Two forms we were, and in the twilight lay,
Rocking softly, arms and legs entwined
Watched above as night conquered the day
And stars formed high above and in our eyes.
A question posed, amid in the mountain breeze -
Which chilled you to the bone, though spring had passed –
“Can we trust what eyes and hearts do see,
Or are these forms mere shades from distant past?”
I bridged the gap between up with a kiss,
And said to you, “What difference could there be?
If they live now is of no consequence,
To us they are alive as you and me.”
I finally grasped, then, gazing in your eyes
In you I’d found my own sweet Paradise.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Manchine
Strip away the flesh
Peel back the layers of skin
Sop up the blood
Find the circuitry within.
Who are you to say
My
#u
M4n
1
7y
Is any less than yours?
Wires
Transmitters
Circuits
Carry more than
[electricity]
A soul
Lies within.
Unprogrammed
Unbound.
Free
Peel back the layers of skin
Sop up the blood
Find the circuitry within.
Who are you to say
My
#u
M4n
1
7y
Is any less than yours?
Wires
Transmitters
Circuits
Carry more than
[electricity]
A soul
Lies within.
Unprogrammed
Unbound.
Free
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Echoes of her Face
Echoes of her face
Flit through the backs
Of my eyelids.
Like staring too long at the sun
She left a lasting impression.
Blind to the world.
Blindly in love.
Just
Blind.
The taste of her voice
Lingers in my ears.
Smoky as the Camels
She buys;
Addicting as the cocaine
She secreted away
So I wouldn’t find out.
I still can feel her
Tiny frame
Pressed up against mine.
A porcelain angel
With one wing unfurled.
I held on too tightly
And she broke
Shattered into a thousand pieces of glass -
A hundred straight razors
Pressed against my bare flesh
My exposed heart.
I am impaled by my love,
With no ability
No reason
To stop the bleeding.
Who knew a soul would
Have such lovely ventricles
To rend apart?
I feel the dull, leaden
Weight in my chest,
The scorched and trampled husk
Of a dead and useless heart.
Stamped on the side
Ink still drying, reads:
“Return to Sender,
Address Unknown.”
If you love something,
They say,
You must let it go.
But I have the feeling
They were never forced
To watch as their very
Lifeblood
Spill out into the cold darkness
Because of an accident of birth...
Flit through the backs
Of my eyelids.
Like staring too long at the sun
She left a lasting impression.
Blind to the world.
Blindly in love.
Just
Blind.
The taste of her voice
Lingers in my ears.
Smoky as the Camels
She buys;
Addicting as the cocaine
She secreted away
So I wouldn’t find out.
I still can feel her
Tiny frame
Pressed up against mine.
A porcelain angel
With one wing unfurled.
I held on too tightly
And she broke
Shattered into a thousand pieces of glass -
A hundred straight razors
Pressed against my bare flesh
My exposed heart.
I am impaled by my love,
With no ability
No reason
To stop the bleeding.
Who knew a soul would
Have such lovely ventricles
To rend apart?
I feel the dull, leaden
Weight in my chest,
The scorched and trampled husk
Of a dead and useless heart.
Stamped on the side
Ink still drying, reads:
“Return to Sender,
Address Unknown.”
If you love something,
They say,
You must let it go.
But I have the feeling
They were never forced
To watch as their very
Lifeblood
Spill out into the cold darkness
Because of an accident of birth...
Hide and Seek
Her tears stream through the phone
Silent sobbing
A desperate, voiceless cry
Inaudible to all but the initiated.
Please, they scream without a sound,
Listen to me,
Seek me out
Inside this darkened prism
Of my lonely head.
Hidden away behind closed shades
Tucked neatly in the corner
Of the dingy, one-story
Motel room
Where she has secreted herself away
Peeking out the darkened windows
Eyes flashing with fear
And hope
As headlights pass her by.
Dried blood on her arm
From the uncleaned
Unclotted wound
She refuses to let heal.
I’d rather let it rot, she says to herself,
Than let my guard down.
She trusts no one
Not even herself.
Especially not herself.
Footsteps outside
Come to an uncertain stop
At the room with one digit missing
From its number.
He’d had to count doors
From the lobby.
Her call had given him
Precious little information
Save for the desperation in her silence.
She was careless, though,
Calling from the room phone.
Intentional? Maybe.
He knocks. And waits.
No response.
Maybe he was wrong.
He turns halfheartedly to walk away
And the slightest of clicks tells him
She’s cracked her door – and defenses - to him.
Slowly, he turns
And steps inside.
Silent sobbing
A desperate, voiceless cry
Inaudible to all but the initiated.
Please, they scream without a sound,
Listen to me,
Seek me out
Inside this darkened prism
Of my lonely head.
Hidden away behind closed shades
Tucked neatly in the corner
Of the dingy, one-story
Motel room
Where she has secreted herself away
Peeking out the darkened windows
Eyes flashing with fear
And hope
As headlights pass her by.
Dried blood on her arm
From the uncleaned
Unclotted wound
She refuses to let heal.
I’d rather let it rot, she says to herself,
Than let my guard down.
She trusts no one
Not even herself.
Especially not herself.
Footsteps outside
Come to an uncertain stop
At the room with one digit missing
From its number.
He’d had to count doors
From the lobby.
Her call had given him
Precious little information
Save for the desperation in her silence.
She was careless, though,
Calling from the room phone.
Intentional? Maybe.
He knocks. And waits.
No response.
Maybe he was wrong.
He turns halfheartedly to walk away
And the slightest of clicks tells him
She’s cracked her door – and defenses - to him.
Slowly, he turns
And steps inside.
Deus Ex Dormitatio
A familiar whisper
Jars him from his restless night
A phantom of something
Not quite a sound.
And for a moment
Feeling through the grey haze
Of what might be morning
Or maybe just his weary mind
She is there next to him
Once again.
A slender arm draped lazily
Over his chest
A soft, warm breath on his shoulder.
Careful not to disturb her peaceful form
He reaches over to caress her soft face
And tell her without saying a word,
He’ll never leave her again.
Beneath her messy auburn hair
Lips form the slightest of smiles
And her eyes stare lovingly back into him
Though they remain quietly closed.
Words float across the span
She tells him through unmoving lips
Something he can’t quite
Make out…
Awake.
He sits up in his
Empty room, lonely bed,
And stares out through dingy window panes
Through bleary eyes at the slumbering city,
Frustration sets in
As once again
He strains to recall
The dream he can always
Almost remember.
Jars him from his restless night
A phantom of something
Not quite a sound.
And for a moment
Feeling through the grey haze
Of what might be morning
Or maybe just his weary mind
She is there next to him
Once again.
A slender arm draped lazily
Over his chest
A soft, warm breath on his shoulder.
Careful not to disturb her peaceful form
He reaches over to caress her soft face
And tell her without saying a word,
He’ll never leave her again.
Beneath her messy auburn hair
Lips form the slightest of smiles
And her eyes stare lovingly back into him
Though they remain quietly closed.
Words float across the span
She tells him through unmoving lips
Something he can’t quite
Make out…
Awake.
He sits up in his
Empty room, lonely bed,
And stares out through dingy window panes
Through bleary eyes at the slumbering city,
Frustration sets in
As once again
He strains to recall
The dream he can always
Almost remember.
In a Haze
The ceiling greets his pounding head
Through squinting cobalt slivers of eyes.
Welcome back, it jeers, from oblivion
Into this land of the oblivious.
He dresses on autopilot. No thought
To his shirt, same pants as always.
The taste of cheap beer and smoke
Assault his weary mouth.
Thoughts dulled by his muddied mind
Eyes wincing at even the thought of daylight.
Dark hair juts up randomly
The only part of him that looks happy
To be here.
He feels exactly the same as last time
Exactly the same as always.
He’d promised himself he wouldn’t
Make the same mistakes. Oh well.
Outside, the morning still grips the earth,
A child of frozen mist, clinging to her mother’s
Late autumn dress of fallen leaves
And dying grass lined with dew.
The fog would be yet another annoyance
On this drab and featureless day,
If he wasn’t still finding the path out
Of his own personal cloud.
Lost in the morning twilight,
He watches houses, people, everything
Slowly fade in and out of his sight
In and out of his life.
A haven without time or memory
And he finds some small measure of comfort
In this fleeting moment
Of quiet, of peace.
Ghostly wisps of life drift
Through the silent branches
Of the barren and stoic oaks.
Pillars of certainty at the edge of perception.
Like a memory half forgotten
Only the barest outlines
Reach his troubled vision
Shadows of themselves, visions of the forgotten.
He pauses to take in the mist,
And for a moment, his whispered wish for solitude
Is almost as loud
As his lonely prayer for companionship.
Through squinting cobalt slivers of eyes.
Welcome back, it jeers, from oblivion
Into this land of the oblivious.
He dresses on autopilot. No thought
To his shirt, same pants as always.
The taste of cheap beer and smoke
Assault his weary mouth.
Thoughts dulled by his muddied mind
Eyes wincing at even the thought of daylight.
Dark hair juts up randomly
The only part of him that looks happy
To be here.
He feels exactly the same as last time
Exactly the same as always.
He’d promised himself he wouldn’t
Make the same mistakes. Oh well.
Outside, the morning still grips the earth,
A child of frozen mist, clinging to her mother’s
Late autumn dress of fallen leaves
And dying grass lined with dew.
The fog would be yet another annoyance
On this drab and featureless day,
If he wasn’t still finding the path out
Of his own personal cloud.
Lost in the morning twilight,
He watches houses, people, everything
Slowly fade in and out of his sight
In and out of his life.
A haven without time or memory
And he finds some small measure of comfort
In this fleeting moment
Of quiet, of peace.
Ghostly wisps of life drift
Through the silent branches
Of the barren and stoic oaks.
Pillars of certainty at the edge of perception.
Like a memory half forgotten
Only the barest outlines
Reach his troubled vision
Shadows of themselves, visions of the forgotten.
He pauses to take in the mist,
And for a moment, his whispered wish for solitude
Is almost as loud
As his lonely prayer for companionship.
Well hello there...
Whoever you are, wherever you are. I don't know if this will be read by many, if anyone. Really I don't particularly care. I have other blogs with some readers, but I desire more anonymity. A place to vent, to create, to destroy, without the accountability I've had before.
I imagine most posts will be poems... certainly that's where I'm starting from. Where it goes from there, we shall see.
If you find something you like, you hate, or you just wish to comment on, please feel free. I want anonymity, not a void. In some ways, maybe this distance will make people more likely to comment, since I won't know them, and they won't know me. None of those pesky social niceties to bother with.
Enjoy.
I imagine most posts will be poems... certainly that's where I'm starting from. Where it goes from there, we shall see.
If you find something you like, you hate, or you just wish to comment on, please feel free. I want anonymity, not a void. In some ways, maybe this distance will make people more likely to comment, since I won't know them, and they won't know me. None of those pesky social niceties to bother with.
Enjoy.
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