Sacrifice

breath-
breath-
breath-
with me
let it be
......the child is delivered now
safe from ocean sounds
Sacrifice-
the sacred cup
the search lights taken up
take this
it is in memory of me
let it be
my body
given up
a father's love
a father's dead
a child lives.
We're looking out for one another
we are children-dread eclipsed
with reaching hands and trembling lips.
Teach me to walk upon the water and hold me
in the Spring.

http://www.wwmt.com/articles/newschannel-1379407-father-nine.html

Nighttime

Ocean sounds
waves crash
disolve sand around my skin
and suck me under
--don't take me under--
...all the way
I'm afraid of the dark
There's no air in my lungs
when I think about yours
soaked, submerged.
God don't let him drown
Don't let me drown
Don't take us in the night--
we've got the lamb's blood on our door.

Confession

I used you.
I'm sorry, it's true
I thought you knew
I thought you did it too.

I used you for the way you made me feel
I used you for the words you didn't mean
I used you for your finger tips and eyes
I used you for your arms, your moves, your looks

I used you for your presence
I used you for your scent
I used you for your awkwardness
I used you for your hair

I used you for your company
I used you for your laugh
I used you for your boyish charm
I used you just for you

And though I know it's said and done
I feel I have to say
that I used you so you'd use me
in every selfish way.

An Ode

Rejection-
a bitter pill
that I have swallowed-
the dreaded draught
that even I,
willingly,
administered to others.

I shrink to think-
the damage done-
by my own hands,
the symptoms fanned:
heart complications,
bleeding internal,
trouble to breathing,
skin flushed inferno.

My director.

A crusty old man was he, with watery eyes rubbed red, and the scratchy white stubble of a beard. He had the altogether appearance that he had crackled out of a dried ocean bed, emerging from beneath shallow sand that stuck to his oily pores. His face, crevices and sun-bleached, splintered like drift wood. His mind was lost at sea.

Spark

Blink--
and you might miss
the cheek that once you kissed.

Stop the rhyming already...

I'm mad at
the static
that's sticking
these sickening
poems together.