Day 88 – She

I saw her eyes
but she could not speak-
a miracle
wasting time

they welled with things
I couldn’t understand,
maybe now,
but not back then

I needed her to sing,
needed her to validate
my guitar,
needed her to be
what I was missing
in a song

but she was silent,
holding back

and I knew soon
she would be gone

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Day 55 – Speaking in Tongues

I wanna write that poem
the one that’s been festering like a bullet wound
for ten years,
rips through like a migraine in the dark
though I desperately need the sleep-
the old war wound
from battles I never fought
deaths I never died
but felt every sting

I want to grow a rose so perfect
and then crush it between two sheets of paper
five thousand other poems just like it
inside your grandmother’s pillowcase

I wanna sell that poem for thirty silver pieces
publish that pain and buy a rocket and some morphine
and never feel again

And I’ve been trying
lord knows I’ve been trying
but it comes out like it always has
for the last ten years
and I’m so tired
of speaking in tongues

Day 47 – Terminology

What I meant to say,
on uncertain terms,
has turned out to be
not even close.

My terminology,
once dissected,
has pointed me wrong,
the arrow bent.

It’s a wonder in all these years
after all this talking
we still can’t get
a good understanding
out of all these words.

Day 43 – Much to Say

Oh,
I don’t have
much to say
anymore.

You sortof reach a point
when you’ve said
thousands of things
and slowly they morph into
thousands of thoughts
that you watch glide by
like fish in the doctor’s office.

It’s not to say nothing matters;
but saying things just to get ears,
just to feel important,
just to build a following,
just to get your angst out-
that doesn’t matter.

Maybe you’ll sell a few coffee mugs.
Maybe even a book.

You could stand in front of a microphone
and feel
that you’ve earned it,
you could grab all eyes,
they could say your words
were the best words,
the greatest words they ever
shared on Instagram

but

words
on their own
have never
done

a single thing.

As someone who’s said
thousands of things,
I haven’t done
a whole lot.

So anymore,
I haven’t got
much to say.

Day 15 – Kings

What do you do
when you are small
and the world is unfair?

What do you do
when you can’t stand up,
can’t prove it,
can’t speak out,

but can’t keep on
the same way anymore?

What do you do
when you’re right
but no one cares?

What do you do
when they’ll laugh if you quit
but keep spitting if you carry on?

Do you turn to stone?
Do you just go mad?

Do you write a poem
and call it a day?

Are we all going to die
like this
either way?

Or are some of us
really
born kings?