Valentine Vertigo (Romeo Realized)

He killed love
and its boastful beats
to hear his own
divine indication of inspiration.
Quieting his inner above
by writing about fictional love.
He grew accustomed to finding meaning
in every song,
to finding beauty in every dawn.
But those lumps in his pockets
were just rocks
claiming to be jewels.
He was just tired of failing
not the falling.

Romeo realized
love can't be worked
like a poem
climbing through verses
on the scaffolding that surround them,
struggling to reconstruct the meaning.
Love cannot compare
to those great heights.
That sudden rush of
valentine vertigo
can only be reached
by falling from that balcony.

No celestial body
could compare to hers,
twilit among the aspiring superstars,
set apart from all the rest.
But little did he know
every ounce of his love
would be put to the test.
Those stars were crossed,
starting the ignition
of a love so pure;
even death could endure.

Garden of Hope

He had life
his body couldn't support.
He had heart
the heavens had to break.

It took me seven years
to see through the tears,
enough to pick up this pen,
thinking if I did
I'd be signing his notice of eviction.

He chose a wall
to knock upon
knowing who sat across
thinking I was the best carrier
for this dire message
but it fell on the way
I wasn't strong enough to carry
or fight this angel on earth,
after all,
he was here as a courtesy
since birth.

Pounds to his chest
rhythmically corresponded
to the desperate sirens
I remembered knowing
I would never forget the
flashing lights.
They say now he is gone
from the world we know,
pounds to his chest,
but he is all I know.

We used to play on the grass
and now we are separated by it.
We were caught by an unfair surprise
as I wait for his quiet reprise.

It's time for living
and loving memory.
For not losing
but taking what he left.
I see now why I need art,
hand to chest,
we have the same heart.
Maybe mine will be the next to break,
maybe then I will finally wake.

A Known Enemy

Pick a necessary poison
to match how you feel.
Knock em back
and knock em dead,
resisting to deal.

This dedication
to self medication
is the last thing
left to hold.

Clean the mirror,
finally see clearer.
Plunge into the so unknown
to find your second face.

The sun rises with dependability;
a sudden reason.
The only fear I have left
is that I will forget to live
in this waiting room,
sealing my fate
in a private tomb.

That someday
pretending to fill the good guy
would flood into
my whole life becoming a lie.

Until I shed these
counterfeit clothes
to eventually expose,
I wait in a patient prison.

The moon replaces,
fear is pulled away;
a sudden treason.
I'm only high on the highways,
and only interesting on the interstate.
Not happy motionless,
so I make cars stand still,
closing in on the kill.

Living fast
when dying is irrelevant.
Ignore such great heights
you're only proved wrong on the fall.

It's true its a prison
because I keep falling from the gate,
dividing the fine line
between love and hate.

Until my number
calls out,
and I can finally be made whole,
I stay partitioned
until it takes its toll.

September Showers

I know it will always be hard
to be happy,
easy to fall into yourself,
convinced you cannot stand.

But beauty is found in the heart,
a simple place to start.
Deceived by simplicity,
we enter the abyss.

September showers may seclude you,
to the only world you think exists.
The tide will rise
as you call for a boat,
forgetting you can float.

Through completion of rejection,
lies the truth;
that you can never find that beauty
until you find it in yourself.

Outside the Fray

(Due to my recent "update" my loyal subscribers got a flurry of my blogs. So as an act of sincerity, I'm giving them something new; throwing a bone if you will. Because Kevin doesn't get writers block, he just waits till the world is ready for it.)

The best way to start what I'm trying to convey is to tell a tale.

Months ago my friends and I went to The Roxy to see Hot Hot Heat, The Deadly Syndrome, and The Shys. It was great, but it was greater than it could have been. I met two members of The Deadly Syndrome (my 2nd favorite indie rock band, next to The Killers) and I still keep in touch with the drummer. I pointed out to my friends this amazingly hot girl by the bar at least 6 years older than me, and later she was all over me (if you don't believe, its cool I hardly did, check my pictures as proof). How did all of this happen? I stayed outside the fray.

I decided to strip myself of all the negativity and nerves that go with everything and be true to myself. I went in wanting to meet The Deadly Syndrome so I did. I went to the gift shop girl and asked her incessantly to see the band. She seemingly blew me off but while Hot Hot Heat was on, Jesse (drummer) tapped me on the shoulder. I freaked out to be honest with you. We talked, (well yelled because Hot Hot Heat was very loud) and I asked him every question I ever wanted to ask about lyrics and my aspirations to be a vocalist and pursue music. He gave me tips and told me way down the line when I'm established I can open for them, barring any complications.

The hot girl comes into play. I told my friends how beautiful she was, and I guess I made it clear from my body language I was talking about her. Then later she came up to me, drunk, and told me how pissed she was at me because I was "talking shit". I was flabbergasted and told her I didn't even know her. Then I realized she thought I was mocking her earlier when I was talking about her. I stayed "Outside the Fray" and went for broke and told her that I was just saying how beautiful she was. The rest can be told in a thousand words by my pictorial evidence.

One of my friends told me they want to go to more shows with me because it was there best time at a club. This made me think that in order to be truly happy in life and with yourself, you need to stay outside the fray and do what you want. Define what it is you need and just accomplish it. It doesn't matter if you get rejected or if someone looks at you weird. What matters is can you look at yourself?

No Regrets

The path we walk
is too short to be retracing our steps.
If that road less traveled
begins to wind,
then walk in the blind.
If you find that light burns out,
find your own way in the dark.
Look to your own star,
we can't all look to the North.

No regrets
and working to regress.
No more looking back
with unfulfilled emotion.
I won't turn my head,
no matter what is said.
Yes this is no regrets.

Go with the wind,
throw caution to it.
There is nothing to be lost
by surviving your own maze.
Take those leaps,
don't fear the fall.

THE SONG FOR A WRONG GOODBYE

I know we've been down this road before
and i'm sure this will end up on the floor.
We're walking down this road unknown,
but we don't have to walk alone.

The more that clock's allowed to talk,
the easier it is to listen
to its logical prayer.
I can't define love,
but I know I feel it.

Patience is a virtue;
one that i don't have.
I could get over you,
but don't let me make that mistake.

You'll never get that happy ending
when you're afraid to turn the page.
This is a warning.
The sirens are wailing.
Evacuate this life
into my arms.

Fight

For the poetry haters out there I got another blog to add to my compendium of vast knowledge that is not in poem form.

I believe we need to all fight more. I in know way mean this in a Fight Club sorta way and start wailing on strangers. I mean it in a fight for what you believe in sorta way. Events in my life recently made me see clearer that people just hold back too much. So many people out there want something but refuse, to what?....That's right, FIGHT.

It could be fighting fears or speaking up to someone and confronting them if they need confrontation. We almost always know what the right thing to do but we are to afraid way to much. If I sound vague, that's because it's different for everybody. I just need to be reminded sometimes that we all have fight in us and it needs to be heard or else you're never really known.

Often times when I (or people like me) speak up and fight, I am told I should have just kept it to myself. These are the kind of people I find pathetic. To quote Maya Angelou,"If you don't stand for something, you will fall for anything." So in your everyday life just try to remind yourself that a little fight is worth the pain. Sometimes that's all we have to rely on to feel alive.

Atheist Prayers

Good night,
rest your head
and recall what was said
as he broke
and spoke
to somebody new.

Fighting dreams of demise
he knew it was wise
to resort to a lie.

With a toss and a turn,
searching for words
to replace what he feels
but refusal to kneel.

Between the sheets
lie the truth
that he had from the start;
he finally heard from his heart,
that life to be lived
and not to be found
by chasing a crown.

So a force to be guided
but never defined
lined the path
he will walk
but won't have to talk.

The Pugilist Pianist

Tale told of two sides
to every tragic ending
to a story that must be told.
Ghost of pleasant past,
reinforcing with every step,
that he fills the footprints
properly placed
on marble tiles and alleyways.
Against ropes
or on the bench,
he exists and persists
on both sides of the coin.

Enter the concert hall.
Know, he does not belong.
Cutting the silence, built in his mind
with a jab
at keys of ivory.
Notes and scales
float around in a composed mind.
Know, he can do nothing else.

Enter through ropes
that divide him.
Spilled into the ring,
until a ring is all that's heard.
Great expectations,
hitting through past vindications.
Without a glove to lean on,
beating the very hands that carry him.

Sold out
to stadiums
to be made idol.
Secretly stable
in his pursuits,
he is made stronger
through isolation.
Know, the perfect persona is
The Pugilist Pianist.

Amantes sunt Amentes

I'm so tired of watching the disease
clutching the cure.
Silhouetted by streetlights,
absent of happiness.
Repressing reaction,
studying what I lacked.
I know I would step down
if he could live up.
He cut into the dance
and they waltzed away,
snatching words from tongue's tip,
made obsolete.
Not spoken since memory serves,
but I'll speak of it no more.
quippe haud etiam quicquam inepte feci

D.E.B.

When the good go young
and leave a son
without possibility to forget,
all that is left is regret.
It does not seem fair
forced to greet with a silent prayer.
I walk alone
to him,
but all I see is stone.

Muse

You are my muse
o not to be confused
with a significant
other than you,
so not to accuse
the power in
just a word not
to abuse
the muse.

Hats off to the muse
and keeping me from losing me.
Inspiration pulls to surface
where people can gawk
and talk
about my time spent
and if its worth theres.

Time passes
and words come from drought
not to be without
the company of the muse
whose so worthy of admiration
but it doesn't know it
so in me we'll show it.

The talent is to the inspired
but the gift is to the inspire
such latent words and phrases
that electrify the
ink through ball point
into the work of
the muse.

The Road to Familiar

Think of thoughts wasted
When she never gave you one.
Leaping out of your shell
And unknowingly jumping into hell.

You are so overrated,
And I wasn't appreciated.
You cut clean, we never fought.
So you wanted what you got.

Bomb dropped
In car
Going in reverse.
And momentum
still can't break the curse.
Oh I try
While you lie
So don't bother angel
I'm fine on the road to familiar.

But now I know
that every feeling of desire
was just fuel to set on fire.
I stopped pleading,
couldn't help the bleeding
Thanks to the venom thats got me healing.