future

keeping time

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

i tried to say something

the intention was lost, scattered with the other thoughts of self hatred and arrogance on a grey matter floor

wondering who i am

ageless

tempting the trampled, crumpled, and damaged images i scurry to when time can’t pin time to the mat of time, to flatten, come into focus, and rise to the surface

moments disintegrate, our favorite song is gathered hate sentences thrown in the wind of defenses

i still listened to your inspiration pants while you laid next to me

i waited for you to turn over and forget, i was by your side

counting the times i cried

to convince you i tried

it was laughter

simple

that brought us back in stride, the cadence of drum roll marchers keeping in line

sometimes resting on laurels

helps remind us to keep on

to keep on

standing outside with a hole you’ll fill

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

standing still

waiting outside your door

wondering if you’ll let me in

wondering, what for?

time raced

wind-swept words shattered grace

phrases we normally used

to build up this place

erased

four walls, a room

curtains were called, our play wouldn’t resume

bed beckoned

resting for the sun

making sure when the penalties were assessed

nobody won

not a one

silence weighed a ton, sighs filled the gun, we pulled the trigger, bang, we’re done

i came back

to see

if you’d let me in

and fill the whole

a single shot wound

is there more?

more of you?

more me?

more of we?

can a single knock stop this atrophy?

you let me in

dug in the skin

and said ‘let’s begin again’

from a porch, i’ve been missing something

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

we sat in front of him again today

cross legged and not knowing where to start

he looked at you first

i got there before you

it was too cold outside to wait

he offered me coffee

i went with water

we rehashed

less energy, more apologies

damp eyes from embarrassment

we know the answers

he corrects our work

a little more abstract than filling bubbles

it’d be easier

defined

a) we walk out, bicycle, tricycle, tetr… we keep spinning

b) we continue, visiting the observer in-between his own disaster life moments

c) staring endlessly past sticky situations we seek doorways and pass through rooms furnished by fear and triumph towards a middle-road wondering what would come next, we wind through forests filled with conifers, breeze blowing pine needle scents into our sense of what love smelled like, what love meant, when we first rushed past intimidations and felt nothing but freedom

flourishing fresh flowers filling our sandals with forevers promise

you promised

my only fear didn’t exist

promising

we only exist

to exit

this minotaur maze with nothing but a backpack strapped firmly to our shoulders, filled with desires, eyes of fire, fully blown souls, never to tire

d) none of the above

you didn’t read past “a”

i was lost in a daydream

he stood up, and walked away

*art by 11 year old Amelia Meyer

from the same porch, inspired to write, perched in a treetop with angry saints

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

my enemies wait in trees

for me to cross underneath

i’m the shallow soul wanderer who tricked too many pain-seeking puppets, they bide their time, in carefully decorated caverns, craving a medicine created in labs where sales are the solution and a final scene will draw the curtains closed

as i walk away

afraid you listened to my thoughts, while i sat alone hating every molecule that collided to create this soon to be corpse i travel through your three dimensional world in

dreaming of saving you before you drop six feet, i’m soon to join

they can’t save wretches

like us

when death’s flash-second fury of filth is the first time we felt

alone

in-tune

with everything

the voices sing

welcoming dirty feet travelers

who jumped out of trees

not to destroy

but to walk alongside

the risen spirits

we became

from a porch, i can’t help myself

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

waiting

pounding veins make tense my head wondering about the deeds of the undead and feeding the parts of me kept secret aside from slips in stories entertaining you when i can’t help myself, i have to share the tales of accidental youth stabbings in a seventh grade classrooms with reading rugs, where i first learned i liked looking up skirts and reading about drug addled football players with initial names and grimaces that make a pubescent boy snarl back waiting for someone to look my way with the wrong expression. ms. p. was her name, with aqua blue cotton panties bulging with a pad a few days out of the month, i thought she knew i was looking. i didn’t get the implications, frontal lobe still developing and deciding which hand i should use while gripping half grown appendages alone in a poster dressed bedroom where all wonderings cascaded before falling asleep to the hum of cds and fm radio. “jane says, i’m goin’ away to spain”, i want to go with her, explore the pavement where foreign voices are home, where i can’t breathe ecstasy air, your dim lit streets force me to remember my way to you, it’s where we started, in stinky sand pits clutching for life through mud puddle remains of those who walked the earth without having to maintain the natural flow of carbon inhaling carbon

from a stool, i observed a stream and kept seeing the same thing

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

how does it end?

who really wants to know?

it’ll only destroy pathways where we push, pull, and grow

flip to the last page?

no idea why

purpose, a repeated ritual sky

what do we seek while meandering our way to a maintained middle

there is no finale, finally

no diner scenes

no loved characters dying in back alleys

no dimming of lights

saying goodbye

choppers heading east, there’s more pain waiting at home

seems hopeless

nothing to achieve

deal again

more cards up my sleeve

milestones, markers, bar mitzvah, nuts dropping, transformative moments to those who notice

those partaking

those affected

i write without guard rails

i write to tell our tales

i write to disguise us as one another

i write to separate pain in the egg where we developed and begged, to begin again

without an end

this can’t be it

i’m still here

holding onto a number

waiting in line

from a porch, the answer my friend…

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

your job is to ask tough questions

we’ve been taught not to answer

someone from the other side

breathing in and out cancer

cells multiplying rapidly, empathy paralyzed

perspectives dizzy when i turn my head

stay forward

horse parades

don’t spook the hatred

hoof beats pound forgotten dirt, demanding attention

it’s used up

passion poured out to disposes the drifters who were led without knowing

another path exists

home life excuses

tempting nooses

hanging tree galleries

branches bending, we’re all grafted

one seed

breaking, with the slightest breeze brought across seas, caught in wind pouring from your inquiries, we forgot how to address, critical diseases

critical, we need them

complete your task

i’ll formulate a response, they’ll never know

i tried

from a porch, walk by

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

i stepped aside to let you pass

an insecure tempo-flow

too fast, you laugh at my gait

scurried-chop steps

too slow, annoyed, making you late

wandering uneven

an insecure state, where i live

the city, a constant drone of self-doubt

my home, decorated with draining desires to be like everyone else, at ease

or so it seems

on this path from here-to-there, the intersection of opened-eyed nights and self-talk lips, replaying the tone of my voice when i said ‘really’ in surprise to your recent trip, did it drip with the disconnected insincerity i’m afraid it did?

i didn’t mean it that way

i really, meant really, an affirmation of wonder at the way you walk through life without blunder, until the thunder, then you scurry, upended ego, hiding

i emerge to dance in the rain, develop friendship with pain, the grime caught underneath squeaky shopping cart handles makes me sane, knowing i can hurt again

and again

and again

the clouds lift

and you pass by

i shuffle along, after counting to five, a self-aware fuck up, pulling my shirt, chewing sleeves, smoking endlessly, everything to repel you away so i can confirm how shitty of a companion i would be without knowledge of how to simply be, immersed in weather conversations, where you work, my god, pictures of your grandma, a dead dog

i can’t walk beside you

please

don’t look back

from a porch, processed in a dream

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

misty rain pockets, snatched and swirled across mid-afternoon sunbursts, wind welcoming westward expansion with sustenance

refreshment

a reason to pause long enough

observing your half-painted nails nervously being bitten through lips i disguise in daydream-dodges of reality, dropping now to dig through earth-colored spears held up with fertile mixed soil and mud

standing erect around you, bendable gripped by you

able to be destroyed

by you

they’re not pursed, your lips that is, during these moments of momentary mindlessness only i know exist

like they are now

they rest, slightly ajar, an invitation to drop winter’s armor

and take a chance

if only i didn’t have to ask

for you to join me here

refreshed by summer’s surprise

softening our eyes

i now realize

i’m not alone

from a porch, rain is coming

Posted on by andrewsmeyer

grafted personalities with wind-blown hairdos did the desert dance in sand filled bedrooms while clutching arid histories against milk depleted breasts

hope crumbled as swirling dirt devils divided what happened

with

what was wished for

we can’t taste the innocence of a sour dairy kiss anymore, without wondering which farm you wandered away from

developing a future, progeny

will cease

birds will fly

dogs will bark

worms will weasel through holes, no longer visiting the sea

we came together, for destruction

brought together, so they could continue on