Foot High Flames
Luis Costa Jr.
Copyright © 2012 by Luis Costa Jr.
Cover illustration by Scorpion Tech
Smashwords Edition
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Table of Contents
The waves I catch always crash.
A Trait Passed Over From My Mother To Me
With My Eyes Set On This Clear Blue Sky
The waves I catch always crash.
With the downfall of the sun, I sit in a darkening room. No moonlight to guide me; I black out my windows with rags to protect me from unknown evils. Yellow note pad in my lap, pencil shavings galore raining down on my cold feet. I light a candle to drain my mind through these splintered, callus-ridden fingers as the eraser dust poisons my soul. I speak of thee as I write to share with you my poetry.
With the stress of every day life, I see people turn to alcohol, drugs, sex and even food. For me it’s poetry. I still wonder why this is, for I’m not the kind of person you would see in a poetry hall, standing behind a podium reading my words to a crowded room of drunken people. Drunken I would not know, but I assume if it was my poetry you would be! If I ever do so, I would recommend rum and coke so you can laugh at every lame attempt of me cracking a joke. I have had people ask me, 'why poetry?' All I can tell you is this: I don’t know.
Middle school kids can be so mean, let me tell you. I needed an outlet. One dark day after school I came home and started to write.
Try to remember back to your school days and see what you did or what was done to you. You may laugh about it now, but if you have kids of your own you're not laughing but fearing for your own kids safety.
After school I would throw my homework to the side and rest my mind. Black out my window, light a candle and write the first thing that came to me.
To release my stress, I shared my painting in words with the world to see, hoping to reach out to someone who shared my pain. As a teenager I hated to read but after freeing my mind, I came to love turning the pages that craved my eyes to discover them. You are probably assuming it was poetry, but you would be wrong. If you were to walk to my bookshelf, the authors you would find would be Dean Koontz, Stephen King, Gary Williams, J.K.Rowling and John Grisham. I have only read one poetry book and this poet is my favorite. I know what you’re thinking: How could this poet be your favorite if you have only read their book and not any other? It’s a simple answer to me and this authors name is Mattie J.T. Stepanek. Bless his soul and may he rest in peace. His words spoke to me. With your loving spirit, let there be peace on earth.
With the lights out, I sit in silence,
Focused on the drumbeat. I hear the cry as my heart reaps -
The stress and lost kisses, I blame the frogs for stealing my princesses.
Gray fog and an orange barking dog, a plague that bares my name.
I sit in silence and reap the song that plays along, with every single throbbing heartbeat.
Lights burn to blackness. My eyes shot to shadows.
Forced to listen to the voices, which burn through the darkness.
Not comforted, I sit here. Praying for an open window.
To take me where the sun is, the warmth of joy, which I so miss.
With my tears, a dragon appears.
Golden white and smooth as silk, this dragon flows like a river of milk.
Over the darkness and through the shadows he whispers:
" With my light you will see the day you so crave."
My eyes small pupilled, I rise to my feet,
As this dragon flows all around me he speaks:
"Yes that's it. You will see.
Not only you but every person who is in need.
I will guide them to the light. Showing them freedom of choice."
Around and around he goes. So free he flows.
"Now come boy, don't fear,
There is a window of light that will soon appear.
Now take this chance as I show you with my milky flow -
Every good loving soul desires a new pot of gold."
There's a ball of light burning through the shadow that smells of mold.
"Go Boy! Don't fear."
Taking a breath, I take a step with this dragon in to the golden sphere.
Wishing, hoping for a new career.
My Mother To Me
Sensitive being I am,
a trait passed over from my mother to me.
Soft to the touch, words slice right through.
Hard to strive; strong I try to be.
With the hate and evil eyes of this world,
I hold in the stress that soon explodes out thee one and only me.
You burst my dreams and flushed them down the drain.
By my evil eye, you will scream in pain.
I may wear a smile, but with the twist of a dial,
My mind will darken.
These thoughts so hostile,
Go stand in denial.
Who knows? It just might be worthwhile.
Deep with grief,
I hold no shame.
I have set my evil eye.
That’s strung on the wall, contained in a frame.
Thee eye is eagled.
There is no mercy.
You will scream with pain.
All because you burst my dreams and flushed them down the drain.
Snapping the branches of my limbs.
Will unleash the marsh demons within.
Slug thy feet in the muddy sheet.
With my roots I will snag your limbs and splinter them.
Ah, a song that brushes through my branches against the breeze.
Leaving you whimpering on your knees.
Stoop over my roots! I hear your scream.
Soon I will cover you with my dry, dead leaves -
for I will fertilize hands of the beastly thieves.
As time passes through this gust of cold air,
I stiffen with every lie.
Standing on frozen water,
The waning moon shadows me, beneath a bad apple tree
from the one person who claims to love me.
As time grows colder with the lies, this frozen water cracks beneath my feet,
Covered in warm tears.
I can't help but to fear, if you don't truly love me.
Clear Blue Sky
With my eyes set on this clear blue sky,
I hold my cell phone, Waiting to hear your voice.
I should of known,
You made that wrong choice.
You left me behind with your so-called friends,
Knowing we had plans.
Watching the river flow,
I sit on its bank as the birds drift through the wind. They fly!
Grass in my gripped fist, I cry.
Lonely with an empty heart,
I walk to the unopened door, leading me to your floor.
With my phone clenched in my fist,
I imagine the kiss I so miss. But not only this.
I loosen my grip and smash my cell phone to bits
So when you get home you can see that I'm pissed.
With every heart throbbing beat -
I try!
With all my strength -
I cry.
Bounded within these cold linked chains,
I lay alone in foot high flames.
Who is this person I see
In this back-wards looking thing?
When I look at him, he looks straight back at me.
Every move I make, he moves with me.
With every breath I take, he is still standing there in front of me -
Blinking his eyes, I can see. The room I'm standing in is where he will be.
I see him every time I walk by this back-wards looking thing.
Like he has nothing else to do but just look at me.
It's funny that he can keep the same pace as me,
Moving just like me. When I walk away from this back-wards looking thing,
He's not there looking at me. When I stand in front of this thing - There he is,
Just staring straight at me.
Not saying a word. I can see he's wearing the same clothes.
Oh my God, this is me.
The birth of a new day of suffering,
Scared without any ease, lonely-hearts fall with displease.
The grace of the seas plumpish misty appease.
"Reveille the depressed souls," they scream.
Removing agonized darts, they drown in the rough golf blue seas.
Sketching imprints of lost souls, beaten by disease.
I look in the mirror, praying for you to remove this fog.
As I sit upon my imaginary log, I cry to you, oh sweet God!
With cold salty tears, my face falls hard between lost walls.
In need of a lift to life’s drift, I fall upon thin lengths of sin.
I cry out for your swift loving gift:
The warmth, which removes chill’s from within.
So I can raise my heavy chin to feel life’s drift.
With my hands tied and scold
I fry away in the cold.
Uncontrolled fears.
Like a leech she feeds
Taunting poor souls.
Forcing the pain of tears.
She has no remorse,
Just her evil dagger - an overwhelming force.
No one can find the root to its source.
With every right rolling eye,
She will find a way to make you cry.
With her musky smoke lie,
She will prey on your soul 'til you die.
Dark and misty dreams. I hear the screams.
With my eyes glued shut, I feel the pain in my gut!
Squealing for freedom, I'm lost in this fight.
The spider bats are dining on my hungry soul.
Dwelling in the darkness. Refueling me with the blackness of shame.
I fall in the dark angry clouds. Due to thee judgment of the game.
When you're in my presence,
you say you love me.
But in a different light, you masked me.
Hidden beneath lost mortals,
like trolls under a bridge,
a lusty kiss that my heart can't dismiss.
I play this role.
Standing here alone,
starving my soul,
examining my self-being.
Reflecting images flash through my mind,
Fallen behind drawn curtains,
I watch the sun die.
With my heart in flames, I extinguish my memories -
Anguished as the lights distinguish.
I search for a Louisville slugger to diffuse this pain,
for my love hurts like an unknown cold chain.
Sixty degrees and I’m weak in the knees.
As life flows quickly by,
Cold tears fall from the sky.
Depressed, I can’t hear nor see bird’s sing or soar.
Distress in the blackness.
Trapped within a mental gray-matter war,
I stand defeated with a broken sword.
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Now that I bring this book to a close, I would like to thank you for reading my painting in words. Please feel free to correspond with me,
Your feedback will be gratefully appreciated.
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