poetry

a sucker for staring

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

 

 
Your eyes won't leave my mind,
They're stuck there,
suspended in time,
and in my life.
 
How is that for broken,
I can't break your stare,
and you left awhile ago,
you were never there.
 
But I'm a sucker for staring,
into too many beautiful eyes,
and it always catches up to me,
and I wouldn't have it another way.
 
You've caught me,
a squirrel in your bear trap,
too weak for these game,
I'm wasting away and it's not a wrap,
not yet at least,
beggin my ghosts to leave,
and my demons joined the party,
I just can't win,
I need to get settled,
figure out what's happening,
and how my world's been turned over,
despite my protests and four-lear clover.
 
And that's life, 
my lovely,
that's life.
 
Would you have it any other way?
 
I wouldn't.
 
Life for excitement,
or die of boredom.

you asked and i delivered

/ andyveilleux / 1 Comment

 

You asked me for a poem,
and I'm here to deliver,
but what will it mean,
if it's forced,
or broken?
 
Can I write for you,
as though I was a painter,
painting portraits on commission,
Maybe I'm an abstract artist and,
your nose isn't even on your face,
and your beautiful eyes are nowhere.
 
Am I hiding the best parts of you,
because I'm scared to lose you,
to somebody else?
 
Maybe I should stop,
with my selfishness,
and share you openly.
 
No.
 
You are my lovely secret,
and maybe my secret love.
 
There's an end coming,
a great wave of nothing,
but there's no saviour,
no upcoming heroic behaviour,
 
 
What becomes of us,
are we to be,
hollowed out,
left for dead?
 
Broken hearts from the future,
already sensing the end is near,
and who could blame them?
 
The reality breaks through,
and destroys the dream we've built,
and who are we to fight against it?
 
Nobody,
but it's time,
to be somebodies.

Love and science

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

Love faces the same problem science does;

a lack of evidence.

 

Love breaks down when you ask for proof;

"How much do you love me?"

"a lot"

"how much?"

"with all my heart.."

useless words.

 

How can you describe the feeling?

You can't.

Your language fails you.

 

It doesn't matter hos intricate your description,

how extensive your vocabulary,

humans have demeaned the word 'love,'

and it's nowhere near representative,

of the series of feelings it represents.

 

It's not your fault you can't explain it,

language is broken,

it's out-of-sync with life,

language is a series of symbols we use,

so we can sort of understand one another,

occasionally.

 

It's as exact a science, and as productive,

as fishing with dynamite,

if fish were the staple of your diet.

 

To use the cliché,

love is still the best game in town,

so we deal with it because,

the alternatives are undesirable.

the walking dead

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

Living isn't difficult,

Life is though.

 

It's not the day-to-day activities that wear you down;

the eating,

and sleeping,

walking,

signing,

dancing,

writing,

reading,

drinking.

 

It's the big things;

purpose,

meaning,

love,

hate,

passion,

failure,

success,

misery,

fulfillment.

 

Rolling out of bed in the morning isn't the problem.

Pulling your soul out of the gutter,

after repeated failures and heartbreaks,

when your heart is drowning in misery,

and you can't remember your last lucky bounce,

that's the struggle.

 

Some people do it better than others,

and some are the walking dead.

Is that poem about me?

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

I get it all the time;

who is that poem about?

 

Is it about ME,

is it about HER?

 

It better not be about HER,

that would be so wrong,

and inconsiderate, maybe.

 

Yes,

the poem is about HER,

and it is about YOU,

and it about EVERYONE.

 

You can't segment each poem,

because life is not built that way,

it's a giant collective experience,

that makes up everything you are,

and therefore,

everything you write is a reflection of everybody,

who ever had an influence on your life.

 

Why did I write about that NOW,

why didn't I write about this, or that,

or the death of small animals,

the miserable life of a pop star,

the struggles of the oppressed,

the racism that plagues our society?

 

I didn't feel like it,

and I don't feel like it now.

 

Life is about finding your passion,

and when you WANT to do something,

everything about life makes sense.

 

When your passion leaves you,

find it again,

or there's no point to any of this.

Memories

/ andyveilleux / 1 Comment

 

We always recall our past lovers,

with such fond memories and warm hearts,

much more than we did when we were with them.

 

Maybe the answer is simple;

we never gave them enough credit,

when we were in love with them.

 

Sadness and bad moments,

pass from memory,

easily enough,

because they are common.

 

Happy moments linger awhile,

and dance on in your mind,

and memories of love,

well, those last forever.

Sorry doesn't cut it

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

 

An apology doesn't work,
it isn't good enough,
sometimes.
 
Apoligies are too easy,
words mean so little,
especially when typed,
Is it ironic you're, 
reading this on a screen?
 
I'm sorry,
You're sorry?
 
Are you really sorry,
or are you just saying that,
because it's the proper thing?
 
Do you feel badly enough?
 
How can I judge that?
 
Mostly,
Are you being sincere?
 
Saying you're sorry isn't enough,
You need to say why you're sorry,
why you did what you did,
how everything happened,
not just 'I'm sorry."
 
We both know you fucked up,
you meant what you said,
you can't it that back,
you tried to hurt me.
 
Maybe you succeeded,
but at what price?
 
Sorry doesn't cut it,
not this time.
 

Everyone remembers the martyr

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

 

 
I don't have enough time Mel,
and it worries me.
 
There are too many things to do,
and no enough time.
 
I wan t to be everything,
for everyone,
I want to breathe passion into the dead,
and light up the burnt out wicks,
in the hearts of the damned.
 
I need to lift them on my back,
before they fade away,
and are lost forever.
 
I need to do it for them,
I need to do it for me,
I need to do it for you.
 
Everyone remembers the martyr,
no one remembers the ones,
who didn't quite try hard enough.
 
Everyone remembers the martyr.