try to keep the welling
Air of possibility at bay.

So what’ve you been up to?
How are you doing now?

I fill each awkward gap
With stupid questions
Preludes to answers
I didn’t care to know.

They were set in place,
Like the foam on your latte,
To add interest
To the real question lying beneath.

I stroke the back of your hand
Deliberately.
I see you struggle not to tense it.
Pretending everything was fine
Pretending you weren’t cringing
On anticipated pain.

Do you hate me?

Folding the dollup of cream
Into my drink.

No hate,
You whispered
To the frothy crown,
Only hurt.

(Insert stupid question)

(Insert vacant answer)

I’ll walk you to work

We get up
And you walk right next to me
I hold on to your arm.

We leave our drinks,

Unfinished.

Swing

 

I rode a swing
I haven’t been
On such a thing
Since I was little
When sadness
Was brittle
That a short gush
Turned sorrow to mush
As the little seat
Shoved a rush
Of wind upon my face
And set me reeling
Back in place.
Back and forth
On a swing
That’s always moving
But never getting
Anywhere.

It will do tonight
To cause a stir
And somehow blur
The rapid whir
Of my racing mind.

When thoughts of you
Came back too,
I rode a swing
To forget you.

I lean back
So the stars are shooting
And catch myself wishing
On each one
That when I get off
With one big hop
You won’t be far behind.

Than-Bauk Poem: Wish on a Star

 

You’re very far
like a star that
You are, tonight.
Out of sight, then
All bright: twinkling.
I’m hoping for
Something, that you
Turn out to be
A true falling
star, hoping you’re
Falling tonight.
Wish I might that
Your light, oh star,
Won’t stay far. Wish
You are falling, 
I’m praying, you’re
Falling for me.

Death to Patience

 

He is sprawled helpless, whelmed beyond measure
Here on the field of fetid cotton sheets.
He ponders: was it love? Convenience?
Whatever the case, it doesn’t matter.
Pain and joy both syncopate his heartbeats.
The difference, he reckoned was patience.

And there was an endless supply. Patience
That days and distance can’t seem to measure.
But he can’t help from counting the heartbeats
That always hasten when rain drops in sheets.
Pretense and a hand offers convenience,
Stalls him for a while in viscuous matter.

Habit later becomes inconvenience,
Question marks hover testing his patience
Every gap in time begins to matter,
The treasure of pleasure failed to measure
Up to the emptiness between his sheets.
A drone instead of musical heartbeats.

What good is a heart when one’s own heart beats
For nothing? Certainly no convenience
Can expunge forever the empty sheets
Of his love story. Understand, patience
Has betrayed him of wealth without measure.
Abandoning the heart for gray matter.

He asks himself, “what the hell’s the matter?”
The mind cannot pulse as the quick heart beats.
Feelings make thoughts difficult to measure–
They refuse to settle for convenience.
The heart will destroy the walls of patience
What it seeks lies beyond these cotton sheets.

He takes a torch under the wretched sheets
The healing flames make nothing else matter
Flames of the arson put death to patience,
Music, at last, is heard in his heartbeats
The cotton mistakes and inconvenience
Have found their end in overdue measure.

He has left patience in the ashen sheets,
Figured that measure should not so matter.
Summoning heartbeats defies convenience.

Morning After

 

Naked:
I pick your clothes
As I sift through the ruble
On the floor
Separating yours from mine
Noting the spot
On the carpet
Tainted wine.
The stench of cigarettes
Invade my mind
With that gaze you made
That beckoned me
The bump and brush
That signalled the beginning
Of all these on the floor
In your bed
In my head
I wish my ease had not misled
You to think
That I would dread
To wake up next to you
Every awkward hour
From today.
I fold your clothes
And stack them neat
While you dream an else
In your deep sleep
I put on mine
Without a peep
And take my leave.
Something else is beginning
With each step I’m taking
This possibility I’m holding
Of us
Of you
Waking
And seeing the magnitude
of my pining,
Stacked at the foot of your bed.
I wish you’d see
That I could be
The one you’re dreaming of
Instead.

Cinquain of a Short-lived Love Affair

 

goodbye

short, swift

coming, laughing, crying, going

five lines for five weeks.

goodbye

ARIA

The notes creep like vines
Of smoke out of my mouth.
They prepare to swell and
Thin out until they explode
Into a haze of song.
The deafening end to a lifetime
Of muteness.

The song is sweet
And the words are chosen
For rhyme and beauty.
A song that conceals
An agony that blinds
Like the sunlight
That coats my feathers.

It brings to every listening eye

A solitary tear.

A glistening pendant
That hangs upon the chain

Of inevitability.

The melody rises
And springs as the summer
Falls into the welcome winter.

And the rapture of its refrain
Makes my heart dissolve
Into my soul
Until my being pulsates
Into a steadily slowing beat.

And with the falling
Of the blood-colored leaf
The epilogue begins to fade.
And the lines that repeat
At the chord in the end

Disappear from the air

To ricochet in your head.

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Surrender

when you caused me to look at myself
and let you see me too,
I told you,
“my tears are beautiful.”
 and suddenly the universe opened
and I was wide awake.

and for a speck of eternity,
i felt you in my arms
like my own skin.
and i knew that i was married to you.

and all that was mine
is now yours.
you have reached through me
and i breathed through you.

your mind sang so loudly
my heart was naked
like Jericho.

and you loved me more.

and I let you.

and i will embrace you
face to face now.
i won’t ward off the days
until you leave
instead welcome you
each time you crash into me.

my heart is not mine now.

do as you please.