Thursday, April 20, 2017

Life iIn 14 Lines - 24: The Past



The Past’s an unforgiving dictionary,
Defining me by what I did and said.
Its purpose is to keep me stationary.
It paints me in what’s over, done and dead.

The past’s a lover who just won’t move on—
Telling me that her feelings mean I owe her,
Guilting me with a duty that’s long gone,
Blaming me because I dared to outgrow her.

Dressing me up in what no longer fits—
Humming me like an old familiar song—
Freezing my heart and licking it to bits—
Making me feel like growth and change are wrong—

My past defines me, on this one condition:
It cannot haunt me without my permission.



Copyright 2017 Matthew J Wells

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Go Be


Go be the sun that lights the darkest sky.
Go be the faith that nothing can betray.
Go be the pattern others measure by.
Go be the one and only every day.

Go slay the dragons that would hoard your treasure.
Go grin at hurdles and take home the gold.
Go stray down every path that leads to pleasure.
Go skin your knees like you were ten years old.

Go ski the Everest of your destiny;
Set free your inner slave, give her a crown.
Go cup your hands and drink audacity.
Go up your game. Never let yourself down.

Go tree a future that you’re worthy of
And be the soul that I will always love.


Copyright 2017 Matthew J Wells


Thursday, April 13, 2017

Life In 14 Lines - 23




My love’s an angry guard dog on a chain.
My hate’s a warming campfire in the cold.
My feelings never make it to my brain—
They melt and harden in a bullet mold.

My afternoons are what I take a nap in.
My nights are all about the exploration.
The disappointment when it doesn’t happen
Is ten times stronger than the expectation.

I hug the chaos but I hate the shoddy.
I love tradition but despise the rut.
Only my fingerprints are on my body.
The doorway to my heart is rusted shut.

Yet they will all dissolve, these fears that freeze me,
When someone looks at me and truly sees me.


Copyright 2017 Matthew J Wells

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Club Mateo



My inner life’s an after-hours club—
   It is my nemesis and my salvation.
I sing along to someone else’s dub;
   I dance to Hurts (they’re always on rotation).
Desire gets me drunk and feeds me sweets.
   I know I’m being played, but can’t renounce her.
Resentment sits down next to me and tweets—
   Somehow he always slips in past the bouncer.
The bar fills up with dreams who always say
   “I’m yours!” so they can party on my dough.
I slow dance with the one I want to stay.
   But always she has somewhere else to go
      And blows me kisses from her taxicab,
      Leaving me with a promise and the tab.




Copyright 2017 Matthew J Wells