writing as if
tomorrow will
never come
leaving nothing
unsaid
not even sure
this is possible
if there is
more to give
you will have it
all I want
is a chance
to know
what kind of love
it takes
to give myself
to another
(D. James)
can’t eat
can’t sleep
can’t stop thinking
of you
waiting for a call
e-mail
chat
text
something
to let me know
you’re thinking
of me
when I’m thinking
of you
knowing
it’s no good
being like this
but doing it
anyway
’cause there are
no answers
only questions
so why not ask
the same one
over and over
(D. James)
to live
for a great love
something imagined
but never attained
a moment
in time
regained
an improbable
second chance
do you defy
the odds?
or is it all
rash insanity
fools folly
destined
to self-destruct
in the end
do we care?
not if we are driven
by our desire
think
this is our
destiny
perhaps then
we make it so
or burn in the fire
set so long ago
suddenly too close
(D. James)
I look for you
or the virtual
approximation
of you
the pull
so strong
the emotional
distance bridged
through half-sentences
in a tiny window
we abbreviate
and emoticon
our way through
complex emotions
rooted in a past
long before
any of this technology
existed
years go by
and then suddenly
you are there again
always reconnecting
always
at the wrong time
perhaps we had
our chance
back then
and it won’t
come around again
wishing
it were any other way
won’t make it so
but I still try
(D. James)
wanting
someone
who gets the feeling
of all those words
in all those songs
like I do
someone fearless
who knows
the difference
between
pain and suffering
creating or courting
neither
but knowing
what it means
to feel deeply
to ache
to revel
in the glory
of being known
by another
like no other
to miss
the one you love
(D. James)
I want
to write
on the walls
spell out
all the
ideas
emotions
color
outside the lines
black pen markings
beginning in one corner
not stopping until I’ve planned out my whole fucking life
filling ten rooms with the words of my mind
the work of my soul
not stopping until it is all out of me
like some monster some wild thing
only then can I lay down to sleep
knowing when I wake it will all
still be there
but exposed out in the open
nothing to hide
(D. James)
so much
I don’t
understand
used to think
I knew everything
or could
at least
fake it
now
I don’t know
is often
my answer
but I’ll make something up
if it makes you feel better
(D. James)
wanting
to be lost
in a look
hands
on
skin
mouth
on
mouth
feel your
heat
wishing
it were
more than
this
but taking
what I can
get
(D. James)
you know
what I mean
when we talk
about the pain
how it keeps
you up
at night
and all the talk
doesn’t help
there is no cure
for being human
we either
feel it
or resist
it’s all the same
in the end
(D. James)
phone calls
text messages
and no one
gets back
what to do
feeling disconnected
feeling like no one’s
out there
feeling like no one
wants me
it’s only a thought
they’re all just busy
right now
in an hour
everyone
will call back
at once
and I’ll have
3 voice mails
and 5 text
messages
while trying
to get through
to my sister
in Tucson
to say
I love you
(D. James)
don’t know what
to do
with these feelings
when the woman
you love says
it doesn’t mean anything
like your love
doesn’t matter
like you
don’t
matter
it isn’t what she means
it’s just how it sounds
to you
in the moment
as she says goodbye
for the last time
what do you do
knowing she’s already
calling another man
lover
do you give in
to the rage
let it consume you
or can you find a way
to let it all go
as if it really
doesn’t matter
(D. James)
I’m so good
at making it all
about me
that even when
you think you’re
talking about you
it’s still about me
do you do that too
or is it just me?
(D. James)
there is something
and yet … and yet
a look
in the eye
something
or something
I made up
how
do you know
ten thousand
subtle seconds
and you only have
a moment to act
am I
the only one
who notices this
(D. James)
when it chews
you up
and spits
you out
lie there
a while
scream the rage
cry the sorrow
until it is
out of you
completely
then
gently
pick
yourself
up
and go on
(D. James)
alone
in a room
darkness
of your soul
moment
of madness
you rage
and cry out
“what does
it all mean?”
like a wave
it crashes
over you
washes
everything
away
then subsides
you are left
standing
with nothing
and now
you can begin
(D. James)
Doing
what needs
doing
being
right where
you are
Nothing broken
nothing to fix
even when
the world
seemingly tells
you so
Just remember
that everything
everything
changes
(D. James)
Thinking
of giving up
packing it in
leaving
Always looking
for support
someone to prop me up
or just lean me
against a wall
Feeling like
it’s never
gonna be enough
Swimming
in a pool
of self-pity
not wanting
to take
responsibility
wondering how
everyone else
seems to do it
so why
can’t I
(D. James)
When the night
is over
and the final
cigarette
has been smoked
what will
the last poet
say
After all
the evoked emotion
failed relationships
dead boyfriends
abortions
abusive parents
drugs and alcohol
laughter
and pain
have been spilled
out
in some cases
artfully vomited
what could
this last poet
have to say
How to summarize
this night
these words
life sentences
bad grammar
poetic license
driven to excess
How to follow
the girl who told
of losing all her hair
the guy who
crashed his car
the gay biker
who longs
to be dominated
by a she-wolf
of the SS
the boy
who lost
his virginity
so late
the girl
who lost hers
so early
the words
of so many
who want change
yet stay
right where they are
What can this last
motherfucker
have to say
that can top the
triumphs
tragedies
surprises
sorrows
What will
the last poet
leave us with
as we file
out of this
basement grotto
into the light
of dawn
Do we expect
too much
as he steps to the microphone
the crowd
too drunk
to hush
even the white
of the spot light
seems a bit dingy
as he steps into it’s shaft
The last poet
will speak the
last poem
and we will leave
to sleep it off
Whatever he says
will be the final word
so our expectations
are far too high
The last poet
poor fucker
has nowhere to go
but down
unless he’s more genius
than genius itself
more brilliant
than all of us
The last poet
clears his throat
touches his lips
to the mic
the wait
has us spellbound
and half-hopeful
Even so
when we wake
in the afternoon
hungover and
full of piss
will we remember
any of this
(D. James)
autumn …
things begin
to die
the start
before the start
of next spring
the end
of this
the beginning
of that
life
is
a
circle
a cycle,
there are
no straight lines
which may be why
it feels as if
we’ve been here before
(D. James)
can’t write my way
out of this
tomorrow
brings more
of the same
like a rat
on a wheel
being aware
doesn’t seem
to make it
any easier
though I keep
hope alive
(D. James)
In a struggle
of the mind
wanting to make
it out to be more
than it is
just a bunch
of thought
none of it
true
or all that
powerful
except when
I make it so
and so often
I do
more thought
doesn’t solve
anything
only action
gets me
out of my head
and into
the world
(D. James)
having thoughts
about thoughts
that I thought up
last night
thoughts I’ve thought
a long time
new thoughts think
the old ones should
make room
but the old thoughts
think they know best
then there’s the thought
that all this thinking
isn’t getting us anywhere
I don’t even know
what to think
about that
(D. James)
I don’t say
what’s on
my mind
When
it’s all
shit
So keep
my mouth
shut
Because
always
everyone
wants to help
And sometimes
I just need to be
where I’m at
Got it?
(D, James)
how many things
don’t I know?
of all the things
in the wide world
which I know
a fraction of a fraction
of a percent
how many things
do you know?
all thoughts
all languages
from the beginning
how we think
we know
anything at all
is beyond me
(D. James)
spitting venom
out of fear
attacking
like a cornered
dog
to a threat
that is not there
unable
unwilling
to see any other
option
words meant
to cut
to hurt
to bleed you
all so you
won’t go away
or
to make you prove
what you say
(D. James)
Bourbon and cigarettes
late-night hookers
down dark alleys
What doesn’t kill me
costs more than
just money
Turning fantasy into reality
shaking with adrenaline
getting kicks from anticipation
feeling more powerful
than any man should
Someday
I’ll get off
this merry-go-round
but I can’t seem to find
“someday” on the calendar
Maybe it falls on
February 30th
two-thousand-and-never
(D. James)
(for Ian A.)
What if the old man
isn’t wandering or lonely
What if he has
all the answers
and knows it’s pointless
to say anything
Now who do you
feel sorry for?
(D. James)
The choices
we make
define our lives
Saying this
but doing that
Wanting one thing
then following another
Looking for some truth
beyond ourselves
when all the time
it’s right where
we left it
In our wallet
next to the photograph
of the one we love
(D. James)
If I did
as I was told
twist and shout
rattle and hum
would it be annoying
or would you come
along
If I did
as I was told
there’d be
no poetry
at least not
from me
If I did
as I was told
I might remember
to care
that everyone
has an opinion
and some are quick
to share
If I did
as I was told
If only I ever
did as I was told
(D. James)
The truth is …
God has no religion
(D. James)
If I told you
I wrote this
for the sake
of writing it
Made it up
just now as
the words for
their meaning
and nothing
more
Would it hold
weight …
respond to gravity?
Or do we have
to assign some other
definition to make it
a poem,
something greater
than what it is?
(D. James)
