I Could Write the Words

I could write the words
of my love poetry in
hopeless endeavors.

I could write the words
in the wind, but they’d be
drowned out by the howl.

I could write the words
in the sand, but they’d be
washed away by the waves.

I could write the words
with the stars, but they
could only be seen at night.

I could write the words
in the sky, but they’d be
blocked by the rainclouds.

I could write the words
on brick walls, but the
walls would crumble with age.

I could write the words
with rocks, but they would
corrode in the rushing waters.

and I could write the words
on my heart, but even my
heart could grow cold.

But I could write the words
of my love on paper, and they’d
never fade away with time.

#72                                         02-28-07

A Rhetorical Analysis of Ardent Heartache II: A Dire Desire for Everything

How could the taste of your lips
cause me to freefall so quickly,
spiral out of control with passion
when we’ve never kissed before?

How could the contour of your body
cause me to fall completely for you
cause me to never want to let go
even though I’ve never held you in my arms?

How could being next to you
make me lose the sense of reality
and fall into a fantasy with only you there
when I’ve never been alone with you?

How could wanting to love you
never die inside of me after
all the years we’ve been just friends
when you’ve never given me a chance?

How is it that this is all just a dream
when it feels so real?

#71                                                  02-24-07

A Rhetorical Analysis of Ardent Heartache I: A Hopeless Lover’s Plight

Why?
Why can’t I let these feelings for you
slide through my fingertips
and just leave them as a puddle
pooling on the sidewalk?

Why?
Why can’t I break the chains
you’ve wrapped around my heart
that cause me to sink into depression
every day I can’t have you?

Why?
Why can’t you put out these flames for me
that I could never extinguish myself
because I burn so ardently
whenever you’re around?

Why?
Why is it that I would follow you
around the world and back again
just for that one moment where
I could be beside you again?

Why?
Why can’t I just tell you everything
that you probably already know
just to make it a point that I
actually said all of it?

Why?
Why can’t I just tell you that I love you?

#70                                             02-23-07

Benevolent Snow, Malevolent Ice

Ah, the New England winters
mid-October to mid-March
and the snow flies abundantly
through the frostbitten sky
and falls on the frozen ground
and flatly covers it like
a white blanket of serenity
keeping the ground ice cold.

But when the temperature hovers
between 34 and 30 degrees
that benevolent snow melts
and refreezes into malevolent ice

You dastardly ice, making
the ground lose its friction
and adhering to sidewalks
and driveways, and causing
accidents and power outages
and snapping tree limbs.

Why can’t you be more peaceful
like your fluffy counterpart?

#69                                          02-22-07

Ode to the White Pawn

Oh, little white pawn, guardsman of the pieces
while you yourself are not considered a “piece”
do not fret your lowly, powerful position.
You have seven friends with you, lined on the row marked “2.”
The evil black pieces loom in the distance
across a marble plain of ebony and ivory squares.
Do not fear them, for you will win
you make the first move:
1. d4
and the game begins.

Little white pawn, it is your destiny
your fate to win this game.
1. …d5
Your counterpart faces you with contempt
written on his spherical black face.
No matter, he will be out of your way soon.

Do not get down on yourself, white guard,
because your annotation does not include even a “P” for “pawn.”
Just think of the Jester Knights, annotated with an “N” instead of a “K,”
and watch the scene unfold as Black’s Italian heritage peeks through
with his delayed Sicilian dragon opening.

Well into the war, the black King and Queen stand
with one space between them, that empty space a rift in their love affair.
Watch as your martyr comrade checks the king and introduces the
ever-powerful royal fork! The black Queen saves her husband at the expense of herself
and the valiant martyr pawn and one of those
silly knights with the “N” annotation are removed from the war.

Beware those dastardly rooks/castles, for they
are the lawn mower to your blade of grass
and the black castle has mowed down three of your
innocent pals from Second Row St., and now he’s after you.
But the White Bishop from First Row St. with the pointy hat will not allow it,
as he blasts the crooked rook in triumph.

Oh, valiant little pawn, all your friends are gone
but a clearly defined path shines in front of you
all the way to Eighth Row St. The black king grieves for
his wife behind a line of Seventh Row St. pawns, the lawn mower
rooks have run out of gas, the Jester Knights lost their humor,
and the bishops’ hats lost their pointyness.
All the other pieces are gone, save for a lone white b-pawn,
the white king seeking to avenge his fair lady’s demise,
and you. Four black pawns and the grieving king are
all that are left for opposition.

March down the board in triumph, for although you are outnumbered,
white will surely win.
52. d5 a4
watch that dastardly black pawn march past you
and continue your quest to be the best.

53. d6 a3
don’t turn back, even with the clamor behind you as:

54. d7 axb2
and your lone Second Row St. buddy is knocked out.
It is only a matter of time before you are promoted
as the spherical black pawn heads turn and watch you in disbelief
Even the black pawn on b2 can do nothing as you triumphantly walk toward row 8.
The black king has no escape from behind the line of guardsmen
that so loyally protected him from death before, and he forsakes
those very same pawns that were only doing their job as you
sharpen your new blade on the grindstone of golden Row 8.
The black pawn on b2 writhes in agony and hatred, so close and yet
so far from his own golden Row 1, but it is your destiny to reach
the promised land, retrieve the mythical blade of promotion and defeat the king, not his.
Go forth, valiant pawn, and seal the fate of
the losing king as you complete the war with:

55. d8=Rook, checkmate

#68                                                                   02-22-07

The Merchant of Loneliness

Walking through the suburbs one fine spring day
I saw a small crowd gathered on the roadside
surrounding an eccentric peddler in tattered clothes
who called himself the Merchant of Loneliness
and as I approached, he began his speech again:

“Come, come, step right up, and hear
the great offer which I lay before you today!
I will give to you the greatest riches
in the world, the best friendships,
the greatest of supportive families,
and even, for those who seek it, great power.
I will give to you whatever you desire, and
I will present all this to anyone willing only
to lose the ability to gain love, so though
you may burn so passionately for anyone,
they will never return it. That is all I require in return,
such a menial thing to give for such a grand offer.
Who will agree to such a bargain?”

Murmurs arose in the mob around me
as each individual considered the value of the deal
but I did not trust their judgment (or lack thereof)
for they knew not what they were accepting
and, in an attempt to sway the general opinion,
I stood next to this Merchant of Loneliness and said:

“It is a great scam this eccentric is running
one which would satisfy the vain and proud,
the greedy, the poor, and the power-hungry,
all doubting the true value of their love.
But he does not consider those who have
accepted the deal without knowledge
of their acceptance in the first place.
In undeniable truth, I give you my word:
he gives away material gain, but each of you,
in return, receive ominous emotional loss.”

The crowd took heed of my words and dispersed,
and the dastardly Merchant was left with
me as his only disinterested customer
and as he dejectedly gathered his “wares”
I continued on with my chilling speech:

“My friend, I know not if you could fulfill
your end of this bargain which you present
but your customers are merely victims
of their own persons, and you are merely
the jester, left to take advantage of their
useless greed. Forgive me for ruining your game.
Their only faults are the greed which drives all,
and the misconception of your offers.

“However, I am one of which I spoke,
having accepted your offer without hearing it.
For I already have all that I want:
friends who’d do anything to help me,
family who’d support all actions I take,
a wealth of knowledge and skills to do anything
and the greatest power: to make my own decisions.
But they do not realize your offer is just that,
and I know that many could not bear
the loneliness they would receive. They could not live
with the strain of ardent fires of passion
burning the very core of their souls, then
never possessing the power to purely profess
their hopelessness to those who turn deaf ears to them.
Often I wish I had the power to rescind the offer
because there is no remedy for permanent loneliness
and I would give away anything I have
for this cold loneliness to end.”

#67                                           02-20-07

Forgetting an Ardent Passion

After all the trials you’ve put me through
It would be a shame to love someone like you again
someone so hell-bent on loving no one
someone so intent on breaking innocent hearts
someone so content with apathetic solitude
and with a feeble heart so unprepared
for the struggles of true love ever ardent,
I could do nothing but fall for deception

but to think I would have willingly
given my whole heart to someone
so insensitive to love is a chilling reminder
of the undeniably destructive power
of traveling the path of blind love

and you dug through the shells
the levels of my heart, and
like a virus, you infected
me with a passion so fiery
to ignore, and while I compiled
my dreams of you, you plotted
to destroy my emotional being.

Your apathy would be the death of me
and I wish I had never known,
never realized this insanity for you
and it would have been better
to never have loved you at all

I feel a hatred from you, so strong
that internal chills shake my core
when your frozen heart stares me down
and all the same I feel the stinging burn
from the white fires in your gaze

and I’d rather not exist to you
because that would be better
than to endure your bitter hatred.

#66                                                02-20-07

Pleading to Cupid’s Deaf Ears

Immortalizing for the wrong reasons
writing to keep forbidden desires
such is love, my dire misconception
and my feeble heart is used to falling
I change interests like the change of seasons,
can’t keep alight the passionate fires
love is more like a passing obsession
and all too often I’m left with nothing

If only love weren’t such a tragedy
so I could profess these feelings to her,
concede that I burn so passionately,
end the chase for love that took forever.
‘Tis such a strange affliction that I’ve caught
I love her because she’s all that I’m not.

#65                                           02-11-07

A Blind Fleeting Passion

As I trudged through the crowded city street
my heart skipped a beat when I saw her face
memories of all past interests were erased
and when I closed my eyes, I felt the heat
of a burning passion. I wished to meet
this mysterious girl on which I based
my burning lust, and she moved with such grace
that she’d stolen my heart in blind deceit

I’d love to have this amazing beauty
forever, because only forever
is long enough to reveal this desire
and her eyes could see the world within me
but when I opened my eyes to see her
she was gone, as was the lustful fire.

#64                                                     02-10-06

Love Letters and Broken Feelings

As I quietly die in the shadows of society
no one will remember my name or what I did
I’m just another poor soul on the short end of life
I sit in the rain living out my final days
and you’re never there for me
you were never there

I wander the streets in a cold sweat
wondering what tomorrow will bring to me
another day of spare change and tattered clothes
fighting for food, for water, for shelter
and the cold wind makes me wonder
will you be there for me?
Will you be there?

I pretend I’m deaf around them
but I can still hear them whispering
I have no choice but to live this way
they don’t know what this life is
and can you hear me scream?
Can you hear me?

It’s not like I’m any different from them anyway
I’ve got imperfections just like anyone else
they just make mine more evident to the world
like it was their choice to do so in the first place.
And it’s not like you care, anyway
it’s not like you care.

All the love letters are used up
I’ve sent them all to you in vain
and watched you throw them in the fire
the sentiments that echoed my desire
and all that’s left of me
are the broken-hearted feelings
that you never accepted.
I’m sorry I can’t let go
there’s nothing I can do.

#63                                                    02-06-07

The Indirect Confusion of Desire

Wake up to the sound of the alarm clock
swipe at it and hear the crash on the floor
gather clothes off the floor and put them on
drag yourself into your bitterly cold car
and wait in line for 15 minutes while other students drive in
and all you can think about is that dream date
but you just woke up and you can’t think straight.

Daydreaming in the middle of AP Physics
you lose focus when the teacher starts to lecture
force equations and Newton’s laws don’t matter right now
all you can think about is that dream date
but the teacher’s yelling and you can’t think straight.

The late morning bell rings its beckoning
and a sea of students gathers in the cafeteria
You watch the hopeless underclassmen
All the adolescent girls trying to fit in
with their fake hair and overpriced makeup
trying to grab attention from the football stars
and the younger guys with their sophomoric humor
and their awkward mottoes and loud mouths
trying to grab attention from the varsity cheerleaders
and all you can think about is that dream date
but its lunchtime and you can’t think straight

Relaxation is the best at night, and you know that
the best of anyone. You like to write your feelings
late at night when there’s no one to hear the pen scratching
against the paper and the words screaming your secrets
for everyone except you to never hear out loud.
You’d love to tell her everything you feel, but you can’t,
so the paper takes her place, because it doesn’t judge you
and all you can think about is that dream date
but its 3:30 in the morning and you can’t think straight.

#62                                                   02-05-07

The Calming Effect of a Dying Passion

I thought about loving you
every day for a thousand days
and concentrated passion was the result

But dreaming of being with you
could never have been as good
as actually being with you
the only question left was
whether it was more fun just to chase you

I would have loved to be with you forever
but there was nothing between us
so I can’t complain that you never
gave us a chance to be together
and I can’t say that I lost my heart
when you said you didn’t love me
because forever is limited anyway

To let go of that fiery passion
has made me more complacent
and though now we aren’t even friends
maybe it’s better that way.

#61                                         02-05-07