Sweet sixteen

A cake but you can’t blow out the candles

Gifts selected, gone sight unseen

Hearts overflowing, love with no handles

No hugs, no phone calls, a silence so keen

 Sweet sixteen

Wish you could see how bright the lights are

College graduation is scheduled next week

Wish you were with us, not somewhere off far,

A birthday of brightness; reaching its peak

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Bring It On Down

Bring It On Down

She emerged from the darkness
A place she called home
Though bleak in its starkness
She’d never dared roam
Yet she wanted to run
And she needed to cry
To escape his prison, feel the warmth of the sun
To run up invisible steps, steps to the sky

But she couldn’t say a word
When he raised his hand; no sound,
Neither cracked flesh, nor cries—her voice unheard
When he’d bring it on down
She hid her bruises, and said it’s okay
‘Mama, he loves me, he tells the whole town,’
Though I’m not worth lovin’, a voice in her’d say
As he tightens a fist and brings it on down

There’s a beat of a wing on the air and she hears
A moment he’s gone
She closes her eyes and the tears
Flow, and she’s taking that flight
She jumps through the window, away from her fears
Because she knows: tonight is the night
To bring it on down, down

After she’s flown a-way
Once the coupe’s left behind, she breathes the free air
She just wants to stay
Safe; away from his eyes and their a-ccusing stare
But he’s in her mind
And it just isn’t fair
She hears him all the time
A thousand miles away, and he’s right there

Then a whisper through her windows
A call on the phone
A fami-liar tingle and her hair blows
She wishes her heart was stone
‘Cause even with all that she knows
She’s going back to him
The bruise no longer shows
He says it’ll be different and so
He’ll raise his hand up, and bring it on down
She sees that it’s comin’, but she can’t say no

Familiar is comfort, and she aches for him
To bring all the discord
And shatter the rhythm of living.
She knows she’s broken, that everything’s wrong
He’ll raise his fist in cacophonous song
All her insecurities singing along
He’ll bring it on down for sure
Then she’ll fall down, down, down


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I stumbled across a snapshot I took of this poem, which i wrote in the back of a notebook I use for school, and promptly forgot about. So I figure hey, why not? Might as well post it.


E’re the waters of my eyes
Broke o’er his tiny hands
Clutching him one final time
As warmth of fatherhood disbands

Yearly quick’d by fifteen May
A’racked with stifled tears
O’er sweet-born his memory
Buried ‘neath a dozen years.


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The Next Lover

It’s a night for digging out old poems!  Just a short one, don’t have a date written down…


I loved you.

Yep, tell me that I didn’t.

But I loved you.

Tell her that you didn’t.

But you loved me.

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Passion and Pain

Your body beneath me, filling me completely.

Passion and pain


Breathing in your heady scent, my head swims

Kissing, licking, my taste on your sweat-slick skin

For hours you touch and taste me

Continual ecstasy


Our eyes meet


Promises you cannot give written on your face;

your eyes tell me what your lips never will

Does my face betray me lover? Can you see what I must not feel?

You know my every secret, every hope and dream

I’ve held nothing back, yet still we cannot be


So I take your body beneath me, filling me completely

Passion and Pain

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Hello and Goodbye

Something happens when you say hello

A smile widens, a day gets brighter,

but strangest thing that I have found

When I say hello to you, I say goodbye to me


Three times with you

Three times with the previous you

My hellos are my goodbyes


Do you force me or have I let you?

Do you want this, or is it me?

The only thing I know for sure,

When I say hello to you it means goodbye for me.


This time, it is different.

If I am strong enough,

If I can make it through

I’ll say hello to me and goodbye to you

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This poem was written as an entry for a writing contest at Santiago Canyon College, where I’m currently taking classes primarily in literature and philosophy. As I post this, I was just informed a few hours ago that this poem–written in about 30 minutes–has won first place in the poetry category of the contest! –Jason


Blackened eye shines from faux-smiling face
Prepared happiness glowers into empty space
Tiny lies whispered, eyes gleam to hide the truth
First lesson learned in youth

For he is mighty, brave and tough
Weathered rage, his love—enough!
His broken bones, scarred flesh deserve the furor
Weak child-flesh of mine must be his mirror

What knuckles rapped o’er bruised cheek
Deserved, surely, for I am weak
Cowering ‘neath the arms of bloodied mom
Who knows not the horrors of Vietnam

How dare complain o’er his harsh embrace
His love revealed upon my ribs, back and face
Great sacrifice for which we pay
A price of fear, night and day

Oh brave and noble father
Purifying terror is no bother
Wake me, daddy, when the swelling’s done
Revisit battle upon your son

Thank you for the wars you’ve known
For bringing each and every one home
Showing me I can’t deserve
Your love, for I, but six, have yet to serve.

Your harsh caresses may bruise the flesh
Thanks to you, I fear not death
Eyes alight with rage fill me with dread
As I tremble ‘neath my broken bed
Afraid of you, I’ll hold my breath


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One Where There Should be Two

I realize after almost four years
that some actions become automatic.
But you should know
that I know
that you’re still buying two
when there’s only one.

The drive you have is amazing and precious
your selflessness
your creativity
your subconscious desires flowing into conscious action

I love your reasons
giving one set to charity
to children in need
to my daughter, so the girls can match on outings and holidays
to friends, to family
to every person who could use something “just like hers”

but I know

I know how badly you want to give those things to her
the other twin
the missing little girl
your angel.


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They Fought Over the Four Year Old

Trying not to raise their voices
teenage anger hiding under false friendliness
two girls, still in school uniforms, “babysitting”

They fought over the four year old
Who would do her hair
her makeup
her mani-pedi
her perfect outfit

They fought over the four year old
I was glad when they closed the door
Containing their fighting within her bedroom
And the laughter within mine, for as

they fought over the four year old
SHE loved every minute of attention
every moment of being wanted
every bit of being loved.

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Pink Petal

twisted rose
will it bloom
on crippled stalk
scarred stem, leaves shaken
hidden deep within a wild space
slow watering
parting the leaves
allowing the sun
allowing the dew
allowing the sweetness of life
she opens
for me
yes, she opens


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