Bite

Bite6 Poster

I see a human
across from me.
We’ve got no common
philosophy.

When I was alone
and judging rough,
I had no doubt
that I’d be tough.

But now, I’ve hopped up
like a goat;
my canine fangs
were just a gloat.

My wolf howl
is diminished, hid.
I’m just a gentle,
trustful kid.

Let it be known
that if I must,
I’ll put an end
to betrayed trust,

but I hope
we’ll be alright.
I’ll never be
the first to bite.

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In Dreams

In dreams, you are alive,
and we glide and visit places
that we used to hike and laugh
with sunlit smiles on our faces.

Birds perch and sing;
snakes soak up the sun.
The topics we discuss are wild
and our meanderings are fun.

But heroin is sad and boring
and so, I think, is being dead.
On both accounts, you took a path
that only you would tread.

I never understood the craving;
I built a statue out of sticks,
and fished for answers in the river
while you went and got your fix.

You’re never coming back,
and the dreams will never end.
Waking life is so much better
when we hike around the bend.

I Will

I’ll turn the table upside down.
I’ll face the couch towards the wall.
I’ll yank a pen out of my heart
and draw myself a path to crawl;

A path away from the abode
that is too lifeless and too dull,
and that’s held me in too long
like thoughts locked in a prison-skull.

I will emerge in timeless land
and explore the melodies I find.
I’ll climb the trees, and swim the lakes,
and forget the dead place left behind.

I Forget Things


I forget things
way too much,
and my dream-wings
curl out of sight,
and out of touch.

I have forgotten
choices I’ve made;
the fruits are rotten,
but they were ripe when
I picked and played.

I’m shocked to see
where I once stood;
high up, atop a tree.
I remember now,
oh, that was good!

I’m here again,
but forget I may…
Wait, where’ve I been?
Oh, I remember
this form of day!

My dream-wings shine
and I feel them stretch.
Fresh fruit is mine;
The seeds are for
the ground to catch.

Misunderstood


If my dying words go on misunderstood,
what will they think and say of me?
I was misunderstood in life, as well,
and now forever misunderstood, I’ll be.

Words are mischievous little foxes
and so are sentences, too.
Sometimes the foxes act differently
when watched by me instead of you.

How bad can misunderstanding be,
when the understood is not that great?
It’s so easy for us to overlook degree
when we attempt to communicate.

By degree, I am a bit too cold
and my words expand in space,
but maybe when I’m dead, or old,
my meanings will align some place.

The Way

I laugh with them;
I dance with her.
The fire burns;
the faces blur.

I flap my arms;
I start to drift.
My hand reaches
and tries to lift.

I fly backwards;
I fight and twist.
My eyes open;
they don’t persist.

I sit up; awake.
I stay up alone.
The fire burns;
the way is shown.

Distant, Guarded Man

Tonight, I was waiting in
the check-out line of a store,
trying my best to not just look
at the products or the floor.

Two women joined the line
and behind me, took their places.
A daughter and a mother, I thought,
with happiness on their faces.

I am often much too reserved,
so I wanted to give them a smile.
I managed only half of one, unseen,
but it still felt good, all the while.

Next time, I’ll step it up a notch
and give a warmer one, if I can,
for it’s quite unseemly of me
to be such a distant, guarded man.

Sapless Passerby

Weeks ago, I was walking
with the river to my right.
Headphones sang me music,
as my eyes took in the sight.

I came upon a young couple
who fished with a 3-year-old,
and I turned my eyes away
from a family and the river; cold.

I didn’t want to be awkward;
I was only a sapless passer-by,
and just as I thought I’d made it
the little girl beamed out a hi!

I waved and smiled back
and said to the child “Hello.”
And I felt a little foolish
for the kindness I oft forego.

Sour

 

Not happy with today,
nor excited by the next,
I know I should be positive,
but I’m already vexed.

It’s not a massive deal,
and I know I’ll be just fine,
but I hate having sold my day
for a price not worth my time.

And tomorrow, too,
will likely be the same,
unless I taste the moments
that in life are always game.

I only ever write a thing
to increase my rising power,
so I’ll do what I must do,
and spit out this mood that’s sour.