here are a few lines of a poetry that i am trying to work on, there isn't a lot so i don't know if you can get anything from it really, but deal with it

Every hello is a goodbye in disguise.

And when I say "I love you", it really means

that I'm sorry, because I will promise you the stars,

but only give you a grain of sand.

so that last post was pretty personal and serious and deep and that is not what i like being so here is a recent poem that is kind of lighthearted!

SWM seeking Muse

single white male looking for whiskey soaked rhymes

and a heart full of blues lines. I need that

Delta sound filling me up inside.

So your flowery sonnets with their flowery

words need not apply.

If the meaning is lost in pretentiousness

it's a mess.

And I don't feel like cleaning it up.

If a poem needs translation

from English to english then

it's worth none of my time.

So let me repeat:

I need that Southern heat, that tea so sweet

it curls your toes

I need vine covered walls and portrait plastered walls.

I need lines that make you feel,

not make you think

so hard you get an anuerysm.

I need the passion, the pleasure of a Southern belle in bloom,

the sound of cicadas

and the company of good

food.

So save your high brow speech for some other forlorn poet

Because I need you

to speak to me

Like a memory filled summer on a porch,

my blood thinned by whiskey and the air so humid

it leaves you

breathless

panting

yearning

longing

for more

so something i've never felt comfortable with is confessional poetry. i hate writing about myself, i absolutely abhor it. it's too personal, it's too close. i want to be able to say, "no, that speaker isn't me. no, that poem is about a made up story, it's completely fictional." i don't want to write about my life, because i feel like my life isn't worth writing about (yet?!). i don't want to write about my emotions because i know that i cannot do them justice. i don't want to write about major events because they deserve more than words that i haphazardly throw together and sentences that i break up arbitrarily.

is it something i'll get over?

i'm sure it is. i've noticed that if i just start writing, what usually ends up on paper is more personal than if i had sat down and developed an idea. i have written down things that i would never picture myself writing about, i have written about ideas that i thought were long gone. it is both a good thing and a bad thing, a blessing and a curse. i feel that as a writer and poet i should be able to write about the personal as well as the distant, i should be able to write about whatever my hands feel like putting on paper. i am starting to get there. i am starting to write more than just stories i make up in my head, i am starting to write about stories i make up with my life. life is all one big story after all, and the best way to live forever is for people to tell stories about you.

whiskey was involved in this blog post.

i am still alive

here is a poetries i quickly jotted down to practice on rhythm. i think it turned out okay. also rhythm is a weird word to spell

untitled (rhythm exercise)

in this frame of my life i'm the boy you never knew

fresh to the world not five feet tall

brown headed boy on the hood of a car

blue honda's hood meeting blue denim jeans

leaning over eyes closed kissing mom on the cheek

saying goodbye or saying hello, does it even matter?

no no no. know that this little kid

with the sunshine hair and the carefree air

always all smiles and laughing all the while

went extinct not too long ago

but a dinosaur fish off the coast of Brazil

came back from the past

so this little kid surely will