Stuff I Posted on Commaful

He sits alone, water beneath

His sunburned hair his blushing cheeks

He looks up to the true blue sky

Where clouds float low and birds fly high

And he has big plans tonight with her

And she reminds me of what we were

But things have changed, and I feel different

Yet his talk and gesture are not malevolent

And he gets up and walks back to the beach

Where the crashing waves are out of reach

The sand massages his calloused feet

So that he soaks up hellish heat

And they take a bike ride along the lake

And the pain below just all seems fake-

To me; and when another got engaged with me

It was in front of him and now I feel free

Because lapsed clear was anger and jealousy

And the presence of the sight of we

is more than we will be

hopefully

and the other, he hasn’t even met my mom, or my sister, or my dad

but lots of love making is yet to be had

and I felt so free when I said yes

when he biked east, and I walked west

the other is funny, clever, the best

I feel like I have taken on a new quest

But all that could have been revolves in my head

And flows out the window, to the moonlight, when I am in bed

And the flickering lights outside are my nightlight

And the sky is almost black and the stars are almost white

And the way they clash is beautiful

As all electricity is purely natural

It’s 11:59, and I am so tired

And I will get less sleep than normally is required

But closing your eyes takes you where you are supposed to be

The unconsciousness lets you loose and sets me free

Why I Write

I write to get all of the words in the back of my head down onto paper, into the pulp that once belonged tot he squirrel that my parents named Uncle Harry,

the name of the boy of my first true love,

but I am pretty sure they didn't know about the similarity of the eyes- wide and oval like those of the Irish people I sit next to on the bus and I take out my notebook with fish on

the cover and secretly write down the motives I have for never looking like I want to be just like them,

but I don't want to be a male with a bow tie in a picture my parents put up of me on Facebook in which I had a green dress and lay on the carpet and look like

my favorite Chicago Fire player- okay, I am lying about the soccer player,

but I would like to know how to play soccer because I used to think it was attractive when I was young how a boy could beat up something and not face the consequences,

and the first time I had Irish candy I was at my aunt's condominium where she read letters from our relatives in Ireland in which they stated that they stayed in on Christmas because of

the snow and I imagined the words like old pictures,

black and white and yellow and torn inside because I will never truly know the way it is to be Irish because I think the big family secret is that I am adopted and that shouldn't be

a big deal but it is because that is a way in which people are damned, and I believe it because of how I push people away before they can really get to know me, like Will in Good Will Hunting,

and I can sense the tension between him and Minnie Driver but it all melts away when I feel the wind whipping by the car when they are driving around looking for trouble,

like how it was when I was young,

and my favorite thing to do used to be to bounce on the inflatable thing at the fair in the summer and I would spend summer nights reading in the (almost) dark while I listen to

my Dad vacuum and I knew I was alone but some other being knew I wasn't and after the thing when I was 15 I felt my voice when I read and I would lay on the bed as a 16 year old and remember

the big oatmeal chocolate chip cookies my mom used to buy me and I remember the Beanie Baby collection we had before my mom gave them all away and the letter I wrote to my English class

when I was in the hospital and I was really embarrassed about it later but when you start to sleep in the fetal position something must be done or you are doomed for life because that was

when I like to think I started to be in charge of my own destiny.

Doubt

Passes through me like a lightening bolt

straight and jagged at the same time

my heavens shine from above

like a disjointed halo

plenty of dreams have emitted from the blue and purple

planet that rotates parallel to what we know

as a reality founded on the belief

that we are in control of our own destiny

and it only escapes us

when we doubt it

and everything we know as good

New Poem

My Dad knows that I want to get married one day

to a guy who loves me best

and when I lie down at night and pray

I tell God that he is going east and I am going west

I look out the sunroof and see the eclipsing moon

and its glow emits a radiance

that could only be seen when true love is in bloom

and the heavens above may give me the chance

to prove my myself

to prove to all

that I really need God's help

to break down, build up, then knock down a wall

that has created itself in the worst of my dreams

my nightmares that shine itself in another galaxy

another dimension where it always seems this faithful fallacy

cancels itself out by more than one means

I remember when we were younger, and things were simpler

and the biggest bridge I crossed was the Kennedy

and I saw my hero, and he said to himself, "the only way to help her,

is to send the dream to her, even if it wasn't meant to be."

My walk with him is one of many

The clouds above shuffle with their waltzes

Over a decked out lake

And my fear of isolation dissolves

And drips down into the cracks of cement

Produced by bicycles

Owned by people like him

I imagine that one of the cars on the roads ahead is his

Bumper to bumper with hers

Red to red

White to white

Cheek to cheek

His to mine

And the busses intervene

I see the green that illuminates somehow from underwater

And it reminds me of the roundness in his eyes

The color gets deeper, more intimidating, more profound

Once it rises from the sand to the surface

Imagining how it used to be

Pretending that the artificial satellites that dot the obscurity

Are stars produced by the heavens that hold them

And once I realize that he will never be the way he was before

I pray to the place in my uncertainty where I often find hope

And I close my eyes shut

And squeeze them tight

But continue to walk

Placing faith in my steps, so that I may not trip over strewn about gravel

And I put forth my prayers to my guardian angel

My guardian angel

The one who knows me best

Who is there in the dark corners of time

In the bleakest moments of my life

And his

And yours

And God’s

And I imagine not a shimmering halo

That sheds flakes of light

Or robes of white

But someone like you

Who sits next to me on the cement on the sidewalk corner of my apartment building

Wearing Ugg boots and a North Face fleece

And she doesn’t say a word

But she looks up to me with bright green eyes

And takes my hand that is in a fist

And opens it

And places in it her Claddagh ring

And she jumps up and darts behind a parked car

And leaves

And I open my eyes

As I have almost reached home

I lay under a night sky

That wraps me in its careful care

A most personal construction

A hemispherical spindle

In which I am the pole

Maybe somewhere else

The stars would be blue and red and orange

But here we only see them as yellow

Stupid Poetry

Last night I saw you at my door

like I had a many times before

your eyes were blue your hair was brown

your hair was curly your eyes were round

it was a dream because it wasn't real

but at this moment I know I feel

something for you that I want to see

I hope you feel the same for me

Read my poetry

The windows are square as someone drives by

I can feel their space

I can treat their lies

the horizon turns purple as the night turns dark

on the fence outside he leaves a mark

a hint at darkness a solitaire hope

that when the sun comes out the two dreams will elope

my heart leaps out with the squeaking of tires

in the back of her head there is a collage of fires

that are blue and purple not orange and red

or yellow or straight or mangled or fed

I write to that perfect man I see in my dreams

the one who makes it exciting yet doesn't know what it means

when i go wordless, this happens once in a while

but to feel the rush I would walk a mile

but to feel the rush I would walk a mile