Tag Archives: alright

The Blondes Are (Not) Alright

Blew motivation I had
To make my still beating-something
Not hurt that bad
Haven’t been home in some months
I haven’t loved myself
Just watching friends online
Look like they need some help…

~*~

I brought a knife to a shootout

But I’m not looking for a fistfight

I don’t mean to get too bloody

I just wanted to feel a little alright

.

But it’s difficult to make amends

When you’re holding the trigger

And kiss the muzzle to my mouth

Before I plead for it to get better

.

Bang bang bang, do you feel it yet?

Don’t drop that dime to take a bet

If I die now on the pavement curb

I’ll try not to bleed out on your shirt

.

I brought awkward to the limelight

I hear it’s the latest fashion show

I don’t mean to flaunt my mistakes

I just wanted everyone to know

.

That it’s hard to feel sorry

When you’re feeling sorry for yourself

They said I’m being crazy

Like condescencion’s good for my health

.

Clap clap clap, do you feel regret?

Hold on to plastic, it’s not over yet

I’ve got about three more acts to go

And the script makes to take it slow

.

I brought a friend to a death match

Just to see who’ll take the first move

I don’t mean to make it too chaotic

Just seeing if you would if you could

.

I never ask about the when, what, or why

I’ve been standing here thinking all was fine

But then the situation changed to see you

Spitting comments on the shoes I just shined

.

Blah blah blah, will you ready get set?

You’re the best nothing I’ve ever met

Too cool for the beatdown that ensues

Tie my hands to the bomb, I had no clue

.

I brought sobriety to the late pub nights

And they all told me to get the hell out

You brought the glass to my lips again

And drowned me in self-sustaining doubt

.

We can laugh about all the memories we hate

Including how this one has an expiration date

Looks like you want some help, damn, just ask

Don’t keep it in and blame other lies in the past

.

No no no, I didn’t mean to be thinking this loud

I gave you privacy when you told me to fuck off

I guess I’m done with fun, and I’m done, it’s true

But don’t worry honey, at least it’s all about you.

~*~

I never wanted to be thinking this loud
I never asked about the when, why or how
I wanted privacy, routine and everything between
While they’re just finding me out
I never wanted to be thinking this loud…

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Filed under Poetry

Six Feet Under, Stars Above

You’re just another set of bones to lay to rest
I guess it’s time to say goodnight
Hope you had a really good time, good time…

~*~

tonight, the sun will go down

along with a million stars into the ground

fading into silent eviction

and every speck i’ll count is but a perception

taste of blood i feel on my tongue

as heavy as the lonesome bed left unsung

muttering the wrong name on my drowsy lips

sharpening the needles of apologies

perhaps it’ll be alright, if i’m able

or perhaps i’ll end up sleeping on the kitchen table

with a Jack and a flat drunk dial tone

picking up where i left off on the disconnected telephone

but i will never forget your infinite sighs

when you whispered softly “we should die in style”

and tonight, when the sun goes down

i’ll be waiting for you, six feet under the ground.

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Filed under Poetry

at the edge of my seat (but i can’t fall off)

Curtains close, take a bow
I think we fooled all of them now
Who you are, what you say
What you do each and every single day
I’ve made my bed, so I’ll lie in it
I’ve dug my grave, so God help me die in it…

~*~

i don’t feel right at all

it’s as if i have a hangnail

at the sides of my heart

and i want to excavate

my chest and pull it out

even if that would make it

worse and bleed me out

but i just fucking can’t

.

it’s like a thousand eyes

digging holes in my flesh

dictating what i should feel

soft glances then angry glares

sweet skies then dark rains

never constant, always blinking

fluctuating under oscillating

up and down and up and down

.

it’s like a quicksilver potion

by a bastardous mad scientist

injected within my system

mercurial and temperamental

turning me in a million shades

of colours unknown to the mind

until i’m unconscious, oblivious

to my own grotesque sentience

.

no, i don’t feel right at all

and it’s like i want to detonate

from all the myriad conflictions

and the infinite contradictions

shattering, breaking, annihilating

i just want to be alright for once

i just want to feel nothing at all

but i can’t…no, i fucking can’t.

~*~

Just like the living dead, I’ve got a taste for something
And I don’t want it, I just need it
And I can’t believe that it’s getting harder just to feel alive
It’s getting harder just to feel alive…

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Filed under Poetry

live

you’ll dive

but survive

and darling,

you’ll thrive

you’re alive

i know that

you’re alright

while i’m not.

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Filed under Poetry

Weekend Hymns

“If you call me at all, don’t tell me that I’m ordinary, ’cause I won’t be passing you, please don’t leave…” serenades the familiar strains of a soothing voice, interlacing delicately with the quaint glassy chords of a softly-strummed guitar, and dissipating behind the skeletal mist of the hazy whorled coffee smoke. Spongy traces of a cold jelly roll melt and shiver in my tongue, leaving traces of a sweet sensation to tease these anticipating taste buds of mine. On my right side lays a Fantastic Beasts colouring book opened on a page of Newt Scamander’s luggage, abandoned coloured pencils scattered everywhere, and a half-finished unwritten postcard with vibrant pastel shades complimenting each other in mild, careful strokes; and on my left side a battered notebook overstuffed with scribbled papers and a slightly-chewed black pen, waiting patiently to bleed words into blank parchment.

Turn off these lights, call my name. Don’t talk, just drive… Another potent vocal joins in with the tranquil music, rhythmic acoustic strains and deep baritone timbre sending quiet shivers pleasantly down my spinal column. The rain has come to a cradlesong refrain, and, time being, has ceased from thrumming a metronomic pitter-patter against the fogged-up windows. I pause, place a cat bookmark on page 12 of John Steinback’s Of Mice and Men, and take another sip of my tepid milky drink and huddle further underneath my delicate blue blanket, starry night socks rubbing against the creaky bed mattress as I do so. After partaking in such a short interlude, I indulge zealously in my awaiting literature once more, losing myself against the mollifying song and letting my imagination run away and be caught between George and Lennie’s frolicsome bickering and humbler conversations.

“Red and blue and green rabbits, Lennie. Millions of ’em.” George concluded drowsily as the chapter came to a finish, synchronously alongside Jonny Craig’s flourished crescendo of And baby, honestly these teeth won’t let you go…”, and I thumbed down on the page and set down the book once again, lost in a silent reverie. This day seems to be nothing but a lucid woolgathering, and in a momentary splinter from reality, I am quite unsure which is a fact, and which is nothing more than a mere dream anymore. It left me slightly confused whether I had actually been chasing musicians through a cornfield full of bedraggled zombies in Southern California, or if my grandmother had actually been confined in the hospital after an unfortunate slip and needs three months of bed rest to recover, or whether any of those were even real, not just derogated fantasies of an inured mind in dire need of a proper rest. Perhaps I’m simply tired. I had, after all, been looking for my exuberant nephews for a good part of the afternoon. But this is a good tired, unlike the draining emptiness of a tired stress that I have been beleaguered with the entire week. And this time around, I’ll sleep not to forget the memories. Rather, I’ll sleep to remember them.

“If you call me at all, oh if you call me at all…” The mellisonant sincerity of his lilting assurances envelopes my weary and aching bones tangibly, as if the xanthous stars had personally touched down from the lavender-blotched sky and given me a synesthetic embrace from the gentle cosmos. The final coda of the song falters and fades against the distant monsoon, washing away every worry, every qualm, every cynical thought and nightmarish daydream of mine, washing me away under the horizon’s encore performance of dying sunshine and inchoate moonbeams alike. I breathe deeply and finally close my eyes, listening to the hymn of the rainy weather and halcyon weekend continue to play around me. I’ll be alright. For now, at least…I’m alright.

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Filed under Prose

Falling Stars and Balcony Scenes

When the light means nothing to you
Then no one would know the sound of a ghost
And I might be perfect with you, but
No one would know, so tell me, tell me…
Have you ever really danced on the edge?

~*~

A painful universe of blood and ash

Painting a ceiling over the horizon

Of a rare paradise the angels whitewashed

Rippling with sorrowfulness notions

You stood by the sharp edges, oscillating

Underwater heart affairs cold and drowning

Eating thumbtacks for breakfast last night

I’m sorry I wasn’t there to say you’ll be alright

Splendour of sunset, pink oceans on fire

Hitch rendezvous on a streetcar named desire

Rehearsing bland lines for your soliloquy

Dancing down aisles, our waltz of catastrophe

No, no, oh no, you can’t just throw me away

And I just can’t allow you to prolong your stay

This queen sized bed used to be so warm

Now your jokes are as funny as a broken arm

But I loved the mistakes you always made

And the teethmarks on my skin will never fade

A synthesised humility, surrogate sanctuary

I’ve memorised the sound of your voice, honey

Now you stand by the sharp edge, my lone star falling

While I dislocate my shoulders, your little prince catching

Interlocked in a fierce maelstrom, the calm of your flight

But this time around, I’ll be here to tell you that you’ll be alright.

~*~

Is something still scaring you?
(Have you ever really danced on the edge?)
The count of three is up
(Have you ever really danced on the edge?)
Alright then, tell me so
(Have you ever really danced on the edge?)
Just hold my hand and jump…

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Filed under Poetry