Tag Archives: morning

undertownes

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another hopeless mantra

of odes beyond understanding,

beyond sloppy replacement,

beyond our neverending

lost cause of a losing moonchild

towed away by triptych tides

gazing in the southern hemisphere

no space left for goodbye

only mornings of infused silence

a depth so shallow, bones

will fracture and eyes shall turn to

undefinable stone, uncarving

the furious migraine feels almost

well-deserved, now. yet this

insomnia is only a punishment

if i accidentally blink and start to

sink below, now—there is no

current left for me; your calm, your

call, your cast penumbra over

my ignored ventures to seek out

every wasted drop of the lifeless pulse

you label as a counterpart,

but this i know if then—this much i

know, your bleeding mantra only

speaks to the clemency of my unworthy.

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Beacon

I shall hold you steadfast by the dim of the lamplight

The maelstrom roars its fury, lashing and beating against stone

Shaking the very foundations that brought centuries to atone

.

Knees, collapsing; hands, clasped tightly together in collective prayer

Watery eyes gazing obstinately against the dying of the distant drumlins

But our kerosene hearts will burn out beyond the call of inimical rain

I shall hold you steadfast by the dim of the lamplight

Though it flickers and falters slow, and threatens to fall victim to the wind

And every hourly vigil only brings the hurricane closer to our doorstep

.

Knees, locked firmly; hands, draping crossed against our gossamer ribs

Let the windows rattle, let the midnight howl, and the floods be unleashed

For tomorrow morning, our lamp will grow cold as the sun finally greets us beneath.

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sadder days

Dirty fingernails, same as your mind
But he can strum the guitar just fine
Every now and then he’d think about his life
Daydreaming just to pass the time…

~*~

today

is one of

those sad days

sadder days

morning grey

feels eclipsed

a ghost in

the window

blocking sunlight

reaching out

impalpable

sadness?

you dream

my darling, of

perhaps life

as you know it

or perhaps

nothing at all

as i pen eulogies

to my name

woe is me, my

dreams have

not been kind

they never were

but i hope

love, that yours

flourishes into

more than

sweet cosmos

and forget-me-nots

and the colour of

lilac i painted

your lips with

a pale afterglow

a subtle adoration

love, pure love

i hope all your

dreams visit you

not only when

you repose

and may they

never fall away

like, i ponder,

all those whose

footsteps have

faded from familiar

halls, missing

from freckles and

constellations

searching

for better days

or bitter days

or both—

they’ll be gone soon

but so will i

and so will you

and so will all

these sad days be

i only wonder

what time brings

for you and me

tomorrow

~*~

Now the sun is closer than it was before
Anyone who’s anyone can feel it
Saturdays are not the same as they used to be
Sadder days, why do they keep on using me?

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Fending Off the Barflies

Hard to breathe when you lose control
Hard to live with the words unspoken
I walk away ’cause I got no home
Empty hole and my body’s shaking…

~*~

My brain

Is an uninhabited

Island, dizzy

As a fog

Eclipses over it

And makes me

Amused

Like laughing gas

Raining down

And dancing

At the tip

Of my reckless

Tongue

Fuzzy images

And the thought

Of not ever thinking

About tonight

Or tomorrow

Or anything

At all

Just me

And my drink

And the stranger

Hazy in front

Of me

Stepping out

To stumble

Outside for a bit

In search of

A greener face

Just another day

To erase

Everything else

Impulsive and

Derisive

Spinning around

And not just

The bottles

In front of me

But my

Own foolish vision

As well, I know

It’s going

To turn out

Really bad after

This high

And the fumes

Will blow

Over soon to

Reveal a mess, but

Morning regret

Just kinda

Feels so

Damn nice…

~*~

I’m in too deep, I sold my soul
I’m out of reach and I can’t let go
I’m in trouble, I’m in trouble
I made my way, a dead end road
I can’t turn back so I walk alone
I’m in trouble, I’m in trouble…

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Hanging Gardens of Babylon

It’s the dead of the morning, and I just wish you would come out of

The woodwork, where you’ve been pushing pinecones and daisies

From under my skin. I let the seeds blossom into suffocating weeds,

When you once fervently promised me beautiful flowers and verdant

Foliage like no other kind—but only weak envy thrived within this

Nature, and we both craved the dirt like simpleminded earthworms

Crawling by the railroads just to get trampled on and ran over by

Speeding trains. Perhaps we could finally separate and grovel away

In different directions; maybe I can search for my greener pastures, as

You make your way back to the cemetery fields where you belong,

Wilting and decaying with your apologies in the dead of the night.

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a cup of warm tea; and the aftertaste of trauma

Sometimes I feel cold, even paralyzed
My interior world needs to sanitize
I’ve got to step through or I’ll dissipate…

~*~

the bitter of tea, the tang of lemon—and that subtle hint of summertime sweetness, melting into my tongue in one drowsy haze.

paint-stained hands clutch at the warm mug for dear life, and i take tentative sips and let the aromatic seasons dance around my mouth a bit, as if this very dark liquid itself was my final tether to this plane of existence.

perhaps, in some ways, it quite is.

the effect of sleepiness arrives to swoop me back in sluggishly, allowing me to momentarily lean back and stare blankly at the faces on the wall, all eager teeth and pastel craft paper, curling and fading all the way to wandering oblivion; but only a single smile really captured my absent mind’s attention. i wryly picture how it would look against later impressions of dirty blonde and crystalline azure, peeking rather shyly behind deep laugh lines and a few animated freckles peppered across pale skin, endearingly elusive.

sinking in; and sinking still. the effervescent mania that violently grabs me by the shoulders and dares to push its reckless fingers right in the middle of my tender ribcage, refusing to cease digging around until it finally hits something vital. lung, artery—the unfortunate heart itself, perhaps?

but—as i am melancholically assuaged—i am sure it will find only a hollow cavity where a beating organ used to rest. disappointed? not really. i’m painfully aware that already long ago have i been deemed one of the young naivetes who willingly sold it away, to someone who didn’t even know they were searching for damaged antiques. i practically gave it away for nothing.

and yet, where is it now?

is it gathering cracks and dents in someone’s mantlepiece, within a dusty old bungalow? is it buried lost under a child’s messy closet, along with broken toys and past innocence and all their other outgrown things? perhaps, has it already been traded away by its secondhand owner without a brief hesitant thought or a pause of chagrin, in exchange of a better, prettier, newer one?

ah, no matter…no matter. i no longer feel it anymore, anyhow.

cosmic snapshots. a feline grey and glimmering yellow eyes. lilting snatches of an unwritten song dedicated to the moon. murky rain dripping rhythmically from the plastered holes on the ceiling. a perfect pink photograph more potent than any flavour of tea or dosage of coffee, keeping me up well into the witching hours and then some. just another wordless poet. just another tired pen.

your bitter blue. my summertime sadness. the promise of morning, and nothing else.

~*~

And you know
You’re a terrible sight
But you’ll be just fine…

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fallen equinoxes

you are my mercurial tidal wave

the ego that wraps me up in a velvet blanket

and keeps me safe against crying storms

.

though i can barely breathe under the covers

and warmth is heavy against my pale blue skin

i’ll exhale in little wisps so there will be enough

to last both our lungs until cold morning bloom

.

you are my darling sibylline coastline

the elegance that dances me to the very end

and clings to my eyes like an overcast yellow

.

though the bright cadmium hurts my mind

and follows me to the very grey of my dreams

i’ll paint in every shade until the sun runs out

to last both our lives until idyllic evening gloom.

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northern downpour sends its love

morning storms

and opened windows

forgotten dreams

hanging by the seams

drowsy downpour

escaped stranger’s laugh

thoughts too wired

a quaint book read to tire.

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wake-up call

it’s 6 a.m.

i’m nursing

a three-day

migraine as

i clutch onto

my half-empty

coffee mug

afraid that i may

completely slip

out of sanity,

lest i keep hold;

on the messy

unfinished sketch

of the face i’ll

never get to

hold close to

mine, except for

these subtler

moments of

mourning—

when my

creased-up

forehead

lightly touches

against the

paper, beneath

the shaky table;

catatonically tired

from carrying

along the weight

of the world

that wasn’t mine

to ever exist in.

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4 – half-burnt toast

a freckle on your nose

u n c e r t a i n t y ;

and a delicate acceptance

of what they thought they know…

what you thought you knew.

rub it off, impulsively,

staring down the cold sun—

it’s lower than this afternoon

like the sky sank around it instead

of the other way around…

silk curtains fresh with dust

and an alarm clock that acts like

a hatchet clean down your

confused head, splicing

your migraine in half like a

raging hydra having a bad day.

melanin is lost to sunburn;

quietly-peeling skin picked on

like trying to remove the memory

of a bad vacation, and

u n c e r t a i n t y g r o w s —

the toaster flies off into eternity.

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