The Muse of Venus

happy

2011-11-14T20:01:00.000-08:00

I thought I could make sunrise mean morning again
instead of a clock chime
don't you understand
we used to be humanity, now we are just a man
each a lonely figure stark against the sunsets
and the angels watch us from their pink clouds shouting down
cant you see the ocean?
The boats making their reflections into shadows in the crisp mornings
why aren’t we happy with that?

My apology

2011-11-14T20:00:00.001-08:00

It was cold out
the kind of cold that tingles under your skin like a ghost story
the rag doll flung across the bench was barely breathing
she and the bass banged heads
ba bang ba bang ba bang ba bang
like a gun shot in the night
they reverberated off of each other making the loneliest music
all we wanted was a moment of peace
so I stand before you a thief
I stole that song and made it into a lullaby
so the baby wouldn't cry
the earthquakes could sleep at night
and I could remember
I don't need sobbing to sing me to sleep

Why are we on the streets

2011-11-14T19:59:00.000-08:00

Dying embers like stardust in their eyes
ground under the heel of the man you despise
take to the streets and fight fight fight!
Hold on with all your might
steady campaigns against freedom of choice
make sure they can all hear your voice
peacefully protest the breaking of trust
between the classes that think that it must

Don't do a 18
0, just open your eyes
See beyond the stupidity and lies
find for yourself what you know to be true
hidden in the black innards of you
99 percent of us can't get a penny
while rich get richer in the land of plenty
but you know if it was all really perfect and fair
we would not have the capacity to really care

So here is my proposal to our little problem
we keep up the act and pretend that its solemn
but really its a celebration of working towards change
the possible output, though the input is strange
because who would use peace when wars so effective?
We would because we know were protected
so we pitch up our tents and our campfires too
whether in rain or when the sky’s blue

2011-05-24T19:01:00.000-07:00

Do you hear that?
the gentle sound of angry voices raise behind
the walls of fuzz that blind you
to the dangerous debries of something broken
a relationship broken
a people once whole broken
we just got on this train
followed it all the way down the isle
barely a year ago
youre willing to let this go?
just because china dolls break easier when thrown at the wall?
I break easier because im not tall
enough to hide my head in the ceiling
every time you come home to wheeling
maybe you shoulda skipped that last shot
come home sober next time
remember you are my life line
you gave me life, then drew the line
between what you believed and what was wrong
I danced on it with the fragile bones
of a girl who pretended to fit in
but thinks too much to fit in.
Maybe your clothes are too small for me to fit in
but my brain is to full for you to fit in.

Just another day

2011-05-06T21:11:00.000-07:00

if you unraveled my veins
they would be as tall
as the twin towers used to be
and just as vulnerable
you could break me
and it might not be considered
a national tragedy
but for me it would be
a catastrophe
so be gentle
im not used to such smooth hands

Back

2011-05-02T19:44:00.000-07:00

I turn 17 the day he meets his baby girl
and she is turning 1.
I smoke a cigarette while he goes inside
with his baby mama
did you expect your daughter
to have eyes as bright as yours?
did you expect her to play with the stars
as if they were just glitter?
I know i didn't expect her at all.
She was the newest edition to a fairy tale
a dream that only comes true
when you squint your eyes and turn your head just so
tell her you love her anyway
no matter how she came to be
buy her little baby toys
that she will find in the back of her closet
when she goes to college.
and it will remind her you love her.
Just remind her you love her, okay?

Try

2011-04-13T20:49:00.000-07:00

Just dont try to hard.

Then & Now This

2011-04-12T19:21:00.000-07:00

Yes.
It is like that.
Sometimes
even the moon doesn't know
where her children are.
They sneak off into day
& are hidden behind the suns sheer brilliance
But the moon never stops calling
in that mothers worried tone
"have you gone far, children?"
This seemingly eternal game of
hide and seek finds itself
naked as the sun bursts
into a few rays
& then nothing.
Children are left bare in the black sand
with a million scraped knees
from halting up trees
& a million sprained wrists
from burning back down again.
Mama moon sees pain
and heals all
with a tender kiss
from her knowing lips.
we children fall under her
blanket of dreams
she hides us behind mirrors
while she goes outside
to do her bad deeds.
mama drops the last burning cigarette
to die a quiet, lonely death
on cobblestone streets
and walks back in to kiss us to sleep.

Title This Memory Loops

2011-04-12T19:02:00.000-07:00

A mountain, grey and white.
Green chairs plopped haphazardly in the snow
Too many empty bottles
reflecting rainbows into my tiny eyes
Now I only see the mountain through high definition
Though sometime in the morning, when its red instead of grey
I imagine that is the time of day
When the rainbows reflect the best
Yes, Before was happy
& Now still looks behind for her missing little girl

draft

2011-03-23T21:15:00.000-07:00

dont look up
lock the sky
so when stars fall at night
they wont blaze trails behind your closed eyes
dont open your mouth
because if the summer night air
slips silently into your lungs
you will breathe bubbles until the day you die
dont cry
dont try
dont lose
or talk to the ones you love
about the nights you miss
and the freedom you enjoyed.
Dont remember every kiss from every blank faced boy
actually.. it was only one.
it will only ever be one.
i hope he remembers like i do.
Or I should i stop remembering like him?
Just forget
let sand blow my eyes shut into the sweet dark oblivion.

login

2011-03-23T19:42:00.000-07:00

feeling is believing
and time just keeps on stealing
dont tell me that im breathing
because ill show you that im not.
not here
not there
not broken everywhere
like the cuckoo clock
that used to hang in the dinning room
the cuckoo would always cu-cu too soon
as if a reminder yell
"you were born, appreciate it." cu-cu
"you were born, appreciate it." cu-cu
and you tell me i'm not crazy
but i'll tell you that just maybe
the music running through my viens
is making me insane.
if you cant remember my name
dont try and play my game
because we all know what real poetry is.
so why bother listening to the this shit?

My inner child

2011-03-22T21:52:00.000-07:00

is draped in lights
riding on the clock
so she will never be late
she lives in the the little box of secrets
i keep in the back of my closet
her voice is the gravel i used to ride my bike on.
she smells like the lullaby they used to sing me to sleep
but only in the summer time
when we had to close the curtains to make night appear
her eyes are the color of crunching leaves
her smile is three thousand grains of sand
and sometimes i worry if she speaks
it will all fall away
through the cracks the dry skin carves into her lips
and leave the beach telling its naked secrets

sometimes my inner child is naughty.
she lets desire take its course
and when she realizes what she has done
she runs
with pieces of road still rattling in her combat boots.
She was always the good one, wasn't she?
The one who knew the difference between the sides of the scale?

Now though all she does is try to even it all out.

Once though she remembered
a time when we laughed
when the swing still went high enough
to be wings
carried us to the tops of trees
and we flew away into forever.
Before we knew what lips really felt like.
and before we saw the rips
that this time safety pins cant fix.
Like they somehow know stop lights mean something now.

Library Books

2011-02-28T20:21:00.000-08:00

Brendan’s way of saying goodbye was kissing razors with his veins
But life doesn’t always work out that way so instead he decided to be different.
To marry ink and needles and ripped jeans.

Emma’s way of saying goodbye was a lovely swim in the bay.
She told her parents she was going to kill herself and they laughed so she held on.
Wakes up every morning with the idea that its closer to the end so she can exterminate her defeat with bass notes she feels in her tolerance.

Scott’s way of saying goodbye was slaughtering breath with rope burns
But the paramedics got there first so now he lives with his cat in an apartment
And instead of going to Christmas at his parents he tells them he FINALLY has a date
And ends up at home making youtube videos that no one ever watches

Jessica’s way of saying goodbye was a good time stretched into eternity
but her boyfriend didn’t want to lose the baby so now she sits chained to a hospital bed wondering if the baby turned out ok, is our baby okay? Damn, I wana kill that fucking baby.

Hope’s way of saying goodbye is me. She thinks its funny or charming the way I kiss up to eternity like, somehow im gonna make it out. Well we just have to know that death is not defeat. It a prize after a life but some how only those with detention slips get in.

Dad’s way of saying goodbye was dying.
He had no time for notes or detention slips and it didn’t matter because the only words he would read were the poetry written on the walls of the city. I don’t think he knew he was going to he couldn’t see the poetry anymore. Life had made him dizzy. I guess I was his gift to the world but why didn’t he leave a gift for me?

He said his gift was religion but if this is my church then where the fuck is my God because I’m pretty sure that bastard gave up on me. Just another gift I cannot see, like the undying love my dad had for me, which conveniently I can’t find.

So when I die, I will leave a story. Something solid you can see. I’ll write it down all over the city.

Laura’s way of saying goodbye was silence. There’s no silence in forgetting, only forgetting the silence, so she recorded it so when her boss asks for a regurgitation of what she learned this year, she plays it back. No screams, no smoke, just… The purest, most simple note.

No idea

2011-02-15T16:29:00.000-08:00

Today i saw a little door made for little people
and i wondered..
If i was that little would i use that door?
Probably not..

You see, I dont like the idea of change
of walking through an archway and pausing
maybe to walk into greater mistakes
I dont want to lose myself
no matter what I gain
Im scared of truth
of my mask being ripped away
I dont want a face
because im worried it might not look the right way
How will I manage not being seen
in a world where thats everything
I only wanted to tell you goodbye
as you got closer and I got farther from the sky
But he has told us to sit still
which society doesnt say very much
but you know you have to listen if they do say such
Just close eyes
No need for planned goodbyes
this is a moment for no real lies
Just a secret
You can keep as you grow I can keep as I shrink
We can pour it down like whiskey
into the cracked kitchen sink
Because we're fuzzy
Like my cat that died
if you see her in the clouds tell her I miss her purple eyes.
But i may find her if I walk through the doorway
that tiny doorway
If I was that small would I have the guts to go unknowing into that doorway?

2010-11-04T18:09:00.000-07:00

Are we not all fortunes fools?
Since you cannot tear yourself away,
surrender.
If the tide takes you away it isn't because you didn't fight it.
Its because you didn't breathe every breath like your last.
It as been a thousand years since all I could seek was the approval of thine eyes.
Yet here we lay in a warm sheet
surrounded by the last moments before love falls to angers heed.
So while we still lay as though in graves
let us use our time to kiss away coming tears
and shelter me from mine.

Calender Promise

2010-09-16T19:30:00.000-07:00

I drank to much last night.
all i can see in my memories
is a naked girl lying on the floor.
drunk. broken.
bruised by the weight of life.
with a perfect apple cut out, torn on her baby face.
those blades of poison took so little time to set in.
she was seeing black and shaking like innocence lost in flame.
her eyes were so red i thought they were bleeding
until i saw the smoke curl up into her eye lashes.
she cut me.
"you did this" she screamed.
"you are not a victim, and you don't deserve them."
I know in the morning i will know she is right,
but right now all i can do is bleed words.
3 sounds.
Death. Is. Permanent.

Him

2010-09-13T20:47:00.000-07:00

You're an old poetic joke
brought on by the glass taste of remembering.
So, I am 6 feet in the sky
and you tell me to stop swimming in your smile.
does my obsession comfort you
or am i already a discarded imagination?
He is a photo self-portrait
ripping, curling and yellowing with the dead leaves.
I wanted dark dead center of my light
so here you are
to force remembrance,
embrace me in my static adrenaline past
with bolts for my arms
so I can't move
when regret and memory come to gouge out my eyes.
Poke my heart again with your push pin
because me and my ink confessions
will be ashes by the blue sunrise
just dust tickling your sensitive nose
because I don't want you to forget.
Don't forget who you will become
when you are lamenting on who you were.
Don't let our past slip quietly into the fire
like the music that dies as the caravan moves on.
If we are the smoke tinted generation
let it be so.

Hello Star

2010-07-22T19:36:00.000-07:00

Did you happen to see that black and white photo
of the day they got married?
Did you happen to watch her jump into his arms?
Or watch the gentle, loving way she was carried?
Did you happen to stare at the silver ring
That graces her finger?
Did you happen to notice how the first kiss
still seems to linger?
Did you happen to contemplate the gentle veil
as it floated delicately on the floor?
Did you ever stop to wonder
If maybe there was more?

2010-06-24T23:13:00.000-07:00

And then one day
he asked her to count the people in her life
tell him how many friends she had
she sighed
looked at her feet and spun a dream
she told him of the millions waiting for their call to go through to her cell
of the all the boys dying for her glance
She told him that she knew what she was doing
what she wanted
and he was confident
but spinning a tale for the sake of another only takes you so far.
he was happy she had everything she wanted.
she cried at night because she was lonely
wrote poems about all the ways she fucked up
swore to herself she would be somebody someday.

She just wanted to be somebody someday.

That night she went to the store
and bought a white dress
she gently zipped it up
admiring the innocent way it played with her figure
She slipped on white flats
and did something funny.

She sat in the middle of downtown and sang into the empty streets as loud as she could.

She was connected by a silver chain of song to everything.
She was somebody
not the plastic girl she dreamed of
she was a real.

When she was old and ready to die
she took her viened hands
touched them to her wrinkled lips
and hummed a small tune.
The ears of the city perked up.
They remembered her,
they would always remember her.
She was as real to this city as the voices trapped on subway walls.
She was somebody, and this was the last day.

Free time

2010-06-03T21:00:00.000-07:00

In my spare time I like to rewind my life
spin it backward and unsettle the sun rays
I like to be bold as iron
Strong as brass
Mixing poems with broken glass
I like to eat the reflection
that plays peekaboo in the mirror
because I'm to old for games now
I just down my drink and sit in the back alone
like a starfish on dry land
Its only in the sand because it fell off the swing set
We fell off the swing there too.
at night
she held me
and we let the ivy creep up our backs
I wonder sometimes what i do in my free time
But then i stop wondering because i realize
I am too busy to wonder.

Permanent Marker

2010-06-03T20:53:00.000-07:00

I am going to get a tattoo
Of a pit
on my belly
So you will think I am deeper than my skin
Until you remember its only and optical illusion

OH
And that tattoo of the wings on my back?
Yeah..
Those aren't really wings
Just the desperation of my bones to fly and escape time

I knew you were searching for my heart
so i tattooed it on my ribcage
so you would find it and look no deeper
I didn't want you to find the lungs
chugging along alone
In the empty birdcage

That tattoo by the back of my shoulder?
Yeah that's just a rose
because i was so desperate to be in love
I couldn't see it sitting there behind me

But if you ask me why they are all so invisible
I will tell you you just aren't looking hard enough
I tattoo my emotions on like masks
hidden in the plain sight
so the rays of sun can crack them on my face

But ask me something else
pretend you don't see them
and you will have finally learned what it is to be human

I'm partial to left arrows

2010-05-10T20:55:00.000-07:00

Love me,
love my ridiculous outfit.
Love my words,
my thoughts,

my perfect replica of only one person.
Myself.

well, you dont have to love me.

In fact...

Hate me.
Hate the torn skin under my eye
Hate the way i remind you of something
hate the way I talk to much
my choices,

My perfect replica of only one person.
Myself.

Wanna know I secret?

I dont really care.

<3

NIght Vision

2010-05-10T20:52:00.001-07:00

I was a girl
who sat under the half moon
and didnt ask it to fill

I was a girl
who licked the last off her spoon
even after she was full

I was a girl
Who cried when the children prayed
and wanted nothing more then to help

I was the girl
when no one else was getting paid
flipped a coin to a strangers pocket

I was the girl
Who was too strong willed by half
and cried though it wasn't cool

I was the girl
wobbling on the knees of a calf
who wanted nothing more then to fly

Rambling For Waits

2010-05-10T20:52:00.000-07:00

Im writing now to get out emotions.
Im spilling my gut like acid on to the computer screen
hoping brilliance will fall from somewhere.
But as I wait in the wings of life I come to realize,
We are all just wasting time.
We bide our time for something
and when it comes, bide our time for the next thing.
Moments I glimpse a different reality.
One where I am content to just be there
To get out of Dr. Suess's waiting room
and find the spirals that glaze the page with promise.
Im content with the safety of a rhyme
a little quip about how great life is
or woe is me.
But tell me, reader...
Where are the poems about the person inside each writer?
Why does competing for attention still make the priority list?
What has honesty really become?
The truth is no longer pure white because we tainted it.
The wind must have spilled our paints all over the sidewalk
because the picture I see is not graceful
but it is true.
It gives a new perspective to our shows
To our shadows
to our contemplation on things that are not really important.
I say a lot of things
and they shape me
and my writing.
Now, most people wont understand.
I dont ask you too.
I beg you for your chance at a lifetime.
And pray that you dont waste it.

Time is a thief

2010-05-10T20:49:00.000-07:00

Tell me her name
so i can pass it through my lips
and taste the tang of lies.
Tell me how you met her
why you love her
what she makes you feel.
Torture me with details of stolen kisses
moonlight whisking you away
and the sweets you hide in your bag for her.
But god.
do not tell me she isnt there
dont tell me I hear whispers at night
and it is probably just the tree
meowing an the wind to be let back inside.
Do not tell me that she isnt real
that you dont love the heat of my fresh wound
that it reminds you of her skin.
Do not tell me that twirling my hair isnt just a pass time
until you can enjoy the secrets the dark even envies you for.
I love you
but baby im so numb from the wounds that your busy life style wont allow to heal.
Im here to place a well aimed blow at your jaw
hoping my words will bruise you
so i can be the one to kiss them better.