Letter Of A Car Salesman

The devil concludes on two shoulders
I sit calmly in the middle
I contend with fools
I listen silently all the while they mock me

I deafen my sanity
the band plays loud
They have no idea I have a PHD in their stupidity
and I spit on there superstar misery.

I am a guide to destination zero
A hero of circumstance
I don't need  validation from the circus
I make the art gallery perform

So tell me
I am now amused
I have my hat on.

Let's just take a shot in the dark
Ill take this chance
my heart hangs on a coat rack
in your closet

I'm sitting in the car
letting you drive.

I've never been the passenger.
Lead me into the road
of laughter and shattered windshields

I'm ready

To break the 9-5
of the demons that haunt my day
and the love that haunts my night

a letter of the car salesman
I don't belong here
take me

for a ride.

Fiction

Stories fill the cracks of this letter
and the canvas has paint left to dry

Left with some to reckon
and more to write

this story has been made into fiction
but the storm was the seine  of my transgression

Rogue wave counts as a savior
and ships get lost to sea

where they go
is between you and me.

I travel this road alone.

A captain of my boat

The rewards are weeping.

Not sinking.
There's a punishment for losing heart
and a strength for taking it.

My wisdoms have caught up with me
Like the tide I no longer sleep.

So this tale is not finished
My audience awaits me

Waiting for the next chapter to be written
An account of a compass and her sea.

I

Winter sets in , while it's warm outside
Thought I could change his mind
Oh sweet girl he says , I just needed to fill some time .

My dress and ribbons run red
I'm late for the dance
And I'm alone
They ask for my hand

The piano plays
There's a hundred boys
But you are not here

Tears run down my face
I'm missing cut out hearts
Left in your pocket yesterday

So

I walk with skinned kness
Thought I could maybe change your mind
Thought maybe you could
Love me

But the piano plays ever so quietly as she cries
Cries Herself to sleep

She puts her helmet back on
Oh dear girl , you were just a smile to me ...

Perfect Storm .

I am packed and understated
eyes full- hands disinagrated
words colored , double lined

If I , could I , bleed onto your pages?

I read empty inboxes
blinking alarms and green lenses
are filed away like cards

I can't think of the words
to rhyme with moving
or changing my life....

I can't find the song

and here is the deleted line.


My sail is torn.
My compass drawn

I am lost in your storm

Will you find me out North
or be my rain.

Warcammander is in concession

I'm shaking
my audience is full
She is smiling at the hurricane

Will we survive this?

No sir we won't.

Eulogy Of My Dying Day . Mary Cimmino - My Beautiful Grandmother

Grandmother,


I can't believe you are gone.

I was just 5 when I sat on your white marble sink and you curled my hair for mass on Sunday morning.

I was just 7 when you took me to Macy's to buy the most beautiful skirt a little girl could dream of.

I was 7 half stealing those delicious cookies out of the cookie jar, and even though you said only one Amers... I know you put them in their for our visit .

When I was 12 and almost died you were there when I got in my terrible accident.

When I was 18 you made sure I went to college.

When I was 20 I remember you were the best grandma to my newly born son Austin,
he played in your crib you set out for him at your house.

Your house was always a home to us grandma . You always made sure we had what we needed and gave us so much love.
you never asked for anything in return as far as I could remember.

When I grew older you told me to find the right man for my children. And I promised I would.

I sit now at your bed side knowing you will pass soon, and your smiling.
Can you imagine dying ?

I can't.

She was not crying.

She was smiling. Just looking at all of us around her. She couldn't say much, but her smile said it all.
As she grasped for words I grabbed her hand and I knew how much you loved me grandma.

I tried to think of a poem to write or a story. But I could not. How could I write about my love for you.

Thank you for loving us in all our flaws, thank you for loving my babies. Thank you for your strength and wisdom.
And most of all thank you for your smile that always entered first in a room.

-Amy

Gaurds

Post a mask over iris
I have you as a ghost
I can't hide
I try

hidden under an army of good byes

I laugh at your hello
and smile at your good night.

I write the story
I scream inside

No one will ever read it
But it's mine.

I love your smile
and that's ok.

because you changed my light
inside dark eyes

It's something worth believing
head in the clouds
Hands in my pocket

with one wish left...

Its what you left me with.

Miles

This is my memoir
I am waiting for the way-
to show me the road I have never seen before

The one I have never traveled
Who can show me?

I sit in the crowd ?

amongst the mundane.

Waiting
Looking for super hero's and Whitman's in the rain.
nothing impresses me.

I've seen it all before.

I play the piano differently
but you have to be able to hear my song
to understand me .

It's midnight
the coffee is cold and my words are long

My lips are puffy and my conversation odd

but I will not search
I just sit here and play the song.

I see you across the way
you have my smile.

Whether you can here me play or not.
I may never know.

But this one's for you kid.
A million miles away and all...

The Story

I crave the numbness of the 9-5
heroin tracks of emotion are left on ring fingers
with nothing left but a gun.

I walk into magazine add but less gloss and more spread
changing the way I read and leaving photograph's instead.

Never got me far I say.

Tell me sir,

If I was beautiful why don't they stay?

I change the station
music plays

I am reminded of your bourbon smile- perfect face
I sob silently

I belong no- where
nothing tames me

yet nothing calls my name -

Alice I say.

Holding picture frame.


You will never know the secret

I will never tell

Unless you find her.

But no one has, have they.

Buried under time,
in the 9-5.

searching for something more.
looking for the No.

Flight

There is a pillow for a cape
she is so brave
she wears a smile
not so beautiful, I say

the boys they line up one by one
but they wont remember her name

"she cry's alone" she says.

She sets the stage
the audience has no idea
the audience has no care

she is the hero for the day
no one here to save her day

cast a funny shaped smile for you
tired and broken framed

She sits alone
Anastasia waits
Like Alice and there is no train

Tell me


What is real?

I have a conversation with the red baron
I dare him to set sail

And I watch him fly far away.

There is trouble

on the horizon

Who will know her name ?