poem

from a plane, the flight attendant didn’t know i knew her story

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

nervous smiles were quick to exchange between deranged thoughts she was taught to rearrange through black cat-eye glasses and red lipstick, luck is lost when she walks by

ask the love that was suppose to survive

vows vanished

she kept the candle

lit once

for all to see

before eternities sea rose and dampened the flame, a single wish never blown

just chances, set them free

unfortunately

she loved the pinch of handcuffs

i met her today, ironic-squints passed through scratched lenses as she pulled a yellow lifeless vest over sprayed straight hair and taught us to float

if we should fall from the air

what to pull, who’s responsible, face masks, make sure you can breath…

before you confront emergencies

her eyes fake scanned feigned-attention faces that won’t follow the plan

her plan?

she popped a mint and sat down

the captain has twine and a lighter

her hands are clean and free

landing safely

she wished us a good stay

there’s two ends to every candle

from bed, sleep won’t come so easy

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

clock click bang

click clock bang

these are the words they sang

silver shells blast through pain-hell halls we create while zombie emotions learn to tell the tales of our fails

heads and tails

loser at every flip

bang

through the head they rang

bang

well rehearsed responses

‘we’ll pull together. we’re -blank- strong’

wrong

that song

roots you assholes

roots of the cause

these bloody symptoms

pills keep popping pushing away pain

diseases keep spreading

i can’t feel it

i only respond

stop

i looked at those faces today

i do every day

eyes

sitting, searching, nodding

they know

they can’t count on us

if we’re not there

talk, share, define they’re grief!

they don’t ‘just know’

we have to pass this thing down

campfires and kitchen tables used to illuminate our faces, not rectangle spaces

they know

no ‘they’ don’t

open your fucking mouth

from bed, go back to then

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

“…a tree falling…”

i couldn’t hear the last part

creative cashing-in

beveled blades that transfer wealth

i crept beside her

listening to the steam rise from forest floors

casual benefits

blithering

shrugged silence

broken trials

treaties

denials

retreating

we couldn’t keep up

halted

still life

left listless in language-less hallways

advances

echoing dance steps stranded in anxieties alien shoes

technology

bring me back home

under her draped past

arms that welcomed

a few million

others came under her dress

around a breast

out of reach

couldn’t spare her breath

pass a test

one in four

chances

they watched you erect her

defilement

i’ll believe you when you say it happened

i can’t hear their words

if i’m not in the room

from bed, ready for it

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

reveal those parts that others relate to and relish in the reaction that we are all revolving around the same renegade revelations that connect our retail rate emotions simmering in caldrons of disjointed sustenance ensuring we are all fed before bed distanced from dread calculating new measures of what it takes to open our eyes when mornings draw open our shades

we know the new dawn will bring us to understanding the ticking of time created by a mime who acts out the sunshine spreading its wings to open mist fields of starlings feeding and catching wind

flocking in sequence

taking turns with no sense

what it means to be alone

we can imitate

climb out of fear fate

feel the feather’s beat in rhythms meant to join us once again to common goals.

from bed, regrets disregarded

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

Contemplating confused states of misunderstanding when i should keep my mouth closed and let you lead the way

it’s not easy

standing by

shuffling states of being in hopes of drawing the trump card we can all use to hit our target number of tricks

dialed in without knowing what one another wants

needs

the author of this confrontation bleeds

as we hop over her limp blue body denying deaths drumbeat. the dum dum sish boom bahs of our rhythmless foot steps marching to bodies of water waiting for our crownless souls to dip in and become a part of losing control

featherless flyers

filtering out the pieces of mystery to stay sane on a spinning orb of indecision and deception

i can’t claim i wasn’t there

you saw me

huddled in a corner

wishing i hadn’t stated my purpose

now you know

i couldn’t join you

even when i grabbed tight and kept you tethered to past triumphs that have become meaningless

i’ll let you go

if you promise to visit the stone remains that prove our time spent together

from bed, we’re there while they’re here

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

when did we stop watching fireflies fade during summer nights spent spinning in circles shrouded by stunned emotions holding tightly to the thoughts that we were alone in parks where patrons left hours before leaving us to wade in shallow water, splashing the day’s leftover innocence on one another’s goose bumped flesh cleansing the marks left from the quiet deaths their judgements marked while widened dreams danced off our lips sucking away every desire of a new day while we held the night tight drifting out of sight from the oglers need to be where we were meant to be tripping away from the pain deserted pathways overgrown from knowing it wasn’t the way.

from bed, another year older

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

holding back the hoards of train wreck images throbbing through my synapses swerving to avoid truthful touches while trying to stay on track

words in patterns switched around

happy birthday

blow out your years, wash your hands, and keep bending love lust life language to meet the needs of friends who bare their souls searching for common goals during southern winters spent muscling shoals to the shore.

no magic needed

we created more and fed one another.

let the caboose fly off the track while we dead-aim attack with box cars clashing and engine thrashing every destructive picture gets ripped in two flying in pieces left in grey smog hue.

we can’t look back

we must look within

steady our speed

as we begin again.

from bed, screaming towards a conclusion

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

waiting

silently shutting off the situations that swirl around trying to stifle societies’ screaming desires to conform to mores developed by square pegs seeking holes to drop into carving out their own space protected and alone calling out over the phone to release that drone that moans in midnight mood dances shuffling back and forth without hopes of touching another time when we rubbed shoulders not elbows held hands not grudges and crashed through ceilings holding baiting buzzing lights hovering above us begging to become debris carried away and reused to pave paths providing opportunity to close the doors leading to places where our extremes kill dreams

instead

waltz towards celebrating the pieces we all carry and illuminate at different seasons on our trek towards making noise in solidarity

from bed, another block is here

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

transcripts will tell the tale

if we keep them

tuesday’s found are willing to take the toll of the other hours that walkaway and wish you never entered them

like me to you

them to us

a mess to discuss if we will finish what we left

here

when my wishes ended with defined kisses and cheeks that touched to know we were real in this drastic measure time table i sat at while waiting for you to wake on a saturday morning walking out still horny and dragging nothing behind you

i couldn’t come in

too polluted by others instructions that led to obstruction and i couldn’t stay out of my own way

i wish we could go back

to the trials and errors without death step consequences, when you’d catch me

now i rest easy on symphony scales that reach the walls and bounce around to talk to me people will see this is the train wreck we came to grab hands through

steps to take in order to fake a mind like mine and for fucky fucks sake some time alone

from bed, i rose to the occasion

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

stumbling towards blocks in a road that twists through backroads in a boarder-less country

i turned around

nothing left to be found

on virgin paths leading underground

i chose the high road of memories

pieces of me examined through distant eyes without the flash of a coming surprise i could supply my supple ego and charm with enough calm to disarm relics causing alarm

peace

solitude found in replayed imaginations

comfort in connecting to the past

let me sit, loaf, and find the place where it all begin

a spectator to my own birth

squeezing through mush-hole-muddy mounds where burial dances softened an awakening ground

for the next round

where i’ll be found

distracting myself with where i’m bound

a mere reflection

in everyone’s crown