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Only For You

[ 0 ] July 22, 2009

The worst is I take all of this time thinking about you and writing poetry about you, and it doesn’t seem to matter. Only for you, but does it matter?

Only For You

The words don’t matter
They never change
The time doesn’t matter
It’s never the same
The day doesn’t count
Because I never check the date
Regardless of the location
I love you the same
Throw away my money
I’ll make you more
Throw away my food
I’ll cook you more
Throw away my watch
I’ll turn back the clock
Throw away the rules
I’ll find a way to break them
Throw away our love
But I’ll never stop

by Matthew Henrickson

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Happy Father’s Day 2009

[ 0 ] June 21, 2009

Dear Dad,

Last year I posted this poem, and I plan to do so every year in your memory. I hope you know that it’s hard for me to do, I cry every time I publish this poem.

I think I was too young to really try to sort through all of my unresolved conflicts with you, your death, and really just everything in my life at the time. It’s the turning point in someones life and then you leave me. I don’t know if I’ve done my best, but I hope you are proud of me. The happiest moments in my life were when you said you were proud of me. The lowest, were when I knew you were disappointed, I remember all very clearly.

My son talks about you. He knows you are his grandpa, but he’s too young to know, well, yeah. One time he told me “Is grandpa at the store?”… no. He’s smart and funny, it’s hard to imagine how much you would of spoiled him. I can imagine you and him together.

Happy Father’s Day

This poem was written in 2005 and first published here in 2007.

In Everything, I Find You

I’ve been reading about you every day
each story is different
but in my heart its all the same.
A loss so great with little reward
you brought the family together, after breaking our hearts
It’s impossible to miss you more,
but each day I do.
Each day theres some memory fresh and new
that brings me back thinking about you.

My father, my friend, my protector
My laugh, my smile, my trust
My eyes, my tears, my brain
My humor, my heart, my kindness
My life…
Your reflection…
and theres no one else I’d rather be

By Matthew Henrickson
April 4th, 2005

You can also read last year’s Father’s Day letter.

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Father’s Day 2009

[ 2 ] June 18, 2009

I miss my dad. I don’t know why all these feelings are coming to me right now. I’ve been blogging about Father’s Day sales for weeks now, and it’s barely just hitting me that he will be gone another Father’s Day.

I don’t go visit him anymore, I don’t know why. When he first died I would drive out to the cemetery in the middle of the night just to be close. Close to him, his memory… I don’t know. Now I don’t even bother and I don’t know why. Why did I fight to keep his ashes near me and not visit him? Just so I’d be able to?

I think that’s why I dream about him so much. I remember him so clearly and I know I always will. Just everything about him. But I repress that, the memories sometimes, and it just comes out in dreams. Maybe to get back at me for not visiting him. Torturing me with thoughts of him still being alive.

Sometimes I see people that look like him and just feel the urge to talk to them. To see if they sound like him, or act like he does. It sounds stupid and childish. Maybe they have a piece of him. Sometimes they don’t even look like him, and I’m kidding myself.

I don’t even talk to my brothers/sisters from my dads side. I feel bad, but I never really connected with them, it was all kind of forced, or rather my dad was the glue. Edward was mean to me up until maybe 1-2 visits before he died. And when he died he acted like a child. Why did I have to be more mature?

I got more time with him than anyone, but I never took that for granted for one second. Did they ever think that maybe for that reason, it was harder on me than them? Unfortunately, they were without him for a while, I never was. I guess thats my resentment.

All these feelings never dealt with are now coming out in the weirdest ways. Like this post.

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Tired of Dreaming

[ 1 ] June 17, 2009

Tired of Dreaming
written June 16th, 2009

Subconciously I am afraid to go to sleep
Thinking about what I will dream of next
I don’t want to wake up in tears
Going back to sleep facing more fears.

Do I have to see you even though you aren’t real?
Tricking myself into believing you are still alive
In a half sleep, remembering the true story
That I won’t see you when I awake.

I don’t want to dream that I am burying you
Even though you’re still alive
…Even though…
You may be dead in my heart.

by Matthew Henrickson

You may also like My Soul Is Tired. When do I ever get to sleep? …

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My Angelic Demon

[ 0 ] June 16, 2009

My Angelic Demon
written June 13th, 2009

Drinking is my Angelic Demon
The alcohol puts out the flames
The fire that engulfs my heart
Numbing the pain
That surrounds my life.

It stills my shaky hands
Clots my open wounds
Focuses my wandering mind
Calms my worried soul

To Quit
or Try To Forget
Is not a fair exchange
The impossible choice to make.

Each day is a battle
Only losing to win
The losing battle…
Again Tomorrow, it will begin.

by Matthew Henrickson

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Every Night

[ 0 ] June 15, 2009

Every Night
written June 14th, 2009

Do you know how you got to bed last night?

I made your bed
Fluffed your pillows
Carried you across the room,
And tucked you in.

I’d tuck you in
Make you comfortable
Sing a son
For the rest of my life

Just so you’d sleep well
To ward off bad dreams
To keep you safe
From the darkness

Sometimes I wonder,
Why am I never tucked in?

The only thing missing for you…
Is a mint on your pillow.

By Matthew Henrickson

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Sink Into Me Lyrics by Taking Back Sunday

[ 0 ] June 9, 2009

I didn’t know that Taking Back Sunday had a new CD out (New Again
) until I was watching music videos today. This is their newest single out. The music video is pretty weird, but interesting.

Sink Into Me by Taking Back Sunday

Hey! [x6]

C’mon tell me that you’re better
And you rather just forget
That things have gone so far
Yeah, tell me that you’re better
And you rather just forget
That things have gone too far, oh

You’re all I see
Sink into me
Sharpen your teeth
Sink into me
(Sink into me)
Sink in, sink in

Well I’d like to see our roles reversed
To watch you hang on every word
I’d like to see you have your way…
I keep my grammar well rehearsed
Correct each stutter, every slur
C’mon and have your way with me…

Now tell me that you’re better
And you rather just forget
Yeah things have gone so far
You tell me that you’re better
And you rather just forget
Yeah, things have gone too far, hey!

Hey! [x12]

You’re all I see
Sink into me
Sharpen your teeth
Sink into me
(Sink into me)
Sink in, sink in

Well I’d like to see our roles reversed
To watch you hang on every word
I’d like to see you have your way…
I keep my grammar well rehearsed
Correct each stutter, every slur
C’mon and have your way with me
C’mon and have your way with me…

I’d like to be a note, the kind
You could sing but don’t because you’re shy
That way I live inside your throat
And hang from every word you…spoke

HEY!

Hey! [x12]

You’re all I see
Sink into me
Sharpen your teeth
Sink into me
(Sink into me)
Sink in, sink in

I’d like to see you have your way
Come have your way with me
(And hang from every word you spoke)
I’d like to see you have your way
Come have your way with me
(Sink into me)

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Letter to ___________.

[ 0 ] June 9, 2009

This is definitely my favorite poem from Mary Oliver’s book Thirst. The lies we tell to those that have hurt us, just to show them, that they can’t hurt us.

Letter to ___________.

You have broken my heart.
Just as well. Now
I am learning to rise
above all that, learning

the thin life, waking up
simply to praise
everything in this world that is
strong and beautiful

always – the trees, the rocks,
the fields, the news
from heaven, the laughter
that comes back

all the same. Just as well. Time
to read books, rake the lawn
in peace, sweep the floor, scour
the faces of the pans,

anything. And I have been so
diligent it is almost
over, I am growing myself
as strong as rock, as a tree

which, if I put my arms around it, does not
lean away. It is a
wonderful life. Comfortable.
I read the papers. Maybe

I will go on a cruise, maybe I will
cross the entire ocean, more than once.
Whatever you think, I have scarcely
thought of you. Whatever you imagine,

it never really happened. Only a few
evenings of nonsense. Whatever you believe –
dear one, dear one –
do not believe this letter.

by Mary Oliver

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The Trouble With Poetry

[ 0 ] June 8, 2009

After reading Billy Collin’s book, it wasn’t really my style of poetry. However I did find one that I liked.

The Trouble With Poetry

The trouble with poetry, I realized
as I walked along a beach one night–
cold Florida sand under my bare feet,
a show of stars in the sky–

the trouble with poetry is
that it encourages the writing of more poetry,
more guppies crowding the fish tank,
more baby rabbits
hopping out of their mothers into the dewy grass.

And how will it ever end?
unless the day finally arrives
when we have compared everything in the world
to everything else in the world,

and there is nothing left to do
but quietly close our notebooks
and sit with our hands folded on our desks.

Poetry fills me with joy
and I rise like a feather in the wind.
Poetry fills me with sorrow
and I sink like a chain flung from a bridge.

But mostly poetry fills me
with the urge to write poetry,
to sit in the dark and wait for a little flame
to appear at the tip of my pencil.

And along with that, the longing to steal,
to break into the poems of others
with a flashlight and a ski mask.

And what an unmerry band of thieves we are,
cut-purses, common shoplifters,
I thought to myself
as a cold wave swirled around my feet
and the lighthouse moved its megaphone over the sea,
which is an image I stole directly
from Lawrence Ferlinghetti–
to be perfectly honest for a moment–

the bicycling poet of San Francisco
whose little amusement park of a book
I carried in a side pocket of my uniform
up and down the treacherous halls of high school.

by Billy Collins

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