Monthly Archives: December 2016

Next Year

I don’t know where I
Am going to rest my head tonight
So I won’t promise that I’ll speak
To you today, but if I ever find
Another place, a better time
For that moment
I was never what I am…

~*~

Dreaming of auroras, reminiscent blooming flowers

Staring at the open window on a mo[u]rn December

Thoughts of calendar prose, painted rubicund 31st

A parched thought and unsaid words dying of thirst

.

Inhale one last midnight breath conjuring stardust

Betrayed by the shower seeds we sow, trailing rust

Fluttering fireflies make this stale air taste buttery

Her music box ballet with a fine whimsical melody

.

Those smells of coriander and angel’s breath perfume

Familiar senses of Heaven, as Earth’s gravity resumes

Van Gogh’s paradise painting, yes, but quite unfinished

Perhaps they ran out of acrylics, brush fast diminished

.

Red stripes and pinstripes blurring into a vertical mess

I’d miss those fast-dissolving days too, I must confess

Warm bodies colliding like drunken asteroids in motion

Intoxicating nostalgia, and I’m quite tipsy with emotion

.

But our hearts shall be mended with a tattered line of string

Perhaps Florence’s nightingales might return to softly sing

Warm feathery comfort, in an empty bed of cold navy blue

Vespertine reveries, and reaching out for the hands of you

.

For the roads paving way can come to a halting fork along

And I’ll sink into the soft shoulder if I stand for far too long

Decision weighed like scales, maybe I’ll take the right path

And I left with a single whisper, a lost goodbye’s aftermath

.

Destinations unravel, a hundred miles, and my feet are sore from walking

Towering skyscrapers of tough metal, low bungalows of wooden flooring

Arrow signs, highways, billboards, all leading to abandoned ghostly cities

Vistas, landscapes in verdancy, but still, you’re the best sight I’ll ever see

.

When I drape my spotted bindle and kiss away my penultimate farewells

Setting the vision of my clouded binoculars farther than it could ever tell

When my soul sheds silvery rain, and annihilates all initial pains and fear

I promise you that I’ll be there soon dear, I promise I’ll be home next year.

~*~

Maybe someday
You’ll be somewhere
Talking to me
As if you knew me
Saying, I’ll be home for next year, darling
I’ll be home for next year…

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Lost In Translation

I changed your mind
And ended up here
Through stained glass eyes
And colourful tears…

~*~

Charlotte, your smile is the cure to this world’s corrupted poison

Playacting a fun circus funambulist on the taut wire of the horizon

Watching bystanders afar mistake your firestorm hair for the sun

Coalescing tangerine bleeding in the sunset as you giggle and run

Verdigris eyes like gemstones strung in trinkets of shooting stars

In flora, fauna, radiation, biohazards, you’re the life birthed in a war

.

Charlotte, solemnly count the myriad of scintillating jaded stars

Drop another missing wish in your drained aromatic perfume jar

Hazy reverie of the dusk falling fast like the lustrous tears you cry

Days twirling by rapidly like the icy sapphire pinwheels in your eyes

Ballgown of crystalline chandeliers piercing your blanched pale skin

Hair as fuliginous as deepest midnight, yet not darker than your sins

.

Charlotte, are you madly sickened by humanity’s posthumous maladies?

Fatigued of transgressions decimated, tired of your evanescing affinities

Wandering barefooted, castaway within an endless forest of barbed wires

Incarnadine-shaded shadows and lethality spreading quickly like wildfires

Blur of scathing thorns and roses, blades and blood, tantrums and taigas

Lead argentine in pupils, a milky film, akin to the scarcely-refulgent Luna

Chagrined howls resonating, pained tribulations bouncing off to nowhere

Bristling umber fur in wary alarm, not a single person would tread or dare

.

Charlotte, is your cold heart simply too debilitated to even continue to beat?

In the fahrenheit of your tepid body no longer producing warmth and heat?

The breeze grooms your cobweb hair, periwinkle glances, sharp lightning

Gothic lolita skirt hiked around your sepulchral waist, frigid tranquillising

But those polychromatic butterfly wings will not be able to soar for long

And crumble to motheaten ashes as rain pours, petrichor your death song

.

Charlotte, this newly-borne world is still quite juvenile, a universe fresh and young

So don’t waste your cavalier youth pausing, counting the fine rays of the glaring sun

Don’t rake the precipitating autumn leaves, lest you dance in the hurricane of burgundy

Fragile fallen foliage coloured like your amber eyes, that encase a frozen-over galaxy

Charlotte, your world’s revolving frenetically, like an uncontrollable carnival carousel

Reds and blues and horses and carriages, locked in a vertigo of a dizzying identity spell

Your lemonade locks billowing by the sea air, spinning deliriously until you feel unwell

Do you still even know who you are anymore Charlotte, or is my beloved angel hopelessly lost in hell?

~*~

Fine, maybe I’ll pretend right now
But I swear to god
I’m gonna change the world
And I promise you
Someday we’ll tell ourselves
Oh my god this is paradise…

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The straw that broke the camel’s back

There comes an epoch

Where I feel quite jaded

To the point where even

It sickens me to heaving

If I dared open my mouth

And stuck my pale tongue

A creature might crawl out

Black, viscous abomination

.

Tears refuse to fall anyway

For they have hardened into

Ivory pearls, just too painful

To egress my lacrimal gland

And when they clatter to the

Sullied floor, you pray caution

Or you might topple on them

And fracture your fragile spine

.

I could listen to the synapses

Laid within my strained mind

As taut as overwound strings

On a soundless archaic guitar

Attempting to create melodies

Pulled hard ’til it breaks away

And I could hear a symphony

Of tumults, snap, snap, snap

.

Thus webs of my sanity vaporise

The dewdrops start to rain down

And insects released themselves

From their hapless fettered state

Buzzing about inside my system

Stinging my heart, sucking blood

Until my heart rendered anaemic

All vital signs cease to be present

.

One small spark is all it takes for my heart to burn

One wrong turnpike to cause a wreckage collision

One hypodermic needle embedded of a numbing lie

One last hay strand’s weighing me down until I die

The last vestiges of hopes are sullenly acquiesced

Sempiternally expired, lost by the devil’s workshop

What’s left are unpalatable tastes of failure, enough

I can take no more, you can have the ghost—I give up.

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Afternoon Tea for a Fresh Start Fever

Let’s make resolutions
I’ve only got problems and no solutions
You’re just someone to the world
But you’re the world
To someone else who told you
Oh heart of mine
Sing a sad song, sing a sad song…

~*~

So there the two of us were;

Caught in silent meditation

Sipping hot elderflower tea

Heaped with a dash of sky

Minty wisps of teal clouds

And comminuted sunlight

To expel the common cold

The infirmity that bothered

You and I into a contagious

Decrepitude and debilitation

.

You didn’t wish to be a man

Chasing sunflower’s whorls

Spiralling deeper into a lazy

Oblivion, you need a change

I didn’t aim to be that person

Watching her pace when she

Walks, chasing the tiled gaps

‘Til I slam headfirst into a wall

Blindly, I had needed a change

.

I deigned for a fresh start fever

Perhaps I could sweat one out

You sat in a chair of oak wicker

Already setting the kettle down

You’ve added spoonful, for two

Of well-wishes to your already-

Overflowing cup of coppertone

As I asked galaxies, precipitate

Some stars so I can taste lights

.

So there we were then, you and I

Daintily relishing our own cuppas

Patient, taciturn, in piqued smiles

Waiting for sunset to drown us in

Waiting for nightfall to kill us both

Never mind it is way past our teatime

Never mind that I’m using your spoon

Perhaps leaves weren’t the resolution

But the company we’ve both savoured.

~*~

Warning you
Oh, heart of mine
Sing a sad song
And it’s a fresh start fever
Who wouldn’t want to be here?
Welcome to the future
Dream a little bigger…

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Diamond Blood

Diamonds end with bloodlines

Their predilections undermined

Festered growths underhanded

Faithless Angelus before a bed

With the queue of fool auspices

Plucked plumage for headdress

Poisoned by her own implication

Rictus lock-jawed in desperation

Her tasteful repugnance, forlorn

Whilst the vicarious girl is shorn

Shaven away, her flaxen tresses

Taken apart, her alluring dresses

All she has loved with conviction

Been forced into uncouth eviction

She surmised she could get away

Perhaps, they’d let aptitudes stay

Haphazard heart, painstaking pure

Dosage of monstrosities for cures

Last to transude, her precious soul

Desiccated, tarnish bejewelled coal

Diamonds shall end with bloodlines

So pay your price, emolument of lies

Burnishing mad ’til your fingers bleed

An effulgent illusion of a vestal greed.

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Mr. Moneybags Will Have His Fickle Comeuppance in Los Angeles

It’s so relieving
To know that you’re leaving
As soon as you get paid
It’s so relaxing
To hear that you’re asking
Wherever you get your way
It’s so soothing
To know that you’ll sue me
This is starting to sound the same…

~*~

You were smoking bones

As if they were cigarettes

Miss the tale called home

Affiliated with a sickness

That ate through cuckolds

Made fools out of cocottes

Making poker dealers fold

And hat in hands to fought

Where were you when she

Died last night? Asking for

Extra straws from the sea

To suck up its open floors

.

Ambitious was your hobby

Buying fortune from clowns

Earning leprechaun money

Wearing a replicated frown

With apparels of gold velvet

Canes of candy in platinum

Fevers of e.coli and scarlet

Eye contacts tinted iridium

Where were you when she

Died last night? A roosting,

O’er open fireplaces calmly

Whilst she was screaming

.

For help, with blood flumes

Cascading down her nicest

Sunday church dress, lunes

Devouring into their behests

Waiting for your latest calls

When broken windowpanes

And her tears started to fall

Pilferers feast, no shame in

It; where were you when she

Died last night? In bed, with

A hired trophy wife, unguilty

Living a millionaire’s dream

.

Now you’re a failing destitute

Case, has-been in showbiz on

Industry, hailed dropout brute

With a buck to his appellation

Living in a cardboard box flat

Selling signatures no one will

Take off your hands, you’re but

An extra in life’s silent film reel

So, just where were you when she

Died last night? Wishing that you’re

Dead, junkie OD’d, madness addicting

Suffer as she sits in Heaven laughing.

~*~

She’ll come back as fire
To burn all the liars
And leave a blanket of ash on the ground
I miss the comfort in being sad…

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Ah, where art thou, sleep?

As I busy myself with chewed pencaps and entertain my arid whims with my bleary cursive handwriting, coalescing into one big scarlet mess before my jaded sinking eyes, this mischievous (and perhaps bordering on draconian) mistress persists to continuously allude me. Several times I have attempted to drown under the mystifying spell of dreams, yet it always ends up rejecting me and spitting me back gracelessly into reality.

Dislimned restless nights are spent huddled beneath a timeworn yellow duvet, alternating between intervals of irritatingly scratching inflammatory mosquito bites to no avail, and musing such desolate thoughts, as my frenetic imagination takes my tired brain by the hand (stem?) and chases rainbows and cemeteries with it. Sighing, laughing, cringing, longing, regretting, reminiscing, changing channels constantly in my head, until I’m ultimately left with dead batteries and a static screen, stuck staring slack-jawed at a dancing monochromatic display, lulled by a comforting dissonant white noise, into a dark insensibility.

So instead I turn my feverish mind off, allowing it to repose and cool down, and look up onto the astronomical midnight firmament, watching the chaste trace of the soft cottony moon doze on lazily by, and bask in the myriad stars’ winking, pulsating, flickering, a show of spectacular scintillation; positively illuminating these lacklustre graphite pupils of mine, making the languidly-burning embers in my heart flare wildly and higher, as if doused with tantalising spirits, as if wishing to rival the stars in space, as if reaching out into the galaxies to occupy the missing lacuna in the skies it calls home.

Slumber is calmly lurking within the sibilant raven shadows, waiting patiently, sharpening its bladed claws, ready to pounce upon me in my most vulnerable state, and finally devour the last detritus of my falling somnolent consciousness. But in the meantime, it’s just the company of my insomnia and I on a nocturnal picnic, in the comforting solace of a clement Luna and a million optimistic stars, into a tranquil oblivion.

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Familiar Nescience

You know I’m not alright
This is where I draw the line
I tried to run, I tried to hide
But I’m still badly broken…

~*~

Don’t look at me

I’m a ghastly sight

Shattered snowglobe

I want to take plight

With drivelling minds

And chest twinges

With pens and skins

And faux pas fringes

Sewing cute smiles

Onto my crying wrists

But all fancies aside

Ignorance is bliss

Scissors my friends

My only company

Against this planet

Quite rudimentary

Within tidal waves

Of suffocating crowds

I’m already capsizing

But I think I’ll drown

Ushering creatures

Under shag carpets

Tearing wallpapers

A tornado playset

Chasing, counting

Fireflies and zeroes

Waiting, wrecking

Little hearts and heroes

You call me epithets

Where’s the lie? Where?

Two cups of chemicals

How? How’d I live there?

I’m a blubbering mess

My insides all churned

I’d love to convalesce

But also to never return

I feel like a spectral beast

Abhorred, spited, feared

I reckon monsters like me

Should simply disappear.

~*~

You know you swept me off my feet
And now I’m stuck beneath
The bridge you burned on top of me
And I’m so badly broken…

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I can’t buy you a black heart, you already have mine

I will buy you black dahlias for when you’ll soon return

When the jacks top the pile and all the judges adjourn

I’ll play you a tune, strum empty space in my theremin

You’ll be blushing carnation posies, a flushed melanin

.

I will buy you black kittens for when you can concede

When the auctioneers play their life, into the final bids

I’ll slay you a djinn, I’ll make xanthene stars disappear

You’ll be drowning in silver, and drinking day-old beer

.

I will buy you black shoes for when you jig and show up

When the most futile of molasses spill over their cusps

I’ll relay a broken melody, perhaps a lost Liberace score

You’ll be avoiding tears on the checkered linoleum floor

.

I will buy you black scarves, keep your arterial blood warm

When the conspiracies falter and gypsies lose their charm

I’ll pray you a stale Angelus, and wait for the Lord to rapture

You’ll be in an open field, awaiting your last inevitable capture

.

I will buy you black snow for when you can finally find your way back home

When I accept the fact that you’re quiescent, resting under loam and stones

I’ll drink my hot eggnog, open presents of shadows, and I’ll solemnly remember

You’ll be cold and white as winter night, like my soul is in this solitary December.

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Eventide Theatrics

When my lines are empty

Scribbled with nil galaxy

Stolen negative energies

I reach to the sky, simply

Catch the shooting stars

Falling from your eyelids

Phosphoresce filling the

Cavities, of mine decrepit

Inkstained quills; and the

Glowing words resonating

Occupy parchment lacuna

Which I bled from my fate,

From your diamond tears

That you softly rain away

For me, illuming my fears

As planets begin a’ dancing

You convalesce, smile away

Reposing on clouds of icing

On a soporific midnight play.

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