Break/Point

What is the point/
at which you / break
down / trodden under foot
of the rolling / machine
of work
it never / stops / or slows
/ just more
now more is too / much
and break/age begins
/ to wear / down
your resolve/
your reserve/
your / self
it's just too / hard
to handle / all
pieces / parts you juggle
things / you control
but / control isn't / real
you should / be realistic
/ control is something you
never really had / is it
you are / a cog
in a group / of larger cogs
that spin / whir
and work
until / you reach
the / point
you / break

Disdain - Perfected

She has the look of disdain

perfected

Heavy lids shield her eyes

from me

and my antics

Boredom seeps from her visage

And her often animated,

bright, yellowish-green eyes

are dull

The rest of her body

is curled up

guarded

None of my frivolity

will affect

She turns her head away

as I croon

mock her stance

She is unaffected

I reach to chuck

under her chin

playfully

She will have none of that

She sashays away

her fluffy tail

up in the air

like her nose

Promise

There is so much held in promise

          You are promised
          You show promise
          You must promise
          You have promised

I hold promise

But the promise that concerns is the one made me

The one
       never formal
                 but there
                       repeated and
                                     insinuated and
   
                                                      gone

        never realized

I was told
If I just

          buckle down
          study hard
          achieve more
          do well
          finish assignments
          get As
          get degrees

It would be there

          Future
          Success
          Security
          Career
          Job

It would be there

I was told

I was promised

Beating a Dead Horse

Okay, this isn't actually about beating anything, much less a dead horse.  I meant to post these in February, but close enough.  These poems are ones that I've written about K, a person who I have mentioned on here before, and it feels like I keep beating a dead horse by talking about it.  But it's been bothering me, so here they are:  

10/29

Ships pass in the night
   
       Now, we seem to only pass
       in the dark, unseeing

Ships graze but keep moving

       We don't stop anymore or
        at least
        you don't, to say hi or
        make eye contact

Ships almost collide

       We've had so many near misses
       so many almost-conversations
       we only almost connect, now

Ships creak

      I try to signal, to initiate
      to flag you down

Ships glide

       But you keep going
       without noticing my attempts

Ships pass in the night

       And I wonder why
       we've become ships
       passing in the night


11/23

                                            Cleanse

I wash
            my fingers
now
of this sticky
                      mess
of this
            stale
                    mate
now that you
are so
           stale
                   now
I rinse
            my mind
as far
           as I
                  can reach
even though
it's not
            all
                  gone
it will never
                     really
be gone
I detox
              my diet
of texting
                   and trying
and waiting

I clean
             you
                     from
my life


2/13

Valentines is on the brain
hearts and lovers and mushy crap

Never had a Valentine on Valentines
but whatever

I didn't need one this Valentine
I'm fine right now - or so I thought

You left your house as I arrived
a simple thing - a chance encounter

And I felt a tear deep inside
that fictional heart - that cracks in the center

You were here, you haven't completely
moved away - you see your dad

You are 50 feet away
as you back your navy Civic down the drive

A rush of feeling, instead of blood,
comes pouring from my center

As you drive away

Will they draft the interstellar war

I wonder if belt buckles will become tighter

If men will be taller

In the battlefield are there death tollers?

As you sign in your draft card:

man or woman?

will the war be so grand that gender no longer matters?

Must we bake with margarine instead of butter

Will all protein be spam?

All the food I eat is rationed

Glory to man!

(This is something I wrote a few months ago that I felt like sharing)

Clinic

Okay guys this is my first crack at poetry. Do not be alarmed at my mental state, but I am really mad at a piece of legislation and the closing down of crisis clinics in my area. Here it is "Clinic":

I am cut open like a trout
Feast upon the entrails
Consume the bloody mass

Picking the lillies by the day
War became an open day
Sometimes I believe in god

Sometimes not

Willow, willow
I was eviscerated by the tree
They feast upon my lillies

They gut me like a trout
I watch as they slowly let me die
I watch as the monsters eat my entrails

Sometimes I believe in god
Mostly not

There is a knight who should save me
Sometimes a fairy comes my way
Both do not cut off my head,
But leave the scourge to eat my entrails

There is war
I pick lillies as the soldiers go by
No coat hangers to rid the baby inside

They gut me like a trout
Entrails soaking the lillies
The unwanted child allowed to die
Sometimes I believe in god

Forever not