#quick poem

-

A random Tuesday,

A broken heart.

Familiar things and places.

So many ways you could have loved me,

And all I asked for was gently.

Poetry Drugs

My little dreams

I've spent my life staring at screens.

Watching the world pass in front of me.

Over the picket fence is a beautiful view.

Greener pastures, something new.

The world passes me by.

I'm left feeling unsatisfied.

Oh little machine, as you spin.

Will my little dreams soar?

Take flight and make me something more?

I want to be something.

I want to be someone.

Without taking for granted the ones I love.

The ones I love, as you work the machines.

Can I dream, and make you proud of me?

Patience is a virtue they say.

Will you forgive me someday?

For my dreams that keep me in the clouds and keep you at bay?

Here I am now, I will work the machine.

Alongside you. You and me.

My dreams will not falter, as long as you stand beside me.

I will dream.

Dream I take us to greener pastures.

Dream that I can make something new.

I could not do any of this without you.

My dreams may never come true.

Though I may be enchanted by the view.

I may never see the other side of the fence.

But I will always be in garden. Our garden.

I want to take a nap.

I want to change my career path.

I want to feel secure in my own self.

I want to laugh and not feel frantic.

I want to breathe and not feel panic.

I want to stop seeking approval I know isn't coming.

I want to write a poem about going home.

I walk my dog outside

(The sky is clear and an unreal blue:

Venetian, Prussian, Indigo—

It is deep. Know the blue is deep.)

And you say it is a wolf moon.

It looks like an animal eye catching the light,

It is like a mirror signaling me,

Blinding me.

I grin.

You shine as that beam

Which draws my gaze.

I wish to howl.

I wish to sing to you.

Under an overpass where an on ramp and an exit ramp meet.

Trapped, unable to get away from traffic,

She died.

And summer has passed.

And now she is just bones and a skin.

And she still lies there,

Protected from scavengers by an overpass that kept her from getting away.

Her pretty joints, white in the glaring Midwestern sun,

Still with stringy ligaments

And too many angles under the dried, shrunken skin.

But she needs to wait for a little more time to pass,

Before I can take her home.

Just wait patiently, Sweetheart.

I don't want to see the roads, or the buildings.

I want to see sky's of baby blue.

seas of pure Azul.

I'll buy a broken boat.

name her Lost At Land.

I'll find all my friends, No matter Where they walk the sand.

I'll grab them all, even the ones I've never seen.

And we'll sail away,

On Lost at Land.

We will grow our own foods, stop at ports and explore the worlds

we've only seen on screens.

make own myths and legends.

bury treasure for children to find

the freest we've ever been.

We steal back what was ours, Our hands and our minds.

Queer pirates, we draw our marks on the beast,

when it rains and our marks wash off.

we mark her again

as she rocks us to sleep.

Lost At Lands a ship, She's our Beast, she's our house, She's our mother.

Imagine finding someone who loves your laugh & wants to stop your tears.

Imagine meeting the one who stands by your side as you face your fears.

Imagine it all works out for once.

Imagine seeing the light in their eyes

even in the most cloudy of skies.

And hearing their heart beat a familiar song

while you sleep in each others arms all night long.

Imagine finding someone who notices the scars on your heart

but still sees your love as a work of art.

Imagine knowing someone inside & out

& trusting they love you without a doubt.

I'm just sitting here waiting with anticipation

Because after all, I have a pretty wild imagination.