Hero.

She is stumbling up the broken road;
Her skin screams blood while
Her mangled fingers grasp at bravery.

Fiery courage gushes from her virginal eyes,
Slipping down tinted cheeks in fierce channels.
She will not surrender.

To save a multitude,
To save a child,
To save one who cannot save themselves.

5,671

Clouds drift by,
Lazy sighs escaping
Their moistened lips.
Their crisp breath
Bites at my cheeks,
And, though my hands are warm,
He swaddles them with his own.
The baffling, immense, aching feeling of
Being in love with him swells
Within me, and I'm not so cold
Anymore.
Leaves shatter beneath our
Simultaneous steps.
Their crunching satisfies,
And laughter ensues.

Funny how sitting
A few seats back
Grants superiority
On the bus.
Four squirrels barely
Escape Death's scaly grasp.
The yellow skeleton rattles
With every movement, and
The ground covered is filled
With red oak.

Home.
Small, but "the only thing we can afford, honey."
The view is of birds
From below.
The stone wall
Chills my bones and
Amplifies the situation:
Why, "Dad"?

The leathery scent of my jacket
Is replaced by orange
Leaves and the brown chipmunk's harvest.
An acorn bounces off my shoulder as
I make my way across an ocean of ivy and
Broken bark.

Music plays and my brain is at ease.
Between each fade-out and start-up:
Silence.
A song now comes on that reminds me
Of rainy days and cold benches;
Reminds me to thank Him
For him.

The tea slips
Down my throat,
And calmness seeps into my skin.
Chattering keys, crescendos and staccatos
Envelop me in mystery,
And I am lost.
Steam rises from my cup and
Streams fall from my eyes:
That music can be so
Enchanting is
Almost Godly,
And almost too much to handle.
Almost.

Cleaning the kitchen,
I say a prayer.
What else can I do to get rid
Of this ache?
The insatiable ache of needing
God's Love,
For nothing can quench this
Want but He.

Fixing something to eat,
All I can think of is
Psalms 66:19.
If He has heard me, why will
He not answer?
The reheated pizza tastes
Bland.

Now appears to be the time
To talk to Him.
Bible? Check.
Open heart? I'm trying, God.
I cry unto him, but
Nothing is shouted back down from
Heaven's Seat.

Time to go.

The ride to the church is
Not long, but
The journey has been strenuous.
Prayer only keeps the
Rebel at bay for so long.
The stampede of trapped demons
On steaming horses invades my quiet thoughts.
What else is there, Lord?
The carpet takes in the tears
And contemplates what it can do.
Nothing.
I see the Lion, but where is the
Gentle Lamb?
Where are You when I need You?

Yawns stifle the tears and introduce
The deep sleep coming,
A train devouring anything
On the tracks.
Trees dance on the breeze, stars
Glitter and he shines, fingers
Uncontrollable.
In fleeting moments, his mind takes off, and
Turbulence is preposterous, every note clear.
All of my world is
Right here, right now.
He is happy, and God is with me.
That is enough.
Nothing needs to be altered
To fit the cookie cutter,
And I'm fine with that.

This is just Day 5,671 of my
Paradise.

Snooze

Same clock.
Same bed.
Same cold floor.
Same face wash.
Same shoes.
Same walk.
Same bus.
Same smell.
Same steps.
Same tile.
Same locker.
Same book.
Same girls.
Same laughs.
Same phones.
Same bell.
Same teachers.
Same notes.
Same scales.
Same history.
Same fries.
Same diction.
Same variables.
Same rush.
Same bus.
Same smell.
Same walk.
Same home.
Same food.
Same view.
Same music.

Snooze button?
Maybe that will
Put a hold on
Routine mediocrity.

Him

His hand,
His arm and foot,
Through the opening door.

He slithers in and
Takes a bite of the Apple
On the table.

He takes flight in the dreams
Of the young and
Screams echo from her bedroom.

He moves the mountains
To block the Sun.

He shuts the door
And slips the pill into that drink.

He pulls triggers
And lights fires.

His cold tongue sweeps up and down
My spine.

His are the whispers that force me
To take shallow breaths
Of evil and fear.

His are the fingers that
"click 'yes' to upload."
The eyes that view them
Are his.

His ways are labeled as
Teen hormones,
Intoxication,
Insanity,
Incest.

He is the one with
The lost puppy and the free candy.

His fiery eyes and charred heart
Make my fingers tremble.

He is a fallen angel.
A traitor.
A liar.
And, in no way, is he equal.

He is evil,
And he is no match for God.

What They've Done

They seized the poor,
They left them on the soil,
They lit up the skies
With fire and oil.

They hang the sister,
They stone the brother,
They beat the infant,
They imprison the mother.

They greet the violent morning,
They spit on Holy Ground.
They churn the oceans with twisted fingers,
They tie up the unbound.

They burned the witches and the saved,
They forced the cross to topple down,
They slayed the innocent, the guilty and naive.
They ran to the hills and shattered the Crown.

They broke your tired hands,
They scored and scarred your skin,
They see the pain drip down the walls,
They watch the ascension begin.

They chased the sea to the horizon's limit,
They smothered the sky with blood and water,
They split the clouds like they slit the throats:
They left no sun or daughter.

U

It's in the month of July.
It's in the month of June.
It's in the month of August.
It's you.

It's always been so automatic,
But it's never been in view.
I'd never see it in my home,
But alas, it's you.

You may not be in my wishes
(Because now, I've got all I want)
But you are sure in my dreams (even if you can't see it.)
You are in my thoughts.

It's you.

Presently Past

When we actually talked
For the very first time,
I had a hint
I was committing some crime.
Between friends and love,
A tiny white line
Separates the boundary
Of "you" being "mine."
But after you saw
That I was the one,
You asked me out
Under the setting sun.
And now, here we are,
Arch overhead.
We will be together
Until one of us is dead.
We may have met on a swing set
When I was 4 and you were 5.
We may have passed each other on the street
When my sister was learning to drive.
We both knew each other existed
Long before we actually met.
And if we did, I don't know how
I ever let myself forget.

Mirrors and Lipstick

The name you never wished to see
Written with the tacky pink lipstick
Is now on the bathroom mirror.

After a long, hard day of pain,
"He doesn't deserve you"
Is written on the wall.

You can't see in the mirror
Because of all the gossip
Scrawled on the glass.

Lipstick on your cheeks
As you watch her in the mirror
And think about your wife at home.

Excitement courses through your veins
As 12 screaming girls
Push and shove to get a look at their dresses.

Her full heart beats quickly as you
Apply the stains to your daughter's lips
And give her room to spread her wings.

The stench of alcohol on your breath,
Three stumbling men,
And you in your wife's bra and lippy.

Claire with a tube in her shirt,
Bender clapping slowly,
(Even though he liked it.)

"SPRING BREAK!!!"
"I love you!! --Ali"
Queen Amidala's lips.

Costume party--
The stick is now black
As the spider-webbed mirror looms in front of you.

My brother's mirror became
Covered in kissy marks
From his hysterically laughing mother and two sisters.

Fancy Dresses and Consequences

I want a pretty boyfriend
With a pretty ugly soul
And a really great smile
That falsely reflects on my face.

I wanna date a jock
Who can bench 315,
Who's 12 heads taller than me
So he can't see my face.

I want a shiny car
That costs more than a house
So I can drive my friends around
And crash into a minivan with three kids in the back.

I wanna be a movie star
With money in a vault
For buying fur coats and sunglasses
That only People Magazine care about.

I want to be on drugs
Because all the cool kids are doing it,
Then I can go to all the parties
And jump off a garage roof.

I wanna be rich
So I can have three TVs
And watch any show I want.
Then I won't know who's dying in school shootings.

I want to cover up my zits
And wear short skirts
So all the guys chase me
And I can fall on my face after high school.

I want to be a slut
So I'm on everybody's laps
And everybody's lips when I'm gone,
So I blend in with everyone else.

......................................

I want a piano.
I want an Augustana CD.
I want a piece of toast.
I want a pretty boyfriend
With a pretty great soul.

The End =]

Seeing Eyes

The quiet street
Bridges the gap
Between reality and
Here.
The darkness reaches out a
Cold hand and pulls down the
Cross-hatched screen,
Blinding us, preventing us from seeing
Anything but a world our own.
Let the frigid night breathe on
Our clasped hands.
Let me lead you across the oceans
Across two worlds
Across two suns.
Let me be your sight
To lead you into my heart;
Only I know the path free of scars.
Let me pull the strings and
Make the puppets dance wildly
As we spin on the white-painted "STOP."
Let be your tired eyes;
I've got your hand.
Let me show you
What you can be.
Let the rain come down on your face
As your heart beats in your chest.
Let me be your seeing eyes
And stay blind to everything else.
I'll find some ropes and tie down your worries
And you'll rely on me.
Let me find your stories and
We'll paint sloppy smiles and tears
In pitch black happiness.
Let me be your seeing eyes,
And guide you back to the real world.
The screen has been lifted
So let me blind you from what you're afraid of.
Or let me be there for you
So I can see it with you.
Let me be your seeing eyes,
Your best friend.
Let me be there with you, for you,
Beside you.
Just let me in.

Frustration

I can't believe
You don't believe
That I'm the one for you.
There's a battle,
A battle raging
In my heart and you're the enemy.
But you're on my side--
No, not a traitor,
A friend.
And yes, that's it.
For you.
It must be unrequited everything.
Unrequited laughs,
Smiles,
Jokes.
Even when my heart jumps into my stomach,
You don't feel it.
And I cannot tell you any of this.
Because guess what?
We're just really good friends.

Payless

Slouching in the dreaded line;
It seems as though everyone is looking at you
Buying the stamps that never go on envelopes.
You stand there, with
Secondhand clothes and holes in the soles,
But your feet feel oddly warm.
Then you realized that
Someone else has been in your shoes.
You are not alone.
Bags and bags of threadbare sweaters.
These final scraps of warmth are no longer yours,
But now a freezing child will have a blanket or a jacket.
You stand there, with
A child saying, "Daddy, Daddy, can we buy this?"
And your heart feels cold and empty.
You look down at the grimy tiled floor,
And there is mud where you are standing.
As the cashier's chest heaves and stale breath leaks out of her
Heavily lined mouth,
You realize that other people have stood here,
And that you are probably better off than they are.
You are not alone,
But you are not desperate like they are.

A Slow Dance

You hold me close;
I push you away.
You ask me what is wrong;
I cannot say.
You begin to speak;
I begin to cry.
You ask me what is going on;
I shake my head and sigh.
You hold me closer;
I push you still.
You ask if I'm okay;
With tears my eyes refill.
You do not understand;
I look away, too.
You look down at me;
I realize again that I love you.
The music swirls around;
The room's spinning ends.
The music fades out;
For we will only ever be friends.

A Day of School

The beep of the alarm
Clock at school shows
8:20am the bell
Rings of the famous
Rulers and calculators after
Chorus of angels sing as the first french
Fry my brain with el and
Lala it's time for
Lit matches and fumes and
Lab paper crammed into my book
Bag lunches are smashed into paper
Fists curl as the bladder wrenches on the way
Home, run, the computer is
Still and silent as the door is shoved
Open the refrigerator and the
Clock finally shows 4:00.

I am Set in Stone (A Shakespearean Sonnet)

I will not change myself for you, not for
Anyone, not even if you "love me."
If you don't like this, well there is the door,
For this is me and I will roam most free.

The scars of love and evil deeds have cast
Upon these eyes a shadow cold and dark;
But all the tears that trace my cheeks are past
After I hear the song of cheery lark.

And happiness is key to smiles and I,
I have the key but, oh, how fake it is.
No, I won't be "blue or violet sky;"
These feelings bubble up in me like fizz.

You may think that I am crazy or deranged,
But this is me and I will never change.

Deserted

Sun shining on dirt below;
Across the hot rocks
The tumbleweeds go.

Crab grass, growing now
Only sound is
The sad cry of the crow.

Who longs for a warm embrace;
A secret kiss
On his feathery face.

All alone he crows and cries
As one love grows,
It suddenly dies.

A hole left upon the heart
As soon as the people
Grow apart.

Moon crying its tears on the ground--
This is how desertion
Spreads the hurt around.

Dreaming Twice

Sun is bright-shining
Through the window
Curtains ruffled in the breeze
The last bit of sleepiness
Fades away with
The cricket's sneeze.

You laugh and throw the silk covers back
The maid will make your bed.
When you feel a gentle rapping--
Could it be inside your head?

You open your eyes
You see your mother
Standing over you.
She smiles and says, "Get out of that bed!"
(And you thought your dreams were
Through!)

From the Pink Notebook

The pencil is smudged
The pen is faded
The paper is ripping
But it is my soul.

After every test,
After every hurt,
After every laugh,
It is my soul.

A word is me,
A word is you,
A word is it,
It is my soul.

The spelling mistakes,
The stains of useless tears,
The memories within,
It is my soul.

It is me,
It is me,
It is this,
It is my soul.

It's just a notebook,
It's just a poem,
It's just an it.
It is my soul.

Stairs
Stairs in
Stairs in front
Stairs in front of
Stairs in front of us,
Stairs in front of us, should
Stairs in front of us, should we
Stairs in front of us, should we take
Stairs in front of us, should we take the
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first step
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first step or
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first step or are
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first step or are we
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first step or are we too
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first step or are we too afraid
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first step or are we too afraid to
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first step or are we too afraid to try?

This
This is
This is the
This is the question.

Two Days in a Week

I wish that Monday could be escaped,
And Tuesday would be there waiting
For you and I to spend together:
A day of bliss to spend under a sunset
With waves softly licking the sand.

The grains slip through our fingers
As we fan them out, sighing, relaxed;
And all because Monday was avoided
And Tuesday is ours to savor--
How to spend it? Only with you.

An orange morning approaches,
But it's just another day, only Wednesday.
Tuesdays will be different forever:
The feeling of waking up, bursting with excitement,
Will remind us of that new Tuesday.

When Monday was escaped,
Only to end up here, on this Tuesday,
Oh, we will forget the small moments from the
Drive down, but the feeling of the Tuesday that was savored
Will always linger within our hearts.

Polar Opposite

The waves breathe the day's warmth on the cooling sand,
The new found sense of relaxation and calmness.
The only regret I have of this day
Is the fact I didn't tell you how much I loved you every single second of it.
The soft sun caressed the hardness of our hearts
And made everything okay, it seemed.
And now, as we walk the long, silent path back to the house,
The calm is broken and hard feelings return,
Something the man in the moon can't fix.
We can only wait until morning to speak again.
I wish the sun wouldn't sleep.

Ode to the Bean Kid

Sitting on the bus
Next to you.
I see you shyly look over
At me.
I give you the death stare.
You look away.

Sitting on the bus
Next to you.
I look at you with
Admiring eyes, but you
Take out my soul with
Piercing eyes.
I look away.

Sitting on the bus
Next to who?
Oh yes, the Bean Kid.

Mitchell and Falling Stars

Sitting in a living room,
The birds will soon begin warming up for their
Daily concert.
Though they are drowned out by the sounds of a Yellow Taxi,
I can still hear their songs
Echoing from this afternoon.

All day it's been about falling stars:
Joni Mitchell's lyric and the one in
My pocket. It seems to be fading
Every time I think of
You.

As the day begins again,
My eyes have not yet rested.

I catch a falling star but it
burned a heart-shaped hole in
My pocket, and I think somebody else
Picked it up.