Poetry
onions

this onion
is to be
chopped
then sliced
then minced
and sautéed
with other vegetables
for the family meal
to be eaten in silence
as if four strangers
had somehow found themselves
in the same room
the onion is my job
do with it as i may
with the blunt kitchen knife
not ever sharp enough
to pierce my skin
my face is soaked
with silent
angry
tears
that sizzle in the pan
and make the dish
a little saltier
but in the end
i can blame them
on the onion



socks

i am a pair of socks
you never think of me
and you claim not to need me
but where would you be without me?
the journey would be much more painful
i'm hidden behind more
important articles
your stylish shoes
must have cost you a fortune
i know exactly how much i cost
.95 for a dozen pairs
down at k-mart
and for this reason
i am disposable
with the first sign of wear
i am tomorrow's trash
if i get lost in the dryer
somewhere along the way
no one cries for me
i'm cheap, easy to come by
useful for many things
if your feet no longer want me
i can rid you of dust bunnies
maybe if i stay helpful
you'll keep me around in the rag pile
for a bit longer
you'll never admit you need me
but that's alright
i'm patient
when was the last time you heard a pair of socks complain?
i won't even point out when you've mis-matched me
and i don't mind being a puppet
for a little while
i am a pair of socks
i'll wait silently
as you enjoy the barefoot summer
winter will come soon enough



teenage confessions

i wish
you would stay forever.
but for that,
you would
have to
be here
in the
first place.



mark

these simple words cannot express my sorrow
they are just markings upon paper
they will not do justice to the emotions
boiling inside
and threatening to tear my skin apart
these words could never let you know how i feel
or ask for your apology
and i hate
and i hate
and i hate
myself
for always doing the wrong thing
at the wrong time
and having the wrong words
damn these words!
once my pen stops
once i cease to speak
the words will end
and no one will be better
or worse off
than they were before
but a few words
will have been wasted



the fate of the last cookie

in the cookie jar
on the counter
is one solitary
cookie
maybe chocolate chip
no one really knows
anymore
it's been there for
days
weeks
months
because no one is willing
to eat the last cookie
and everyone is too ashamed
to throw it away



when you kissed my soul

you kissed me today
a kiss that left a smile on my lips
long after yours were gone
a kiss that i will now compare
to all others in my lifetime
a kiss that left me worse off than before
longing for more
a kiss that never happened
and never will



10/13/01

my name is
child
teenager
independent
free
young
and sitting on your front steps
all of us
with the prospect
that we'll be young forever
or at least for tonight
guitar chords lazily strummed
and for a moment i can believe
you're singing just to me
for a moment
i can believe anything
even that the night will never end
but the clock
knows no such eternity
and the small hours it tells of
leaves us scattering
finding our ways home in the night
leaving our dreams behind
my own thoughts of you
left there where you sang
on your now cold, hard front steps
with my name and yours
lost in the sunrise



my pathetic attempts

i don't know why i bother anymore
it's all been done
the clichés have been clichéed
and yet i'll try again
poetry that's lost all meaning
if it ever had any
void of human emotion
empty
echoing against the walls of itself
some poor soul will read it
over and over and over
searching for a meaning
like a faithful searching for god
neither will succeed
their goals are unreachable
you cannot find something that was never there
and yet so many do
like the person who finds god
in a barren desert on a lonely sunday
and the person who finds poetry
between the letters and words
of this crap