I'm Sorry (Sorry for Everything)

I'm sorry, more sorry then you'll ever know.
I'm sorry for everything,  I hope you know how sincere I am.
When I breathe, guilt punches me in the stomach, it cripples me.
Often, I lie on my back broken, I stare at the ceiling
and think of all the wrong I've caused—it breaks me.
My hands are scarred with the guilt I can't share with you,
I want you to know why I am the way I am—I've never really told you.
I'm not as neophobic as you may think.  Obsessive? Compulsive?  Of course,
but I'm not afraid of change.  As you can tell, I've always been different,
and right there, that's the start of my demise—my self-disdain.
I don't know how to talk to you; I've never learned.  I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for the way I talk and the way I present myself.
Guilt keeps me awake at night, it lets tears fall down my face—my cheeks;
I want you to know I'm aware of how wrong I am. I'm metacognitive
when I am around you.  It lets me be silent, even when I don't want to be.
I'm sorry for the way I act, it's not who I am; it's a mask.
It keeps you from getting to know me—I guess there's nothing wrong with that
but I wish you knew me.  My guilt controls me, I want to leave you be.
You're running through my mind and I don't know how to forget that.
You would think sleep would bring the best of me—yet—I always dream.
Those are the worst moments, the ones where I'm asleep.
In my dreams, I know how to talk to you—then I awake—without you.
I arise from my bed confused, and with reality twisted.  I'm sorry.
I'm sorry that I dream—the guilt is eating away at me.
I'm sorry for everything,  I hope you know how sincere I am.
I'm sorry, more sorry then you'll ever know.
I want you to take my words to heart—know how sincere I am.

A Promise

A smile, a promise,
for eternal life, an endless salvation.
Too bad I'm lying,
it would have been a nice story,
For children or dreamers.
Who are they but one and the same?
Brace yourself it won't be long;
brace yourself just one more day
and perhaps the perfect moment,
will become apparent;
not elusive like any other.
Regret what's done,
and pray upon what's soon to be.
I smile, I promise
I'll make it up to you.
        DannYetman
http://www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/

Everything I Do

December has come to past;
I walk the streets with you in mind.
I sit in snow and watch ice grow;
I sit alone, without you.
Alone and cold, I come to be,
walking upon downtown streets.
Wayward in my goal for you
I find myself lost, in the bitter cold.
Upon me the homeless prey,
lost and alone all I have is you.
Bitter and covered in ice, my heart is frozen,
like my hands, black and broken.
Upon me, the homeless run slender fingers,
in the midst of them I stand regal and alone.
They don't know, I search for you.
          DannYetman
http://www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/

Angel

Tonight, can I call you angel
when I see you in the sky?
I'm going to call you angel
whenever I see you smile;
I'm going to call you angel
because you are an angel.

As innocent as angel,
you live your life everyday.
As innocent as an angel
you disappear before me.
I live without an angel;
In this world I need an angel.

You're Already Gone

I'm looking in all of the wrong places;
I will not find you on a park bench,
that I know, but yet it's where I look for you.
Maybe someday you'll come to sit
and watch the birds as I do today.
By then, I'll be long gone-
your life will have just begun.
Here I sit on my last day and I'm without you,
I came to search for you-but I sit alone.
You should come and sit down beside me,
We could reminisce about who I should be.
Tell me where to find you, I'll look there.
Like an apparition, appear before me
show me where to sit- I don't want to sit alone.
My hands become frozen forever, waiting for you,
Still I sit, on the same bench I've always been on,
Hands frozen, I still search for you.
       DannYetman
http://www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/

My Final Confession

From now until you die, don't believe a word I say;
everything I tell you is a lie, and it's ridiculous.
I can't tell you anything; it kills me in every way.
To you, I want to whisper every thought that crosses my mind
but I know you don't care what goes on in my simple mind.
     
I'll pretend you care what I think; and to myself I'll lie;
you've never cared for me and you tell me that everyday.
Some part of me keeps hoping that you lie (the way that I lie),
after all, I'm fluent in pseudo-truth.  What am I saying?
You make me ramble and sound broken.  What am I saying?

I want to tell the truth but instead I spit out regret;
I hide my trails well; I make sure you never know where I am.
I've done things that don't make me proud but I won't forget them;
why would I want to forget them?  To forget is to regress.
My stories no longer fit together; I must confess.

My stories are simple memories; moments inhuman.
If it takes innocence to show who I am, then naïve I'll be.
I want you to know where I've been, see that I'm just a man;
look to me and watch me bleed,  I need you to see me broken;
I can't look at my reflection- I feel I've misspoken.

I think of what's missing; it's suffocating- I concede.
I want you to see me broken; crying in an empty room-
you'll see how human I am, I'm not a machine, I bleed.
It's ridiculous, what I think; the disillusions I live.
You deserve to see me broken; see how I really live.

I want you to know who I am; ask me and we'll reminisce.
If I'm lying, I'm sorry, but there's good in me; it exists.

          DannYetman

http://www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/

Kentville

Kentville, even I
walked your cobble streets;
even I saw your jaded face.
When I looked to you years before,
you danced with me in the streets.


Your boulevards told a story;
I didn't think I would ever leave.
There I was dancing in Kentville,
so often I looked for you;
I thought that I would never leave.

Once again I walk the streets,
searching for your face alone.
My body has aged 100 years,
you have left me years before;
I walk your streets-I walk alone.
        DannYetman
http://www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/

My Existence

I need you to hate, so much it breaks me;

tear me down, show me true apathy-

make me speechless, that's what I truly want.

Teach me how to forget, it's foreign to me;

show me how to be a killer, it's what I truly am.

Break me, it's all I need; it's all I want from you.

I'm a hopeless cause; tell it to me;

tell me my words are endless; each one senseless,

I need to hear it from you; all I do is lie.

Become a philosopher; my existence? Show it to me.

With innuendos, give me hope and belief,

remember my words for the rest of your life.

When I look to you, remember me apathy,

remember who I am, I'll miss you

          DannYetman

http://www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/

Crows Fly Above Me

In this world the crows never  fly gently,
they are carried by the winds that take them.
They try to fly to you, in hopes of pristine beauty
but instead they come to rest with me.
Ice falls from their beautiful wings; they look to you,
they watch you turn away.  Can't you see their broken wings?
I want those birds to kill me, pick me apart bone by bone;
crows will take my sight and I'll see what I've become.
I have never seen an animal cry, like those birds;
they roost broken-hearted, dorment in their only quest.
I want them to desire me, like they desire you.
The winds are too strong; they'll never want me,
their hearts belong to you and so they plainly speak.
Their black tounges curl as they try to fly to you;
one by one they fall upon me; they fall into a pristine wasteland.
They fall beside me and they don't even know that I'm here.

          DannYetman

http://www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/

As the Year Comes to a Close...

  The year is coming to a close and I would really appreciate your feedback!  I'm trying to make a collection of the most popular poems that I have written based on the votes of readers.  You can cast your vote by typing in the name of your favorite poem in the text-box to the right labeled "Your Favorite Poem."  I can't wait to hear your opinion!
  I will post the results on January 1 2010.
        DannYetman
http://yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/ 

Born Alone

As an hour goes by,

it is to my eye,

just an hour

to live and die;

to make amends

and to save a friend.

As an hour goes by

can you see mine eye?

Living for an hour

asking not to die.

       DannYetman

http://yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/

Steel

Your steel fingers dance across my skin,
they remind me, my life is in your hands.
Five steel fingers cut my skin,
they beat me, they break me;
they show me what it is to live.
Your fingers whisper to me,
they tell me what is right.
My skin swells in front of you-
What have you done to me?
The scent of vomit and unworldly passion
floats silently though the air,
my words are caught bubbling in my throat,
I want so badly to get them out.
I'm choking on my own words,
won't you help me get them out?
        DannYetman
http://www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/

The Last Time

So we ask again,
this time hopeful;
no longer deceitful
but inside a broken body
we too stand crippled.
Keep on living without question,
feel nostalgia,
live in nostalgia.
Tired are the broken,
dead are the broken,
but still they keep on walking.
For I guess it's time for us
to play god in our own lives;
this time not hopeless,
this time endless.
So it's the last time,
but this time we aren't asking,
because this time
the future is no longer in our hands.
        DannYetman
http://www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/

Look Back

Don't drive away
without taking a look back;
see the empty highway,
yellow lines painted on black.
As you drive, look behind;
with one hand on the door,
watch my teeth grind.
Look upon an overpass,
forget the thoughts that never rule;
forget the thoughts that never last.
What an inner dual,
don't drive away
without taking a look back;
see the empty highway,
see what's left to lack.
          DannYetman
http://www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/

Where the Blackbirds Cry

There's an old man fishing down at the creek;

everyday he fishes his heart out.

He waits everyday at the creek for a bite,

never does he complain; not once has he ever flinched.

He sits there, waiting for the fish to bite;

the rain falls hard upon that man.

As the years go by, he never moves an inch;

he was a child, now he's a broken man.

The fish never bite, his eyes start to fade;

over the years his back becomes haunched.

No longer is he known as the fisherman,

years of torment have left his mind completely wrecked;

he is referred to as a broken man;

he bleeds from black and weathered hands.

As a fisherman he commanded respect,

now an old man holds pity by the hand.

There was rain when he left his fishing spot;

he walked that day, straight into the fog.

Nobody saw his face on that rainy night;

he walked alone, just as as he had for his whole life;

his footsteps were silent, leaving the woods in fright.

Only the blackbirds heard him cry,

their melancholy songs caused the end of his life;

the blackbirds alone saw his mud stained eyes.

His yellow coat sits in the mud today.

Today it's black, from years in the mud.

Not even the blackbirds remember his face,

generations have taken him from memory.

Grass dances around his favorite place,

where alder trees begin to grow.  

No one cries for him, they have no memory;

not even the blackbirds give him sorrow.

        DannYetman

http://yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/ 

There Will Always Be A Tomorow

We too were young once,

wanderlust and lost in our own ways.

Each day just a path to the next,

time meaningless beyond the clocks.

We too knew there would always be a tomorrow;

we too were forever young.

We’re busy saving lives now,

if not for the joy of being life’s savior,

then for the joy of an endless salary.

For is a life not a life;

No matter why we save them,

no matter why they come to us?

We’re busy putting out fires now,

careless at life’s expense;

facing danger for a thrill of thrills.

For we are those immortal,

living for the smiles of a families fortune;

walking away from lives torn at the seams.

We’re busy sculpting minds now,

casting our lives away valiantly

to make the future bright.

For we could sit in the dark,

or we could rule a kingdom of youth

who will forever look at us like god.

We’re busy flying our planes now,

bringing families closer together,

while making the world more compact.

For we are the children who never grew up,

playing war in the backyards,

sacrificing our own lives for the good of a nation.

We’re busy running your country now,

making your life just a little better,

while making the world just a little safer.

For we are those that never lie,

those who never propagate or cheat;

we are those with morals.

Just like you we had fun once

but now the world is ours

and your fate lies with us.

Just like you we had fun once

But we’re busy saving the world now;

Just like we said we would.

        DannYetman

http://yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/ 

I Want to Dance With You

Come and read my mind,

all the words are for you;

I said all the words are just for you.

Come tell me that you hate me,

and I'll show you who I really am.

I wish we could smile everyday,

everyday just me and you.

I'd say my words are for you;

I would mean it, always mean it,

and you'd want to dance with me.

Come and take my hand,

I won't say goodbye to you;

I just want to say hello to you.

Come tell me that you hate me,

and I'll tell you there's no one home.

So you say you know her name,

but she's faceless just like you;

every word is just for you,

I mean it, I always mean it,

come and dance with me.

         DannYetman 
http://yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/