new poem (untitled)Friday, July 9, 2010 at 9:43AMi am the one who has been enabled

i am the one who is unstable

i am the one who wants to be

beyond Cane & Able.

i want so much, to feel less, and walk with the rest.

but it is not my fate to be so straight,

as those who i try to emulate.

terminus vesuviousWednesday, September 9, 2009 at 3:27PM

terminus vesuvious

it lays in wait for days and days.and I walk awayand I walk away

every know and thenI feel the slight rumblingsof what lies beneath.and I move forward,and keep my sight seton the horizon of myprecarious nature.

for vesuvious is known tobe fatal.and even it’s rumblingsfrighten those close to me

and the hand that holds pencil and paper so delicately.is the hand who has wrapped it’s enraged fingers around amost delicate and beautiful throat.

and so I traverse the terrain ofmy own mount vesuvious withmuch trepidation.as I reflect on past eruptionsand the dying embers of pastrelations, now forever lost to me.

and so I continue to climbmy personal vesuvious.and I peer into the heartof my own darkness.

terminus vesuviousWednesday, September 9, 2009 at 3:27PM

terminus vesuvious

it lays in wait for days and days.and I walk awayand I walk away

every know and thenI feel the slight rumblingsof what lies beneath.and I move forward,and keep my sight seton the horizon of myprecarious nature.

for vesuvious is known tobe fatal.and even it’s rumblingsfrighten those close to me

and the hand that holds pencil and paper so delicately.is the hand who has wrapped it’s enraged fingers around amost delicate and beautiful throat.

and so I traverse the terrain ofmy own mount vesuvious withmuch trepidation.as I reflect on past eruptionsand the dying embers of pastrelations, now forever lost to me.

and so I continue to climbmy personal vesuvious.and I peer into the heartof my own darkness.

and having reached the top,the mystery is not revealed.and so I descend from myown intermittent eruptions.

and I walk down the streetwith a new sense of wonder.

and I walk down the streetwith the memory of havingpeered intomy mount vesuvious.

keller | 1 Comment | Share Article

Reader Comments (1)

and the hand that holds pencil and paper so delicately.is the hand who has wrapped it’s enraged fingers around amost delicate and beautiful throat

June 24, 2010 | christina

keep your mama up all nightSaturday, August 1, 2009 at 10:01AMkeep your mama up all nighti'm tired of people doing the best they cani'm tired of people letting me down again.

so i stay up late because it's my fatei can't hesitate and fall beneath the substrate.

and so you look inside and all you see is an empty man, holding grains of sand

and you stay up late doing the best you can.

if everSaturday, August 1, 2009 at 10:00AMif everif ever there was a one who never cared.if ever there was a one who was never heard.if ever there was a one who was not part of the herd.if ever there was a one who was talked about.if ever there was a one who has walked about.if ever forever if ever there could be someone clever.it would be me.

keller | Post a Comment | Share Article

approach happinessSaturday, July 18, 2009 at 3:13PM

you skate past it

you skate against it

you skate right up to it

you skate around it

and you forever repeat the

figure 8 of your mistakes

and as you round the bend

and it fades in your rearview mirror

you cycle past and you cycle thru

and the air becomes still

and your breath is light

and the happiness is not on the outward

rim of your figure 8

it's at the twist

the twist of fate

that makes us skate

keller | Post a Comment | Share Article

misplaced faceWednesday, August 12, 2009 at 8:42AMremember thisremember you,remember me,remember what used to be?

empty pocketsempty locketswith lost keepsakesof yesteryear.things we clung toothings we tried to keep near.the misplaced forgotten facesoccupying empty spaceslost forever without traces ofregretful remorseful sullen faces

nakednessSaturday, July 11, 2009 at 4:58PM

i'm a writer and i've

lost my way....

if the words could leap off

the page....

if i could express the

reason movies are so popular

if i could express the

reason fast food is so affordable

if i could express the turmoil

in my own life.....

you would begin to glimpse

you would begin to graspe

you would begin to see,

you would begin to see

that which is me......

!

in all my naked glory

in all my naked shame

in all my nakedness...

!

so look inside and

look wide and look

deep and look high

and look low

and....

you will begin to

see the nakedness that

is me.

!

nakednessSaturday, July 11, 2009 at 4:58PM

i'm a writer and i've

lost my way....

if the words could leap off

the page....

if i could express the

reason movies are so popular

if i could express the

reason fast food is so affordable

if i could express the turmoil

in my own life.....

you would begin to glimpse

you would begin to graspe

you would begin to see,

you would begin to see

that which is me......

how heavy the silence hangs (unfinished)Wednesday, August 4, 2010 at 11:00PMhow heavy the silence hangs

i wake in the morning and stir a cup of coffeethe clink of the spoon and the glass is what greetsme

start the shower and layout clothes for the daymy own smile greets me in the mirrorand i tell myself good morning

this is the silence i have grown accustomed toothis is the silence that begins and ends my days

how heavy the silence hangs

i walk through the silence and say pleasantriesas i maneuver the heaviness to and fro so as notto get caught as if it were a pendulum of sharpenedsteel waiting for me to overlook it's sway

keller | Post a Comment | Share Articlein poetry

SundayOct242010

tow trucks and broken glassesSunday, October 24, 2010 at 4:50PMtow trucks and broken glasses

cab rides and broken buckles

altercations and bruised knuckles

bitter ex’s and pissed girlfriends

courtrooms and thumbprints

dockets and processwooden benches and wasted time.resets and blue papersand so it goes,my year slowly passesand I cover the bruises of my heartwith new pants and t-shirts and coats.and perhaps the more I cover it upand the more I bury myself under amountain of retail therapy.the less I have to deal with my ownbrokenness and the less I have todeal with the denials of the present.

and so I sit here in the crisp morningair trying to find my reset button.turn me offstart me over

rewrite my presentrevise my endingturn down a different streetand walk thru this distasteful presentinto a brighter more peaceful future.

luxury is my natural habitatSaturday, July 11, 2009 at 4:45PM

luxury is my natural habitat

i live in the present

unconcerned about the

trivial unpleasentries of

mortals

i walk in the sun most

everyday,

full of overshare and

undercare and none oh

none of that most banal

aftercare.....

it's me of my own

choosing and me of my

own musing.....

hither and yonder

and over and under

for you it's up and at em'

and race home and gobble it

up....

for me it's slumber and wonder

filled with no commute and no

traffic cam and certainly no

canned yams....

set the table

load the dishwasher

stop and pick up some milk

oh please

this is not the life for me

i'm dancing thru the lyrical

prose and sniffing out the

most pungent of rose.

keller | 1 Comment | Share Article

Reader Comments (1)

Babe this is my favorite so far! Love ya

September 6, 2009 | nina

Entries in poetry (12)ThursdayJan072010

coldest moonThursday, January 7, 2010 at 12:03AMIt was there, on the coldest of moons

That I danced with clutched daffodils

And the freest of wills

Set forth as one cursed

To the strictest of ills

And the wantonness of psychiatric pills.

And in such resides my solace,

my purgatory and my abandon

forever shamed by my own regalia

of things less seen and adorned by a

will less felt.

sheathingWednesday, August 11, 2010 at 3:18PMi sheathed myself in words of no consequencei prepared my lyrical armor as one with bootson the ground and gun in hand.

my words were non threatening and dumbed down for non consumption

and my words walked ahead of me to clear myway as i negotiated my day.they took me out into the cold of winterand they misted me as i played in the augustheat

and i was so careful with the words i choseone must not alert those with intellect lessfortunate, as to become suspect.

the micro short and twitter!blameThursday, August 27, 2009 at 7:53AMokay so i have just written my first micro short story for the npr writing competition.! the story could only be 600 words maximum, and had to begin with the sentence "the nurse left at 5 o'clock in the morning.! so off i went down the road of existential expression and furiously wrote my first micro short story.! This really spurred me on to thinking about the alleged fragmented constantly updated socialized media network we call society.! I'm not on conservative talk radio so i will not start vehemently reacting to everything in the media, but i digress.! I am only posing the question, are all these micro blogs, micro texts and micro shorts ruining the written word? Is a 140 characters enough to express yourself! word count so far 126!

so here is my first micro short:

the nurse left the at 5 o'clock heaving a sigh of relief as she dashed to her car.the patients, the doctor's, the morphine drip, exposed veins, unkept promises.she managed another sigh of quiet desperation as she started the car.! the drive home usually dragged on, her flight to the suburbs never came soon enough, but tonight was different.needles, nurse's rounds, morphine drip.

Morning comes early in the medical profession. Much to prepare for, Much to oversee. Take the pulse, check the dose, ease the pain, these are the nurse's domain.She quietly shuts the cabinet door and begins her morning rounds.

"Good morning Mr. Elliott, and how are we doing today?""No better than yesterday" he grunted in his usual curmudgeonly way.And in her ever so polite voice she responds so motheringly "Well let me see what we can do to ease your pain.""Don't stick me again with that needle! I'm not some pin cushion. I'm a human being! You people tend to forget this when I'm lying here with tubes running every which way." I'm just a piece of meat with a price tag he thought to himself."There you go Mr. Elliott, a fresh morphine drip to ease your pain. Just press the buzzer if you need anything."Morphine drips, loose lips, doctor's slips.She continues on to her next patient, all the while trying to suppress how Mr. Elliott reminds her of her own father and how his most simplest of responses catapults her back to an unsavory past.! Why didn't it happen yesterday?! What went wrong?the dose, the setting, the morphine drip.It's funny how we march through life diligently covering up the past.! Until one day we've marched to the end of the line, and we look up and we are forced to stand at attention.! We stand at the crossroads. The crossroads is an interesting place.! Ahead of us many futures behind us only one past.

"Good Morning Mr. Elliott""Good Morning Sarah, How are you?""I'm fine Mr. Elliott, What are you doing?"He looks down at Sarah affectionately, then continues to weed the garden."Can I help" she asks in a sweet lilting voice."Of Course darling"morphine drips, needles, nurse' s rounds.

Suddenly Sarah is jolted back into the present by the nurses buzzer from Mr. Elliott's room.She turns around immediately and stares down the hallway.! Instinct from a thousand intern's nights takes over and she rushes in the room.! The sound of his heart monitor is deafening,His dry cracked lips are gasping for air.! She leans forward. She grasps his hand.Morphine drips, doctor's slips, a needles nip.she fondly caresses his forehead and whispers in his ear."That's it Mr. Elliott, Tend to the garden. The sun is high and bright and we will have fresh tomatoes tonight."

subway jibber jabberMonday, July 6, 2009 at 1:24PMgood enough to record,but not good enough totip.

here’s 3 dollars.

that’s stealing art.hey your in a public place,no it’s not stealing cocksucker!

I’ve got 4 cd’s out.well then, get out of the subway.

and the doors close and I moveon to my destination.a little southern and a little new York.

ugly guysThursday, June 10, 2010 at 3:26PMwhite shirts and bad ties pleated pants and black eyesoh my god if i should cry please don't wipe my eyes.for if ever i was as cleveras an old used beer lever icould never end up pent uppost up fucked upover stuffedgiddy up what the fuck?

can’t wait can’t stayThursday, July 2, 2009 at 4:07PMit's not okayand i can't stay.

and your machismo gives you away...so walk away that's right walk away from what you knowstep into the abiss and fall and falland it's not okay

so don't let go and clutch at the crutchesof your present because you live in an uncertainfuture and you life is lost in the boondocks.

there is no train for you to jump on. your a vagabond with nowhere to go.....

and it's not okay

so move on so move forward

so think for another dayand yearn for the place where you want to stay...

it's only your life and it's ephemeral and it terminatesand you don't know why and you don't know when you only know it's coming round the bend.

curioWednesday, July 8, 2009 at 8:27AMIn the heat of the day.walk up main street it feels peculiar,it’s a small texas town,with local texas wines.we dart in and out ofquaint little curio shopswhere I see so much of what fills so many houses.I collect thimbles,I collect little porcelain elephants.What do you collect?Where does this urge tosurround ourselves with things rise from?

witticismsThursday, May 6, 2010 at 4:23AMi'm much like paul McCartney in that i love talking about paul McCartney. mrk 2010

.............................................

..........................

......

..........................

.............................................

where is space girl?

i need a little space girl?

oh maybe not a little space girl.

but a whole lotta space girl......

mrk 2010

................

we are dancing on the rings of Saturn and your stuck in UrAnus. mrk 2010

SundayOct242010

community supervisionSunday, October 24, 2010 at 4:50PM

community supervision

walk thruwork thrusit thrufeel thrufor you

gangsta shortsgreen prison tatssame stale smell ofthe waiting roomhum of the vending machinecreaking chairs and impatient faceswaddling footstepsand juggling cell phonesrough thugs andstrung out girlfriendsfill the room.what’s your spin #?have a seat pee in a cuppay your fine and your free to go.see ya next month.

keller | Post a Comment | Share Articlein poetry

future didThursday, January 7, 2010 at 12:04AMfor me the future did not slap one in the face.

rather it was much like a slow dance between

lost lovers ever doomed to a breathless walk

on a cold lunar surface.

It’s from here that my personal heresy evolved.

I need not swoon nor fear human shortcomings to

weave a tale of freedom and abandon

And so it is here that our story begins…

In the mind of an insomniac and fearful geriatric,

So find Monday and swallow your pills,

For here is the taste of nightingales

And Christian wills, forever alone on the

Cold mountains of forgotten swales far beyond

Frigid moons and fruitless beacons,

Of thine,

Infinitely catapulted

Into lifeless places.

For mine is the future of comfortable faces

transposed among wretched mazes,

and the most aspiring and deepest of traces,

in the bleakest of spaces.

And thru this forgotten lore

One rises out and shines forth

And Is forgotten no more.

keller | Post a Comment | Share Articlein poetry

Page 1 2 Next 10 Entries »

future didThursday, January 7, 2010 at 12:04AMfor me the future did not slap one in the face.

rather it was much like a slow dance between

lost lovers ever doomed to a breathless walk

on a cold lunar surface.

It’s from here that my personal heresy evolved.

I need not swoon nor fear human shortcomings to

weave a tale of freedom and abandon

And so it is here that our story begins…

In the mind of an insomniac and fearful geriatric,

So find Monday and swallow your pills,

For here is the taste of nightingales

And Christian wills, forever alone on the

Cold mountains of forgotten swales far beyond

Frigid moons and fruitless beacons,

Of thine,

Infinitely catapulted

Into lifeless places.

For mine is the future of comfortable faces

transposed among wretched mazes,

and the most aspiring and deepest of traces,

post new entryadd page header add page footerSundayOct242010

boxesSunday, October 24, 2010 at 4:52PMmodify remove organize post follow upboxes

and I’m so worried about what you sayand I’m so worried about what you think

and you have to put me in a boxand leave me on a shelf

and you’re comfortable and your world makes sense

and I don’t fit in that boxand you know this

and so you try a different boxand for a while

I seem to fit

and for a while

it seems to work

and then the box starts to sag from my weightand the walls start to bend

and I don’t fit in that box either

and so I sit on the shelf exposed for the world to see

and my life is wonderful wild and free

post new entryadd page header add page footerSundayOct242010

boxesSunday, October 24, 2010 at 4:52PMmodify remove organize post follow up

boxes

and I’m so worried about what you sayand I’m so worried about what you think

and you have to put me in a boxand leave me on a shelf

and you’re comfortable and your world makes sense

and I don’t fit in that boxand you know this

and so you try a different boxand for a while

I seem to fit

and for a while

it seems to work

and then the box starts to sag from my weightand the walls start to bend

and I don’t fit in that box either

and so I sit on the shelf exposed for the world to see

and my life is wonderful wild and free

grassSaturday, July 11, 2009 at 5:09PM!

and all i hear are the tears,

i never knew what a symphony

they possess,

i never knew

the jarring reality they

convey

!

so i sit !!

and

so i listen

and

so i wish

for quieter!

guests and!

more fruitful

visits.....

!

but they dont' come

and they dont' visit

and so i sit and so

i visit....

!

and things don't!

change...

!

and i rhyme meaningless

words with vanessa

montaingne....

things move forward...

and i wish for silent!

neighbors and empty

coffee bars....

well life is short,!

and movies are passing

and i live my life with

3d goggles and imax futures.

so i sit

and so i listen

and

so i petition!

that which is beyond

and that which i cannot grasp

and i mow and i mow

and i mow the grass......

!

gen!x'ersMonday, October 25, 2010 at 7:42AM

!(1/2) we are a nation of sleepers who have forgotten our dreams

!!!!!!!!! our beds are too comfy

!!!!!!!!! our pillows too soft

!!!!!!!!! these are the dream killers!

(2/2)they don't arrive with guns

but rather with comfort food and lazy afternoons!!!

within our dreams lies the promise of a generation...!

and the generation is lost and full of entitlement and empty hands............!

hands whose gifts often fall away from their sight succumb to the wrongs they come to know as right.