OCEANS ABLAZE

A COLLECTION OF POEMS BY TIM DODDERIDGE

Dedicated to Michael Tahmasian

From the Watchtower

I was called to help before the clocks even began tickingAnd the telephone rang with hints of a community in needMy answer came in the hands of those who wanted to hold mineBut didn’t have the palm strengthThe world’s balance was incomplete with their hearts out of syncAnd that’s where I came in, trying my best to even things outIt brought me to realize my neighbors’ suffering was equal to mineIn the darkness, we see light the sameSometimes, I just feel I’m more reserved on who I share the brightness

withFor that, I’ve learned to love them as myselfAs it’s not just orphans, widows, and foreigners who understand painBut all of those who know what it’s like to grow in His mercyEveryone with the common chance that unitesFor struggle is lurking within all of usAnd my neighbors and I may be different, but our condition is the sameHuman nature pulls us apartBut we’re put on this planet to bring those same forces togetherWhich is why I’m drawn to them when gravity makes their dreams fallTheir nightmares are sky-high when their heads aren’t in the cloudsBut when we’re pushed away from happiness, we can be completed by

hopeThe undying victory from aboveAnd even if I don’t see it, I see itIf pure hope is too much, then I never knew what was not enoughI just gave and gave until there was nothing left of who I was except YouA son’s proper noun in an improper world, capitalizing the emptiest of

incomesAnd I salute my savior with none other than my open armsSome raise them to the sky, I use them to craft things from the ground

up

From the Watchtower

I was called to help before the clocks even began tickingAnd the telephone rang with hints of a community in needMy answer came in the hands of those who wanted to hold mineBut didn’t have the palm strengthThe world’s balance was incomplete with their hearts out of syncAnd that’s where I came in, trying my best to even things outIt brought me to realize my neighbors’ suffering was equal to mineIn the darkness, we see light the sameSometimes, I just feel I’m more reserved on who I share the brightness

withFor that, I’ve learned to love them as myselfAs it’s not just orphans, widows, and foreigners who understand painBut all of those who know what it’s like to grow in His mercyEveryone with the common chance that unitesFor struggle is lurking within all of usAnd my neighbors and I may be different, but our condition is the sameHuman nature pulls us apartBut we’re put on this planet to bring those same forces togetherWhich is why I’m drawn to them when gravity makes their dreams fallTheir nightmares are sky-high when their heads aren’t in the cloudsBut when we’re pushed away from happiness, we can be completed by

hopeThe undying victory from aboveAnd even if I don’t see it, I see itIf pure hope is too much, then I never knew what was not enoughI just gave and gave until there was nothing left of who I was except YouA son’s proper noun in an improper world, capitalizing the emptiest of

incomesAnd I salute my savior with none other than my open armsSome raise them to the sky, I use them to craft things from the ground

up

Hoping that the structures reach Heaven somedayThis community is my building, holding me in, holding my sinsAnd I have the responsibility to renovate its internal organsSo the church music isn’t out of key to the heart it beats toFrom the pews, I sing with adoration for a King, and long to fulfill my

wishesNot for me, but for my neighbors and HimFor a Kingdom isn’t complete with me, only without meAs I can’t survive and perfect a world that’s already so uglyIt’s just too much for someone who can’t look himself in the mirrorI just end up cracking the glass due to my lack of sanityBut doesn’t love just make us all a little crazy sometimes?

For the Sake of Saint

Am I the patron saint of lost causesOr am I just trying to save what’s left of this place?Because I’ve found more than I’ve missed inside this vesselA ship about to sink, but kept afloat by some pint of graceTo me, it’s just a miracle that we all haven’t drownedBut water overflows my lungs with my own tearsAs I feel the pain of a thousand misguided soulsStranded at sea with God on the edge of the banksBut with their hearts on their sleeves, they only gain the worldNot something grander in the grand scheme of thingsI longed for their acceptance to fill the gaps in my lifeBut their compassion spoke only in secretsThat’s before I learned love is more than a poemAnd less than the silent hearts that bleed and bleedThe emotions are simple, our bodies are complexOn the inside, these feelings are all that we have to giveAs we are filthy tax collectors, blessed by Saint MatthewBut stuck inside our shallowness to pass the timeStill, these advocates of heavenly peace aren’t enoughEven I end up lost within the depths of His kingdomBecause sometimes it’s change that we long to ignoreThinking that God will grant us strength for a cheap priceOr that He’s not the cause but the effectBut if He’s the effect, then who’s to blame for the past?Indulgences couldn’t repay for what we’ve doneBut it still managed to do soWe’re still here

Lawrence

For the Sake of Saint

Am I the patron saint of lost causesOr am I just trying to save what’s left of this place?Because I’ve found more than I’ve missed inside this vesselA ship about to sink, but kept afloat by some pint of graceTo me, it’s just a miracle that we all haven’t drownedBut water overflows my lungs with my own tearsAs I feel the pain of a thousand misguided soulsStranded at sea with God on the edge of the banksBut with their hearts on their sleeves, they only gain the worldNot something grander in the grand scheme of thingsI longed for their acceptance to fill the gaps in my lifeBut their compassion spoke only in secretsThat’s before I learned love is more than a poemAnd less than the silent hearts that bleed and bleedThe emotions are simple, our bodies are complexOn the inside, these feelings are all that we have to giveAs we are filthy tax collectors, blessed by Saint MatthewBut stuck inside our shallowness to pass the timeStill, these advocates of heavenly peace aren’t enoughEven I end up lost within the depths of His kingdomBecause sometimes it’s change that we long to ignoreThinking that God will grant us strength for a cheap priceOr that He’s not the cause but the effectBut if He’s the effect, then who’s to blame for the past?Indulgences couldn’t repay for what we’ve doneBut it still managed to do soWe’re still here

Suicidal tendencies and bar visits leave us emptyBut those scraps of paper were just as hollow as our hypocrisyWithout your warmth to heat us through the coldest nightsWe couldn’t act in regression from what you taught us to believeAnd that’s all those around me ever strived for anywaySomething grander for themselves than for somebody elseEven if that person gave us the choice to do what we wantFree will being the posterchild of His beautiful giftsWe grew up and the prime example went awayAnd today the four posters of this bed cry of future regretsFor what was done in exchange for false feelings last SaturdayIt’s enough to know that choices make us who we areThough without Him, we can’t take anything besides what we’ve gotA lifesaver or a life vest of our requestBut only one will pull us to shoreLight surrounds the hillside in this blurry springAnd thanks to people like me, the fall back into darkness is easyAs I curse those who I pray for every single rainy dayCrying drops from outside the window during each relapseI wish it didn’t have to be this way, but it isn’t up to meNor is it up to a diverse world that presses for its demandsI just need to sing for rags over richesFor a poor man has a greater chance of being true to himselfThan a college kid who begs for admission to the high lifeThat’s not righteousness, and that’s not meOr at least, from filling myself with spirit, it’s not my goalIt’s just a reluctance to fill myself with spirits

Lawrence

That keeps my patron saint self from blacking outWhite in the face with shame resulting from another cause lostHistory repeats itself, but with His story, things will never be the sameIf only I could be more than a chronicle of broken dreamsStill, the piercing shards come from others in addition to myselfFor I continue to love a world that hates meKnowing that we always go hand-in-hand as we shake our fistsAnd that leaves me hurting more than lost friends on the parkwaySo take me up from this floodAnd let others see what this town is minus Saint TimothyThe threat of submergence gives me stomach achesAnd when the pain goes away, you will be staring at meMy soul weakening from your dirty looksBut when the waters overtake you and everyone else, I’ll still be standingWithin failure, I’ll succeedBut I would go back in time just to lend salvation awayI’ve got no triumphs between You and the finish lineBecause You are everything, and we’re all lost causes

That keeps my patron saint self from blacking outWhite in the face with shame resulting from another cause lostHistory repeats itself, but with His story, things will never be the sameIf only I could be more than a chronicle of broken dreamsStill, the piercing shards come from others in addition to myselfFor I continue to love a world that hates meKnowing that we always go hand-in-hand as we shake our fistsAnd that leaves me hurting more than lost friends on the parkwaySo take me up from this floodAnd let others see what this town is minus Saint TimothyThe threat of submergence gives me stomach achesAnd when the pain goes away, you will be staring at meMy soul weakening from your dirty looksBut when the waters overtake you and everyone else, I’ll still be standingWithin failure, I’ll succeedBut I would go back in time just to lend salvation awayI’ve got no triumphs between You and the finish lineBecause You are everything, and we’re all lost causes

Choices

ChoicesThey’re like hearing voicesLittle noises in your headThat sneak into your bedAnd instead of inhabiting your earsThey take over your heart insteadIn fact, we let these choices choose for usWhile we’re overwhelmed by our own self-destructionIt’s the stress that leads to this inductionThe corruption that needs no introductionBecause choices make us who we areBut they also make us who we aren’tAnd that’s the forgotten partAs for every choice we don’t makeThere’s a bitter pill lying in its wakeBut also a route that we didn’t takeAll that’s at stake is the heartacheOf failures and forgotten pathsRoads less traveled and invisible mapsWe’re too afraid to find true happinessBecause we’re glued to our own two shoesA ruse that doesn’t let us chooseIt breaks the walls of our own subconscious museSo we can’t take the first steps towards the futureBut in all honesty, we’ve got nothing to loseIt all comes down to your will to choose

My Bed Is Made of Black

The fireworks outlet is next leftLet’s take our time to get thereWe have all summer to explodeIt’s alright, but it definitely isn’t fairWhen we found the stand I stood upBut saw my heart sit down out of placeI was stuck inside the baked carAs sweat beaded down my unsure faceI saw my friend waste all of our cashOn wicks and bits of gunpowderAnd we were dumb, desperate, and lostAs I felt my rigidness being devouredThe day wasn’t complete without lossAs we saw the fluttered cash igniteDisguised as sparklers in the school parking lotIt was a letdown but everything was alrightAnd though I didn’t fit in with any of itI felt a sense of wholeness at the sight

Cats

My Bed Is Made of Black

The fireworks outlet is next leftLet’s take our time to get thereWe have all summer to explodeIt’s alright, but it definitely isn’t fairWhen we found the stand I stood upBut saw my heart sit down out of placeI was stuck inside the baked carAs sweat beaded down my unsure faceI saw my friend waste all of our cashOn wicks and bits of gunpowderAnd we were dumb, desperate, and lostAs I felt my rigidness being devouredThe day wasn’t complete without lossAs we saw the fluttered cash igniteDisguised as sparklers in the school parking lotIt was a letdown but everything was alrightAnd though I didn’t fit in with any of itI felt a sense of wholeness at the sight

Chicago, IL, July 2013

If music is an art formIt’s meant to stand the test of time, and the aging life around itHelping me turn back the days, but turning the clock forward stillI figure out life by the steps that were once takenThe past is like an inescapable dream to me nowPlayed out like the song lyrics I hold so close to heartIt always has me glancing back to the startThree years ago I planted a seedFound the foundation for a life full of meaning, a life full of soundIt took me awhile to find out what I stand forAnd what I realized is that I don’t stand for anythingI just go along with what I feel and what I was givenI built the foundation for an iron faithWith the accompaniment of friends and familySometimes so intertwined that I couldn’t separate the twoAnd when I sink down to the bottom of who I amLetting all of my possessions and possibilities goI realize that I’m not broke, just bentAnd the naked scars of my naked past are visible to the naked eyeIt’s hard to understand what those emotions meantI’ve spent so much time wasting summersPacing my room without anyone in sightHardcore dancing to the breakdownsAnd losing myself in the verses of my favorite songsThese experiences aren’t progressions, but they’re freedomReminiscing on the way heavy music affects meAnd how my life has jumped the gap from then to now

Cats

It makes me feel everything without thinking, without tryingThe process is just so naturalBecause I’ve tried so hard, and pondered so longGiving away Sundays instead of taking them backAnd trying to reinvent something brand newWhen I forget that the originality I seek has been here all alongFast forward, or should I say flash back, to 2013 and days to rememberCar rides to Chicago with a one-on-one connectionBacked by sunsets so beautiful the sky sheds a tearWe started a war with our stories, our alibis, and our passionsExperiences lined by bowling alleys that serve as concert venuesWith sweat swimming in our veins until night fallsThree people, three entities, three souls in melodic unisonLong-time friends with short-term meet-upsIt’s a sad, inescapable fear of losing touchBut moving on is to grow, and I’ve grown a lot recentlyOn the outside looking in at myselfA boy who got in too deep, getting too caught up in the meaning of

thingsEverything is full to the brim with spirit and the essence of spiritWhen I see people, I see stories just like mineSo deep and so detailed that my heart can’t even take itMy friend says that’s what Jesus Christ was likeThe complexity of human existence rattles my bodyAnd the Devil and God are raging inside meWaging a war with lower cases and capitalsAnd with a bit of help from my lungs, God is aheadPeople can call me a fanatic because I stand on my own

It makes me feel everything without thinking, without tryingThe process is just so naturalBecause I’ve tried so hard, and pondered so longGiving away Sundays instead of taking them backAnd trying to reinvent something brand newWhen I forget that the originality I seek has been here all alongFast forward, or should I say flash back, to 2013 and days to rememberCar rides to Chicago with a one-on-one connectionBacked by sunsets so beautiful the sky sheds a tearWe started a war with our stories, our alibis, and our passionsExperiences lined by bowling alleys that serve as concert venuesWith sweat swimming in our veins until night fallsThree people, three entities, three souls in melodic unisonLong-time friends with short-term meet-upsIt’s a sad, inescapable fear of losing touchBut moving on is to grow, and I’ve grown a lot recentlyOn the outside looking in at myselfA boy who got in too deep, getting too caught up in the meaning of

thingsEverything is full to the brim with spirit and the essence of spiritWhen I see people, I see stories just like mineSo deep and so detailed that my heart can’t even take itMy friend says that’s what Jesus Christ was likeThe complexity of human existence rattles my bodyAnd the Devil and God are raging inside meWaging a war with lower cases and capitalsAnd with a bit of help from my lungs, God is aheadPeople can call me a fanatic because I stand on my own

But the truth is I stand alone more often than not, and it bothers meMy faith is put into question with every passing dayBut I’m always tracing back rootsEnvisioning those aisles and pews, and my own childhood naivetyBack then, I had dreams of the future, now I have dreams of the pastI’ve progressed so much in the last few yearsIt almost feels like I wasn’t fully awake beforeDespite my perfect attendance, I was only partly present in high schoolThere was so much I didn’t know about life and loveAnd there were so many places that I came to fearBut now I am my own revival - a rebirth into fresh imperfectionAll I ever see myself doing is reaching for something moreI want to feel a feeling like that of my favorite songs 24 hours a dayEnding with the emotions of a cold, mute room at midnight There are quiet things that no one else will ever knowBecause the saying goes “silence is golden”And to me, silence is the golden opportunity to cryI’ve separate myself from a world that shuns heartfelt, depth-filled linesWhen I’m not hearing music I’m hearing my own deep breathingAnd I’m either gasping for air or choking on my own tearsWhether or not the world is empty, it makes me feel completeAnd I continually return to those four days in JulyTo those albums that seeped through every void in my beingAnd the last vibrations of youth leaving meI want to stay 18 forever, but I can’t help but scream of new beginningsOne chapter leads to the next, but paragraphs overlapAnd the songs remain the same

The Fringe (of) Truth

I’m a middle class white maleAnd I’m oppressed; by materialism and its evil waysAnd a world that threatens to steal my innocenceIt breaks me down into myself, until that’s all I haveA straight edge symbol and a cross around my neckMy personal choice of beliefs that lets people love as I loveWithout reserve, so they can do what they see fitBecause although I don’t fit their choices, I don’t throw a fitI’m just a bit overwhelmed with the effectsA justification of the causes people dedicate their time toI only go after desires that the “invisible man in the sky” conspiresBut it’s no secret that my faith makes me a primitive beingIncapable of science; although the two were meant to work togetherBut still, the science of lies spies on our livesI just choose to not get caught up in its temporary highBecause when I use my mind, beautiful things can happenAnd I feel more alive anywayIf I died and found out I was wrong, I would look back at myselfAnd not regret a life filled with a faithful commitmentI’ve been lead to believe that love is everlastingBut I would just be dead, so what would that matter?Just scatter the ashes and pass it onA message of hope to those who hope for moreMore prolonging of life, and less rope for the nooseI found more in a bottle, and my loose lips sank the shipA model of the vessel that I see for the worldAs an oppressed individual like the rest, that’s what I saw fitBut it’s not like anyone would listen

The Fringe (of) Truth

I’m a middle class white maleAnd I’m oppressed; by materialism and its evil waysAnd a world that threatens to steal my innocenceIt breaks me down into myself, until that’s all I haveA straight edge symbol and a cross around my neckMy personal choice of beliefs that lets people love as I loveWithout reserve, so they can do what they see fitBecause although I don’t fit their choices, I don’t throw a fitI’m just a bit overwhelmed with the effectsA justification of the causes people dedicate their time toI only go after desires that the “invisible man in the sky” conspiresBut it’s no secret that my faith makes me a primitive beingIncapable of science; although the two were meant to work togetherBut still, the science of lies spies on our livesI just choose to not get caught up in its temporary highBecause when I use my mind, beautiful things can happenAnd I feel more alive anywayIf I died and found out I was wrong, I would look back at myselfAnd not regret a life filled with a faithful commitmentI’ve been lead to believe that love is everlastingBut I would just be dead, so what would that matter?Just scatter the ashes and pass it onA message of hope to those who hope for moreMore prolonging of life, and less rope for the nooseI found more in a bottle, and my loose lips sank the shipA model of the vessel that I see for the worldAs an oppressed individual like the rest, that’s what I saw fitBut it’s not like anyone would listen

Of course, I’m not fighting for personal empowerment, so who wouldcare?

That’s selfish, unlike my goal of unifying through writingI’ve been writing these poems for years and the message never changesBut neither do the responses from those who love the artistryAnd not the artI hate to say it, but I’m not an artistI’m not Kerouac, and I’m not a Beat poetBecause I’ve beat myself up over everything I doAnd those guys experimented on repeat without a regretWith new found reflection, I drive my spirit to a different beatAnd my memories are just as profound as others will recall about meBecause I don’t want to be remembered for an experiment, or a radical

poemOr a road trip across AmericaThis country’s just too big for you and meAnd we’re meant to expand our borders and aim for the moonAs bodies outside our own make our tiny nations look too ordinaryWe carry the flags of ourselves far too close to our chestsAnyone can rebel, but not everyone can make this planet a better placeAnd anyone can chase dreams, but not everyone can forgive those

dreams for not coming trueOr maybe think other plans were madeYou can stand for something without standing against anythingThough I’m a walking contradiction, I just wanted to pursue TruthSo accept my apology when I say I’m sorry for offending youAnd go back to yourselfTo your wealth; whatever that means

Golden Purity (“Tim, Don’t

I would give up before I give inTo this trend that mends the painBut only for the rush of a momentThe choice has been madeAnd now I find myself in this bedA bed called sobrietyMy body feels free under the sheetsAnd my heart pumps out liters of bloodAs I write out these meters aboveAbove the influence, you could sayThe price I pay keeps me steadfastAnd my mind will last in this realityWhile the congruency of what I seeIs matched by my abstract fearsStaining the covers of my bedAm I left out, or am I right in?Right in the sense that I am fully aliveWholly I strive to fill this templeWith fragments of golden purityWhile I see complacency erase the thingThat I fear most: not feelingIf I find myself numb in a threadbare coveringI will be smothering my heart with a song of regretI can never forget what could go wrongIf I lost tangibility of my reality

Follow The Crowd”)

Golden Purity (“Tim, Don’t

I would give up before I give inTo this trend that mends the painBut only for the rush of a momentThe choice has been madeAnd now I find myself in this bedA bed called sobrietyMy body feels free under the sheetsAnd my heart pumps out liters of bloodAs I write out these meters aboveAbove the influence, you could sayThe price I pay keeps me steadfastAnd my mind will last in this realityWhile the congruency of what I seeIs matched by my abstract fearsStaining the covers of my bedAm I left out, or am I right in?Right in the sense that I am fully aliveWholly I strive to fill this templeWith fragments of golden purityWhile I see complacency erase the thingThat I fear most: not feelingIf I find myself numb in a threadbare coveringI will be smothering my heart with a song of regretI can never forget what could go wrongIf I lost tangibility of my reality

Follow The Crowd”)After a week away I hate to say so long to this staySeven players on a team bringing meaning to a cityThe only pity is that the gleaming lights turned to dust And the ashes above ended the short-term love that existedA chapter closing in another flight of life’s messy fateThe escape from complacency through the help of the needyBreathing in their voices has me tearing this feeling apartThe emotions that my lungs inhale as I speakI close my lips to keep the sentiments from overtaking my heartBut it’s just so hard to depart from themTo be frank, we’ve all made a lot of bad choicesVoices tell us no when a yes costs less than we can affordAnd we bemoan the rearranged debit cards and dollar bills While our personal thrills dance to the songs of January weatherThe air is chilled, but my body feels warm alongside our passionsAs I like to say, the cold never bothers me anywayToday, a ray of sunshine heats my skin as I reflectSuch memories are subject to burning regret and afterthoughtBut I don’t care about my depth, my sarcasm, or myselfBecause sometimes relating has me creating chasmsAnd I’m just a handshake away from burning all my bridgesStill, amidst this, I’m okayBecause I’m learning the way my brain and body miscommunicateAs things are a lot better than I try to make them soundFor most of the time my life is an aimless high, a faceless pleasureMy intimate perfections are dry from the tears of struggleThat so many others hear from their consciences

To Be Frank

And to be frank, I wish we were switchedBecause I know I can take the mistakesI’m willing make my wounds increaseI would sacrifice everything for peace But who am I to say, and who am I to pray?My own will is merely a trinket I carryThe world is a scary placeIt always will be different than my vision for itBut that’s graceSo I’ll remember this trip as we continue to evolve apartThe Breakfast Club of our hearts’ youthful accordMoving towards the finale of our years with fears still insideWhile we go our separate ways, we will still remainWe will all remainOur differences brought us different types of eternityAnd when we’re old and weathered by timeOur minds will be defined by the carside wordsMemories being the only constant between now and thenAnd in the future that will be passed down one dayWhere mistakes result in more than just a slap on the wristAnd reality is a fist in the face of the hopeful phraseI’ll continue to wait for all of our wrongs to become rightsGiving us the ability to fight for tomorrow, not to get lost in the pastWe’ll kick destiny’s assAnd at the finale, the end of our foreverThe only myth will be the stories of truth we once toldAnd I’ll continue to be frank

Inertia Will Hold My Words

And to be frank, I wish we were switchedBecause I know I can take the mistakesI’m willing make my wounds increaseI would sacrifice everything for peace But who am I to say, and who am I to pray?My own will is merely a trinket I carryThe world is a scary placeIt always will be different than my vision for itBut that’s graceSo I’ll remember this trip as we continue to evolve apartThe Breakfast Club of our hearts’ youthful accordMoving towards the finale of our years with fears still insideWhile we go our separate ways, we will still remainWe will all remainOur differences brought us different types of eternityAnd when we’re old and weathered by timeOur minds will be defined by the carside wordsMemories being the only constant between now and thenAnd in the future that will be passed down one dayWhere mistakes result in more than just a slap on the wristAnd reality is a fist in the face of the hopeful phraseI’ll continue to wait for all of our wrongs to become rightsGiving us the ability to fight for tomorrow, not to get lost in the pastWe’ll kick destiny’s assAnd at the finale, the end of our foreverThe only myth will be the stories of truth we once toldAnd I’ll continue to be frank

Inertia will hold my wordsLike herds of cattle trapped in a penI spend these moments in forgetfulnessWith pen in hand and the Physics of emotion remaining motionlessThis is my anthem of immobilityAnd my stationary stationery succumbs to similar thingsI remorse the broken sentiments of the aimlessWhile I am weightless in my own subconscious fateStraddling the lines between affection and a blank slateAnd I can’t wait for my potential energyTo be unleashed in an explosion of releaseMy thoughts transforming into a feast for the earsAnd my only fears will be the ones remaining stillCarbon fills every molecule of my mentalityAs I alleviate the cracks of the meaninglessWith the bliss cemented by Newtonian mechanicsI take my figures of speech and intertwine a rhymeJust so I can calculate the distance between syllablesAnd still I hold on to the lettersWaiting for a moment of tranquilitySo I can remember Euler’s methods of stabilityWhile I stand in amazement at the spaces between the linesThe integrals of my very own mindI try to find the connection between mind and matterAnd come up with page breaks and feelings shatteredAnd as I sit and devour the mathematics of the penI let inertia hold my words once again

Inconsistent As a Fire

It’s funny how serious life can beA head severed in the parking lot of wasted jokesAnd after all these days, I’m brokeMy wallet is empty and so is my headInstead of hope, I hold onto the dead silenceIt’s better than laughing about bloody murderBecause I hurt her, I hurt him, and I hurt myselfAnd it’s okayI’m still alive in the endI can’t begin this contradiction againAs through the newness of restartsI press hard against the steering wheelGuiding my soul alongside street signsWith song lyrics at hand and fears at bayAll I say is what my heart understandsAnd I defend my secrets like an open woundPutting salt in the blood until my feelings cave inSome say I’m digging my own graveAs the track ends, and I’m begging for the pavementBut what I truly meant, was that I love being aliveI love the emotions pumping through me so muchThat I’d slaughter myself to know you caredIt’s just a shame that I wouldn’t be here to see itBut when I turn my speaker up to 11, I’d see HeavenIt’s a number my fingers can’t count anymoreAnd that’s when I’d restore my thumbs to my mouthA child among men, a kid who starved for adulthood

Inconsistent As a Fire

It’s funny how serious life can beA head severed in the parking lot of wasted jokesAnd after all these days, I’m brokeMy wallet is empty and so is my headInstead of hope, I hold onto the dead silenceIt’s better than laughing about bloody murderBecause I hurt her, I hurt him, and I hurt myselfAnd it’s okayI’m still alive in the endI can’t begin this contradiction againAs through the newness of restartsI press hard against the steering wheelGuiding my soul alongside street signsWith song lyrics at hand and fears at bayAll I say is what my heart understandsAnd I defend my secrets like an open woundPutting salt in the blood until my feelings cave inSome say I’m digging my own graveAs the track ends, and I’m begging for the pavementBut what I truly meant, was that I love being aliveI love the emotions pumping through me so muchThat I’d slaughter myself to know you caredIt’s just a shame that I wouldn’t be here to see itBut when I turn my speaker up to 11, I’d see HeavenIt’s a number my fingers can’t count anymoreAnd that’s when I’d restore my thumbs to my mouthA child among men, a kid who starved for adulthood

Through these thoughts, would I really strive for that?I know that maturity is a sentiment more than a personality traitIt’s a mistake when life is a riddle and I forget the punch lineBut its arrival is more clever than my upper handMy seriousness is something I can’t stand, but at least I triedI’m only meCan’t you see that gravity only makes me fallAnd I get back up over and overHoping you’d finally recognize the rhyme that I like to createPoetry being the sole reaction to failureA vision of internal division that makes me comfortableToday I’m in a good mood, so let’s keep it that wayDespite your degree of perfectionYou’re not divineThe punch line?It’s you, me, and everyone elseAnd we all fall short

I Need That Sound

I need that soundThat churning of the machine of lifeFilled with the fluid of dedicationBinding and burning and emittingBut omitting everything worthlessI need it to help me sleepBut also to keep me from falling comatoseWithout it my skin burns and my head hurtsAnd all of the air dries into digression without meaningThat sound tells me the truthIt tunnels through a mountain into lucidnessWhile I waste my breath on somebody elseYet at the end of the day it’s always thereIt’s the sound that I fall back uponNo matter what false visions my eyes possessNo matter the lack of mercy my heart collectsIf the world came crashing downI would still need it

I Need That Sound

I need that soundThat churning of the machine of lifeFilled with the fluid of dedicationBinding and burning and emittingBut omitting everything worthlessI need it to help me sleepBut also to keep me from falling comatoseWithout it my skin burns and my head hurtsAnd all of the air dries into digression without meaningThat sound tells me the truthIt tunnels through a mountain into lucidnessWhile I waste my breath on somebody elseYet at the end of the day it’s always thereIt’s the sound that I fall back uponNo matter what false visions my eyes possessNo matter the lack of mercy my heart collectsIf the world came crashing downI would still need it

I Wanted To Write a Poem

I regret the last sentence hanging off my tongueAs if the words I speak make war and not peaceAnd my attempts at love are taken with heavy heartsMy verbal attack is like an eternal wrathForever forming syllables as a willable offenseIn my defense, I write sad songs like ear candyBecause without nights of brandy and liquorGo figure that my peers all go awayAs if solid lives overmatch solid mindsAnd my ability to rhyme outweighs my social lifeBecause with friends like mineI don’t need to write a line to make amendsLike I said, it comes out as a hate statementA plate of nachos with a side of “I don’t care”Exemplifying my moods in an explosion of flavorMmmm nachosBut do me a favor and ignore me for the rest of the dayBecause the way my communication breaks downI figure I’m better off keeping my thoughts to myselfAnd God help me, because every time I prayI say things that I swear I didn’t mean to sayAnd to be honest, I swear a lotBecause goddamn, I have a lot of problemsAnd man, my language is far out of line99% of the time, and the other 1%Is me reminding myself that I’m out of lineRegardless, these lines are all mine

But my arsenal of nouns and verbsUnleashes itself like sticks and stonesAnd I like to say I usually kill two birds with one stoneAnd I will throw until my arm is ragged and soreBut if that’s true, I don’t know what the stick’s forMaybe it’s like a baseball bat, and my lack of vocal skillsStill is able to refill my own reputation for criticismAnd critically speaking, at best I am Mario MendozaStraddling that batting average lineLike a boat hugging the rugged coastlineWe’re all about to breakBut who am I kidding? It’s these poems I like to createWhere words take the place of my ideasAnd ideas take the place of my experiencesWith the three elements meshing togetherAnd straddling the coastline, hitting .200I sink to the bottom of the plateHoping that my syllables fill a voidBut steroids and steel can’t ever quench destiny’s appetiteAnd the light of day shines on my unique voiceThat I hate to hear, but it gives me a choice“To speak, or not to speak,” that is the questionTo set me on a quest in my current state of mind,In my current state of Kansas, to create writing for everyoneAnd the rule of thumb is, there are no rulesBecause if I’m not supposed to talk about itAnd I’m not supposed to talk about it

But my arsenal of nouns and verbsUnleashes itself like sticks and stonesAnd I like to say I usually kill two birds with one stoneAnd I will throw until my arm is ragged and soreBut if that’s true, I don’t know what the stick’s forMaybe it’s like a baseball bat, and my lack of vocal skillsStill is able to refill my own reputation for criticismAnd critically speaking, at best I am Mario MendozaStraddling that batting average lineLike a boat hugging the rugged coastlineWe’re all about to breakBut who am I kidding? It’s these poems I like to createWhere words take the place of my ideasAnd ideas take the place of my experiencesWith the three elements meshing togetherAnd straddling the coastline, hitting .200I sink to the bottom of the plateHoping that my syllables fill a voidBut steroids and steel can’t ever quench destiny’s appetiteAnd the light of day shines on my unique voiceThat I hate to hear, but it gives me a choice“To speak, or not to speak,” that is the questionTo set me on a quest in my current state of mind,In my current state of Kansas, to create writing for everyoneAnd the rule of thumb is, there are no rulesBecause if I’m not supposed to talk about itAnd I’m not supposed to talk about it

Then I don’t know what I’d doAs there’s no greater prisonThan an open soul and closed expressionsTo say the least, it’s tortureBut thankfully, this poem released meI’m free

Under the SkinUnravel this feeling before it sinksInscribe it on my skin in black inkI want to feel your pain; make me bleedTattoos imprinted in scornful memoriesHypocritical like those late November fumesAnd morose like those lonely nights in June Taking the disdain of those April rainsAnd making its anguish break open my veinsIt’s time you start a new season of sorrowThe parable of your past will come and goA storybook ending starts a new darknessYou’re caught red-handed in blood and blissThis sentimental value turns you blueBut you find a bright light inside its hueYour heavy hands sinking into the seaAre the only things that seem to gleamYou love the sadness that clings to your soulThe pale end of this burden makes you wholeTurning brokenness into to a beautiful beingI see this wave of sadness crash into meThe current is overwhelming my nervesBut across my heart reads the words: “When desperate, we are ourselves”I don’t need helpI’ve become just like youAddicted to the black and blue

Under the SkinUnravel this feeling before it sinksInscribe it on my skin in black inkI want to feel your pain; make me bleedTattoos imprinted in scornful memoriesHypocritical like those late November fumesAnd morose like those lonely nights in June Taking the disdain of those April rainsAnd making its anguish break open my veinsIt’s time you start a new season of sorrowThe parable of your past will come and goA storybook ending starts a new darknessYou’re caught red-handed in blood and blissThis sentimental value turns you blueBut you find a bright light inside its hueYour heavy hands sinking into the seaAre the only things that seem to gleamYou love the sadness that clings to your soulThe pale end of this burden makes you wholeTurning brokenness into to a beautiful beingI see this wave of sadness crash into meThe current is overwhelming my nervesBut across my heart reads the words: “When desperate, we are ourselves”I don’t need helpI’ve become just like youAddicted to the black and blue

Against the GrainI go against the grainSpreading a flame of my mentalityI feel free in this sea of oppositesBut often I wish that I fit inTo be accepted by the jury of my courtAnd morph my sores of social ineptitudeInto a brand new hueFrom the rearview mirror of my carI see myself driving away from conformityMy lights flashing and eyes stingingWith the heat of losing direction againBut then I crashed into some peopleWho actually understood me and my weaknessWhere the paralysis of my own emotionsIs unleashed in an explosion of release and devotionWhile my burning car is left in ashesI crafted a new infrastructure for my heartStitched with parts of the way these guys treated meMy feet no longer ached from running away from societyThe rusty lockers and empty hallways were becoming so blaseBut that’s because there was no longer substance to wasteNow I don’t have to face the enemy of my own clichesI find myself awake for the final act of the playWhere everything ends in surprising but satisfying fashionWith the storm of my passion ignitingAnd the fireworks of my soulHold this poem togetherJust in time for the grand finaleBoom

50 Shades of Blue, 51

I told my friends that I don’t care about themThat I don’t need to care without their fair shareI’m too selfishI fell for a simple wishI wished that my friends were as great as I amBut that would make them fall below the threshold of loveAnd somewhere above the great lengths this poem tries to reciprocate That’s too bad for meI thought I had my life figured out I figured that I was safe, but I, myself, am a safeInside my heart is a lock, and everyone else has the key But I’m not free to love unless the love is freely exercised back to meLike this poem tries to reciprocate, I need reciprocationI need respirationMy lungs are full of heliumAnd I float back up to the surface of my life’s potential week by weekIt’s a potential that’s been heated to the very lengthsGood thing helium is inert, or I’d be a chemical reaction waiting to burnAnd still, as I sit here, I realize it’s my turn to take action I need to rid myself of these feelings But would it be worth it?

I told myself that I need friends Spending these nights aloneAll I hear are whispers from my conscience second-guessing my

solitude

Shades of Another Hue

50 Shades of Blue, 51

I told my friends that I don’t care about themThat I don’t need to care without their fair shareI’m too selfishI fell for a simple wishI wished that my friends were as great as I amBut that would make them fall below the threshold of loveAnd somewhere above the great lengths this poem tries to reciprocate That’s too bad for meI thought I had my life figured out I figured that I was safe, but I, myself, am a safeInside my heart is a lock, and everyone else has the key But I’m not free to love unless the love is freely exercised back to meLike this poem tries to reciprocate, I need reciprocationI need respirationMy lungs are full of heliumAnd I float back up to the surface of my life’s potential week by weekIt’s a potential that’s been heated to the very lengthsGood thing helium is inert, or I’d be a chemical reaction waiting to burnAnd still, as I sit here, I realize it’s my turn to take action I need to rid myself of these feelings But would it be worth it?

I told myself that I need friends Spending these nights aloneAll I hear are whispers from my conscience second-guessing my

solitude

It’s my problemIt’s my sin to changeIs it a sin to change? It’s the thought of not being meBut to be honest with myselfThe distance between me, my social life, and I is far too vast anywayI need to break away from the past and get out therePast the hills and past the grass is beautifulI must keep it close to meBut others don’t have the same needs They are wired differently, and that’s a good thing Because we mend each other’s broken wingsThese moments give me the chance to shineTo mine for gold in a town known for itAnd when I strike the biggest gem of all, it’ll ask“God, where have you been all this time?” And I will reciprocate the question And it will all be worth it

Shades of Another Hue

About TimTim Dodderidge is a journalism student at the University of Kansas from Lenexa, Kan. He has a heart that aches for Christ, and he loves music more than just about everything else in the world -- except for God and family maybe.

Some of Tim’s favorite bands include Switchfoot, Brand New, Anberlin, A Day To Remember, and Underoath. His favorite movies are Fight Club, Pulp Fiction, and Almost Famous.

When he’s not listening to or writing about music, he spends a lot of his time cheering for the Royals, Chiefs, Blues, and Thunder, eating at Taco Bell, and working with the Christian fellowship group InterVarsity. His goal after school is to not live in a cardboard box, though he feels the experience would be beneficial.

“Oceans Ablaze” is Tim’s first book of poetry, with many others hopefully to come.

You can contact Tim at dodderidget@gmail.com

© 2014 by Tim Dodderidge