Just let me love you

Just let me love you
I don’t care what you do
Just let me love you
Do whatever you need to
Just let me love you

Don’t have to be clean
Don’t have to be dirty
As we sprint towards thirty
Let’s make kids before we’re too old
Don’t believe it, don’t ever, ever believe it
The world is our song and all the children in it
You’ll never be old; I’ll never be fat
Because we’ll check in where our souls are at

And there in each other’s eyes
We’ll believe each other’s lies
They will be small, they will be meek
But, our love could never be labeled weak
One hundred fifty proof love
Came crashing down from heavens above
Sent friends and families screaming
While we lay in our baptized bed a-dreaming

I can’t seem to find a way
For all the things I mean to say
To find their way to you
All that is left to do
Is to grow old with you

We’ve been through everything and more
What I wouldn’t give to walk through your door
But, you haven’t forgiven my broken metre
All this blitzkrieg social media theatre
So I sit by the edge of oncoming trains
Hoping against hope that you’ll rescue me again
Knowing I have to rescue myself
Isn’t that just capital “O” so typical
Seeing it’s hard to be your own Superman
When Lois is on sabbatical



Brush Strokes

Brush strokes,
Blotting paper,
Pencils scattered–
Time to kill.

Iron burning,
Kettle whistling,
Baby burbling–
No one home.

Lonely ash,
Laundry whirling,
Dishes clatter,
Bubbles burst,
Baby cries.

A key turns
Cooing sounds
Up and up
Goes the tot.

Mother’s here;
Daddy’s home.

A King Without a Name

A King without a Name
A Queen without a Face
A Prince without a Heart
A Jester without a Tongue
A Court without a King
A Country without a God
A Corpse without a Coin
A Storm without a Center
A Coin without an Edge
A Cliff without a Bottom
A Home without a Fire
A House without a Family
A Child without a Laugh
A Boy without a Friend
A Girl without a Friend
A Hero without a Fear
A Villain without a Hero
A Dear without a Dearest
A Parent without a Care
A Teacher without a Note
A City without a Crime
A Story without a Truth
A God without a Myth

Two Truths

Two tales within the woods are told
Two paths, inside of a wood emerging
My soul was bought, pilfered, and sold
From a tale, whose sorry moral often is told
Of two paths inside of a wood diverging

The one, we say, was well traveled
The other, in equal measure, was the same
The sights, the scents, the people babbled
Their chattering untruths unraveled
Until bitterly I turned away ashamed.

No difference in the paths there were
No change, no sign, no, none at all
No sight for sore eyes, no rememberer
New eyes, still blind, unfocused were
While I, the third path, fled from them all.

Cottontail Stew

Round and round
The rabbit hole:
Peter Cottontail.

That motherfucker.

Eating food
That isn’t his
He gains again
The ill gotten

Munching veggie matter
Carrots’ sticky sweet
Heads of lettuce
Tomato hanging like
Dead, dead rabbits.

Hopefully he hops
Nibble, nibble
Toil and trouble.

Macgregor burns
The little lad
Burns and bakes him
In the oven.

Boils and roasts
His tender innards
Scrumptious stew
On glowing embers.

Simmer, simmer

OkCupid sucks

OkCupid sucks.

I am alone on social media.
How is that even possible?

I stand on shores of cybernetic optics, peering through fibers for a soul shaped like the hole in mine.
I’ve never been good without my better half and when I try to be, I get slammed with indecision, with laments in the night that sound like the names of lovers.
I have never broken up with anybody, but I have been left.

Informed not through phone or message, but through clerical errors and friends of friends that my life is passing me by, that events are happening because nobody thinks to invite me to things.
I’d like to be invited, but can’t work up the nerve to invite myself.
Where are the parties happening, where are my twenties going? What happened to high school, to college? to university?
Is this the life I’m leading now? Is this the life I’ve built for myself now? Staring into windows at the loving lives of friends I haven’t spoken with in years?

I see the vacations of others and feel sick to my stomach.
Not because I envy them, but because I can’t be anything like them.
I don’t remember the last time I had a vacation–scratch that–I can’t remember ever taking a vacation–delete that–I have never taken a vacation–fuck me–
I have never taken a break or thought to stop, not once in my love-forsaken life because I learned breaks were for the weak–people who didn’t know how to be funny took booze breaks–people who didn’t know how to talk took meal breaks–people who didn’t know how to gather took smoke breaks–

But, in the middle of all these breaks I fell.
I never found a break for me, I never found a person waiting for me outside of the loves I made for my selves.
I gave my love to all my lovers and they found it wanting over and over.
They wanted more from me, not realizing I’d given too much already.

The movies teach you how to love another, but never teach you how to love yourself.
Who knew that a heart could be weaponized? who knew that a relationship could become a time bomb? who knew that if you just sat and waited for a spell, eventually the world would come crumbling down?
I built it up, I built it all up, I thought I was doing good, I thought I was doing better until I looked around at my life and realized that I was the epicenter of a crater and that the impact was me.

Can a natural disaster be held responsible?
Are acts of god the fault of the insurer? the insured? or whatever god you pray to? If I’m a disaster, am I to blame?
Am I to blame?


Sea Foam Breasts

Sea foam breasts
Cupping tightly.
Bubbles form
Between my fingers,
Laughing lightly,
Coming sweetly.

Seaweed hair
Framing faces,
Necks, and shoulders,
Washing over us.
Washing us over–
In the ocean
In the sea-green sea,
In my sea-green goddess.

Worship my goddess
In the ocean.

Ocean squalls
Float above me
As I swell
Beneath the swell;
Falling beneath
Watery depths,
Sinking tonight,
Even as day
Passes away.

Sea-green goddess
Carries me home
To the ocean floor
Hallowed halls
Sit forevermore
In coraled stone
Aging never
Mortal no more
High priest & consort
To my sea-green goddess.

Lunar Love

She has a name
Known only to her.
She shares it with travelers,
Poets, playwrights, adventurers
Who come and stay a night with her.

They laugh and love and sing an age away.
Away, where mortals cannot die and heroes
Become what they always were.
She calls to us,
She beckons us.

To her home, she says
A tavern in the briny way of taverns
More salt than beer, more revel than bar.
She calls us home
Shows us randy wayfarers
Just what it means to be celestial.

The laughs are deeper, more bass than tenor,
More song than sonnet,
& Every single layer
Of my encrusted, barnacled hide
Sloughs away, away again to better years.
To the soul my friend,
Down, down to the bottom of my soul
Goes the cheer, goes the beer.
That is her gift.

The Lunar Tavern:
Run by the moon,
Whose name we call Luna,
But her true name?
Well, that she freely shares with all her guests
But, alas, alas, not a one, to a man,
Remembers it come dawn.
We know its beauty, it makes us weep.
I think I know it in my dreams:

The name of the moon.