StreetlightPoet

If I was a topnotch poet I would write a poem so damn deep It would be bittersweet A testimony for all those tired phonies Who just don't believe In a guy like me With its rhythm and its rhyme and its one sense of time Truth would flow from every line Telling of my hopes and fears My joys and my tears These lessons would resonate in ignorant ears Singing of pain and of lost Fighting for love at all cost My soul would glow through And all would know it If I was a topnotch poet

So I'm sitting there in the terminal waiting to board the plane that will take me back to the University that is a life time away from where I want to be tonight You see I just spent the weekend with the person who, at this moment, is the love of my life She said that she liked me That she was attracted me She said she couldn't kiss me That her heart wouldn't have been in it And as I settle into my chair and prepare for takeoff I think to myself I'm tired of love Tired of you Tired of me Tired of this Fed up with falling for the Worst at the best time And the Best at the worst time Shit, I'm bored with making time Burnt out on

She has the sent of wild flowers He breathes it in and flies away He thanks Jesus for the days and the moments In no simple language Someday she'll understand the meaning of it all He's more than the laughter Or the scars that he shows her As close as a heartbeat Or a song on her lips Someday she'll trust him And learn how to see him Someday he'll call her And she will come running Fall in his arms, the tears will fall down And she'll say "I want to fall in love with you" Laying silent feeling the pain in my chest Do my sermons echo through the walls? The same declarations with them They go past the people wh

"Now I lay me down to sleep I pray the Lord my soul to keep And if I die before I wake I pray the Lord my soul to take" I used to say that prayer when I was younger When life was simpler When my hunger For both knowledge and self-awareness Was satisfied by a calm pat of assurance And a Bible verse wrapped in vague meaning Served with a steaming side of blind acceptance As I grew older Sailing the ruff seas of life alone That Sunday school room began to resemble An abandon fishing boat left to decay in the dock Paint chipping Bow rusting Deck cluttered Warped By the passing of time Leaving me stranded to ask questions

Daily and nightly my fantasies are calling me, sending me into rhythmic rhyming rhapsody; painting my canvas of the night shedding a curious light like a beacon signaling her. Dreaming in vain of mornings together waking life in our collective castle in Spain. Torn between a path I know and one that haunts me. Looking in the mirror I wonder if he sees me. A man is no better then the sum of his parts, but what good is he if he lacks all manner of heart. I make my stand here that I will be greater then fear. I will admire her, adore her, bend over backwards to get to know her. Love and never leave her because I see the strong line of my mothe

The sun seeped through the window baking me awake. Feeling the dirt and weight of the weekend I rise naked from bed. It's Sunday morning the day after our national day of mourning, but I still feel like I never left the wake. Keeping a vigil over the remains of a country where poverty is fashion pedal with a passion to a sedated generation. The future always so clear to me has become like a black highway at night. I'm in uncharted territory right now making up history as I go along. Stumbling around my dorm through archways raising virtue up on pedestals of industry and wealth I feel the wind of West Texas and wonder if the prosperity of cha

I cried last night. I know it's cliché but I cried over you. You the one who seemed least likely to swoon over this humble Houston poet. This skyscraper star-gazer blowing around like a West Texas tumble weed. I cried last night because I couldn't sleep. I try in vain only to see the sheep pile up in heaps. As thoughts of you crept in while I wept in bed. I cried last night for love's lost martyrs. Those whose lives have been scared and marred by delusions and dreams. Leaving them happier with illusions rather then wives. I cried last night because I'm not him. The one to catch you when you fall. The one to watch you soar with aw

My mom says its love Really? Love? Really? My friends say be careful You'll push her away Scare her away Drive her away You un-swayed Demanding nothing short of honesty I stand before you now tonight Naked Stabbed Exposed Scraped Vulnerable Scarred Torn into by the whirl winds of reality With a love blossoming Wondering Will you be the one to bandage my wounds? If I should leave you too soon Bury me six feet under in this love With memories of you to plunder my heart And a tombstone reading "I loved you from the start" My mom says its love Really? Love? Really?

I feel as if I'm bound by the chains of change to the helm of a progressive ship coming down the mountain through the prelude of a dream. I am examined by the people I pass on the street and wonder if they see the rage I feel with in me. A fire fueled by the inability and confusion of a youthful sprit lost in itself. I stand apathetically as a member of the Meh' generation; reared by those of the decadently selfish Me generation; looking to those dazed and confused slacking clerks of the X generation existing in a reality that bites. I the pathological optimist am confined to a world of pensive fantasies of a double dutchess who leads me t