Taught You Everything You Know

The Rules

I am so unsure
of everything I know
inside my skin
outside in the air I
have no clue
pictures look like
strangers
reflections like ghosts
that have haunted me since
childhood when,
at times, I stood in front
of the mirror, eyes unfocused
trying to picture who
I would resemble when
older
But now as I fix one
knot another unravels
at my spine and
threads tear away at the
base of my neck
I get one layer of
my person and
soul and forty more
come to light
fly away
and turn into pumpkins
at the morning sun.

Love,

Muse

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Pong

Not a Religion

there are many crosses in my life
in the street where you stop your car
up in the air, over the trees
in the bottom of my cup,
in the dregs
spoken from the book
or left on his lips
yours is the one you
left in the window
mine is the one ignored from birth
theirs are the one that came from a volcano
and hers is the one
she never really found and gave a way
to a stranger on a phone.
I drew it once and it looked like
a triangle.
It has been sung often and sounds like
a law.
With four hundred arms and blue tinged skin
balancing a lotus and a cup of coffee
We all find something to bear
Shaped like a question mark, a toad
or a stone.
The question is, do you hold it on your heart?
Or see it through wind?
Or do you write it down, burn it
and let it go
This is the question that I
do not know.

Love,  Muse

A.N: I’m struggling a little here- I wanted to write tonight but it just wasn’t flowing. I don’t know how I feel about this one.

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Brown Sugar Alien

Far Off

I see you
in the end of my
telescope
you’re 46 your
eyes are not as
clear as they
used to be
when I turn
the dial your
face becomes
softer the
years back
off and the
spirit of you
as a child before
I knew you before
life dirtied your
surface
are shown to
me all
sparkling clear
and too far
away.

Love,  Muse

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In a Boat

Everlasting Green

something in
me trembles as I
stand over the
precipice of
the sink and
look into
the drain at
pencils, marbles of
this millenia, spirals
of notebook bounds with
nostalgia, bliss of young
18 year old confused
me
when I go
to where the trees
beckon and
file this year
I  fear I
won’t be
able to  ever
get
that back.

Love,

Muse

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Emerald Squad

Any Jonas Day

I could use
poison in
a green vial
ropes around
my neck
trees, tall
enough
cars fast
enough
but none
of that
would
ever erase
what
already did
happen in
this time
why end
the Now
when you
can’t vanish
the Then?

A.N:  The original date on this poem is March 23, 2010. Please note- this poem is not meant to condone or suggest suicide. In fact, it’s the exact opposite.

Love,

Muse

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Warning Glory

Golden

she didn’t
know this
when she got
up
twenty years
ago and tied
her shoes

reached up
to the sink
got water in
her eye and
missed the
brush

from the coffee
downstairs
to eggs on her
plate

small people
really don’t
know
what ever
awaits.

Love,

Muse

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Stop Sud

In Case Of

in this muck
steps to
this door
are far
through the cars
weaving with trees
I balance
in my head
and click
on.
you give
a soundtrack to
life inside
out.
I take my
stories and
apply like glue
to the cut-out
people
moving
by.

Love,

Muse

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It’s Kind of Stuck

A Lesson in Graffiti

circumstance is
the sister of wishes
prayer is
the feathers of
unborn birds
and
matter
is four hundred
25 cent bouncy balls
rocketing off
a cement wall
….all at
once.
duck the bad
thoughts
rubber stones,
fragile glue
masked words,
and physics should…
keep you afloat.

******
Afterlife

if you
open a dictionary
to one
certain page
words come
that give your answers
to anything.
everything except
the end.
you can’t
write,
the
bottom of a well
before it
is poured.
this is
Truth.

Love,

Muse

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Unlisted

This Cosmic Something

you might be
able to stop
vertical planes
from tilting
and gravity
but I can’t
halt my mind
take off
my blindfold
of the
future
or see
where we are
going

Love,

Muse

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Inky Point

Memoir

and I said there
is a butterfly
inside me

holding on
to the edges of my veins
curled and furled
in the hope

that the right words
will water and grow it
that flutterbug

into a velvet book
shivering script
into prose
trembling to
form a mountain

Then.
sprouting
in the mouth
of the pretty beast
will be the Silver Song
of its own
secret sighing soul.

Love,

Muse

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