Back to Non-Cubing


Previously, I have very much filtered my poetry. As in, I didn't give viewing permissions to anyone who didn't need it. I'm weening off of that here, quite a bit.


Can I keep you
past ten and turn back the clock?
Can we go back
to when the doors were locked?
	in the smoothie cafe
	where I could stay all day
with you
	slowly sipping
	away time
	until kicked out -
 at closing; I'm
quite certain that the night
It's young.
Both sipping slowly
having fun
shuffling in seats
postponing the sun.


This jagged pill
 takes away from
 all of the fear
 that lives with
fear that I fear
 to lose.
forgetting it. A
 shred or less.)
What becomes of
 me now, that my
 fears are gone;
what is left to
 run away from
 but myself?
 scolding shelf


What is my self
but the sole of a shoe
hiding within
not showing who?
What lies within
is simply the effect;
years of actions, hidden
more traits to yet dissect.
I'm simply that boy in the back
quiet, and taken aback
at the thought of misconstrued
words, which serve as his food.
The importance that my self may have,
Is certainly not halve
of others', is defined by the side they don't see -
what is hidden is what defines me.
Like everyone else,
I'm a friend, a child, and the parent
of ideas, simply parallels
of what others have accomplished.
Nothing new have I brought about
It's been done before,
I'm simply others' creation, all throughout
A beating heart, some idiosyncrasies, and a decent cerebrum; thoughts galore.


When I found a woman
whose mind bends around
the ways of mine
whose words soothe
intricacies of my heart 
whose body caresses mine
like pen on paper
whose very hair is thin
but needed, as conjunctions
here in this poetry
written linearly
I did not hesitate
but for the chance.
that one day
now in the past
I will say
"I love you."


Running along this path
like in a flood, I feel the wrath
No that's not the word;
that thought's absurd.

surely this is nothing less than a beating drum,
pushing noise down this red river
feeling for the next drumstick, whatever may come -
so I can hear the love giver

What a wonderful tune,
this flow sloshes around against the sides
just waiting for the opportune
moment to spash against me, and coincides

with my footsteps, plopping, steady
knee-high now, I fall
into the red river's wall.
finding myself warm already

Drunk with the sweet music
of the sloshing of your blood,
I swim upstream, homesick
embracing the flash flood.