Untitled zombie poem.

Silence outside.
Too much silence.
Silence meant it was only a
matter of time.

Better get it over with
he told himself.

He flings open the door.
Sunlight pours in,
like lemonade into a crystal glass.

So does the zombie.

He's waited for this moment
and now there's no more time for waiting.

Quick as a cobra,
he lunges,
sword in hand.

It takes only a second,
and the zombie
is a jumbled heap on the floor--
a broken pile of something
that used to be.

Now gone.

Sailing Away

I remember that first time you left.
You left for the Outback--Down Under.
And I imagined you in strange, far off lands--
places where the water in the toilets supposedly spun backward.

When I was young,
Your trips home eclipsed everything else.

You were my North Star.
Even when I couldn't see you, I felt your presence
and knew you were always there.

You spent so much of your time sailing away.
Always leaving me back on shore,
waving goodbye long after you were out of sight.

It gets old, after awhile.
Waving after someone who never looks back.

As I got older, the world got smaller.
The oceans between us shrank to
puddles of no consequence.

And still you stayed away.

I realize now that you're only human.
Just like me.

And that even though you were always sailing away,
I never once tried to stop you.

maybe.

maybe if i close my eyes
the ache will stop
the tears will dry
and i will just move on.

maybe if i hold you close
that pain inside
that no one knows
will wither and move on.

maybe if i shut my mouth
the truth will never
wander out
i'll forget and i'll move on.

maybe if my heart just stills
this life that shatters
and that thrills
will finish me and then move on.

in vain

forgive me each and every word
that's died upon my tongue
the ones held fast behind my teeth
on which my heart's been hung

forgive me every sinful thought
for control is hard to grasp
and it seems that for each aberration
it's harder to win back

forgive my lack of discipline
my mind falters, as you see
and it often leads me places
where i truly should not be

forgive me for the things i want
but never let me have
forgive me for those things on which i think
but fail to act

forgive me my compassion
when i've used it as a shield
another prop to hide behind
for every sword they wield

forgive me for this thing i'm thinking
appealing as it is
life does not smile fondly on
a foot placed so amiss

i find it odd that though i plead for mercy
it won't help
for the sole forgiveness that i seek
is only from myself

i wanted

i wanted to think of a poem to write
whose theme would not seem one a million have tried.

i wanted to think of a jumble of sound
that would mean something not nothing and would strongly resound.

i wanted to write of the way that i feel
but my thoughts are just spots of emotion unreal.

i wanted to say that i love you.
maybe i should have just stuck with that.

cut.

there's something in the words you say
that makes me think you're not okay
how much life do you wish to drown?
give up now and come back down

i fear you disregard me
criticize my naivety
i apologize if i've misled
i see things clearly

not everyone can see the cuts
but each one's there--a separate rut

how very sad and tragic
that underneath this hype
i most fear you're far past saving
and i'm not the saving type

Another ocean metaphor.

I do so good, you know?

It’s been a while
since the last big wave came along.
No need to look over my shoulder
every time I feel a cool breeze
just to make sure
the winds haven’t changed.

Sometimes
it’s so good
I almost think I can see the shore.
(I can’t, of course, but I am a master at fooling myself.)

It’s not as bad out here
as I thought.
I’m getting used to treading water.
I don’t even mind the burn in my lungs
anymore.

It’s not the same.
(It never will be.)
But there are mermaids and manatees to talk to.
And when they’re off
doing their own thing
the silence isn’t as deafening
as it used to be.
I rather like the sound
of the ocean moving around me.
Past me.

I never thought I would.

But then you come along.
Sneak up on me
silent as a shark.
It’s a quick struggle.

I find myself being dragged under again.