Poem: "The Shock of Your Kiss"

This one's just pretty. Enjoy.

The shock of your kiss
Hit or miss
The shock of your kiss
Next on my list.
The shock of your lips
Pressed against mine
Hands on your hips
Out of my mind. 

The shock of your lies
The lies your eyes told
The shock to my system
Shock to my soul.
The fissure inside 
And hours gone by
The shock to my system
And rain from my eyes.

Poem: "The Man with Night Sweats"

I didn't write this poem, but I really like it. It just shows that you can write a poem about anything, really. Enjoy.

The Man with Night Sweats

I wake up cold, I who

Prospered through dreams of heat   

Wake to their residue,   

Sweat, and a clinging sheet.   

My flesh was its own shield:   

Where it was gashed, it healed.

I grew as I explored   

The body I could trust   

Even while I adored

The risk that made robust,

A world of wonders in

Each challenge to the skin.

I cannot but be sorry

The given shield was cracked,

My mind reduced to hurry,   

My flesh reduced and wrecked.

I have to change the bed,   

But catch myself instead

Stopped upright where I am   

Hugging my body to me   

As if to shield it from   

The pains that will go through me,

         

As if hands were enough   

To hold an avalanche off.

Poem: "Good Will Hunting"

In this one, he don’t go out to L.A. 
In this one, he stays. 
In this one, the oyster has no pearl. 
In this one, he don’t see about a girl. 

He still says, “I don’t love you,” though,  
But drives not out of town
As the names begin to roll
And the sun goes down.

Poem: "You're Not What People Say You Are."

You’re not what people say you are,
You’re so much more than that.
You’re so much better and
So much less.
You’re certainly not the best.

You’re not what people think you are,  
A purveyor of magic spells and death, 
A black cat moving sleekly that
Silently steals your breath. 

You're an empress in a chariot, 
A maiden on the rocks,
A princess in a fairytale,
Or just a drawer of socks. 

Poem: "You Tell Me That You Help the Blind"

You tell me that you help the blind 
But it's all a friggin' joke. 
A rabbit in a hat it is
Some mirrors and some smoke.  
It hurts my head to think about  
How long you've been this way  
Paralyzed and lost, you are,  
And generally afraid  
Of feathers, babies, pillows, candy,  
Water, money, sun  
Of fundamental things in life 
Including love.  
Harsh I am and harsh are these  
Words I have for you.  
But save yourself, forget the blind,  
Then later save them too.

Poem: "Anxiety"

Feeling the full 
Breadth of life 
Is sometimes hard to do
When anxiety stops you. 
Anxiety’s a smog 
Which chokes your heart. 
Anxiety’s a false start.
Anxiety’s the mare
That’s on your chest.
Anxiety, stress,
Anxiety stress.

Fucking anxiety 
What does it do?
It totally fucks with you.
It makes small things hard
And hard things absurd.
It starts with a thought or
Starts with a word.
It starts with a picture
Conjured by fear
It smiles from ear to ear. 

Anxiety, anxiety, anxiety, why?
Why so hard do you fucking try?
I guess God don’t give us
More than we can. 
Still, I’ll take an Ativan. 

Poem: "And Round I Go"

It's so pathetic, 
Sometimes I feel
Like a clown on 
A Ferris Wheel, 
Waving hello 
To the people below, 
Round and round and round I go. 

It's so pathetic, 
Sometimes I am
The shadow of a man, 
Knowing what's right
And doing it not,
Sitting down; I should stand up. 
And round and round and round I go. 

It's so pathetic, 
Sometimes I trust 
In the power of love,
The power to mend, 
Its connection with fate, 
But humans can't regenerate. 
And round and round and round I go. 

"Barter"

Here's a poem I didn't write but like. Enjoy.

"Barter"

Life has loveliness to sell,

     All beautiful and splendid things,

Blue waves whitened on a cliff,

     Soaring fire that sways and sings,

And children's faces looking up

Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,

     Music like a curve of gold,

Scent of pine trees in the rain,

     Eyes that love you, arms that hold,

And for your spirit's still delight,

Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all you have for loveliness,

     Buy it and never count the cost;

For one white singing hour of peace

     Count many a year of strife well lost,

And for a breath of ecstasy

Give all you have been, or could be.

"The Messenger"

A question that two of my friends and I often pose to each other -- friends with whom I occasionally play music -- is this: What song do you wish you wrote? In the past I said "Time of Your Life" by Green Day. I love it for its simplicity and its ability to reach many, many people.

Another song that I wish I wrote is the one below, "The Messenger" by Linkin Park. Again, stupid simple: the song only has four chords, which repeat over and over: G, D, Em, C. The chords honestly couldn't be more easy. But it's not about the chords. The chords are almost an afterthought in this song -- they're just a matrix, a vehicle. The power of the song rests on the lyrics and the vocal performance.

So here it is, "The Messenger," a song I wish I had written.

Poem "She with the Big Heart"

Your Indian name is "She with the Big Heart"
I would agree.
I see it in your eyes
When you look at me
I see a woman who
Has given lots of help
And wants a thing or two 
For herself.
I really hope you get it
She with the heart of gold
I really hope you get it
And happily grow old.

Poem: "A Goodnight Poem"

I’m in bed by 10 again
I’m in bed by 10. 
For what it’s worth 
I’m in my bed
By 10 p.m. again. 

I’ll check this little gadget thing
In my bed at 10.
I’ll scan my room for things to do
Morning when I rise.

I’ll close the light 
And snuggle up
Then look up to the skies
And say goodnight to God at 10
And slowly close my eyes. 

And 10 will turn to 12, then 1
And 1 will turn to 4
And people needing things from me
Will have to wait some more.

Cause I’m in bed and that’s my right
10’s the time for me
To close my eyes and fall away
Gently into sleep. 

Poem: Monday Monday

Monday morning
Rain all day 
Come and blow these clouds away 
Monday morning message to 
A person who
I've long knew
"Tell the truth, is she ill? 
It's time that you 
The beans spill."


And still the rain, and still the rain
Still the rain on window panes
Still this feeling that I've got 
And would rather not. 

Poem: "Humbled"

I keep on being humbled
But I don't want that.
I want to be obnoxious,
I want to be a brat.

But I'm humbled when I
Think of you
And all the pain inside, 
All the times you could've but 
Didn't cry. 
I'm humbled by the storm I saw 
When I'd look in your life; 
Humbled by your wrinkles and 
Humbled by your eyes. 

And I don't want that. 
I want to be an asshole, 
A joker, hard and strong, 
But one can't be
What one is not 
For very long.

Poem: "I Learned"

Even in my darkest times
I learned. 
Even when it burned
I learned. 
Even when my head was spinning
And I wasn’t winning 
And my world was just a blur
I learned. 

Poem "Sunday Morning Poem"

Sunday morning
Waking up
The coffee in
The coffee cup.
This and that
I must do
To keep it all 
Running smooth.

Print this out
And take that there
And don’t forget 
Your underwear. 
And pay them that
And write a note
And don’t forget
To fix your coat.
And don’t forget
To fix a date
And watch the clock
Or you’ll run late. 

Sunday morning 
Much to do
Just to keep it running smooth.

Poem: "Walking Home Along The Alster"

White swan dipping its head into black water
Doesn't bother, shouldn't bother.
Geese alert by the shore
Don't care anymore.
The sound of my footfalls one after the other.
The moon above, hover.
An earnest web of twilight passes its face.
I'm part of this race.

Poem: "This Teacher of Mine Came Alive"

A fun little poem I wrote a few months back.

I once had a teacher who loved Shakespeare.
This teacher had false teeth 
And would use the time between classes
To brush furiously.
She’d tell us of England and Avon; she’d talk of the world-famous Globe,
This teacher had breath like dragons, though,
And clearly was growing old. 
Brush, brush, brush, brush, brush, brush, brush...
Minty fresh, all right. 
This woman was a spinster
And wept alone each night. 
She’d saturate her pillowcase with salty, lonely tears;
She’d been alone so many years
And had only so much fight. 
But say the words, “Ethiop’s ear” or “world’s a stage” or
“Thus, with a kiss I die,” 
And this teacher of mine came alive, all right, 
This teacher of mine came alive.

Who Are You?

I've had this blog now for 13 years. And I tell people, if you ever want to know me, to really know me, or at least know a lot about me, read my blog. 

But truth be told, I don't know who reads this blog. I can see how many people read each post each day -- usually an average of around 10 -- but I don't know who my readers are, who you are.

So I ask you...write a comment below and let me know who you are. Say hi. You see a lot of me. Let me know a little about you.

--Chad

Poem: "Breaking Blue"

I thanked God
That I was still able
To appreciate that sky
Breaking blue
Over the high-rise.

In a crazy room
In a crazy place
You and I once had a chat
And what we said
I won’t forget.

We said there were times
We saw that sky
In all its whirling shades of blue 
And whispered to ourselves 
Through glass, to the world
"Fuck you." 

So I thank God
That I am still able
To appreciate that sky
Breaking blue
Over the high-rise.

Poem: "I Chafe When Non-Authentic"

I chafe when non-authentic.
I chafe when lazy too.
I chafe attempts half-hearted.
I chafe when far from true.

I bristle and I burn and turn
From what’s not really true.
I chafe when non-authentic
So be true.