digitalphiltrum

roam

steph — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 02:53:47 +0000

warm nights and brightly lit skies
like fireflies and children playing soccer
in an abandoned lot behind a warehouse
reminders that spring will always come.
i used to watch the boats coming and going
and wonder if they had anywhere to go
now i know it doesn’t matter,
it never mattered.
there was a time when i knew everything
i didn’t heard the hands of the clock dropping
while i made my calculations
steady and purposeful.
i should have just dropped my bag and run
spring would come no matter

in a tent a group of children laugh
shine flashlights on one another
and understand that there is no wrong.
they will all grow older
making decisions every step of the way
one will die young
a victim of her own immortality
another, the blonde, will fall short of expectations
lost youth, lost beauty, just lost
another disappears
no one will hear from her again
but she grows old and happy
somewhere in the distance.
tonight though, they are children
the world waits patiently for them
they will come
there is no other option.

i want to see the moon rise over Sounion
hear the rush of the ocean
as i drift to sleep
the coming and the going
the consistent, steady beat of the waves
as the spring gives way to the summer
as the war wages on
as we learn patience
and laughter.

you were never a poet

steph — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 02:24:43 +0000

a life lived successfully
almost laughable
where is your happiness
where is your accomplishment
i am an afterthought
to you the world is a problem
for me the world is
the land of suburban
twenty-first century decay
a single family
a projected future
within the context of my scripted past
in my dreamless sleep
the odds are always stacked
in your memory i am eighteen
and we are infinite children
this is the way it should be
this is how we move on

godless

steph — Fri, 30 Mar 2012 01:53:40 +0000

in the future i sleep soundly
i don’t wake up
when my dreams fail me
when i fail
when i fall
i imagine i grow taller
and strong
i learn to fight
my feet fly when i run
in the future i am able
i beat god
at his own game
and i sleep
dreamless
empty

were we lovers?

steph — Fri, 23 Mar 2012 02:02:42 +0000

when were we lovers?
i dont
remember
the way your lips felt
pressed firmly into
mine
did our hearts ever beat
in time
there must be some photo
some trinket
to prove you
existed
we were
real
love does not linger
like a matchstick
you burned
hot and bright
and i am transfixed by your flame
and then you were
gone
were we lovers?
i dont
remember

dreamless

steph — Thu, 22 Mar 2012 02:01:35 +0000

the flitter of your eyelids
both delicate and purposeful
is a solemn reminder
you have gone places i will never go.
i watch you peacefully retrace your past
and wonder where your glances fall.
when i press my hand to your cheek
does it leave an impression?

michelangelo never removed his boots
even in sleep he was always running
away
or perhaps toward
the curse of the content
is a dreamless sleep.

blank

steph — Wed, 21 Mar 2012 01:59:18 +0000

Sometimes its just better to start over.