Finally Something:

Finally Something:

It's a breakthrough
it's a moment
it's a minute space on clock.

It's a tempest
and it's roaring
and it's tearing through the hush.

It's a marvel
it's full of grace
it's my slow and even pace.

It's coming
and it's here
and it's whispered into every ear.

That it's finally made it
it's finally something
it's finally here to stay.

It's a feeling
it's my calm
it's the lulling of my hymn.

It's my prayers
come to life
and the accepting of a sin.
Oh, how to begin?

I guess I'll just have to.
The window's open.
The summer's breeze so nice.

-Matthew Koutzun

The man I am

The man I am

I'm going to be a man again
on my own terms.
But-

Ok, enough...
let me start again...

I'm tired...
just tired...
tired of being not enough
and not enough of either...

I'm not one
or the other
or either
but am somewhere in the nigh-ther.

I know this way
being between car treads
will surely get me run over.

But left or right
when neither is truly right
that would be a consequence far greater.

-Matthew Koutzun

Ouch

Ouch

You slapped me once like this before,
but the pain was here, (points to face),
not there.

I've been called many things you know,
none of them true,
those are the best kind; easily forgotten.

But I dared you to give it deep,
after I had given you your lashing,
and stood defiant, and proud, above you.

But how beneath you I am now,
because of the things you say,
too close to the truth.

-Matthew Koutzun

Personal Prose

Personal Prose

Who knew making friends would be hard?
Back 15 years ago, you'd set us down and we'd just start running around; playing pretend, beating each other, slapping a ball with a stick, and we'd be happy. We'd connect.

Now you can't even get me to talk in a crowded room to a stranger. I've been dropped in the sandbox, but no one pretends, or slaps sticks, or even beats me. When did it get so hard?

I'm smiling. I'm sure someone's bound to notice I'm searching. I have to be that desperate if I'm smiling and trying to make eye contact even with the recluse who would rather sit alone.

I've tried. Really. And almost had a bite too. They come, or I go there. And a good time takes place. But afterwards there are no calls. I guess that's people being nice. I'd hate to receive the bad news as the gospel truth as much as they refuse to preach it.

Stranger in a foreign land they say. Except I don't know any of it even when it's my own.

-Matthew Koutzun

Junction

Junction

On the corner
of time and space
we sat
and watched the cars go by.

Red and Green the lights changed
and halted distance first
and then alternating
to stop the minutes on our left.

We smiled and knew that these things
the ones we have together
are all about timing
the meeting of space and time.

If it had been any other corner
I don't think we would have been.

But here we are at the corner of now
and that place,
you know the one,
the one we'll talk to others about in the future.

-Matthew Koutzun

Seated in the Chair at table 5

Seated in the Chair at table 5

What will I be
when my body's failed me
When I cannot do
what needs to be performed
and cannot raise my arms
to be heard?

Will I fear
my body's ailing
settle into a darkness
of cold and extreme heats
inner fear?

What if my mind should go?
And the days ache long
and I can never remember when I've slept
and the people I remember have left me
though still beside me
and I perceive I'm all alone?

What shall I do?
Will I sink into silence?
Will I meet the weak like myself
and band together in loneliness' spite?

Who can fear the reaper
when and if my body's failed me
before I go?

-Matthew Koutzun

Skin Series 4: Skinned Alive and out the Window

Skinned Alive and out the Window

Here I am in you.
Ready to finally see you.


I took my sweet time:
concealing
manipulating
and recoiling you.
But perhaps I'm ready or not-

here I come.

Touch and scratch
and mark and taste
and squeezed
too pressed
and bit with ease.

Oh, I'm aiming too hard again
and missing some point or target
on the horizon-

line to be checked and crossed.

Here is where it happened.
.I am not my cells.

Evaporating slowly
I am dissolving
in air solution
and in CO2 problems.

I am not with you anymore-
happy because I never was
or will.

Holding me down,
I leap outside
baring all while wearing none.
I'll leave the skin behind.

-Matthew Koutzun

Skin Series 3: The Sin has Come and Gone

The Sin has Come and Gone

Darling,
all the vanity has left me.
Promise.
I'm not the man in the images I've made;
just shape
pretending form.

Pride the manifestation of dignity
and vanity all the appearance of it,
or so my better half Mr.Darcy was complimented.

Please forgive me.
I call to you,
on edge of frame.
Please forgive me.

I took them off
and went too far
I'm trying to give you everything
without exposing it all.
Can't you see?
I'm altering image and shape
to try and show you truth.

Darling,
one more try
these flaws are mine.

-Matthew Koutzun

Skin Series 2: Sloth and another Sin

Sloth and another Sin

Look-it darling
I did it
done it
was it
for me.

Slow majestic
touching wasted
and I slid them off
to see it all.

What beauty I am.
Look,
don't blush-
look at me.


Free and exposed in the darkroom.
Red light on; to warn and call you in.


Darling look-it
what I've stretched.
And what's carved of me
I give to you.
Bask in it:
glory,
can you feel it?

It comes through pore
and image.

-Matthew Koutzun

Skin Series 1: Skin

Skin

Pliable
stretched taut
and smooth demanding.
Firm
tight bonded
and calm commanding.

Can I sit in you comfortably
to see without wanting to change
accept and know you can mold.
I'm learning you take attention
how a simple shift can take all eyes upon you
and a look can invite or dispel.


I'll open soon to you baby.
Once I find the strength to shed these clothes around you.
It's a task to just be alone here.


You're on me-
yet not.
I can't find you with me.

-Matthew Koutzun

Change

Change

I reckon it's about time.

-Matthew Koutzun

Holding in Arms

Holding in Arms

Do you really care for me?
Or am I dreaming?

Shhh, or else you'll wake the both of us.

K, is this better?

Much.

Are you're eyes closed?

Yes.

Mine?

How am I to know?

True.
So, are we? Am I-
Dreaming?

Depends.

On what?

On what you want.

-Matthew Koutzun

"I wanted to contact you..."

"I wanted to contact you..."

Before I'm old and Jaded?
Then I guess you missed the boat.
I may not be old- and may not be jaded, 
but the naivety cloak has a worn hole 
5 feet wide 
and I've stepped through the looking glass
fallen
4 stories 
and several tall tales to the ground below.
The rabbit dusted me off
and took me on the journey back home
only to have his head cut off
and be replaced by the Cheshire cat
who always leads the way.

Green pill
blue pill
who is to know
or choose?
If I knew I wouldn't be here would I
but if it's all just a black screen with numbers and code
don't you think ole' Bill G would be the first to know?

But back to me.
What do you want to know?
My age?
location?
Or how far I can go?

Well, the last is easy.
From here to there.
But how I get there
is what must be taken with care.
Because there is there
and that's not here-
and here is here
and here is where I am not there
Let me stress that I'm not there
and that I'm here.
Let's just get it straight I'm here
not there
and that to get me there is
hearsay and theresay
and the hard way is usually the way
because no way with me to get there
has ever been easy.
This last verse is here-
not there-
to prove it.

-Matthew Koutzun

This poem is fairly sprawling but I like it.  
I've also changed the font to manipulate the feeling.  
I hope it works.

One Handed Books for Two Fisted Men

One Handed Books for Two Fisted Men

Read like a novel
but spoken like a poem
here's the one handed book
for two fisted men.

Taken up in private
and held stiff - pages crisp
here's the book for one hand
for the men with two fists.

Broken in sweat
and soaking just right
here's to aggression and anger
and forcing it tight.

Here's to moments of pleasure
in finding sweet pain
of knowing your own secret
and reading it again and again.

Here's to the one handed book
for two fisted men
it's read by few
but it's read again and again.

-Matthew Koutzun

Across a Mountain range I'm Moved

Across a Mountain range I'm Moved

I cry for someone else in love.
I feel fear and disappointment and am moved.

I see future glimmer and I hope.

I touch opportunity's fissure and I shiver.

I love for not need or want,
but in hoping for another.

Maybe this is turning over.

Leaves fall from the tree out side

although it's the beginning of summer,

I feel the season changing.

-Matthew Koutzun