Monday, June 29, 2009
to hear a word
you were my muse
but without excuse
you took your leave
Sunday, June 28, 2009
this bird has flown
Dearest, you're the nearest to my heart
Am I taking too much for granted?
Peacock feather blue
Nobody will miss me when I'm gone
But is that what I'm supposed to be greiving about
While I'm still alive?
So we part
And I so bold
Standing in this corner
Smugly turned away
As if I do not know which bird's name love is.
i start to sweat before you feel the warmth
Is not environmental optimism.
It is the voice of greed
And it bleeds with the fear, the sorrow
Of human incapacity
Clinging onto hope as if it were life.
Clinging onto self as if that alone were life.
But life amiss -
A mass of regret, our body and our soul
We take from this earth, all that we never owned.
Is political propaganda
Unless you want to hear the earth's agenda
And the earth has none.
Yet why do we go on and on and on and on?
the elemental zoo
then must mean that you can see
But what I see is glory
Without an ounce of mystery.
is too much to see.
I wish I could go back to being wholly blind
To gain a little bit of that mystery
And return to the unexalted
So that seeing, again, would not make me believe.
When they told me emotions are dispensible
And confidence needs to be made permanent
And suddenly so much of distanced alertness
All this alertness
Makes me forget who I am
What am I expending my focus on?
A filthy, wasted bargain.
So they tell me love is an object
"Make an object out of love!"
And I try and peek in to see if it's my heart
Or my crotch they're talking about.
Friday, June 26, 2009
on the edge of disaster. and life is back to being beautiful again.
even in death we are a little inconsistent
"i want to spread myself out for you
i want you to see
all of me"
and when i say this,
i excite you
i arouse you
i make a new man out of you
i start shedding,
my sensual body
is clothed only in your gasp and your stare
and the look on your face
is enough to arouse me as well
touch me with your naked hand
all my clothes undone
you think i am done
but not yet
for i havent shed anything yet
in unintentional ingenuity
(but oh what ingenuity!)
and i shed
shed skin and flesh and bone
in front of your eyes
until i am nothing more
than just the vaguest memory of somebody dead
i wanted to show
i wanted to tell
i wanted to reveal
and leave nothing behind for you to misunderstand
i left nothing behind
you saw all of me
but what you saw
you couldn't make out
because you knew, i know, you too are what i am on the inside
the same flesh, the same blood, the same gory biological detail nobody wants to pay attention to -
ugly, intolerable truth.
but why must it be told?
why must it be shown?
when it's in all of us
and showing thus, it keeps us from remaining alive.
in showing all that can be seen
there was nothing left of me.
we all want to see
we all want to be shown
i think you got more than you asked for
but i wanted to show more
i wanted to show so much more
but i was gone before i was done
so maybe you did misunderstand me, after all.
and just to be fair
i hope you'll keep a lock of my hair.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
something is not quite right with this poem...
there is no power in what you are going to say
because the future is in yesterday
so when you procrastinate
but a blog imprinted with memories of loss.
creation submerges in loss
emerges as pain
it is almost always barren
where only tomorrows exist.
(hmm...reading a poem with a missing line can be awkward...)
while nothing came our way
"i experimented with love
the result: burnt petals in the rain. oh so unwashable.
i experimented with desire
but my body language
contained too many grammatical errors
i experimented with satire
and oh ya...i got a lot of laughs-
i do not want to go into exactly why that happened
i experimented with pain
and how my heart burned
but heart burn is really just belly acid rising up to the oesophagus
it's belchy, it's bilish,
it has no room in poetry.
i experimented with pain
and waited for the rain
but it was the wind that finally set me free.
i experimented with fire
as flames poked my gut
a sensation unrivaled.
and while i experimented with fire
i discovered i was unable to disappear into the smoke"
Friday, June 5, 2009
are you my marygold?
yes. no. bitch. whore. too many fucking lies. everyone denies. you are a fucking pink pig that does not cry. no, bitch. you are not my marygold.