Absence.

Subway, dancing flames,
joking ecstatic, lost
in games,
But what remains?

No more walking, no
more talking,
laid up, there, that
sickness stalking,

But smiling, that face,
still, staring death
cold,
Lasting humor, spirit
bold,

No more walking,
no more talking,
laid up, its' not the
same,
No more game, just
missing and its' not
the same,

Coloring book in
stained glass,
Far too much time just
passed,
That empty space in
a nameless place,

Missing that face...
-END-
(C) D.C. Chapman
02/27/2013

Round-A-Bout.

What if I really got what
I gave?
What if I was actually
worth the fucking
save?

What if I was a
priority?
What if I was worth more
than opinion and
majority?

What if there was more
than point of
view?
What if it really was worth
it to make one out
of two?

What if there was such
a thing as love in
return?
What if it wasn't one way?
What if it didn't have to
ache and burn?

What if it was an easy
choice?
What if it was more than
an opinionated
voice?

What if you loved me as
much as I loved you?
What if I wasn't just a choice
and the yearning burned you
too?

Instead of this runaround,
This heartache that runs so many
into the ground,
What if it were not about what
you are, but who you're
with?
Instead of the constant
turnaround?
-END-
(C) D.C. Chapman
2/26/2013

Emotive.

Trudging further, trudged too
far,
Nearly there, but somehow
sub par,

Missed the mark? No, but
the mark doesn't miss
me,
Just convenient? Maybe.

Damned up one side and
down the other,
Not that type, seek not
to smother.
Just the same as any other?
No!

Hell is no stranger here,
Searing, burning, but yearning
to hold you near,
Whatever, whichever, up
becomes down,
Punch-line to the face, but
won't be the clown,
Don't care if I drown, won't
wear a frown.

Not the option, nor the choice,
Just miss that face, and miss
that voice...
-END-
(C) D.C. Chapman
2/25/2013

Yearning Backward.

Away and heavy, head hung
low,
Arms lay empty, but not in
the heart,
Though back to the snow, yet
never to part.

Not thinking of the wind and
sea spray,
The clouds, the rain to wash that
yearning away,
Days feel like weeks, and months
dragged away,
Planning a way back, but it can't
be today.

Yearning for soft embrace, in that
moment, in that
place,
Instantly gone, missing that face,
Gone in a blink, too fast a pace.
-END-
(C) D.C. Chapman
2/24/2013

Stranded in Zero.

Burning forever in absolute
zero,
Keeping myself away, alive
through your apathy,
Wasted, tempted, but severed,
its' viral,

Accosted mind in stranded
time,
Wasting moments, an unsung
crime,

Burning forever in absolute
zero,
Keeping myself away, alive
through your apathy,

Whatever, whichever, wherever
they go,
Stranded in time, forever not
it knows...
-END-
(C) D.C. Chapman
2/23/2012

Family Matters.

Mom ditched dad to
feed the fix she
had,
Made the state mad,
blamed it on
Dad,
Not the Doctors or
the Pills,
Nor popular trends
promoting amoral
thrills.

What's wrong with
these kids
today?
Its' fucking obvious
wouldn't you
say?
With Daddy out of
the way?
With Mommy out to
play?
No Man to define and
guide the Men?
Mommy's drunk, high
and whoring again?
Fucking everything that
twitches again?
Not a care if its' women
or men??
So what's wrong with
these kids again?

Not simplified or
denied,
But inside the Children
cried and a little
piece of Daddy
died.
Morals shattered, family
broken,
Bitter from the lies spoken,
the promises broken.

But love is still
there,
At least inside
somewhere,
At least one of us
still finds reason
to care,
Even though Daddy's
not always there...
-END-
(C) D.C. Chapman
02/12/2013

Hate Poetry.

Fuck the the written, fuck
the rhyme,
Fuck the beat, and fuck being
in time,

Fuck the poem, fuck it
all,
Fuck the flow, smash my
head against a
wall,

Let it all fall,

Hate the paper, hate the
pen,
Find it here again and
again,

Hate it to the
very end,

Get it out of this head,
get it out before it all
goes dead,
Seeing shades of red,
straight to the
head,

Get it out before it all
goes dead,

Just fuck it, hate it
and all that was
said...
-END-
(C) D.C. Chapman
2/10/2013

Zero.

Caged in ragged, jagged
thoughts,
An edge, like razor, but
all is for naught...

Last in line, but keeping
alive,
Distance, pained, in step,
but does it jive?

Last, but not least, in
word and form,
late to the feast, just
in time to meet
the beast...

Conscious and stained,
reeling and pained,
Distant and shamed...

Keeping it all alive, but
does it ever really
jive?
Give it to the count of
five...

Strange, but the range is
unclear,
Distant again, but oh so
near...

Watered down, stitches,
Somewhere inside, twitches,
Aspects and Archetypes,
snitches...

At war in there, that self
somewhere,
Rolling and laughing without
a damn care,
Just waiting for the next
big snare...
-END-
(C) D.C. Chapman
2/10/2013

Popular Trends (Devolved at Birth).

Anti concept, anti choice,
anti idea, and anti
voice,
Anti self, and anti
soul,
Anti self-sealing empty
hole.

Hated, destruction, chaos
relished,
Embellished not, in absolute
whatever,
Polar opposed, significant
portions,
Transient in thought, imaginate
absorbtions.

Open wide the mind, closed, wide,
deaf, dumb, and blind,
Aggression and base, extensive
in the chase,
To destruction of the imaginate,
At the entrance, there is
no gate.

The same line repetative, fed the
imperative,
Seggregate and double-think,
Lost the mind, shattered and
stuck on repeat.

Brand names and accepted
shames,
Bright glowing, the box says
its' okay,
Lost in essence, never once
yours, zombified by whatever
they play... Everything they say...
-END-
(C) D.C. Chapman
2/6/2013

-Untitled-

Whincing at the turn,
somewhere in between,
Numb beneath the
burn,
Noticably unseen, unkempt,
unclean,
Beneath the surface...

Reflected Dark.

Upside down, flipped
around, scrambled,
Old ties broken, battered,
bruised,
In places so violent; chained
and abused,

Mind molded, but unknown,
ignorance is the
muse,
Whichever, whatever; illegible,
intelligable misuse,

Digging deeper, but without
a choice,
No thought original, owned,
branded, molding the
voice,

At odds within, struggle
without,
Induced happiness to
hide the drought,

On and on in doublespeak,
Triple think, and quadruple
peak,
Morals, shoes unworn, but
often spoken,
Saying one thing, doing another,
until the soul is
broken...
-END-
(C) D.C. Chapman
2/2/2013