Monthly Archives: January 2017

Luftballon

Hast du etwas Zeit für mich
Dann singe ich ein Lied für dich
Von ninety-nine Luftballon
Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizont…

~*~

This night persists to rest

Obscured and obsolescent

Wishes not to disturb, lest

It allay tantrum firmament

My rubious balloon tribute

A floating helium dalliance

Soft kisses of my cynosure

For our dulcet forbearance

May be a fugacious felicity

Of my vestigial woebegone

Yet embrace my propinquity

From that cherry red balloon.

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A Song in Your Death Scene

Have you heard the news that you’re dead?
No one ever had much nice to say
I think they never liked you anyway
Oh, take me from the hospital bed
Wouldn’t it be grand to take a pistol by the hand
And wouldn’t it be great if we were dead!

~*~

Oh, just keep on dancing for me

Like blackened flies in a coronary

I would try to trade in all my tricks

But sobriety was never really my niche

The doctors called, they said you’re crazy

Can I strap you down in your gurney?

Shotgun shells taste as good as the pills

Both prescriptions are set for the kill

And we, and we, can end up dead

While laughing in our hospital beds

As the bandages start to stain with red

And we, and we, can both end up wed

.

I aimed for profound, that’s the latest trend

Dear, how was that fender that you bend?

No time to be Plato if my veins are drained

Where’s the sense when I’m getting maimed?

The doctors called, they said a maybe

But I ain’t counting my stars yet, baby

Beating hearts feel as good as a stab

But I guess that’s what it means to love

And we, and we, can end up dead

While crying into dehydration instead

No one had any hope left anyways

I never even had much cute things to say

.

The cuts are burning slowly deeper within

Didn’t I have what you call a proper system?

Cheap affairs cheering for kindred spirits

My face plastered on cartons of missing milk

The doctors called, they said to pack it up

Intermission’s over kid, it’s high time to stop

Intensive care feels like a vulture salvaged

Cool my organs well for their personal storage

And we, and we, can end up dead

Bayonet ourselves in the goddamn head

Time for the marionettes to take a final bow

We’ll make it through this hell somehow

.

As the last night starts to get younger

And the sun turns into a distant stranger

Make some way for the crash test dummies

Death has a deadline, oh fine, we’re in a hurry

The doctors called, they’re asking for money

I swear it wasn’t meant to turn this bloody

Coffin velvet doesn’t feel too uncomfortable

So lie back in ease, we have an eternity more

And we, and we, can end up dead

Let’s toast canticles of hemlock and lead

Shit, why even bother to wail and resist?

Hellfire ain’t bad, once you get used to it

.

Let’s make the most out of being deceased

When you’re emaciated, you can’t be pissed

So shut your mouth and don’t be so jet set

There’s a lot of demented fun to be had yet

The doctors lied, but who cares what they said?

Oh complications this and that, caught red handed

Failing feels like a stethoscope straight to the neck

I’d be complaining, but I’m too busy being a wreck

And we, and we, and we, darling we will end up being dead

I wanna leave young, guess that’s why hospitals are invented

Existing’s a joke anyways, nothing will matter anymore, I collected

Life’s so fun when we, when we, when we’re already all fucking dead!!

~*~

And in my honest observation
During this operation
Found a complication
In your heart, so long…

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Ponderings and Preludes VI

Here I lie forever, sorrow still remains
Will the water pull me down and wash it all away?
Come and take me over, welcome to the game
Will the current drag me down and carry me away?
Suddenly the light begins to fade…

~*~

ON FRAGILITY

I was severely fragile

And I let you drop me

Maybe if I was more agile

I won’t be broken, maybe.

~*~

ON TROUBLE

The water is scalding hot

Their tempers are boiling

Hate spilling over the pot

It’s time for me to jump in.

~*~

ON RADIANCE

Your sunshine is quite radiating

Smile lambent, aureole, sincere

But your heat got overwhelming

And tore holes in my atmosphere.

~*~

ON INSANITY

Delusional, schizo, a crazy mess

Insults as I indulge in my fantasy

If I can swim through happiness

Why drown myself in cold reality?

~*~

ON PRIDE

I wouldn’t swallow my own pride

For once, I said I’d rather be dead

Thus I stood my ground foolishly

And ended up choking on it instead.

~*~

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Avrill

Your efflorescent bloom

Air shyness of carnation

Light up planetary gloom

Of my fickle dissolutions

When my number’s up, fly

And my quill trickles tears

You dispel them and edify

An emollience of my fears.

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Uprising of the Used

If we’re the flagship of peace and prosperity
We’re taking on water and about to fucking sink
No one seems to notice, no one seems to blink
The crew left the passengers to die under the sea…

~*~

White colours of the state

You pledge allegiance true

For you can’t enter the gate

Unless you’re red, white, blue

.

His thick orange leathery skin

Can’t be penetrated by bullets

Nor a good conscience within

He is headed for a trainwreck

.

A single line and one ink stain

Is all it takes to crash and burn

And signatures and nuclear rain

A peaceful haven it can’t return

.

Masses thrown and rejected

Staunched like the rusty blood

From a war looming overhead

Of this one nation under God

.

But the voices can be stronger

Than one tyrant’s foolish games

When the stars and stripes fall

You’ll remember his cursed name

.

Make an enemy and he will lose

For they’ll surely stand and fight

And angels are more dangerous

Without their pure glowing lights

.

For the power may be his to abuse

To corrupt and twist to his whims

But this is the uprising of the used

And they will never let stupidity win.

~*~

Countdown, to the very end
Equality, an invitation we won’t extend
Ready aim, pull the trigger now
It’s time you firmly secure your place in hell…

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Manie Di Grandezza

I aimed for simplicity

You chose grandiose delusions

Silk and velvet tapestry

Of a finest gasconade illusion

Whence I garner a cut

You have to bleed yourself dry

A drop’s never enough

Lest a laughingstock you defy

Your imperial desires

For a regal cinematic decorum

Every breath conspires

Such braggadocio, cockalorum

For there’s an audience

Of your loyal subjects watching

You can afford to be dense

For sakes to impress, captivating

Enthralling national idiots

With your claims of perspicacious

And to assure your own lot

Of self-manipulativeness edacious

Such pompous destitutions

Graces, bluster, and rodomontade

Gauche piquant ostentations

With a tatterdemalion promenade

Your stiff upper lip wavers

As parades of pomp and circumstance

Feels more presumptuous

Than your supercilious happenstance

Omnipotence and wealth

With such expansive superior qualities

Are not good for your health

So keep it to your arrogant psychosis

With severest egocentricity

And an overachiever’s self-applauses

Comes great responsibility

And medical attention for the clauses

Oh King Richard, vainglorious

Lend me your ears and heed my calls

Come hither from ivory tower

The greater you are, the harder you fall

You may be condescending

Reckon you’re an alpha, the orgulous omega

Fortunately, it’s a bad ending

For, I’m afraid, no one bows to megalomania.

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Standby

If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall
Or the mountain should crumble to the sea
I won’t cry, I won’t cry, no, I won’t shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me…

~*~

Why won’t you just stand by me

When my flimsy lullabies falter

Dissolving into stars so sullenly

Speckling the midnight splatter

When the thin air is suffocating

My lungs like a veil of pollution

Breathe, my oxygen effervescing

Heaven’s my only proper solution

The placid moon refines its aura

Into one masterful stained glass

Ready to hear the mournful coda

Of an operatic Valkyrie’s cold lass

Why won’t you simply stand by me

When I’m all apt to be falling apart

Is this but my astrological reveries

Built by a wandering glitched heart

Perhaps I dare now to be neurotic

My tales taller than a red sequoia

In this beach of sands and plastic

You’re the most nebulous paranoia

As sporadic as an elemental spirit

Donning your perverse confluence

And a lopsided smile that’s conduit

For a clandestine mischievousness

Darling, won’t you stand, stand by me

When the galaxy catches my attention

And celestial kingdoms align recklessly

We’ll watch Earth’s theatrical revolution

This quaint planet’s divested, so let it be

Come walk with me for last destination

And I shall carry you home into eternity

Where we can finally sit to rest our notions.

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Hurt

“Great men are forged in fire. It is the privilege of lesser men to light the flame.”

~*~

Dear Mr. Warrior

The war is over

An adventure

Of three men

Quite clever

In a quest for

Their home to

Be the saviour

You stood guard

To battle though

You can’t forget

You still forgive

With satisfying

Regenerations

And an ending

Of a marvellous

Peaceful painting.

.

Dear Mr. Ollivander

The battle is over

You’ve done well

To guide Mr. Potter

Curious young man

He was entranced

With good reason

With your wands

So finely created

For the final stand

Of evil reincarnated

And thus fell darkness

Saving the wizard world

From being defenceless.

.

Dear Mr. John Hurt, sire

You shall hurt no longer

This legacy you’ve left

Has never been stronger

With your entertainment

And your elegant talents

A prolific skill and roster

Films of sheer diversity

Your characters strange

In their own set stages

Faces finely well played

Performance for the ages

My dear Mr. Hurt, good sir

Your life has been a rose

It’s time to take the final call

Upstairs, may you peacefully repose.

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Filed under Fandom Poetry, Poetry

The Death Of Me

3-2-1 We came to fuck
Everybody party till the gasman comes
Sparkle like Bowie in the morning sun
And get a parking violation on La Brea till it’s done
Hair back, collar up, jet black, so cool!
Sing it like the kids that are mean to you!

~*~

There is this tacit agreement within these hospital halls

An echoing of secrets bouncing off the sordid tiled walls

The telly, tabloids, radios, they’re all straining to eavesdrop

A sensational press release to be taken with Ritalin drops

.

The news at eleven is blatting their usual bullshit and nonsense

Your scowling mugshot showing on every black and white prints

Calculated analysis pours in, idiot savants paying their two cents

Highfalutin judgement via observing your colourless eyes’ stints

.

You ask for more oxygen, instead they provided methane

Burning embers flare with every pained breath you inhale

A skeletal hand reaches out, a last damaged angel reverie

“I’ll miss you honestly, but you’re gonna be the death of me.”

.

Stay still on the Dekapote, let’s test out your anatomy

And dissect the postmortem of your decaying sanity

But it’s not penicillin that is curing ails in elimination

It’s your synthetic test lab love’s biohazard radiation

.

There’s something to be said about the pills we consume

A soupçon of this, a little panacea, inhaled asthma fumes

It’s destroying your baby girl, ingénue rendered quondam

Repeat Rx, errant pharmacy alibis, drink until ad nauseam

.

So fly across the turnpike, hold tight, increase maximum velocity

We have an expiration date chasing us, so let’s indulge in alacrities

My rented heart has four chambers, but none with an open vacancy

I’m sorry, but don’t you see? You’re gonna be the death of me

.

It leaked to the media, their most darling charismatic starlet

Accrued some terrible habits, a degrading scandalous mess

She’s gone mad, she’s insane, I’ll bet it’s all that pure cocaine

Conspirators pass the rumours around like shots of codeine

.

But who cares? Let’s smile at the camera and dance like tumbleweeds

Annihilate the festering bourgeoisie that writ[h]e and sic[k] and f[r]eed

If it’s ingestible, it’s presentable, but let’s break this rhapsodic melody

If they think who’s who is gonna be, then who’s who’s the death of me

.

Just take out those glory guns of yours, embrace that cool revolver

Fuck what all the haters say my dear, you’re this generation’s solver

Red flags of vendetta and anarchy, you lead this boulevard’s parade

Pulling at my dislocated hand to listen to the public effigy you paid

.

It burgeons and blots away, a failing prototype of human nature’s stumbling runs

Mortalities ain’t for centuries anyhow, so in the meantime, let’s have unlimited fun

A suicide pact for two idiotic lovers, hell, why not? We’re gonna die anyways, baby!

Set me free, let me be, I’m crazy, don’t you see honey? You’re gonna be the death of me!

~*~

When you wanna be a movie star
Play the game and take the band real far
Play it right and drive a Volvo car
Pick a fight at an airport bar
The kids don’t care if you’re all right honey
Pills don’t help but it sure is funny
Gimme gimme some of that vampire money
Come on!

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A Refreshing Interlude

I was expecting failure to taste bad.

Like a burst aneurysm occurring at the very back of my throat, a weakened vessel choking and frothing and overflowing out of my disgusted rictus, though I am unable to stop it.

Or a rancid meatloaf comprised of all this sinful world’s filth and vices, shoved haplessly and overcooked in an untempered oven by Coraline’s button eyed, arachnid form mother.

Or maybe a deceased decaying goldfish of a sadistic child, given a couple dips in the yellowing chloride loo for good measure and then swallowed whole for a final swim down the gullet.

Perhaps a pulsating papule, filled with blood, pus, sweat, excrement, scabs, and tears, a viscous abomination, almost self sufficient, raring to be popped by a curious lingering fingernail.

Dare I even say a dead roadkill, preferably a hedgehog or a possum, its uncoiled ropes of smashed viscera scattered all over the 97 intersection, rotting carcass gathered up by a redneck for dinner.

Or even just my Neanderthal of an older brother’s unwashed sports socks, tossed into the overflowing laundry basket after a long day of intense football practice, under the afternoon heat.

At the very least, that. Something vile, putrid, regurgitation-worthy of a disgusting meal, something that keeps me from stuffing it back in my gluttonous yet highly clueless mouth, like salty PlayDoh.

But surprisingly, failure tastes a lot like a chocolate mint. Refreshing to the tongue, with a sweet recoil and a bitter hint of an aftertaste.

Suffice it to say, I may try it again anytime soon.

Cheers.

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