Misunderstood

It was something about a bird that nests
but I thought he said perfectness
either way
Its just beneath your skin

The text read “so all the earth be blessed”
but I must confess
selfishness
to be my favorite sin

I thought she would be waiting in the corridor
but she forgot what she was waiting for
or maybe
she was never there at all

Its hard to tell from where we stand
where this all began
just maybe
one day we’ll learn to crawl

But there is a perfectness inside you
and maybe in time you’ll
realize
its not beneath your skin

The red text said the poor be blessed
and the meek find rest
not just
the nonexistent without sin

~wwb

Where I’m From

(This is an exercise I got from my newest poetry blog obsession. It is based on a poem called Where I’m From by George Ella Lyons. You can read more about it here ).

I am from butter,
from Pepsi and Coke.
I am the double wide and the ashes of a shack it replaced
New, shiny
cold and breaking down
I am from the lilac,
and the freshly mowed lawn
just outside my bedroom window.
I am from arguing and exaggerating,
from Sonny and Marie.
I am from the yelling and crying
From you’re crazy and Jesus loves you.
I am from an empty cross that shouldn’t have been
and a tomb that I hope still is.
I’m from West MI and God knows where,
venison and spaghetti.
From make the child choose if daddy stays,
the “Fuck you and your soul” days
and someone passing out in the shower.
I am from the pictures in the closet and the albums dad wont give us.
Smiling, smirking, rolling my eyes
sad eyes and heartbreak smiles
and laughter and laughter
and I need them so I don’t forget

~wwb

Rage

It was not an accident
or simple twist of fate
first actions have set precedent
for such violent acts of hate

But it is not self evident
that these acts of late
were willed by a fist cause
rendered just as blind as fate

Don’t believe the charlatans
or their parlor tricks
when they act as acrobats to sell you
a world where all is fixed

And don’t believe the harlequin’s
or their vision of romance
where love is rendered helpless
when it enters into dance

It was not meant to happen
nor simply willed to be
chaos will not last laughing
when love has set us free

~wwb

Less than Epic

Wake the fuck up!
How long can we dream on?
As long as tired poets
keep writing tired songs

When will this be over?
Move on, move out
not happy with this smile
But at least it keeps the pain out

The truth is…
there’s nothing inseparable about us
but for the moment we stay glued
let’s pretend it’s all about us

And she says, “I want to be spiritual”
And she wears it like a new tattoo
and she regrets it just the same
when the newness is through
Can we get spiritual?
Can we all get laid?
Searching for some big reward
waiting to get paid

Is there really more than spoiled kids
with Ritalin and scriptures
defining their world
with vodka and moving pictures?

We just want to feel better
than we felt yesterday
Make our confession
and pretend that we’re okay

And all of her old friends
are no friends at all
There’s no heart around the name
of the guy she always calls

And she loves to say I love you
when she’s pretending that she’s drunk
And she’s talking about Jesus
while she’s sipping on the punch

How many times can this song play?
It always stays the same
You always touch her face,
but she never takes your name

We’re all just board kids
to tired to count our losses
our little bracelets
and tattoos of charms and crosses

And I can see this picture
and I should share it with the masses
But one on one is just more fun
when you don’t have to remove your glasses

Wake the fuck up!
How long can we all dream?
As long as tired poets
keep writing tired lines like these

~wwb