Tasse

Clear word
Sharp sentence
True thought
Cuts like glass

But muddled mind
Twisted wants
Overlapping thoughts
A kind of tasse

Atoms buzzing
World spinning
Mind racing
All is still

History repeating
Feet backtracking
Thoughts overlapping
Such a thrill

Guarded heart
Pumping hard
Shredded nerves
Is this real?

Like broken glass
Fragmented words
Shards re-shapen
Is how I feel

Varying colors
Like changing thoughts
But a broken prism
Is only glass

I'm not a warrior
Just a worrier
All these fears
It's only tasse

~

Tasse: one of a series of overlapping metal plates in a suit of armor [that form a short skirt over the body below the waist].

Evolve

Second verse
Missed the first
Way to go
Way too slow
Summer brings
Hot sticky things
While winter holds
Running noses, colds

And how could there possibly
Still be things to say to me
Things to say to you
Other than what is true?
Truth is dangerous
Though canorous
We think it'll bring
A happy spring

We forget-
Spring is muddy, wet
With melted pure white
Ignorance's plight
The season's turning
Signs of the burning
Just around the corner
The red hot scorner

What's so good about truth?
Was I worse off in my youth
When I knew even less?
I confess
I don't think so
Now, watching the flowers grow
Out of the destruction of the pure white
Waiting to burn in skepticism's light

No Skin Off My Back

Write in a notebook, tear it out
Fold it up so it can't shout
Stick it in a drawer to collect dust
Dig it out and post it when I must

Could be two days old
Could be two years, dead and cold
Could be all fiction and lies
Could have a slight truth amid it's cries

Most of my poems come because I have nothing to do
So I pick up a pen and write about something I'm sure somewhere is true
Sometimes it comes out in a poetic story
Other times it's just random thoughts that come to me

I work with fictional people I create in my head
Who stay to write their thoughts, then they are dead
Stay to write their story, then fade back into nothingness
Stay for the dry paper and leave without a kiss

I dramatize little flitting feelings of dismay
Though I feel quite happy most every day
But happy poems aren't as fun to write
As ones about fear and pain and shadows of the night

So that is my Creative Process -
A muddled, unimportant mess
Been going on for three years now today, easy and cheap
No skin off my back - Happy 3rd Anniversary In [the] Deep

No skin off my back, no painful story of my own
No little secret, no wise way shown
No skin off my back, I've got no gift or curse
Just some thoughts, written in verse

Pants

Allow me a minute
Or three
Or four
Or two

Give me a firm place to stand
And I will
Or won't
Move you

It's time to get up
But you feel
Too very
Blue


It's not that
I don't have
Some longing
You know

It's just
You're no longer
Enticing
Interesting . . . no

Sorry
You're not motivated
To strive
To grow


You never
Gave me a firm place
To stand
To dance

Yet I
Always gave you
A second
Or third chance

But now
I'll say goodbye
Thank you -
But I can wear my own pants

Pressure

I feel slightly sick to my stomach
I feel mostly wrong in the head
I feel I might be okay
As long as I am dead

To remove the pressure from my mind
I split open my skull
And out sprouted wisdom
Along with stupidity to answer the call

And I know I'm over dramatic
That's why I don't like them to see me cry
And I know I'm bad at making friends
That's why I don't like to try

When divine inspiration hits
Is when I have no pen in hand
When I open my skull
Is when they don't understand

A crack that opens wide
To vomit out a word
And then it shuts up tight
To devour what it heard

And they swing out of sync
While he smiles up at me
And we pray and we sleep
And long to be free

But what has us trapped
Aside from our own head?
What keeps us down
Aside from the comfort of our bed?

And I wake up early
So I have time to waste
And we say we're unique
Going copy and paste

And I'm sorry I'm not
Everything you want me to be
And I'm sorry we're not
Always happy

But maybe we could make it
If I could vomit out words in front of you
And maybe someday I will
When the sky's no longer blue

And I feel mostly sick to my stomach
While you pull and I strive
And I feel I might be okay
As long as I'm alive