"and... good night"

so sometimes i'm not very eloquent when my friends confide in me. i'm usually taken aback when people trust me to listen to their stories/issues i often find myself so lost in listening to them that when it's my turn to talk, nothing really comes out. i can offer help and stuff like that, but sometimes i simply can't pronounce it. i suppose i'm more of a person who shows then tells, sorta strange for a poet, huh? but anyway, here's what i was thinking but couldn't articulate after listening to someone's story tonight

For Another Young Poet

tonight
like other nights too
you
appear
quiet,
near numb,
a midnight-blue
unable to cope with the falling sky
on your shoulders
your lips quiver
your eyes are still
and you long to
finally find some sleep
for a moment
all
you
have
is silence

both
the sun
and
the moon
live under the rhyme
of your skin
two lights in conflict
a parallel of
constant contradictions
and when
these
arguing brightnesses
palpitate under your breath
let yourself
swell
your tongue
your hands
your feet
let your yourself swell
until
you
you poem
finally
unfurl in fury

please
don't forget the poetry
in who you are

speak your dreams your earthquakes your mighty winds
your flowers your bursting laughs your heart

speak and become
what you love

and if you don't know
what it is
that you love
yet

i ask you to
run
run in your shoes, in your stockings, in your slippers, in your bare feet
run from here until the end
i'm not asking you to run away
i'm asking you to run towards
towards every impulse you may have
towards every sound your heart skips a beat for
into everything that scares you
startles you woos you finds you
run
climb the hills
bike to brasil
capture all the things that arrive by chance
and chase all the things that come to pass
run to your vibration
run until you love and never want to leave again
and then
still
run some more

not all poetry comes in words
and
neither
does your beauty

when all the light
and all the darkness
howl over our heads
and down comes
the rain
all the rain
as if the world appears
about to end
brave the storm
yearn to open
open your arms
and dance
in the empty streets
until the only
thing that has fallen
is the rain
and you
you poem
still
stand

not all poetry comes in words

so listen to this poem
with your body
your lungs
your eyes
your hips
your mouth
your hands
your wings
and
i
too
will listen
to
yours


yes. that's what i should have said.

dope song: otis redding's sitting on a dock on the bay ahhhhhh....