Adieu, Pierre

Ah, my Love it’s gone
you inspired me for a little while
and now I have made myself
dream you, only a mind game

only in my foggiest dreams
do love and care walk hand in hand
some surreal world
where i exist and do not exist

and you, i can praise you
lift you higher always in my mind
wish you eternal happiness
now that i’ve left you

and turned away, alone again
images and figments of unrealized
hopes and hauntings
of what could be, but will not

because i am me, only, destined
ordained by my ignorant philosophies
about what is, will be, is not
and you are free

cut loose, i loose you now
my words like an eraser to subtract
my persona, my feelings
wipe them out of your mind

anchorless, rudderless
and assasinating as soon as possible
all of the things that may bind me
to love, to what i need or want

i woke with the idea of how to make you smile
and by midafternoon already had planned
our demise, our end
and uttered unfeeling apologies

for killing joy, but it makes sense
you’re better off, i’m better off
i imagine your prosperity
as i fade slowly like a worn stain

how stupidly complicated, it is not
complex and yet i have done this
and so it shall be
and so it is

and in my mind i convince myself
you are better off

untitled
Rage Order
shining barechested youth on horseback
riding in slow motion
under a glaring sun
on black Morgan, panting
Gold skinned Buddha
bite it,
break your teeth
walk across the red robed
backs of doe eyed
monks
The howling winds inside
the terrifying cavern
of your modern soul
Form Frustrate
he reclines like Zeus before me
naked, exposed, seeking
staring through the eyes
of my amazement
his hand extended
Broken Shattered
one thousand warriors
missing and forgotten
come back and reap justice
from sloven, suburban
idiots
drowning in mediocrity
in lack of talent
no vision for anything
consuming and infinently
boring
Fire Water
let the hot souls
of fine and graceful men
walk through you
pass by you
carrying the heavy heart
of Buddha
on bareback, barechested
across desert sands...

Tom, I See It Behind Your Eyes

Tom carries the entire weight of the world
on his shoulders
and the criticizing voices in his head rumble
around like heavy boulders
and will he ever tire of trying to pursue
some vague perfection?
will he ever really be happy when he sees
his own unique reflection?

or will Tom succumb to the duplicitous voices
that are never nice?
or will he give in under the pressure of it all
for some redeeming vice?
and though he manages to stand straight under
the load of all this
sometimes across the room when he’s not looking
i can catch a glimpse

of a little snarling and snapping animal just behind
the look in his eyes
waiting for a chance to come out and rip the world
apart in a surprise
one beastial explosion of disappointment and rage
he’s carried inside
for too many years and it was never really his fault
that’s what i find

so sad, so depressing, so very and truly overwhelming
i really do
Tom, if i were a knight with a magic sword i’d swing it
and kill that in you
and maybe for once in your life of tension and strain
and unrelenting pain
you’d never feel the nagging compulsion to live up to
someone else’s name

you’d see that you’ve carried the failures of others
for what must seem
an eternity of insecurities and unrealistic expectations
of someone else’s dream
but that little animal inside you that is withered and
starving for love
scares me to my very core and I can never, ever,
begin to think of

how i might get past it or blast it away in one moment
of sincere concern for you
if it’s all that keeps you going and i remove it
what would you do?
after the implosion and crying and sobbing
you’d deserve
to express after realizing what has happened
would i lose the nerve

to be your friend and everything that may mean
or maybe not mean?
what if the pressure and the gnawing and the biting
are what you need
to keep pressing forward to keep achieving to keep
believing in
your limitless abilities and where they’ve brought you
and where you’ve been?

Tom, i think you’re dieing inside and it’s a slow death
of dull blades
i cannot bring myself to get close to it or be a part of
what you’ve made
because while others may not notice or not care to
notice your decline
i have had the burden of learning to always notice the
real and sublime

i would help you but no one can help you because you’re
far too attached
to the commands of that little animal and when you’re nervous
it’s what you dispatch
to defend you from imaginary arrows and attacks from
outside your self
and when you do this all the good in you is placed squarely
on the shelf

out of reach of you and anyone around you and anyone who
really cares
so you walk a lonely road under the weight of all this
and do not share
your failures because you have no failures nor torments
you must be perfect
and always in control and always on the ball and always
able to reject

anything that you fear might undermine this self that you’ve
built up around
the world that you live in isn’t real but you’re the mayor
in that lonely town
where you hold court with an audience that hangs on
your every word
but when you walk away you wonder to yourself if there’s
another they’d prefer

for my part, Tom, i cannot bear to watch this happen anymore
i must leave
the poison in your lonely soul that floats to the surface
it makes me grieve
for the boy you once were so many years ago who’d done
nothing at all
to deserve such a legacy of perfectionism that does not
allow for a fall

into the arms of your freinds or your self for a glimpse
of yourself as human
you’re not the only one i’ve seen that’s been blighted by
such an awful burden
so Tom, think about the moments in the day when you feel
most relaxed
and realize it is in there that true happiness really lies,
and that’s a fact

if you can ever catch the wisdom in this you would become
a most kind man
the kind of person that people miss and in their hearts
they would understand
far more than you could ever ache for or wish for or
dare to hope
oh Tom, i wish that you’d realize as soon as possible that
you’re running out of rope.

Backflips for Pablo

i asked
you said,”Yes.”
i did backflips
off the edge of the cliff

now what?
where to?
what in the world
am i going to do?

i’ve no clout
oh no, here it comes
the worry and the doubt
they’ll drive me out

what will i say
when you ask me
to tell you today
what i put away?

i choke
when i think of it
i’m going down
time to leave town

too long
it’s just been me
it’s all i’ve known
and i haven’t grown

have i?
do i have what it takes?
can i endure your questions?
survive the conversation?

now i’m stuck
in between wanting to
get to know you better
and staying undercover

i’m tired
of living in the shadows
your smile’s grown on me
unraveling a mystery

on a limb
i climbed all the way out
to the edge and here i am
with my heart in my hands

will i sink
and disappear like a stone
just trying to reach you
and still hiding the truth?

i’m happy
for the first time in years
do i dare to hope?
is there a knot on the rope?

OK, Look,
i really do like you
no more complex than that
i don’t come as a rat

i’m really
not out to do you harm
i just want a slow walk
i just want a nice talk

so why
am i perplexed and done in?
because now that it’s set up
i remember my awful luck

i’m trying
sincerely doing my best
to come down off the shelf
to break out of my cell

i’m not
seeing you as some saviour
i know you’re only flesh and blood
and i’m only flesh and love

i’m glad
you didn’t laugh in my face
when i asked for your time
and did my best pantomime

of someone
who is worldly and smooth
that part might be an act
but my interest is fact

and now
i feel this grin on my face
i’m already planning out
how to steal a kiss somehow

i’m doing backflips
my heart has soared to the moon
i’m spinning all around
through the stars and back down
to you


( Po’s notations: “I asked Pablo out and
he said ‘yes’! i came home and skipped
around my apartment for fifteen minutes.
he’s already made me happy and he’s
done nothing more than say ‘yes’.First guy in so many
dry seasons of nothingness. So nervous
but hid that enough i suppose for him
to agree. he’s big, and he’s
beautiful and so sweet. now that i’m
meeting him, i find that old voice
kicking me in the teeth and rattling
my nerves about past failures, or
those i’ve left behind or how i must
refrain from revealing too much. thus, this
very quickly jotted poem.” )