The Cutting Board

All the poetry and prose that I'm not sure will ever quite make it. This first one just loves the intangibles:

Understanding is Hubris

No don't say it, don't say it, don't say.
The lies of dirty men will wash away.
and when we smile festively,
like always of course we will,
we'll join translucent hands,
and then we're damned.

Hypocrites may be a heavy jurisdiction
but don't feel like you've been fooled

the void is just a memento
a bow to the absurd.

But of course, there's no excuse.

This next one I kinda like even if it's cliche and has no direction:

Cupid

Here's a rhythm:
I wanna fall in love. Deep love.

That dime a dozen, every day kind of love
the kind that everyone finds.

I want to burn it out too
One passionate kiss that'll burn

so bright, so quick
I'll be blind forever.

I want that.

This one, I actually just like. Maybe I can use it even:

I'm more interested in John Doe and Gerald Pork who as I speak are redefining poetic language in their nooks. It's a raucous bolero that plays as they march around their pauper's grave, grinning a toothless grin as they weep out letters and accolades. They're the heroes that motivate me. Idyllic and oh so frail and courageous.

The rebel and the resistance,
the underdog under the rug.
Forgotten but always lonely.

Here's a concept that I just couldn't grasp. I really love the tree metaphors but I keep forcing them on ideas. It doesn't matter how pointless it is to try and write poetry with the metaphors before the emotion, I still write steaming shit like this all the time:

Arbor-tionist
I've met a lot of trees and have excavated a lot of souls.
Spotting bare branches blooming someone else's dream.
Biding sunlight triumphantly, with a canopy of lies.
I always find spirits dangling off more inspired roots.
I find a lot of seeds too.

I wish I knew how to climb.

I do like that title, I think I'll keep that around.

-Dann