Devin's Poems

30 Home

2009-06-17T05:58:00.001-07:00

The night is night, as it should be, lidless moon and forever distant stars. I take my time. My reward is generous. Breathe in. A thousand thoughts at the doorstep of my mind. Its 7:13, and I think on you, whoever you are, intent with no distraction. I start to talk to no one present, rehearsing for a time that is not pretend. I would have liked to hear you laugh as I told you about my day, exaggerating as always, giving more details than necessary. Tonight though, is not that time, because you are a house not yet built, a blanket not yet unfolded. Mile one and two have become mile thirty, and I am almost home, but we will talk again next time.

Vancouver Island

2009-06-17T05:56:00.001-07:00

The ferry bumps to a stop, and I make my way to the dock. I am greeted by my spectacled, balding, bearded friend. We laugh at the circumstances of my travel. He drives, and I take in the sights. A celebration awaits us later that night, and I am introduced to Race Rocks--over time this acquaintance becomes a longed for friend. The money looks different, but it makes me comfortable while I pay for my coffee at the storefront next to the bowling green. I finish a book while the sun burns me, and at intervals I gaze at the beautiful Pacific. Too many good conversations, past and present, only to realize that this is not the end of my travels.

It was a great ceremony and people left happy. We finished it out at the coffee bar down the street. I spent most of the time on the porch, talking with people who were related to me by one common bond, the region where we were born. I imagined the place as it was sung, Girl of the North Country, while I longed to hear the song about the lions. I departed the same way that I came, and took with me memories that old age will have to fight me for.

Sorrow

2009-06-17T05:54:00.000-07:00

Alone, filled with the sound
of heartbeats. Eyes glaze over
with moisture, as a stare becomes
a longing. A wish of things that are,
and things that could be.

Twisted inside, waiting for the dawn
of night. Shouts that hang
over thoughts that are quiet.
Truly you say, and with it
I believe.

Close around me it seems,
for I see into the promise.
I am left with all that remains,
your spoken word
and my sorrow.

Clear Directions

2009-06-07T18:42:00.000-07:00

I saw everything I needed to know in that one look.
The steps we take always lead back, and I'm calm.

Folded blanket stacked neatly as a reminder,
You must push, for my leaded feet won't budge

How many times must I look back? To remember, when
the best things are always the ones to come.

I am building our home, and soon it will be finished.
The peace from two heads on a pillow in reverie.

His hand: bigger and stronger, dextrous and able
covers the two hands holding on, against the struggles,
of this life.

No Hand to Hold

2009-06-04T05:20:00.000-07:00

Auspicious, yet quixotic, I am carried along
Marked by the stripes of a life lived looking up
He did not have much to offer, and neither do I,
but the blood spilt testifies that some actions are
more than face value, though, few realize that.
the magic is only one aspect of the man.
Transfigured and bright blinds. Oh such a lonely life!

Yours

2009-06-02T19:58:00.001-07:00

I am no stranger to the desires of the heart,
Nor am I unaquainted with hope deferred.

My peace has been shattered, and I can't amend.
Volcanic insides boiling to vehement climax into words,
careful words, because this forest may not grow back.

Softly I step, for I am an expert escapist, but I am caught.
What good is this feeling wrapped tightly and bound?
My instinct is to guard, but all my defenses have fled.

This sheer cliff face is a familiar place to stand and stare.
What waits below could be bliss, nirvana, full blazing light,
or it could be the death of the culmination of me.

Can I jump and risk not being suspended by you?
All other roads led to deceit, further secluding me from myself.
Where is this road leading? Overshadowed by the darkness of uncertainty.

My mind has slipped into true dream, and all things are possible.
Emotions need not be afraid anymore, but welcomed and joined with
their kindred counterpart at long last.

I will run, but this time not away, and no distance is too far.
I am at home with the moon, and all her celestial brethren.
The universe cannot inhibit me from your presence.

But I dare it to try.

Painted Over Masterpiece

2009-06-02T19:55:00.000-07:00

I.
Secretly yearning for a complicated life, you watch
the clock tick seconds away like embers rising from the fire,
never to return again.

Unanswered questions float by like chaff taken on the wind:
Can this life be counted as something?
Or are my fingers just struggling through the motions?
In this daytime darkness, will I ever see light?

II.
A star is alone in the forever distant night, waiting and desiring.
He isn't able to touch or even learn of his coveted brethren,
He sits in his windless, cold chamber reaching out his light
to caress the face of the one he loves.

A millennium passes, and the journey ends.

The ocean pushes rivers and the rivers flow to uneven places.
The water falls into mismatched rainbows as the light smuggles its way into the mist.
Refracted beams dance their way from water to ground, and ground to sky.
Invisible but seen, the domed horizon scatters the light, as rain, back to the treetops.

The most deeply canopied forest can't keep this light away though it protects its
precious ground with phalanx strength, the battle rages, but the jealous limbs cannot hold on.
Pierced through like a calculated spear thrust, the light illuminates the moist dirt.
Just below the surface worms slowly and meticulously till the earth.
They find a buried secret screaming to be known, a lone seed.

Pushed into darkness and forgotten in existence, despair!
Enslaved to hopelessness the captive waits, a lifetime passes.
Only at the struggle of her love does freedom come.
Ground breaks and air is breathed, the two are one.
Rings mark the growth as the two loves give and receive without hindrance.

III.
Don't believe the silence in the gallery, for you are a painted over masterpiece.
Kept safe from thieves and vandals that would steal and keep you until your colors fade.
For dogs howl at the moon, because they can't accept her bright beauty, but
Bears rest under her reflected light in contemplation of the coming day,
protecting what is dear to them from the lurking lupine presence.

Hugh

2009-06-02T19:54:00.000-07:00

Wishes made on rocks falling from the sky, luminescent and rare. Seriously though?

Literature lied; the storytellers, dissatisfied and cut apart, spoke into the sky without hope

and found that missing piece in the book of false, yet to be written, but thought fondly of.

Now I sit, broken like a bottle of liquor impatiently opened by one running away.
My hero and princess are estranged and bitter, because they have seen
how the real story has ended long after the book is shut. One thing, only one thing!

To: (see that light, the fire, the passion…name him…be proud of him)

I would take back every selfish action for that one glimpse.

Solitary Confinement

2009-06-02T19:52:00.002-07:00

Is this the way things are going to be? A cold pane of glass, a handprint, and a reflection?

The rain falls: a celebration for some, a tragedy for others, but, apathy and loneliness. I

forget to breath sometimes, my meals are unappetizing. This is not a needle that points to

direct to the right path, because it points to me, accusingly, high up, and darkly robed.

The upward lines on my face cannot be rewritten; a tumultuous hurricane cycling inside is
abated by the shine of my eyes, and the imagined look of the one that will carry

all that I have- does not exist outside of this body.

I welcome the one that can –peace be still- call off the war, end the suffering, tame the beast…

sleep peacefully at last.

Walk of Shame

2009-06-02T19:52:00.001-07:00

Your gait is the opposite of correct, stumbling, eyes looking down, watching each step.

Your arms folded in close, tight, guarding against all that is out there waiting for you.

What did you whisper to your pillow as the tears streamed down your face?

Where did you throw the pieces of all your shattered and broken dreams?

II.

That night bit deep, and your youthful experience was not complete.

Studying the behavior of your peers, you mirrored and reciprocated.

Only wanting love, only wanting connection, only wanting calm.

You chose to twist yourself, malleable, into something you're not.

What you received you did not want, and now it electrifies your every thought.

It's cold outside, but not that cold. You realize it's simply a lack of emotive warmth.

Who will dress you now and take you across that threshold? There is one that I know,

who will meet you there, and hold you until the hurting stops?

III.

I walked with you, each step more painful than the last, and I know your hurt.

I have been to the top of the mountain and looked down on the expanse.

I knew you then too.

Although you can't look in my eyes for you have mummified yourself in guilt,

I am aware of you, and my cause for concern led me to take a walk of shame myself.

Sharp Corners

2009-06-02T19:51:00.001-07:00

Hands created to create are torn, bloody, and sore.
Brick by brick you build the wall,
and separate yourself from the you that used to be.
Like a murky water reflection that is constantly disturbed,
the ripples never-ending, you find no peace.

Driving your mental fingernails in deep,
you crave blindness, but the sight is always there.
Stains like rust tattoo your near transparent cheeks,
displaying the pain that has melted from your eyes.
My arm bends in a way, curving around to hold,
and it's strong enough.

Capsaicin

2009-06-02T19:50:00.001-07:00

Invite me into your quick and solitary, experiential ways, I beg.

I felt that burn, only slightly, regionally accustomed and glass eyed.

Drunk on a druid's herbal draught, mesmerized at the winter solstice.

I have seen what I am not supposed to; I have tapped the invisible line.

Words cannot explain the images and this side doesn't seem real enough.

I dove in, submerged, letting myself sink, swimming towards the bottom.

It's not that I am discontent, but I need things transparent; darkly luminous.

I don't fall, catch myself, but I do run, and, at times, I save the dear to me.

There are foreign places where people often walk these trails with me.

Sadly, though, it is only because their taste is not refined enough.

Me, I live for, the thrill of, the next rabbit hole, but unlike the girl

I am in control.

Passive

2009-06-02T19:49:00.001-07:00

Old. Weathered wood stripped by storms and battles.

Torn. Stretched cloth mildewed and stained.

Restless. Never a peaceful inland repose.

Laden. Always another one to carry.

Gracefully missing the mountains of the deep.

Carefully leaning against the moon's urgent pulls.

Gnostically aware of the twisting cyclones below.

Fearfully passing the slumbering aqueous beasts.

I get past, though obstacles inhibit me.

I stay afloat though the waves crash against me.

My heading straight though my course, redirected.

I am afraid, not, though enemies around (me).

Salt scented air, sweeter at moontime, cooled

by polar ice making way in buoyant waters.

Suntime is for sight seeing, but with night eyes

I traverse the liquid plane, and dream, always.

Indifferent

2009-06-02T19:48:00.001-07:00

I didn't take advantage of your inquiring call.
I rushed it, trying to get out everything that
I wanted to say. You intrigue me
like an ancient king's tomb, forgotten,
many mysteries left to uncover. Like a blanket
wrapped around a sleeping child, securing
what is precious underneath? A heart?
maybe if left intact. I would be a better man.

Frowning with Bloodshot Eyes

2009-06-02T19:47:00.000-07:00

I once endeavored to search out the world of pain relief and lucid waking dreams,

but

I found that the dreary headed feeling that comes when awakened from restful sleep was all I needed.

Stumbling with full consciousness, staring at things that seemed out of place, but weren't, I behaved like one who is at home with black lights, Nag Champa incense, and the band Phish.

No tree, plant, fungus or household chemical was needed: Just a rude awakening at an inopportune time.

Eager Expectations

2009-06-02T19:45:00.000-07:00

Whisper falls on bellow
as notes rise in crescendo:

soft music made becomes familiar
harmony. A quickened storm:

my heartbeat now. Only touch
can quell this tempest.

So few could give this effect.
I laud the presence that can

be counted among the jewels.

Silence

2009-06-02T19:44:00.000-07:00

Wind in the trees, call my name
high up where I cannot be
still, I find that you are near
enough to whisper. I listen
but I cannot find the place
where you are, I want to be
with you in the silence. Come
to me so I can hear you
while you speak to me in poems.
At first I tried to find you
while you sought to look, but
you came not close enough
for me, to whisper will satisfy
your longing soul.

Regard

2009-06-02T19:43:00.000-07:00

In pleasure you regard me,
with innocence too far gone.
You long for peace I give, and
with cold precision you seek,
in that empty place you hide,
hoping for the light of another.
Darkness overshadows the
lies we choose to live,

My paths have led me here before,
and feelings are the same.

The Many Crowded Places

2009-06-02T19:42:00.000-07:00

Overcast days and moon bright nights
the way I feel, toward the reminders
that seem as many crowded places,
unable,
to speak what I want you to hear,

my heart telling secrets that only you know,

this place of unspoken whispers becomes
our separation, we watch the boat come
in, this is it, but we do not get aboard,
hesitating,
a life passes by in the many
crowded places

Seek First

2009-06-02T19:41:00.000-07:00

Doors open wide to a
slow, steady procession
Music fills the space, as
eyes watch with hope
fulfilled, at last.

Yet, I am not on the dais,
nor do I lead the march.
I sit. Empty chair left, right.
Eyes forward, deep sigh.
Petals fall at random.
Glance down to hand, no gold
to mark the distinction
from other to another.
Oh well, the birds fed
the lilies clothed,

Thy kingdom come.

The Why's

2009-06-02T19:39:00.000-07:00

There was no I contact, still, there is no I contact.

Is there any wonder why they were unable to connect?

The road is long, sure, and the road is hard, agreed,

but I can see the horizon clearly, and I know what waits

ahead of me. I see the purple-gray sky move in perfect stream.

At this moment I would not be surprised to see ten thousand angels

glide down the back of a bolt of lightning to fulfill their master's will,

but I still intake the clean, white smoke from the crackling, black clove.

I would have wrestled a lion, pulled the moon from the sky, or just

wiped every tear from your eyes: All the cliches with interest.

I am content though, because

There are those that will not dance and will not sing, though

they were created for such…it ends, because it was meant to

End.

Life in Tangents

2009-06-02T19:38:00.000-07:00

Directionless we travel on the manipulated brain wave tracks our generation's media inspired. "I know what you are talking about" (though others may not). We are the weird ones they say, because at that critical time when we were supposed to pass from adolescence, youth, adulthood…we didn't. Maybe on the outside, but only in costume. They call us paranoid, but who wouldn't be after all the vampire-werewolf-zombie movies we've seen, not to mention the government conspiracy/slasher ones (truly realistic).

Randomness is how we talk and live and…work? Can it be called that? Not everything that passes my way will get fancied by me, but there are some-things that get me out of bed, excited to see what will happen next. Jiminy cricket; there is so much knowledge out there! I sometimes forget the name of the main character from the last book I read. Information overload. I want to be over-something. I am not oversexed, nor overworked or overpaid, I certainly don't want to be overdramatic (plays and movies end). I guess I will just be overly-unsatisfied.

Going to the 5th Dimension

2009-06-02T19:37:00.000-07:00

Calloused and guarded; anxious about the coming events.

Hands in pockets- walking- with one-sided smile you arrive.

The first one is to shame. Experienced? Not yet.

Tingling down, head shaking furiously.

Another one, stronger than the last, but easier.

The words make sense…enough.

Every song is your favorite, memories of the past.

Getting numb, nothing is wrong at all.

Questioning life with all the right answers- philosophy

Seeing through reality, never coming down.

Every bit of light streaks, every sound muffled.

Are you awake? Maybe. You have arrived.

Part-Time Statue

2009-06-02T19:36:00.000-07:00

My cheeks are pink, fleshy, and soft, but

at times, if touched, you may feel grit,

the kind that dries the skin, stealing moisture.

My insides work, pumping and gyrating to function, but

my face can be, at times, unmovable and expressionless.

Stony reflection; perfectly chipped. No bronze plaque attached

Worn Out Welcome Mat

2009-06-02T19:35:00.001-07:00

The brushstroke paints the frown, deep lines creased and wrinkled into expression.

Dust moves and settles gracefully with perfect pattern onto the unused tool.

Shadows made clear from the light sneaking in through the dirt stained window.

The air is thick and coarse, unwelcoming and inhospitable.

There is shame, from lack of action and care, so the hand moves.

Lifting the object brings peace, because we are what we were meant to be.

A Dream I Had

2009-06-02T19:34:00.001-07:00

There were no spices in the food and no capsules downed with 6-8 ounces of water.

Nevertheless, waves crashed down upon the rocks, subconsciously and fevered.

I felt as though a metal helmet lined the rim of my head, electrocutioner style.

Movement from shocks, pulsating, but only from brain activity.

You babysit me, an adult in a child's body, but I'm ignored, feeling inadequate

Quickly I run to the bathroom and cover my nakedness with costume, suddenly

I am an adult walking along a dam or fish hatchery, troubled water to the left.

I'm afraid of it, it's dark, and I don't know what's inside.

I'm pushed into the water.

Panicking

I scramble for the side, but I reach out at nothing

Movement all around me, then, pebbles fall from the sky like rain.

Frigid and alone I barely stay above the surface. Huge spotlights turn on in the water,

Everything is revealed.

The water is deep, hundreds of feet, and I see every kind of fish swimming.

Swimming around and around: minnow, salmon, dolphin, shark, and then

The light is intermittently put out by a shadow: on/off, on/off. I see it finally.

Leviathan.

Bigger than any whale, yet it moves with surprising fluidity. I am terrified.

All at once the pebbles stop raining down, the lights go out, and I swim to the side.

Beat

2009-06-02T19:32:00.001-07:00

I carry my burdens like the sand inside me, heavy and compacted.

Disregarded in the dark, until frustrations become uncontrolled.

I swing aimlessly, daring and mocking, but I am chained, no escape.

Fury is unleashed routinely and disciplined, relentless and precise.

On and on…I take the anger…the sadness…the pain…

I was made to.

The Comedian

2009-06-02T19:14:00.000-07:00

He reluctantly takes the stage: a place where there is an audience

His motions give him away {a fraud?} most likely.

There is a place hidden in the interconnected streams of his consciousness,

it is as empty as the chair he sees, so he waits for the final character to sit.

This is not rehearsed, nor is it made to be humorous, but the audience chides

and the audience slips muffled sounds into each other's recorders

ready to play back the spectacle with mocking self-righteousness.

Never has there been more of a chance for a message to be passed.

"Wait until you hear the punch line before criticisms are hurled.

You are all being tested to see if your awareness is justifiably correct."

Thoughts. Just thoughts. For the moment. And then he speaks-

confused chuckles and then raucous laughter break out.

He thanks them, but not because he is thankful, it is just the way.

Moving to the empty chair, he sits, and reluctantly becomes the final character.

He looks around, but he does not see her, as the audience applauses

and gives him handshakes and 'job well done' pats on the back.

This was, and always has been for the one, the true,

but damn it all if she doesn't ever know!