Where the Meanings Are

You, me
Dark in between
So close and still oh so far
Grass, high
Moon in the sky
Can't tell the fireflies from the stars

I search
Somehow it hurts
Half heart aching to be whole
What's worse
Dreamers curse
Harvest the pieces of my soul

Close your eyes
Look inside
I see who you are
Pale blue eyes
Don't you hide
Meet me where the Meanings are

Back porch
I hold a torch
Smoke signals spell out your name
Warm core
Felt this before
Still I will never be the same

Close your eyes
Look inside
I won't be too far
Pale blue eyes
Don't you hide
Meet me where the Meanings are

Down to the Riverside Now?

6/20/10

What better than a sunny day
To melt away a yesterday?
I'd rather not remember.
I'd rather not remember.

I'd rather not remember
How deep the river ran,
How you woke up with a smile
As my skin began to tan.

I tore my scribbled pages
And smeared the ink across
The wisdom of the sages
Laid to rest in soggy moss.

You said, "We're made for healing,"
As if I was unaware.
Some hearts are made for stealing;
Others break beyond repair.

I'd rather not remember
How deep the river ran.
I'd rather not remember
How in love with you I am.

I'll be the one to take you home
But I'll be driving back alone
I wonder if you know how much it hurts to say goodbye.
How long am I to hold you
Before someone else will scold you?
Guess I'm learning to let go of you tonight.
Yes, I'm learning to let go of you tonight.

I'd rather not remember
How deep the river ran.
I'd rather not remember
How in love with you I am,
How in love with you I am.

I'm sorry, sorry, sorry,
I have only half my heart.
I'm sorry, sorry, sorry,
When you spread my legs apart,
That you found, found, found,
I could fasten on so tight.
I could suffocate you sweetly;
I would wrong to feel all right.
I'm sorry, sorry, sorry,
That you never called my bluff,
And will be sorry, sorry, sorry,
That your love was not enough.

I made you because I needed a place to be honest.
Maybe poetic.
He's not it.
Because you're not it.

The Orange Curtain

by Lilian Bui 12/4/2009

Hey, you over there!
Yeah,
You.

The one with the Kanye glasses,
The roofoveryourhead,
The Benz,
The flat screen,
The savings plan,
The diamond-studded diamonds on your
Favorite Coach handbag.

What right do you have to feel sorry for yourself?

He says,
"My parents won't ever get me,"
Swiping Daddy's credit card.
"I can't afford my membership,"
Ever thought of getting a job, working hard?

She says,
"My boyfriend left me yesterday"
Well, he wasn't good enough.
"I feel so lost and lonely"
Join the fucking club.

Children of the Middle Class -
Because you are just children -
Times are hard for the rest of us.

Self-pity
Is your biggest
Luxury.

from 1263

by Emily Dickinson

(on books)

There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away,
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry –
This Traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll –
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears a Human soul.

Lunch

written 12/3/2009 about summer 2009

Ya shoulda seen me yesterday;
I ate my lunch alone.
Instead of Ivory Tower,
I resigned on Ivory Throne.

Ya shoulda seen me yesterday;
At odds and out of tune -
I left the cafeteria
To sit in Women's Room.

The pinstripe men of morning
(And the high-heeled women too)
Were such lackluster company
I opted for the loo.

Don't judge or dare to discount
My taste in lunch locale.
I'd sooner ingest feces
Than feign a high morale.

They chit-chit chitter chatter
As they talk about themselves
Who-slept-with-who and whoknowswhat
Within the personnel.

I can't believe my 9 to 5
Renders every ounce of gall.
If you had to work here, people,
You'd be down in the next stall.

The Square Root of Three

by David Feinberg
made famous in Harold & Kumar go to Guantanamo Bay

I’m sure that I will always be
A lonely number like root three

The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the vicious square root sign,
I wish instead I were a nine
For nine could thwart this evil trick,
with just some quick arithmetic
I know I’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality

When hark! What is this I see,
Another square root of a three
As quietly co-waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer

We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands
Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed

the way to hump a cow is not

by e.e. cummings

the way to hump a cow is not
to get yourself a stool
but draw a line around the spot
and call it beautifool

to multiply because and why
dividing thens by nows
and adding and(i understand)
is hows to hump a cows

the way to hump a cow is not
to elevate your tool
but drop a penny in the slot
and bellow like a bool

to lay a wreath from ancient greath
on insulated brows
(while tossing boms at uncle toms
is hows to hump a cows

the way to hump a cow is not
to push and then to pull
but practicing the art of swot
to preach the golden rull

to vote for me(all decent men
and wonens will allows
which ifmthey don't to hell with them)
is hows to hump a cows

I, Too, Sing America

by Langston Hughes

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides, They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

by Maya Angelou

A free bird leaps on the back of the wind
and floats downstream till the current ends
and dips his wing in the orange suns rays and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage
can seldom see through his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.

To Henribald in October

(written for Henry Pham a.k.a Henribald, partner in crime)

A raisin in the sun
is as good as done
a cooked grape ready to eat.

A Jew in the oven
Devoid of all lovin'
Leaves stains and plaque in your teeth.

Is baby blood nutritious?
Who cares - it's delicious!

Wash down your sins with a brimming glass
You're damn sick but you've still got class!

You never know
at this rate
The Devil might be your dinner date!

For our appetite
We'll be had
But good to know
if you're there too,
Hell won't be so bad.

Dinner Guest

(This is your brain on chai tea lattes.)
written in Silver Spring, MD

Silence enters through the back door -
Unannounced -
And sits down at dinner.
It is an inconspicuous guest,
Though we cannot ignore its arrival.
It waits until the food is out and then
Begins to feast,
Not on our plates
But rather on us.
Snakelike, it slithers around us in a feigned embrace
And then constricts our throats,
Stealing our voices.
Our eyelids drop
Until our downcast eyes can only stare deep into our hollow bowls,
Forcing us to look emptiness straight in the face.
Reminding us that we consume
To fill that emptiness.

The Day I Said, "The World Can Wait"

started at Busboys & Poets on 10/12/09
finished at work on 10/14/09

The day I said, "The world can wait,"
The clocks froze in their tracks.
The Minutes retired silently;
While in vain the Hours fought back.

Conversations paused mid-sentence
A painter dropped his brush mid-stroke
One hopeful lover said, "I do,"
The other ceased, half eloped.

A fly buzz was the last refrain
Heard for a thousand miles
A widow's dirge cut short,
Her pain half-reconciled.

A hunter cocked his gun,
The bullet stuck inside.
His game stood still - fixated -
Staring Fate straight in the eyes.

The stoic captain firmly stood
Feet anchored, mouth tight lipped.
The deck had tilted sharply
On his halfway sunken ship.

The china lay in pieces
While a couple griped the cost
If I hadn't begged the world to wait,
What else would have been lost?

A sewing needle had begun to mend
The lace of a wedding dress
The hum of Mother's lullaby
Would have eased her child's distress.

The sight of that day's sunset
Would have left the dead inspired
The words scrawled on a napkin
Might have changed the world entire.

Good news to tell by telephone
The number just half dialed;
The frown on someone's lips
Had almost curled into a smile.

What caused me to imagine
A plan so lost, depraved?
Think - if the world had waited,
What else could have been saved?

Out on the pier where I first believed
Sits a dream deferred, a soul bereaved.
The sun sinks alone and thaws in the sea.
The remains - bathed in dust - picked up by the breeze.

Reality bites hard
But you build a tougher skin
From the callouses

I must apologize -
For I am more comfortable with oceans between us
Than swimming in the waves of your attention.

I love from afar
Because it warrants much less pain
And keeps my wrists and ankles
Far from ball and chain.

Can't you see that I can't belong
To anyone but me?

Oh, stop your dribbling and your sniveling!
Ain't you ever seen a bitch before?
Yeah, this is what heartbreak feels like.
Been there, done that.

No, I don't have time to
"Talk it over"
or
"Work it out."

You keep flapping those lips,
You'll produce enough wind current for a sailboat.

The alarm's going off.
Time to grow up.

I had almost forgotten that I kept a shell -
To remind me
What sunsets felt like.

I kept it tucked away
And upon discovering it again,
I considered it.

With its ridges and its serrated edges
It cut through my consciousness
And chastised me

For taking it so far from its Belonging.

At the end of the day,
I sometimes feel as an empty shell
Hollowed, dried, and mislaid.

The Age of Not Believing

Vintage wisdom from Bedknobs and Broomsticks

When you rush around in hopeless circles
Searching ev'rywhere for something true
You're at the age of not believing
When all the "make believe" is through

When you set aside your childhood heroes
And your dreams are lost up on a shelf
You're at the age of not believing
And worst of all you doubt yourself

You're a castaway where no one hears you
On a barren isle in a lonely sea
Where did all the happy endings go?
Where can all the good times be?

You must face the age of not believing
Doubting ev'rything you ever knew
Until at last you start believing
There's something wonderful
Truly wonderful in you

Lauriol

In certain cities,
A man will look you up and down
Before he looks you
In the eye.