Egg Shells
Don't be mad,
I am right here.
I have not left at all.
I simply grew quiet,
as I did not want to add...
to your burdens,
to your pains.
I know that you hurt every day.
I see "it" in the way you walk.
I watch how you hunch over...
at times.
I pray for you,
even though you do not believe.
I pray for you,
because you want,
and you need
someone too.
Life makes you upset at the world.
I am here to remind you of flowers,
and birds,
dogs with long tails,
and cats with soft feet.
I sing silently,
as not to wake you from a nap.
I sing to the Lord,
and ask him to bring you...
healing,
and even more importantly,
what you truly need.
I have put...
all my eggs in the basket.
My great grandmother...
she would be mad at me.
I did not listen at all.
Yet if "you" are gone,
then there is no reason,
I am here.
If I was half as clever as I think I am
People would whisper about my whimsical wily ways.
Warlocks would warn witches about my wit.
We would be reading about me in a World Book.
If I was as humorous as I think I am
Beavers would hunch over my Hungarian hash
Begging me to bring my brilliancy into their burrows.
They would be genuflecting and paying me homage.
If I was as wise as I think I am
I would keep this to myself
So I could keep my friends who would make fun of me
If they read this poem.
you'd think they were daggers not drops
the way they hunch over and stagger
sprinting for cover- faces of pain
for heaven's sake people
it's only rain!
In the subway, the flute player
(cents and dimes at his feet).
He is young and thin,
all sharp elbows and kissing lips
like an old time preacher
channeling Bach.
Watching him hunch over the notes
I can't help thinking
if the breath in his lungs
comes from God or hunger.
Then I wonder if I
who hunger after so many things
should even ask that question?
Socially unorganized, I place critics down a size
Standing with preferred confidence gave me insight
Partially adapted from the root of fear
I sometimes hear my inner voice remarking that my time is near
Position to overcome challenging courses
By altering our contained nature to make stronger choices
Often at the mill I witness the loud of noises
I either adjust or continue breathing in the poison and drown in my salty ocean
Maybe tears can be manufactured through happy times
Is it weird I fake my laughter through your own surprises
Some may question my ability to think and process
I reveal the sources to my brightened conscience
Assemble the many gears we set in stone
Ever wonder what's it's like to be thrown?
My past creates a memory lane for me to see
I rather improve my empathy willing to still believe
In love with a spirit because I glance swiftly while there is no in sight
Passport to find true family as I hunch over my seat, in hopes to discover actual happiness during a safe flight
How is this possible?
This flowing water.
How is this possible?
As my sobs grow softer.
What is this thing?
It's salty and wet.
What is this thing?
I can't seem to stop yet.
Who makes this stuff?
It's coming from me.
Who makes this stuff?
I feel so free.
Where does it come from?
As it streams down my face.
Where does it come from?
It's like a race.
When did this happen?
It feels as if I'm going to die.
When did this happen?
As I hunch over and cry.