Old Poems... dated between 3/27/09 and 4/16/09

When I found myself atop the podium,
my withered and weak voice rang, yet quivered;
struck a few notes, that are best left unscathed.

As I stumbled away in a whirlwind of doubt,
I assured myself recognition of my efforts,
would surely be left up in a vapor amongst the clouds.
Above our heads, I find myself there frequently.

So as my feet guide its way back to the surface.
I'll be as a real as your pal, Jesus Christ.
Returning from the sky, miraculously...
My second stint, with my feet on Earth,
my head will remain out of orbit,
and within reach of my arms, but not quite,
on my shoulders.

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I tip toe around the cracks in the sidewalk.
Ants, careful and robotic by nature, circumnavigate the entire obstruction.
My toes won't get stuck, no twisted phalanges for me.
My eyes are on it like a hawk, but won't tell my brain how to act.
I trip and fall, the guidance was not adequate.


When i saw that old rusty bicycle
as familiar as they are,
i forgot the standard operation.
As I fell straight on my face
even the ants, minute and irrelevant
arrived in herds to assess the damage,
I heard a child cry as I scraped my knee.
he felt my pain, and knew I withheld.
Valuable information, clues of my existence.
Where did I go when I forgot my means.
I thought I left it right under the door mat.


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my ever revolving thoughts fade in and out of focus.
the skies were clear and perhaps the unhindered rays singed my flesh a bit. today, i and the birds will retreat.
how do the neurons jumble themselves, intertwined, thus
inoperative. receptors not receiving and no ones even giving out a clue.