*Clown Cars Would Be Most Efficient

Red Wax Lips

They call me “Danger Tom”,
I’m unpredictable they say
I’m dangerous
A loose cannon
On the my Hot Wheels set.

I write love notes on the back of
Animal Cracker boxes

Buried in the mulch,

Not the good stuff

That hardly cut, gives ya splinters kind.
It’s a bitch.

I finger paint on my palms

And put googley eyes

On fake plastic plants.
My mum gives me Adderall
And my dad bad habits.
I put dresses on those
Green.
Plastic.

Army men.

And melt their guns with a magnifying glass.

If I’m good
I get a sip

A sip ‘ah So-Dee-Pawp.
And if you takes a fistful ‘o

Crayons

You get brown.
Robin’s egg is the prettiest. 

I put stickers on my table so my parents won’t take it away.I wrote my name, and they still haven’t today.

This is a first...A poem jump started by a random tweet I thought of.

Speaking of which I highly suggest you follow me, or not. It's not particularly interesting.
Though I will start tweet when I post new poems, I realized I have hardly been doing that.
And here's a song by a new found artist who I love now, MIKA.                                                                                       

I Haven't Written Any Happy Poems For A Long Time. Now Isn't One of Those Times Either.

And Return To The Well 

A stubborn mule,

My hands, and my head and my heart

Warring, throughout it all

Each wants a chunk of this

Life

Which struggles for it's own turn.

Should hate,

Should run,

Should jump,

Should pull

And I had a reason to not

To not do a lot of things

And you vanished in a puff if smoke

Like my clarity.

So what's stopping me from never waking up?

I imagine it's my dreams.

But oh, here's another problem.

*I Ain't Afraid Of No Oak.

Pollution II: The Great Barrier Reef 

Cut down these trees,

Their overabundance of oxygen

Is blinding me.
To die drowning.
Might be a gorgeous end.
But not in your commercials

I want no cement grave

I want to be buried among

The fish

And the seaweed

And sunken ships.
Because if I wake up

I’ll just swim back to the top.

But it’s harder to wake

When you’re covered in filth
Muddied water so bright

It’s exhausting

It robs you of that night

But trying to catch up just dumps

More

And more

And more

And more on top of you.

We see it’s strange,
What I thought was a clear light

Clean,

To help rid the ugly

Was more trash

But trash that made me happy.
So I thought
“Do I go back to a dumpster,

Just to think it’s the local pool?”
But the question is

Will I be able to still dive in

Remembering what it is.

Hindsight is key in writing

Because the only thing more permanent than pen

(Which isn’t very permanent to begin with)

Are thoughts.
which can be erased rather easily.

Foresight

Bears a fruit,

Which is sweet

But someone stubborn bites of it

Some covered in trash bites into a piece of fruit.
Think of it like this

When a human is starving

And  really starving, not what we call starving

And they have some food, they vomit.
A broken body isn’t used to the sweet.

A broken body shakes the branch

And cuts the arms on thorns that aren’t even there.

Cause c’mon, who’s afraid of a tree? 



The trouble with poetry is that it robs you of a good nights sleep
and you commit to this insomnia before you even accept the writings.
It's a silly thing though.
But here are two poems, but you'll see I lied to posts ago.
There is no Iron "Lotus" Lung yet.
This one is taking some time...Haven't touched it for a while and it won't be 
tonight either. Just be patient, we'll see...
This poem started as just title sitting in my word document where I keep all my other poems finished or not. I wrote the title because I loved it and I knew the rest would come eventually, there are a lot of titles waiting for this as well. Unexpectedly the words came and in a medium I would have never expected, though appreciated.

Godspeed,
C.B.  

*Charlie Brown Syndrome

Charlie Brown Syndrome

If sundowning is for the elderly,

Psychotic or forgetful

Then explain why it is

When it’s dark

And I’m in my bed

I’m completely mental

Right
I’m psychotic

And forgetful

Fretful

Sleep is dangerous

Because I never want to get out

Charlie Brown syndrome

I used to disguise his ugly pout.
Check a mailbox

Valentines

Christ-mas

Birthday

Everyday

Your relentless flow of nothing

Means more to me than before

I realize

Or if I don’t

People forget me.
I wish we still wrote letters

I can blame a shitty postman

And I can blame a shitty good friend

But it’s hard, cause I really know them.
Simple words.

Simple mind.
Simple me.

It has changed.

We have changed.

LOOK.

I know I’m insane

I know I’ve changed for the worst

So I don’t know if what I’m spouting,

If there’s truth in these words.
Because I know a lot of things have died.
And my mind’s everywhere but condolences

At a funeral.
Because my mind wanders at night

When I die it’s just like my life

Attention whore.

WHORE.
WHORE.
I know these
It’s words like these I can avoid

I won’t be clever,
cause I’m a guy.
So now I’ll be blunt about it all.
It feels like I’ve been forgotten.

That’s mostly all. 

Since I Last Saw You I Fell Down The Rabbit Hole

Oak Harbor

The ferry sets off

Your on my mind

Oh how I want to go back in time

And sea you.

Oh ill play with words,

My humor hurts

When your laugh is not heard,

Knots away.

Anchor on my heart.

But maritime puns & setting suns

Will bring me no closer to you.

As the dark crashes,

still young and brash

yet full of hope for you

he’s sent me signs,

time & time

that again I’ll see you.

But as my

Faith

& flesh

Come together.

One will win, other wither.

They say

All you need is love

But those I give

will loathe 

I’ll  live

another day wanting you.

These subtle hints

Shared moments

Oh why must all this rhyme?

But I digress, I want to impress

The one I cannot have.

Distant love song

Friday morning

Church bells ringing

Rays splinter against

Dew,

drops against

My shoes.

There’s a love song in the distance

Pulled the strings and played the notes

On my mind

Am I on yours?

Though I am doubtful

The boys keep on singin’

Do you hear the distant chords?

Our hearts are out there

Behind the dust.

I have lost hope, but not my faith

In you there is who I fell for

And I’ve looked and I know ill never find.

In time I wished for a different tune

But the theory is the same.

Snap of a snare.

She’ll never know,

Good.

Happy Valentines every one* ! 
*In the terms of how many people see this blog "every one" = a few friends and according to the stats some Ukrainians. 


Here are two sort of appropriate poems, though a lot of my poems have to do with love...most not positive... Isn't that sweet? But I digress, It's been a while so I hope to post two more tonight and another song. Hopefully I'll be able finish Iron "Lotus" Lung tonight, that one has been taking forever...longer than any other poem I've written but I've had a couple turn of events that have inspired me. Another one I'll post is called "Epitome of Epiphany", and that will be revised through the journey from my notebook to word document....In any case enjoy your day/afternoon/evening/night.

Godspeed,
C.B. 

"But C.B. where'd your essay go?" ~ No one

Not too long ago, maybe a month at this point, I posted an essay of sorts that wasn't about anything in particular but about everything in a lot of ways. I called it "A Digression of Everything: An Essay". Well, today I took it off the site because I personally thought it muddied the water of the point of this blog. Though the real point of this blog is to get my writing out there and have a place where I can freely post whatever I want. BUT I DIGRESS.
It's down. I think it clears up the main page. If you'd like to see it shoot me an email and I can send it to you or i'll post it under the poetry page or a separate page...actually....

NEW PAGE.

So there's a new page as of now.
This page will contain all my essays, short stories and stuff like that.
This post took a turn for the productive.

Godspeed,
C.B.

I Could Have Used This Song A Year Ago And I Need These People Like I Need A Malady.

My estranged faults

I’m gone,
I’m sick and because of this

My mind
A wall of my own

You let your wall down

And I’m staying on mine

Way up, I can’t hear you

Above this atmosphere

And veil of desertion with a broken moon.

I’m hurting you,

Not helping, no solution
I must be the problem.
I’m sorry, this estrangement and

I’m letting my troops down

A general with quaking knees.
I’m sorry,
The war needs me now.

And I salute you soldier.

We Need No Proper Ending, That Would Mean That This Meant Something.

*Too Bad It's Not My Turn.

Positively 8 Ball

On the house,

Beers with a failing marriage.

A sitcom tagline,

Bar room scrawling

On a napking you’re too drunk to carry.
And writers have tablets

Their minds and a head

That carries mistakes,
Love, words & a high back to bed.
Retail insomnia

Doesn’t replace

The remembrance of the

Pre, post war high

I was clean up until now

Which is yet another lie

I’ve been positively 8 ball

 A poet metaphorically high.

And self-aware,

Cynically, self-mocking a rhyme.
I’m forgettable

I pounded into my skull,

Until I used up what sanity made that so.
I’m ignored and useless
Selfish  poet,
Pity partier

Table for one

I said I was self-mocking

And self destructively

Introspectively stubborn

Inferiority

Superiority complex.

I look back at my first words.
And how much I’ve erased

Faith,

You put too much away

Into attics & trunks

And cliché hiding places,

I’ve become
Positively 8 ball
This poem has no ending.
                                                           

Godspeed & Goodnight
C.B.

I'm tired of who I am.

Sometimes I worry about who/doesn't read(s) these/ Defacing anonymity.

Electronic Devices: Off

So here I am,
Back where it began.
The wheels will touch

Though I won’t remember much,

47 years from now
I’ll just have the ink on this page,
And recollections, just recollections

‘Cause I can’t blame an allergic reaction

To goodbyes, and I cry
GOODBYE RAINY CITY!
Street artists & strangers
Goddamnit Steel city
Strangers, that’s all.
Cold, but it’s all I know.
Fasten your seatbelts,

Said the oddly unattractive sign

Looking back,
At words I wrote a time ago,
I thought I made mistakes then

But all I did was make my bed,

Though now I’ve dealt with the
Crimes laid in it, the best of plans

But linen allusions can often go wrong.

“Ladies and Gentlemen we’ll be landing

Soon the curr-“

My turn to talk,
My plane,

My time,
it’s dark and it’s a city I don’t want anymore.

My stomach dropped, like a bad name and

The thoughts that come with you.
“Say your goodbyes already”
Why should I?
Maybe I should…
There’s a cute girl in front of me,
don’t know her but I care.
Goodbye mildly attractive girl.

I thought about writing you a note

But I’m far too socially awkward

I’ve even stopped rhyming

Back home.
If I even knew what lay ahead,
I think I would schedule another round trip.
But I don’t, so I turned my phone back on.
I shouldn’t have,

But no one told me.
Until now.


E.t.t.y.w.w.k.

My Lord are teens so horny

Drink, Fuck, Smoke.

It’ll kill you we said.

We lied.

Shucks;
Profanity, Sobriety, Society
We are all they know,

So who are they

Trying

To

Put

On

A

Show for?
Not like we’re watching.
Let me rephrase that,
Not like we’re entertained.
                                                                                 

Two very odd poems... Not even sure if I like them myself.
The first I obviously wrote on a plane a long time ago and the other I just scrawled out, probably angrily.There was a certain stint of time when I was very flowery, almost campy and especially very rhyme-y. There is also another period of time where I wrote some more vulgar, angry, honest things. Slowly transitioning into a place in between where I actually like what I'm writing. The last one, and there are several like it are just short bursts, not enough thoughts for a good whole poem but enough emotion for a small rant. E.T.T.Y.W.W.K. stands for Everything They Taught You Was Wrong Kids, which is written on my lighter. (Odd little fact, I don't really smoke, but I love fire, not in a pyromaniac way. Fire is the reason I started writing. Ashes in the Wind was my first poem but that's a story for another time) It's been a long time since I've posted anything. I hope all of your Christmas's were good, and the New Year is upon us.

I don't know if i'll miss 2011, as far as years go it was a bit of a bastard.

Godspeed,
C.B. Franz

An Early Christmas Gift

Merry Christmas everyone!
And Happy Holidays as well! 

Seeing as all my poems are dreadfully depressing I think 

I'll just post a few good songs for some cheer, eh?

It's been a while, quite a while, since I've posted anything and I do apologize for that. No particular reason just no inspiration or motivation, 

that coupled with finals and coming back home everything's been all over the place. 

So enjoy the tuneage!

Now that will just have to do for you good folks, I can't give you ALL the good Christmas songs now can I? You'll have to get off your lazy, lazy butts and get some for yourself but I hope you enjoyed these nonetheless. 

P.s. The albums which these are from might be a good place to start huh? ;)

And to all a good night,
C.B.  Franz

Son Shines On A Rainy Day, Refractions Seem To Fade Away

Green Fields

The green grass against my toes,

I’m lost but nobody knows

Where I am.

Everyone so happy

Especially her,

I miss her smile

I miss her laugh

Secrets whispered

And knowing laughs

I rhyme words that are

well…the same.

But the ink from the quill

Will spill on these

Proper terms

And suave words,

These end rhymes are quite

Annoying

But where was I?

Oh her.

She thinks I don’t see

The way she looks at him,

Not at me.

Doesn’t think I hear her,

He’s got something I don’t

But I’ve still got my words,

Though seldom do those work.

Same old story of heartbreak

We relate to

On the radio.

Everyone deals with this

Not just me, in my flannel

My sandals

I’ll keep walking, my back turned

No knows

Not like it’s the first.