Testing

We are the broken youth of tomorrow
Pieces of yesterday and today
Dynamite dancers
Misfits, cynics, arguers, talkers, manic heart breakers.
Call us the broken ones
Call it the year of the broken ones
We lay here beneath the stars,
Looking up, trying to find bits of ourselves in the universe.
We climb things,
getting higher
Checking to see if gravity can reach us up here.
We dig holes, 
going below
finding ourselves scattered among the scum of society.
Away from the reach of the light
we sit
and we realize 
The problem was never below us,
above us,
or behind us.  
It was always right here, inside of us,
hiding behind our lack of love for the world.

Poem

1//December//2015
I have seen the colors of my movie projector splashed across two entwined hands.

I have seen the way the light in the sky bounces off the clouds on late July evenings.

I have seen the way smiles fade, slowly, until their faces are back, in neutral once again.

I have heard the water pipes strike up a conversation in an overheated classroom as the sky outside pined for its other.

Two years ago I ran from something I never should have left.  
One year ago I wanted something I couldn't obtain.
This year I've made peace with my choices.

There was a day that I felt myself dissolve; there was a day when my molecules were the same as those of the ocean.

Once upon a time I stood next to a lamp post that reached for the clouds as it held itself to the earth.  It was all I could grasp.  Everything else was disintegrating.

The back of the theatre: reserved.
The sides of the hallway: illuminated.

One day not too long ago, I decided to take my fate into my own hands.

“Hello, miss, I’m calling with your flight confirmation.  Yes, tomorrow.  You want it moved to today? Let me check the schedules...I’ll call you back as soon as I know.”

There is a place between the buildings in a skyline that holds infinities,
eternities,
possibilities.
It is here that I fly,
It is here that I survive.  

“Hello, airlines again.  You’re in luck, we have one spot on tonight’s flight that just opened up.  I’ll email you your ticket and travel details.  See you at the gate.”

I have seen the private smiles,
traded across heads in between.  

Clouds fall beneath,
I levitate.  
Earth falls behind,
I am large,
yet
so

so

small.

Late PM

You gave me a poetry book filled with poems of the sea, and it is perfect, because the cover is rippled with water damage like wrinkles on a wise woman's forehead. You've told me that I am golden and I believe you, because I trust you. Your lively hair and lovely eyes beg for the truth like nothing I've ever seen before. This is layered, poetry about poetry, but it makes me laugh because no rhyme scheme or colorful collection of nouns verbs and adjectives could ever perfectly depict what I am trying to say.

Paleo

There is a separation between man and nature only because we have evolved to have built one.  Back in our original days, when we were no more than rocks and dirt and moss, everything was synced up.  We lived and thrived on the rhythms of the world.  We ate what the earth provided us with and we slept when the sun went down.  Then something changed.  We began to hold ourselves above other living creatures, we began to try and change the system of the universe.  We built cities and roads and invented electricity, we tried to out wit the sun.  We have evolved ourselves right into one big web of technology and corruption and packaged food.  Now, in our modern world, we must look backwards to the instinctual wisdom of our ancestors.  Now, in the days when paleo living is a trend diet, we must learn from what we have become and search for something more.  We must find our original rhythm again.