poetry

from a high-top table, sometimes it’s nice when no one shows up

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

i caught you looking

at cinderella’s crown

she never thought the dust would settle, that an end could be found underneath bedsheets

in the mean time, we buzz about, hyper analyzing every sound coming from dizzy kids mouths while wobbling to safety

we create reason

so sophisticated by our education

failing to define application

now, they’re left alone

listening to our drone

pounding into a phone

memes without substance

snark in abundance

it’s time we direct and resurrect oral traditions

the human condition

a release from hidden inhibitions

speak up

explain the passing of paternal thrones, midnight groans from hungry body bones an ocean afar impacting our moans mumbling out before we close our eyes to be dazzled by dreamscape dramas where she found her prince

i wince

it was herself she was looking for, under the covers

you saw it first

the glimmer above her eyes

rescue her tonight

with an age old lullaby

hush little baby

from bed, before the storm

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

turn around

you’ll find what you want

bleach or black paint brush strokes delivering your excuse

conditions deciding how you move forward

entertained by lapsing memory stories distilled down to a single purpose

to relieve guilt

campfire laughter erupts from recollections of near-death drunken nights

morning comes and tears fly sideways, reminders of locker-room terror found at the hands of a stare which led everything astray

i ended up whisking away any sense of innocence i could have sensed before you walked my way

at least, that became the story

everything was just fine

i blacked out the gold after being told that the hand i held would melt and meld with dreams delivered and awoken by nightmare screams

forcing me to stir

stranded on a balance beam without the ability to focus

admonish what came before

funnel to a pinpoint why you’re here

face forward

keep walking

be near

from the porch, figuring out where things should go

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

organized thoughts demand order

you sought to destroy

i ran away from programming the syllables that bounced from my mouth and relied on intuition to avoid the faults forgetting that you had a perfect plan

i stampeded through your home breaking everything known to hold the mystery of where our love had flown with bumble bee rhythm getting further from the holy hymn that we hummed harmoniously to fall asleep

i can’t sort this one out

chasing away scurrying doubt

as i dance about the perpendicular lines of our love

from the porch, you can’t continue to decide

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

“look at the spiral

face aglow in defining malleable elements to create the essence of this space ride we’re all on

children”

you always seemed to drift away when i was lost replaying the conversations of a day that spun my mind wondering if i was okay

or, the one who missed something

i wrestle with trusting myself

when pictures of realities painted and placed in front of me are science fiction examinations

the human condition

yet their beliefs of what is occurring simultaneously with the rhythm i walk in while humming a tune of humanity with all i encounter

doesn’t match mine

did i miss something?

was the sky red while rain fell, washing seeds of sin from loose soil into a sea that held the toil of so many men, and women, to be sure, witnessing their planting of hope join a body of water stagnant with despair

did i miss something?

were conversations, honest exchanges, nothing more than rearranges of designs you wanted others to distinguish when interpretation should have reigned

did i miss something?

did you hear anything?

i was well aware

it was you caught in an insecure stare drawing up your plans for what you wanted to perceive

preconceived

pre-determined

i didn’t miss a thing

you lost track of me.

from the porch, the best medicine

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

laugh at the current state of affairs

remember it’s not yours or theirs

it’s the ones who place a comma at the end of a sentence, continuing the conversation with a pause

reflect

genuflect before the giant who is eating your lunch while you ponder the fact that he may be hungry

fuck empathy

i’m tired of your perspective and can’t afford another seat at this table where we pretend every opinion has a place

get the fuck up

hurry

and leave

or i should

yet, this is my problem

being polite

you don’t deserve me holding the door

i can’t say ‘bless you’

allowing you to utter a word compromises every bit of integrity i act like matters while we spin antique platters alone in a room, grabbing myself while i imagine my slaves bowing to the genius that was lucky enough to be spat out in a place and time that caters to my appearance

i can’t chuckle

embarrassment is meant to shy away from

not lean into

a fire

waiting to lick our faces with the flames

of ignorance

from my porch, family stood above all

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

toxic conversations swing wildly around in ill tempered rooms where insecurity wanders wildly diverting our emotions to a response jerked to high knee kick ears closed eyes wide and nothing building in a surprise of where we can’t fathom the possibility that we aren’t able to connect the dots of rhythm leaving your pounding heart realization points filtering away the trust of balcony peering

can i trust you?

you’d have to open wide while i gash flesh and rip intestines from surprised organs hand over hand falling to the floor and you laugh, or cry, at least understand it’s a momentary glimpse into something other than them

the others

i see, sniff, and bite at disingenuously dangled desires designed to deteriorate

everything around them so their tethered tightened whitened and worn out soul can stand above the bloody mess declaring supremacy

i can stop smiling

guilt

from bed, i’ll be your waiting room

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

grab ahold of something more secure than me

lift yourself up and push beyond this pale blond destroyer dream

some things you can’t fix

as the clock ticks

and you can’t afford to waste any more reasons, or time

i’ll be fine, knowing who i am

you’re not the first

i’m a waiting room

uncomfortable and not maintained

inconsolable, temporary, fake fixtures and emotions feigned

a conduit

getting people from there to here and here to there, a rebound echo pulsating through muddy water thoughts in a washed out consciousness

that’s where i’m caught

i chose this

you

it’s an excuse

a position where i’m in control

get out? ha, then i’d have to think, deliver, expose, and shiver in sudden loses of uncontrollable impulses with lovers leaving for what would be another me if i were not he

it’s the easy way out

serving a single purpose

on second thought, come stay awhile

someday you’ll surface

and forget we ever met

from a couch, home needs no explanation – the rest does

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

they ruined the peace sign

fingers used to pulsate potential when topsy-turvy times were captured by flash bulbs and plastered on newspapers and life magazine

it died with ‘deuces’

two fingers and a pouty face

signaling their leaving

they already left

or, we didn’t ask them to stay

never explained our common language, shared the significance of our actions

left alone

to figure it out

they’re their own journalists chronically what happens when norms and celebrations, culture and deliberation, past-times and bed-side manners are disregarded

the them are us

previously placed weight on symbols, cultural mores, and rites was bid a goodnight when without wings and mating flight we fight with duck faces

saying good luck as we ‘peace out’

peace is within

without, we are locked screens

no memory of four digit codes and your face won’t be recognized by the past and i can only hope the future doesn’t look like you, like this

it does, it’s now

i’m getting old

reflective

one thing i do know, i don’t want the past

romance is lost

it starts with a conversation

photos held

relevance, reverence and importance placed on people and places who genuinely display who we are

what are we?

stuck

where two fingers hold the key

we can use it together

let me tell you how

from a hotel bed, the privilege to consider prestige

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

leave

thoughts take up daylight clouding my vision and fading the only thing i have to hold onto

but she is lying

i know that

perfectly packaged material arrives everyday strategically shared to paint a picture.

i’m the emotional artist

get out of my studio and save the sales pitch for the finger fuck suit down the hall who sips steady shots of alcohol (he knows them all) and i can’t twist anymore with these images of time left open and the draft that came through only kept me in the know of what travesties you were trying to take back from the waking world reality we all live in

those were my words

the ones you carefully jotted in a notebook for everyone to see

those were my words

the ones i flung out before considering drenched in a tear filled raw exchange of exactly how i was feeling

i feel

you think

throw the fucking last years in with the kitchen sink

here it all comes

how do i get your attention to see the world isn’t planned and pleated, written and deleted

before presentation

my walk is my pitch

i will never switch to save my own face

i could care less what i look like

honesty is ugly

the roots dig deeper and i become immovable

there’s a breeze

i sway

you break

good bye

a porch, horrible music surrounds me

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

i hate the night

you all change

i get tired

eyes blur, words slur, everything is totally fucking ‘like for sure’

i don’t want to listen to your drivel

wasted words

pushing everything backwards

i used to be that way

wrapped in insecurity’s goggle lenses

now i’m fucking bitter

especially because she wants me to be you

for a time

what does that say?

this stupid rhyme

meters forced

it’s all i have

the option is there

despair

my weakness would give you a partner

i have to dance alone

they think it’s negativity

angsty creativity

the flow of emotions

pouring from untapped sources

i can’t apologize

for your lack of understanding

i’ll sit alone and wrestle the tone

wishing i could destroy the drone

of my thoughts

i can’t win