Breadcrumbs
 
it became too muddled
too ego centered
rather than heart felt.
I promise not to go that way.
I promise to stay at home
and not head to the big city.
 
in “sophistication” we think
the heart and things to do with the heart
are silly and pointless.
but ah, friend, these are the things that really matter,
that give hope, that take away the sting of the vicious
businessman, or the opportunist pig.

so bring back the sunset, bring back the open road
bring back sprawling on the living room floor
writing poetry and drawing pictures.
bring back the innocence of the dream and the optimism
of making a difference.

- Mike Meraz

(featured in the poetry forum 11.05.09)

Life In New Orleans
 
in New Orleans
there is just a little more butter
in everything
the food is richer
the music louder
the women more cunning and voluptuous
the lifestyle more reckless and out of control.
 
in New Orleans
there is just a little more butter in everything.
 
this being
the condoms are thicker
the streets meaner
the suicide rates higher
the hospital visits soaring
the cops more jaded.
 
I once saw one hustling a crack addict
for a hundred dollar bill.
 
this is life in New Orlins‘…

- Mike Meraz

(added 08.04.09)

The Understanding Boyfriend

when she began to emotionally cheat on me
we would take walks in the park
and she would talk to her "other" on her cell.
I was an understanding boyfriend
because love is love and usually I am happy
on my own but it did not take away the sting.
my ambivalence is unique because often times
things don't register til later.
I would sit a few yards away on the grass
writing poetry and she would be jizzing on a park bench
talking about statues and inscripted stones.

"desire can drive you mad" she would say.
I can only imagine him on the other end agreeing.

I was not it, I was reduced to a dog on a walk.
"let's go," she would say.
I'd get up knowing my day would come.
yesterday she called me back.
said it was not working between them.
I barked three times and hung up.

- Mike Meraz

(featured in the poetry forum 08.04.09)

I Write
 
fine, look...
here is the curse of all curses.
when a woman begins to feel sorry for you,
that is the worst.
this is what she told me with tears
running down her face:
 
"your head is full of dread and I feel it.
you hold it all in and it explodes out
on people who don't deserve it."
 
"I'm sorry," I said, "I'm not angry with you, it's just..."
 
"I know," she said, "when I was young
I had many troubles, but you can't just fall in love
with every woman who shows you affection."
 
"why not?" I asked.
 
"you need to go out and have a good time.
you are handsome, you look good, go out
and have a good time. don't be so sad."
 
"it does not matter," I said as I pointed to my face.
 
tears ran down hers.
 
"I worry about you," she said, "you think too much."
 
"I know," I said, "but I can't change who I am."
 
"but I worry about you," she said.
 
"I write," I said.
 
"I know," she said, "you told me,
but you need to talk to people."
 
"I write," I said.
 
"I know," she said, "you told me."

- Mike Meraz

(added 08.04.09)