My Poems

whoever came up with the idea that communication could be an art was probably identifiably genius. and died young

to Marisa, with crazy applause

Simplistic Boredom

 

rain it won’t stop raining

it pounds on the roof above my head

Loud, blue glass

and Melodic, like a tin drum

the rain makes it hard to see

when I walk out the door

so I fall down the stairs

and into the parking lot

and somewhere, someone is always laughing

¿at me?

does it make me Smile

and paint an odd picture?

rain splashes make my colors drip

making them abstract

making them real

as real as I am to you

but in my dreams, I am never there

Unless I am someone else

so in my waking

would I be gone too?

RAIN it makes my hair wet

HAIR it feels so knotted

I dance around in circles

unemployed

aware of my grammatical errors

i wonder about Purple flowers

beaded with raindrops.

the rain is getting in my eyes

i cannot see

should go inside

but can’t won’t let it stop

stop the crystal rain

rain that is razors in my eyes

eyes that start to rain

RAIN it won’t stop raining

 

sweet delicious RAIN