A Poet's Tree House

E-Book Release: Music To Drown To

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Sun, 06 Jan 2013 02:39:00 +0000

My new collection of poetry is available for download here. Much thanks to Smashwords.com for their publishing capabilities.

Oregon Poetic Voices

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 19:27:00 +0000

In December, I had the opportunity to record audio of four of my poems. Check it out on the Oregon Poetic Voices website.

http://oregonpoeticvoices.org/poet/358/

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 12:30:00 +0000

I really think

That in spite of myself

You have neglected

To comprehend

Who I really am.

I'm finally

Reflecting truth

But your eyes are blind

You don't see me

You see what you

Need to see

So, all of me

Prepares to flee

And hide once again

Beneath a blanket of lies

Keeping me warm

From your notoriously

Frigid nights.

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 12:30:00 +0000

Beware

All who enter here

I am a black hole

I will consume whole

Without chewing

You won't know

Until you've already

Digested.

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Thu, 15 Mar 2012 12:30:00 +0000

"It's so beautiful,

But so empty,"

She said,

As we walked

Down 15th street.

She meant the street

She meant the city

She meant the descent

Of autumn on

The northwest.

She didn't mean me

But I felt it,

And her words

Lingered above my head

And weighed me

To the pavement with

Every single step.

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Wed, 14 Mar 2012 12:30:00 +0000

She couldn't remember

a time

When so frequently

the sky had been

occupied

by both day and night,

When so often

sun and moon

could be seen

courting hand in hand.

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Tue, 13 Mar 2012 12:30:00 +0000

I keep in my hands

Things I can't understand

Things I can't let go

I keep in my hands the

Things I need to control

Things that control me

These keys

This lighter

And a cigarette

And a cup of coffee

And this cell phone

Space. I hold space

With my hands.

Reserving it

Like movie theatre seats.

I keep it for

A certain heart,

I will keep in my hands.

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Mon, 12 Mar 2012 12:30:00 +0000

I wait for night to fall,

It's earlier these days,

In so many ways.

Merlot to close out

Harvest,

Readying for a long

Hibernation.

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Fri, 09 Mar 2012 13:30:00 +0000

The night will hit me

And I'm sure you'll forget me

But I watch you, always

Ascending in beautiful light

My shadow observes from a distance

Trying to grip onto what may be beyond this

My senses fail to favor me and I go blind

Losing sight of what I had needed to be mine.

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Thu, 08 Mar 2012 13:30:00 +0000

It's a lovely quiet

Inside the space of your arms

Where all I hear is

The light

Consequences of your chest's rise

And fall,

And a gentle steady beat

Of heart.

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Wed, 07 Mar 2012 13:30:00 +0000

How small the space is

Now between our faces

How heavy and silent

Your complicated breath

How graceful and light

Eyelashes dance in delight

How quiet the air is

All around us

How entranced is my being

By your everything.

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Tue, 06 Mar 2012 13:30:00 +0000

CrazySexyCool,

All of the sudden

I'm 14 years old

Reading CD liner notes

Creep

Obsessing over my first one

$13.99 at Coconuts

Listening through headphones

To my Aiwa stereo,

Diggin' on You

Gift from my twelfth birthday

Playing a crimson-faced disc.

And I'm sick with infatuation

Let's Do It Again

For Left-Eye Lopez -tattoos,

More than just rough

Around the edges,

Sexy and tough.

Fast and nasty with lyrics.

Sumthin' Wicked This Way Comes

My head bobs and body moves

To the beats and

Busta Rhymes

Switch.

My dad hates the way they sound

And screams at me to

"Turn that Jungle music down".

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Mon, 05 Mar 2012 13:30:00 +0000

Half-lives and

Exponential declines

Rate of change

Declines and deteriorations

Foster

Expiration dates

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Fri, 02 Mar 2012 13:30:00 +0000

If there had been more to say

I would have said it

Without a word

Just a glance

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 13:30:00 +0000

How do you know when

You are a writer?

When some school hands

You

A piece of paper

Saying you spent four

Years following orders

And a professors yammers?

When you've written

A poem , story, article

Or two?

Or when you make

That ever seemingly important

Transition from unpublished

To published?

You know,

When your obsessive tendencies

Become oriented to the task.

When your hypochondria

Keeps you awake at night

With thoughts of,

"If I go blind, I won't be able

To use a computer, or edit, or word process,

Am I going blind??"

And

"What will I do if I develop

carpal tunnel syndrome??

And your neurotic answer

Churning inside your head

Is any number of solutions,

Satiating the sole burning

Fire that drives your very being.

That's how you know.

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Wed, 29 Feb 2012 13:30:00 +0000

He looks at me

And thinks that this hat

Is just part of my outfit

Today.

Really, gaydar should

Say more.

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 13:30:00 +0000

Tonight.

Tonight I wished,

Am right now,

Wishing.

Wishing for something

Different,

Totally opposing,

That which I have spent

So very many wishes upon

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Mon, 27 Feb 2012 13:30:00 +0000

She's the one I thought

I saw

Flying out the window

In the middle of the night

What do you say

When your only love

Has said goodbye

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 13:30:00 +0000

For the first time

I feel okay

For the first time

Muscles relax,

My mind is okay,

I nearly feel at peace,

Like I've wandered through

A desert,

Finally seeing an oasis.

Persecutor into apostle

A visionary, wandering

With encrusted fish skin

Falling from ocular lids.

Softened but cautious.

Hardened but delicate.

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Thu, 23 Feb 2012 13:30:00 +0000

We don't worry

Who is here

And who is not

We love them all

And wish them well

We know what we like

And we're pretty alright

With whatever you may like

Because all we do

Is sit and play music all day

Hit a bowl, drink a beer

Maybe, if we aren't persuaded

Otherwise

Go for a hike

We grow love

Like some grow

Tomatoes, tobacco

Or corn - in pretty

Little rows.

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 13:30:00 +0000

To her eye

Above me, burying

Threatening to devour

A last tiny expanse of sky

Covering almost completely a

Would have been sunset.

And to her eye

It's not solitude of grey

On this night lacking

Accompaniment,

It is right with shades of blue,

Light wisps of rosy pink,

Dance on fields of dark grey;

Reflections from pavements

Of dim neighborhood streetlights,

And dark hues of deep violet,

Mix within her stare

She spends the rest of time

As the wardrobe covering the

Delicate vulnerable moon.

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 13:30:00 +0000

Please distract me.

Do anything,

To keep my thoughts here

Away from the awful places

They seem to love to go

Please distract me,

Make me feel something

Something other than nothing,

Something that may be real

Permit me to breathe again

Distract my gaze

From demons that dance

Around my mind, emblazed

Please distract me,

I've forgotten already

Again to inhale

I'm a prisoner bound to these chains

I don't know how to break

That always come back.

I want to jump.

Leap from the top of a tall enough building

Somewhere downtown.

I want to jump

Headfirst into a new life,

One where I didn't go to college,

All I do is write,

And I started making my way with it

With opportunities long ago,

Not telling myself not to do what I

Had always intended desired and been

More than apt to do.

A life where I'm not almost thirty,

Homeless, friendless, family-less,

Where I didn't become dependent on

Coffee at 11,

Booze at 12,

Cigarettes at 13 and

Weed at 14.

A life where I've got a wife

One that I deeply love,

A wife that reciprocates that back.

Where we have a home with a lovely garden

That I tend to,

With a baby on the way,

Not too much money,

But enough for a happy little home.

With a golden retriever named Sammy,

A big back yard for running.

A life where I'm not crazy,

A life where bridges and parking garages

Don't lure me into their lairs,

A life where I don't whisper

Bits of angry insanity just above

Beneath my breath,

Where self-annihilation

Doesn't guide my every move.

A life that doesn't make me

Question why I'm doing it every day,

Where I can see past today.

Where I'm not just a victim stuck in

The confines of time.

One where I don't feel like such a

Waste of space and time

A life in which I haven't ruined my lungs

At the age of thirty.

I want to jump

I want to jump.

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Mon, 20 Feb 2012 13:30:00 +0000

She shirks my love

As if it is of no worth

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 13:30:00 +0000

Her complacency is glaringly apparent with

Every nod, accentuating a dull and vacant stare,

Oblivious to her surroundings,

Most don't notice,

But I can tell that she's barely even there.

Lost inside her mind,

Or another space or time.

noreply@blogger.com (Eli Shumaker) — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 13:30:00 +0000

Once upon a time,

When I was big and fat

With double chins

And an inner tube around my waist

Boys wouldn't glance my way,

Or see me as a human being

And if they did,

I knew it was just friendship

And it is funny now to see

How they all stare and gawk at me

Because my chubby figure

Has disappeared

And left in trail,

A curvy hourglass,

At which they love to stare.

Conversations are initiated,

By men who once would look through,

And I know it's not depth but shallowness

They are excited to pursue,

For they care not for my life's adventure,

They care not for my formulated

Ever-changing opinion,

They especially care not about the fact that

I much prefer girls in bed,

And always try to weasel their

Pathetic little penises into a

Three way situation,

To which I roll my eyes

And walk away.

As if two girls alone together

Felt any sort of lacking

That could only be fulfilled by

The male of the species.

Sad, sad, excuses for human beings.