Tag Archives: melancholy

happy cake day, sunflower.

you’re more than just the love song i play

when i feel like falling down the stairs—

you’re the landing that catches my broken bones.

.

and honestly, i don’t want to go on and on about how

you’re sunshine in the fog, or peachy sky cliches etcetera

i ran out of them a long time ago on your smile alone

.

i never get tired of those stupid monochrome dreams

at night where no one’s talking but i hear voices everywhere…

guess you’re the only voice i wanna hear in my head

.

because that’s all i am, another overused arcade game

and you pushed all of the big red buttons and you made me

self-destruct like pixelated fireworks to win the round

.

but that’s okay. i don’t mind. heaven is but a concept

i’m rather not willing to get lost in, but halos and hazards

are all there are to it. but you’re worth it…aren’t you?

.

but i guess the sour taste doesn’t ever leave me now

and i badly wish i could just forget about you, and myself,

and the days i chewed off the grey-painted calendar

.

for i don’t need to leave pastel notes or egg timers

or freshly-brewed coffee on the kitchen to let you know;

the universe says that’s not how reality works now

.

so instead i’ll tell none of my best friends about your laugh

and wish your name on every fairy light and lucky dandelion

that reflects the iridescence of your watercolour ocean eyes

.

and i’ll tangle up my breaths and my words and my awful art

and i’ll break the hourglass just to stop time for a while—and i’ll sing

to keep my yellow lovely safe from the world i can’t ever have.

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hymn

my native

tongue

is comfortable

twisting in

songs of 90’s

melancholy,

heavy fingers

strumming

delicately on

four strings

with a hum

and tranquility,

smiling as

i sing only for

the morning

and it sings back

only to me.

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Of Feminine Odds And Endings

I swear you complete me
Pink and blue on the skyline
Don’t the demons take this time
So raise me up, never say you’ve had enough
And you know it’s love when it’s bottled up…

~*~

Spent ten days counting dandelions in a field

Like time was miserable and needed camera thrills

Painting a scene that wasn’t quite as wayward

As a night filled with stars in some cheap postcard

Distance is effervescent when I close my eyes

Lips pulled into an idyllic smile, trying to play nice

.

Waking up when the collapse is felt in earthquake faults

Visions stifled with thorazine, my art is charcoal cold

I’ll dance like it’s the apocalypse, I’ll sing loud like I mean it

Spin a tornado with the air I have left in my lungs sweet

I’m just a mess trapped in sunflower swirls and pastel dreams

Tinderbox between my teeth, aldehyde ignites my screams

.

I don’t mind that it’s mindless, I don’t make any sense

The windows show my only escape from pyrexia bleakness

I’ll cast a spell and make the golden in the sunshine die

Plucked violets intricately lacing, like delinquent butterflies

Traipse by coastlines ’til the shore is nowhere to be found

Staring at the hypnotic horizon until I cannot feel the ground

.

Heavy, heavy, heavy dahlias; transient mysteries I’ll never solve

The morning’s further past over, and the mourning’s getting old

I’m a melancholy melody, I’m a symptom of severing snowdrops

A feverish heart cured by faux rhinestones from a psychic’s shop

Contrary crazy, I only miss the rain when the weather’s at it’s best

Drown in myself, I’ll keep looking for an exit out of this baby’s breath.

~*~

I had a dream that
I drove my car off a mountain
I fell back into your baby’s breath
Wish I didn’t miss you
Kiss me like it’s the apocalypse
I fell back into your baby’s breath…

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a persistence of forgotten memory

i am clothed

in nightmares

subliminal—

sympathy;

cruel, mocking

resilience inching

in the undertows

of a fervent

disguise

their smiles fall

into chipped sneers

as violet eyes

flash with

covetous envy

but the crimson lips

on my thighs do

nothing but gape

without teeth.

bleeding petals

slip away to

reveal the ugly

creature underneath,

melancholy human

weeping for their

own insolence

grieving what they

do not have, and

asking for ire faith

in blind places,

and yet again

i find myself dear

in the company

of the strangers

in my head,

and the demons

in my bed, clawing

with terror, writhing

with pleasure, altogether

tearing me apart.

i am clothed in

my own

nightmares–

and yet my soul:

fully bared and

torn open

apart for everyone,

exposed and

insulted and reviled…

it still feels rather

n a k e d .

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Erbsünde

Facile strokes and dismembered veneration

Severed applause for a predicated generation

Amid disparate provenance lay foreboding whim

Of dissonance and elegance—prays original sin

.

Wandering aspirations brought upon the knell

Ornate devilry waltzing on a dormant clandestine hell

Banished to fields precarious as forbidden valleys

Austere as poor man’s blood smeared upon rich tapestries

.

From the agitated archangels that dare to implore

Comes resentment refracted and arrogance adored

And heartbeats resonating within a derelict mortuary

Sinners and serpents alike singing for a purgatory

.

And when raging disquiet permeates the idyllic tempest

Of naphthalene rivers and lunary souls brought in behest

Cries the sanctuary of heaven—weeping for paradise lost

For Eden is the tempting muse and vestal morality the cost

.

Intransigence weeps the treachery, torn with abated melancholy

A disheartening performance acted out in entablateured cemeteries

When masqueraded stagnation blooms from impassioned stones

Original sin reposes triumphant, perennial solitude on a devastated throne.

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eau de cologne

swathes of perfume—

a familiar scent in the storm

bewildered by wonders

and shadows on the dictaphone

renegade tears; again

they surround charlatan hearts

in sounds of scissor envy

the wineglass is fermented sour…

time vanishes into aether.

the threadbare tale of old lovers

bloom on daybreak scorch

akin to an elaborate kaleidoscope

incinerating infinite galaxies.

your anarchy is no longer ghastly

and the oasis of the cityscape

blinks out in a mosaic, one by one

as i quell my febrile miasma

and twist sullen on my empty bed

your form outline is long gone—

but your lingering fragrance remains.

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Stressed or Sad (and Turn Out the Lights)

I brought a knife to a gunfight
I brought my words to a fistfight
I brought my hell to you
And now the boys are back
The boys are sad…

~*~

Let’s talk it it out and let’s talk too loud

And spare our breakdowns for the times it’s not allowed

Deprived of oxygen and choked off to sleep

But I’ll stay awake with you, I guess it’s what we need

‘Cause I may not be the best company but I know a thing or two

About being selfish and pretending to be a happy blue

The clever words and rhetorics make us laugh half to death

Drowning our worries in coffee until it’s dangerous to our health

Because it’s times like these when bitter tastes best

And the yonder moonlight is too delicate to get any deeper rest

But I’ll draw some stars and you can paint them in embers

With what’s left of the sky, we’ll write about what we can remember

We’ll scream about our addictions like loose patients in an asylum

Of the southern boys and houston beats until we’re both tired and dumb

I’ll sing a song out of tune, and your echoes fade to shadows

This is the art of somniphobia, we’re good as we are not tomorrow

Tonight we’ll starve the nighthawks and dehydrate the nadirs of melancholy

Until the petulant sunrise glowers at us for being too damn noisy

We were never meant to stay high in a world that’s not designed for the broken

But let calming music glow in your bones, we’ll be entertained until then.

~*~

You’re so cold
I’ve got to know what made you so
Scared to be alone?
I’ve got to know who chilled your bones
That wasn’t me…

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The Callalily’s Song

You make me twist in my dreams

Diamonds fall from my eyes as I seem

Like a happy wave of melancholy

With heavy doses of sharp-taste irony

.

I can catch the gaze but not the embrace

I’ll hear the words but I won’t waste

Another second with such distal aches

Shivering in my spine as I break

.

A million emotions that jump in my blood

Are better than vessels drained of god

And my cheeks bruise again from the thought

Of dead roses in bloom and lungs in knots

.

What was bridged in that fateful midsummer

Shall last, interstitial, a transient forever

For perhaps the hazardous sins I’ll commit

In contusions are arrested in vignettes to omit

.

It’s the golden state glow of your undertow

Bringing me under and letting me go

Hidden in virulent sonatas I shall dare to chase

For a chance at hope to see your divine face

.

It may be the perpetual hurt that keeps me awake

And I may reach for sunshine blue but I won’t see it stay

But I won’t ever get tired, no, I’ll let my heart do all the talking

And listen to the rain for lost passion that keeps on singing.

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Shades of Blue

If I do what I came to do
I’ll break through in shades of blue
In red and gold, the lights
Will flash and strobe
And I will finally know
This is my home…

~*~

the taciturn rain,

sometimes quiescent drizzle,

sometimes clarion storm

reminds me of turquoise memories

.

of electric glitter nail polish

shaded onto fingernails

pointing in the wrong direction

and chipping at the edges

.

of hair that looks like clouds

but coloured blueberry-slushie sky

and is iridescently sweet

like a gloom boy’s laughter

.

of sulky mp3 players

singing sempiternal distractions with

symphonies of dizzy dreamers

and skyward soul collisions

.

of apathetic faded scarves

wrapped around breeze-bitten necks

subtly referencing a beloved one

of the same jaded violin notes

.

of self-made backpack straps

a final flicker of glimpsing hope

before cosmic turns infinitely invisible

and footsteps cease giving chase

.

of cerulean paint peeling off bus seats

revealing a dull sheathe of grey slate

of wailing sirens intertwined with alarming red

of the ocean navy pen composing this poem

.

of the sky and the sea, melting horizon’s clarity

stark in mindless scratches adhering to scarred skin

the taciturn rain, so quiet, that cobalt eyes never noticed

coldness ceased falling, as blue memories caught up with me.

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waves of whimsy

I’ll be your optimistic black hole
Full of love I can’t control
Let’s keep each other safe from the world…

~*~

happiness

comes in little waves

of sipped hot cocoa

and marshmallow bits

warming quiet souls

on a rainy sunday morn

.

happiness

comes in little waves

of day-old biscuits

and mouthfuls of chocolate

and a faint bite of pink

in strawberry and caramel

.

happiness

comes in little waves

of melancholy songs

and purple boys wrapped

in twinkling fairy lights

resting beneath telephones

.

happiness

comes in little waves

of such lone-star musings

huddled under covers and

writing epistles for sunrise

as ink stains the skylines

.

happiness

comes in little waves

of whimsical contentment

and peaceful nothings

amid beating quiet hearts

on a rainy sunday morn.

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