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Wednesday, October 31, 2012

View from above

To leap

Love is like a door
Opened into infinity
At times precariously balanced
Over the precipice
Not tumbling
Not falling
But choosing instead
To leap

Chris McQueeney    10/31/12    9:01 P.M.

this has been linked to Hyde Park Poetry Rally week 76

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

if only

If only

Half my bed
Half my soul
Has been cold so long
Please don't go
Stay the night
Ease my soul
Warm my bed
Stay for life
Please don't go

Chris McQueeney    10/30/12    12:51 P.M.

go check out dVerse poets pub for some very good poetry

Monday, October 29, 2012

Lifting the pieces

If I was to say

Broken as I was
I could say
I was broken the day you
Went away
That would be a
If I was to say
You broke me
The day you went away
That would be me implying
It wouldn't break me
If you were to stay
And that I wasn't
broken well
Before that day

Chris McQueeney    10/27/12    10:44 A.M.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Burnt almond

the ONE

The servants are watching.
They are always watching.
That feeling on the back of your neck, when the hair raises and it feels like you are being watched but there is no one there…the servants are watching, they are always watching…that feeling is their breath on the back of your neck, their fingertips caressing your skin so lightly you almost wouldn’t notice. Except for the voice inside screaming to flee, that they SEE you, that they are WATCHING you, but they shield that voice and all that seeps through is the slight feeling of being watched.
            You think you know the story; people throughout the ages have come up with explanations to put their minds at ease, or to distract. The truth is so much simpler, and vastly more complicated.
 There is no god…
There is no devil…
There are only the servants
There are only those that see
There is no god, no devil…
There is only the ONE

Chris McQueeney   10/21/12   2:02 P.M.

Some of my earliest memories are of me playing alone, feeling alone. There was always that feeling in the background...alone. In a lot of ways I was alone. I developed intellectually much faster than most of the kids around me; while at the same time my emotional development was far behind theirs. And my ability to communicate with the children my age was non existent. 
The world spoke to me of amazing things and I didn't have the voice to tell those around me. When I tried the flood of information/observation and questions would overwhelm my ability to speak and all that would come out was a stream of gibberish and incessant questions. 
Growing up that way was hard, but there were two saving graces. The only real friends I had growing up...the only two people I never felt uncomfortable around, Wally and Brent. of the many people that I have met in my life they stand out because of the ease and power of their friendship.
We moved into a new home, on Smith street, in Nampa Idaho. My mom and Doug were inside signing paperwork (I assume...I was 5 and had no idea what adults did as adults, but now I can guess) and doing the walk through. They left me outside playing with the landlord's grandson. In the course of playing he threw a handful of sand at me in a fit of childhood, I responded by kicking sand in his face. All hell broke loose. He, the grandson, was screaming, the landlord was yelling at me and my mom beat my ass...
Later in  the day I was in the front yard alone, as usual, when I looked over the fence to the yard next door and their was a boy standing there. I can't remember if he said hi first or if I did but we started talking. He asked me why I beat up that kid, I told him that I didn't beat him up, and proceeded to ramble out my huge long explanation about the situation (which took all of thirty seconds because I was so animated). When I finished he said something like "I know him, he is a winy little brat...My name is Wally." I met my first real friend that day.
A few months later while playing in the back yard I met Brent. His Aunt had just moved into the house behind ours and he was playing in the back yard. We talked through the fence like two prisoners in different jailhouse yards; that day I met my second true friend.
I talk often about the trials I have had in my life...but I have also been gifted with rocks to cling to while life tried it's hardest to break me for good. 
Without those two best friend on first site I would not have survived my childhood.
I don't think I ever told you but there were days that I wouldn't have made it through with out your friendship...

Thank you Wally for being my friend
Thank you Brent for being my friend

Burnt almond

I ask for crème Brule
Not this semi-sweet
Strawberry tart
Almond chocolate soufflé
Butter pecan would have been nice
Or even a firm sorbet
A second bite of this…
About that I will have to think twice
   I don’t think so
      Not today
         No thank you
            No way
For once my picky tastes
Kept me alive
One more day

Chris McQueeney    9/26/12 

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Cut a Visceral track

His wicked Grin

Van Gogh’s ear
Was a wicked place
So wicked indeed
He    had    to    sever    it
Right from his face
To this very day
Lucky for us the
Voices went away
Just then because
His wicked Grin
Would be where he
Would have started

Chris McQueeney   10/18/12   12:54 P.M.

I have yet to meet or study an artist that isn’t in some way a tortured soul. Maybe the transition through that inner turmoil brings the art, or just thins the bullshit layered on top of it. Vincent Van Gogh is one of my favorite painters, and his inner demons are legendary! The story surrounding his severed ear are many…and they don’t matter that much to me. What matters to me is that his inner turmoil brought some of the world’s most beautiful art to life. In his short 37 years of life Van Gogh produced thousands of paintings and prints and drawings…what a treasure trove of work. 
Today I turn 35, and I thought it was appropriate that d’Verse wanted a verse about a dead man…at least that was what I read from the second option. Van Gogh’s tragic end was a spiral that started long before his death, but it sped up in the last two years of his life.
So, I propose to you that you bring forth your crazy, revel in it, and produce something beautiful! Change the world with your soul. Love us with your demons. Cut a visceral track across us with your art..

Mine Art

 I inflict my soul on you
As often as I can.
I tear wide my chest for you
See my torn heart.
Count the beats.
See the stutter start stop
My life flowing in those constricted confines.
Breathe my muse with me
Exhale long in relief
Her tender embrace.
For her teeth are sharp
And bite she will.
But oh the beauty
She sees through my eyes.
And oh the words
She pushes through my fingers.

Chris McQueeney   10/18/12   1:48 P.M

Saturday, October 13, 2012

two fer

Were I you

The sickness inside
At times it is hard to hide
Bubbling below it creeps up you know
At the most inappropriate times

You say to me “yes indeed,
 I really understand what you mean
Why just last week my calm got a little tweak.”
When that came out of your fucking mouth I wanted to scream

How the fuck could you know
Anything about where my brain can go
You fucking puke, your electricity is on
Your life isn’t gone, and you have a car you can drive

The sickness inside
At times is hard to hide
Boiling over the walls it splatters outside
At this point, were I you, I would step way aside…you understand?

Chris McQueeney    10/13/12    12:19 P.M.

All I ever wanted was for you to talk to me...I could spend my life watching your mouth form words. Your beautiful eyes opening wide with surprise, or  crinkling with humor. And my god your smile, I would kill for that smile to be directed at me.
All I ever wanted was for you to talk to me... 


Easy or not
Life is
A punchbowl
Over flowing with
All over the place…
Look there… over there
Just to your left/right
It’s happened again
Can’t you see it
On your hands
Your shoes
The carpet
Your life
You don’t
Not to worry
What’s on you
It’s on me too

Chris McQueeney    10/12/12    11:07 P.M.

My internet has been down for a while, and my writer has been on a hiatus...but last night I wrote like 7 poems, and worked on some other writing projects that have been suffering. 
Here is a thanks to all those in my life...also a special thanks to Christopher, and Shiloh...two of the best friends a man could have.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Good day

Having technical
Excuse us for a moment
While we adjust your
Please excuse us for this temporary
( to be honest, what is real but we will never
we really and truly don't
From all of us here
Thank you
For putting your life on hold
Good day

Chris McQueeney    10/10/12    10:35 A.M.

Friday, October 5, 2012

Hang my hat

I guess I

The lion offered
Me a bag of cookies
I took them without a thought
The lion smiled
To be in my company again
I then bit my face off
While the lion looked
At me thunderstruck
I guess I
Was the dangerous one

Chris McQueeney
8:52 A.M.

I guess In a way the accident back in july has destroyed my life. Not beyond repair understand...but it has caused some serious side affects that never would have happened otherwise. One of those being that my writing has basically been strangled...and what I have been able to produce feels hollow to, like it's soul was missing. The above poem was the first that got the spark in a long while. This void in me has percipitated a change in my aproach to what is happning. I can't hang my hat on the fact that this all isin't my fault...though true, will kill me in the long run. 

I guess I
Want to live

Monday, October 1, 2012

Today I rest

Finally my phone works to update my blog :-)

I havent done any writing this week...I have all kind of excuses, and they are all valid. Today I am resting and tomorrow I am back!