Poems--Questions of a Loneliness

Man...what do you do when you feel lonely?

Do you check your facebook?

Or do you try to erase your face and then look?

Do you have a space that you can call just your own,

Or is it the MY way or the highway when you try to hook up

A live date with just you and a book

When you try to spend your loneliness the right way

Only to end up spending it all on happy endings at the mall

With full service and all.

How do you figure you'll take all the time in the world to find a love in a world where the time fills the swirls where the light is supposed to unfurl;

When feeling alive means I'll take half my time just to say I'm alright--

But you're really feeling so terrible;

No apetite, nothing's edible, everything priceless, and unforgettable,

Where half the time you feel out of place

In a daze,

Like society's just not made for you,

Something's wrong, I just FEEL it

But your word's in the same milieu

That you found them in yesterday,

And today they're as sane as the crazed state that you lost them in...how do you process this?

I cannot postulate just why

I feel this way

Ryan Adams

Feels so alive

But all I can feel is a numbness to my days

And I don't know why.

Poems--So Many Things

So many things...

So many things I know not about her

Of things that inspire or make her wonder

Things that come together to picture a person completely

Her dreams, her

Emotional seams

Devotional scene

Or

The ocean she sees

So easily.

So many things I will one day understand

Where, in the meantime, anticipation stands;

You know, patience demands

That I take all of it in as a delicate sand

And

Not trap our dances in hourglasses standing on end,

But instead,

As few of the so many things that I do comprehend, I

Can simply keep wishing her smile radiates what she's thinking,

That as many of the so many things as she'll one day choose to give me,

This bit of a smile and a kiss on her face,

And the way her two eyes light the way to a place

only hers and so privy;

That the little things we have shared--all the glances and stares, emotional dances and flares, bursts of words and illogical thirsts for the other--that all these little things,

Worth so many things,

Will earn a page in everything that will one day describe how our sun rose and shone and gave birth to a soul, unexpectedly so, unpretentiously old, so...

endlessly and neverendingly molded by the so many things I still don't know but hope to...

and it's those so many things that so elate me.

She is so amazing.

Rhymes--Disappointed

I got this beat and don't know what to do with it

Where to begin

Or how to soothe the view within

Pain in my chest

But no physical symptoms

No

Conditions I can think of

So there's no medicine for this one

Just a bag of tricks my mind is playing on my feelins

Yes, it's related to a woman

Wish I could forget the disappointment

Of the moment

When I first realized our motion wasn't workin

Or the second time she called me out on my motives

She called them selfish, I picked up the phone

And called Helpless

Could have left a voicemail

But lost the sentences

People may be right, maybe I'm too sensitive

Rhyme--Mixed Message

How I

Feel is confused

By her interest

And then huge

Disinterest

Like a rush of sugar

And then citrus

Cuz yo

How you go from brown

To green

To loud

To serene

And back to shoutin peace

When you love war

Seems like you don't know what you want more

Am I the right soundtrack or the wrong score?

If you can answer any of my many questions

Please...

I just want a straight message

Poems--Writing to Jazz

Nothing like writing to live jazz,

Dining to the pizazz of a cold, foreign beer;

Beautiful smiles abound,

People, warm to the touch,

Enjoying a swarm of conversation and such.

A breath of fresh air; a feeling of debonair lingers in it,

Where you measure success by how often you wince in delight;

A tweak of your brow, a glance at the crowd,

Immersed in the sounds of earthly delight.

That feel of a loud, jazzy night,

The feel of another life...

These lights all around me,

They glisten, they shine with the promise of what surrounds me,

And I'm pleased.

As I breathe,

My nostrils take in the fragrance of a poem fluidly written,

A program so truly smitten by my pen's code,

Irregular soul clashing with hazy thoughts of a clenched hold,

Over this paper,

Over this latent place I've found myself traced in,

And I rather like it.

Just like I like my pen.

It's honest,

Even when I'd rather not be.

Just like jazz.

Musings on Overthinking

I suppose I just feel like writing. You know, as a poet, I always feel compelled to rhyme, to sell my mind on paper. But I suppose that sometimes, it's best to forsake my talent, to take in the entirety of what my mind has to offer, beyond the metric rhythms floating in this magnet of thought patterns I call my brain.

Mostly, I'd like to arrange a way to not think...well, not not think, just...not think so hard. It's something I'm very good at, and which occasionally sparks a backlash from those around me. Mostly just love interests. Mostly just women. And, you know, I can't decide if I prefer it that way; is it good to be this original, this unique of a mural, so much so that I push them away at times? Perhaps it's the weak ones, or the ones most drawn to me, that run away with fervency equal to their initial interest. I really can't tell--can you tell just how dissonant all this is, how I can't shut my analytical side even long enough to consider the simplicity of my plight, if one could even call it that? It really is rather bothersome...

Maybe I'm a genius, I don't know, but of all the stereotypes I might find in common with the truth of my grey matter, the one I think would fit most well would have to be the one of genius trapped in social inferiority, which--ironically enough--I don't know if conforms to this, since I get along rather well with others. Then again, it took me until the latter part of my latter years of adolescence to find enough in common with others, to find enough to smatter within myself, to find common enough sounds to mutter. So then perhaps there is a latency I cannot shake, of social misfittance, of a failure to relate on a denominator level with others, including women, although I can't be bothered to find out, because I also like my style. My approach, the words I find worthwhile, it's all a part of all I cherish, and if I did not care, then, well, I wouldn't be myself then.

But I like me. Even with the inconveniences it brings. And when I feel like writing, well...that's as good a sign as any that I'm pretty happy.

Poems

Why this bane?
Why this chronic malady?
What have I slain; what great injustice have I arranged
To deserve this melancholic property,
That leaves me with no place to shine but in this marauded prosody?

When did I become so sullen?
So suddenly, so fallen?
So utterly sodden with tears;
When did my quixotic years give way to this nightmare,
This hopelessly downhearted and constant fight against this cruelest of mind snares?

And when I look towards the sun, why won't I find a light there?
Have I been blinded by the night's glare?
What happened to my life; why'd it become so hard to breathe and feel alive,
To heal my wounds,
To steal again the many rights that once adorned the hallways of my songs;
This feels so wrong.

I've never done a thing to god,
But now I've come to question if there's intervention after all--
For if a pestilence as this exists without a reason;
If an infection so horrendous as to render its infected dead/alive, and yet surrendered, has a place in mankind's thesis,
Then this is treason,
An unforgivable malfeasance;
And if a god can't wrest disease away from people that he keeps,
Then it is he that's held accountable to me.

Rhymes

Just days ago wore my heart on my sleeve/
not the hardest thing ever but still took honesty/
cuz I humbled myself to this girl named lissette/
you know i let the feelings get advanced accelerated mistake number one made from the start/
idealized her but realized worth is earned not given free like natural water/
friendship is a beam of light but the breeze of time is in the end responsible not forcing your mind on them/
time does the understanding/
landing in a lake of smiles is always nice/
but if you take the time to fill up a lake/
it's more precise/
so I relayed to her how I feel/
put aside emotion sentiments cuz the deal/
was sweating like the sun/
and to be the only one original individual kat/
planned ahead/
want to cultivate a positive friend/
keyword accentuated/
cuz mistake number two made/
and hated myself in a small way/
tried to play the game/
you know you've gotta be up front be your own way/
face contorted in expression of pain/
distorted brain trying to sort the recorded aftermath/
once we spoke/
hope she won't act unnatural/
now the agenda's on the same page/
actual purpose of a smile/
of a filtered conversation is to dial/
the number to her heart right/
where the word friend resides/
alive in her mind/
not die like the rest/
convulsion of thoughts expressed in disarray/
cuz space has this gravity attracting me to l/
plain simple message told her 'I like you'/
so it's insane to tell tame a wild sensation/
to be friends is just the reflex of our relations/
I have this feeling she might not pursue/
the proposition to/
be for her the kat to be for her there when she needs me/
I hope she sees me/
as what I envision a seed for growth/
if not I'll learn to cope/
I've learned not to dive into the pool cuz minds must be scoped first/
then enticed to fill out the survey to show worth/
slow work into our friendship I fear/
but the ball's in her court now/
want to believe I'm wrong about what's thrown down here...

Rhymes

Humans are like antennas picking up channels/
tuning into stations full or empty but no perfect reception white noise turns up missing programs close up/
throw up precipitation in the form of disillusioned irritation/
but people need to realize/
whether it's the first or the last ten/
don't idealize/
the fact is some channels just won't show up/
don't give up the ghost don't stop showing love/
there's an average spread of negative attributes/
through all people on this planet we all hear the same flute/
ask your mind for the notes in the music spreadsheet/
watch as you compare the similarities/
printouts reached cuz the mind records the sounds of life the same way/
across the board the conscious thoughts end up with the same fate/
we all relate/
we're all the same replicated brains just a different name/
but check now your common ground/
sometimes heads don't look for it/
then say there are no common nouns/
well the verbs are equal/
the herbs we eat are equal/
the shirts we weave are equal/
one size fits all our people/
next time stop and wonder if you really think that kat across the table really has a different link/
whether asteroid or comet we rock the same effect/
when we blend all our flavors together we bust one style trend/
one wild gem/
one wilding/
one wild thing/
we're children/
of his reign/
his universe/
we all write the human verse/
let's unite/
I'll help you fight the struggle with my martial arts your Hip-Hop his hip-hop their slick tropical samba color the same horizon/
experience the same summer/
we've got more in common than in opposition/
with our brothers/
cells in one body/
the world/
I hope we break the clutter/
and free our minds/
I think we will in time...

Rhymes

I make my home out of rocks and boulders so I can adapt me genes to the rough surface of the earth/
texture not always round or always curved/
sometimes the tangent lines to my mind not perpendicular to my height/
time flows in irregular patterns/
just checked the warped box in the ice/
the rhyme's losing flavor/
no longer nice/
somebody add soy sauce to the rice...