Oh Life, Tell Me a Story

Oh Life,
Tell me a story
But please don’t bore me
And spare me
The carries
Of noble allegories
They do nothing for me
At the moment
Most potent
Are the damaged
And the broken
For I’m older
Colder
And for the most part, outspoken
Yet, accepting
exceptions
To even sounds so deafening
For these stains
Are still gains
No matter where we step in
Cause intentions justify
The inventions of white lies
And grey paints rapid
Whether in t-shirts or business ties
And love
Oh love
Will drive our souls
But intention is
The weapon,
Has a stronger hold
So this story
These tears
Need understanding
Real near
So hand written
Or typed
Tell me a story
Oh life.

Death Makes a Leap

My morning eye lids shuts by death
It breathes right next to me
And support, it seems, has up and left
Based on the absence words received

I inhale strong, drowsy with an overdose
Of urgency to build myself
Scratch my mark so to be tangible
And not as a cry for help

Push secret deep in pockets, steep
So that those I love won’t mourn
And trivial things that use to win
Brush aside as I am reborn

Mother please, amongst the disease
Think me not anything more than a son
For this bed may swallow all I am
But it can’t erase all that I’ve done

Another Chance for Better

Mother,
The silhouette
Of a moment in time
A joyous embrace
Of unconditional proportion
Flashes in the image of you
As it once did for us

Mother,
Within your arms lies a new beginning
In little hands and feet
A second chance for me
To appreciate your nature
That was forgotten in older things

Father,
I yearn to be that guidance
More than I once denied it
And in its little cries
I'll deliver understanding
And acceptance

Father,
It'll be better than all of us
See things we'll never know
Carry us in its eyes, it's lips
In blood and name
Mistakes and blames

Mother,
Father,
It will be me
As I am you

Answering Without Question

The cold doctor's office feels like a jail cell; a single-bed-like apparatus locates to the left of where I sit; a sink to my right. Turn the chair I'm on into a toilet and I'll be gripping my soap a little tighter if you pick up what I'm putting down. I'll give you a hint, it's not the soap. Did I mention that this room is cold as hell?

The doctor's footstep approaches the shut door to my cell. He pauses to look at my file before letting himself in.

"Ok buddy," he starts, "I got some good news. Item number one; your back is fine. Here's a letter for you to get an MRI on a bone scan for your leg instead. My prediction is it's your sciatic nerve, which can be treated much easier than a back injury. Item number two; the blood that was found on your little friend there is nothing sexually transmitted. It's just a tear; like if you got a paper cut on your finger. Now let me have a quick look and you're all done."

I undo my jeans in front of my audience of a doctor and the cold unforgiving furniture and expose the wound south of the border. "It's really cold in here huh?"

"um not really pal." he replies as he inspects.

Asshole. "Well I'm going to go to the gym after to pump some iron. Then I'm going hunting just for sport and if I have some time later I'm going to--, do you want to go to a warmer room while we do this? It’s just that--"

"Hey," he says softly taking my hand and looking me in the eye, which is quite uncomfortable when my pants are down. "I'm your doctor. You don't have to prove anything to be, ok? Now zip it up. We're done. Just no activities for a few weeks ok?"

"Thanks, doc." I said, and gangsta limped myself outta there.

Do you find yourself wasting your breathe trying to prove something to people who you never really had to answer to in the first place? Like an ex-girlfriend that could care less about you now or some gang members who never will? Or maybe it's a doctor that never really questioned you to begin with? Let's save this energy for something positive. Yeah?

Fear of Possibilities

I'm scared to death at such possibilities
Which are likely never to be
But, none the less, may

And in this fear comes a manifestation
Of routes and dialogue
Rehearsed and sorted
In the event of the catastrophe

But let it be wasteful times
For no evidence sways me
But a past of faded foot steps
And the weight of inaudible moments

Let it be no more than insurance
A hover of a foot
Ready to move
Ready to bare it all again

But alas my leg grows weary
Yearns to exhale
To stray an eye at the beauty of her
For it's the fortress that pushes
At my own free will
And yet I still fear the possibilities

Rescue Me

Rescue me
Words woven in strings
That long
And ease
My eyes lids closed

Settle now
In the void that haunts me
Pat it down
Dense and full
Am I satisfied?

Exhale right through me
Shuffle now
So still
It sways
Until I have no more to give
Shall it never come?
Or unrecognized right here?

A spark
To break the chains
To abandonment
Free?
Of the lips that turned away?
Reaching
Reaching
You're here now
Not within sight
Rescue me

Retract my arm
Divert my eyes
Let me smell the open fields
Hold me tight
Steady
Blow words
I dream to hear

Let laughter echo
My savior
My truth
Into words of my own
As a page
As in ink
Rescue me
Rescue me

Subtle, The Great Rebuttal

The disposition on this position
Is contradicting, if not true
For the nature of the acted, distracted
Contracts how we naturally do

So to engage is to enrage
On a stage, we’ve always known
And going against pretense
Is, hence, the greatest tone

Wherein, best interest is barren
Daring for a greater purpose
And if silences can get compliance
Then reliant is this harden surface

And an exhale will entail
A trail far from the scene we speak
For only then on wholly bends
We fend off what makes us weak