For Mother

Forgive me, if only I’d emulate

The grace that you have carried in your heart.

Abide with me, although you emanate

A modesty and humbleness, apart

I’ve been from Him and you, it’s been too long.

I have tried, and yet I fail to love

At times. The darkness in my mind is wrong.

You know there is some goodness in your dove;

Your child, the mustard seed, small but growing.

The stubborn tree, a nuisance through and through.

Yet you have taught me all about sowing,

To cut the weeds and branches gone askew.

And so I wish to let you know I’ve grown,

Because of you I’ll never be alone.

When You Were Young You Made Mistakes and Never Learned From Them

reaching an impasse with blackness

an eternal abyss

 

too many nights spent with strangers

avoiding bliss

 

no home to have

 

too broken to think succinctly

and leaking quicker

 

generosity breathes again

you cannot admit what you did to her

 

seconds filled with repentance

 

showing off with a full stomach

even though nothing is there

 

revelations running through rivers

another blood-soaked mare

 

it is bitter cold and better left unsaid

 

poor and wetter

immaterial benefits

 

iron objects penetrating

wooded penitence

 

expecting an embrace and only getting violence

 

reaffirmation of disbelief

these words carry similarity

 

reemerging lack of self-confidence

recognized redundancy

 

continuous self-aggrandizement

 

coughing up pretentiousness

increasing testicular pain

 

every endless night

hunger penetrates the brain

 

caged in this country

 

is it blue balls

or a green heart

 

eunuchs sharpening scythes

fuck your art

 

skill is not involved in this endeavor

 

yesterday morning she needed you

don’t talk about the weather

 

tonight she couldn’t wait to get rid of you

nothing is better

 

conversations carrying insinuations

 

using tongues as swords

misguided notions prevail

 

distress

to no avail

Jovial and Miserable

the range life desire

as a child… nerves were shot

sitting in a cheaply-made desk

with urine-soaked pants

 

barely cultured,

only studying

even though an unopened

textbook in spare time

 

experiences enamor

 

an absent fierce joy

conflict and contrast

not the kind of human

you think you know

 

ink in mouth

and invincible regret

where is he

he won’t go away

 

ink in mouth… yes

 

Wounds Representing Winter

once our lips touch

I will have the courage

to kill myself

 

it is never enough

and always too much

sweeping blood and dirt

 

the heights are abandoned

like our souls

 

internet intellectuals

moths around a flame

 

in bed I am

 

internal badges

humility and shame

 

for no one to see

an apparition

 

the gray pony

knocks him into the sea

if only it was me

 

I want to give up these words

but I don’t know…

I barely know myself