Tag Archives: nature

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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Telltale Weather

i love the rain

the weather’s pain

mirages left

on dull pavement

.

i love the sun

the weather’s fun

heat haze slows

on concrete glow.

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western trees

The silhouettes, they play the part
Their east coast digs are works of art
But the sickness sleeps inside our bones
With solipsistic overtones…

~*~

oh, how quiet the songs

of the western trees impede

amid soft tantrum of the breeze

and falling taffeta leaves

dislimn the topaz rays that glaze

when the sun adores its haze

and transforms honeysuckle brie

drops that reach your eyes so sweet

as pastel flora invites neon grass

and twines of hurtful weeds that pass

for an interlude on clement grudges

and a chance to altogether flourish

the kismet that kisses skins and knees

bruised blackcurrants and peonies oblique

tasting just like lemonade lunette

as the campanile rings out for sunset

oh how lulling, these summer songs

of the western trees’ symphonies

amid hums and chirps of solstice cicadas

and falling hearts resting at ease.

~*~

From the burbs’ to the streets now, it’s a revival
The spirit is found in the idealistically idle
The age of excess, I just love it…

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Schmetterling

I don’t wanna know where your heart goes
I don’t wanna die out of your throes
I don’t wanna know where the wind blows…

~*~

She was an exquisite butterfly

Her fragile and delicate wings

Shimmering in pastel colours

As it catches against sunshine

And I’m the withered daffodil

That she’s fluttered away from

After sucking all the sweetness

From my once-blooming bones.

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Janus and the Beast

There’s nothing like a trail of blood
To find your way back home
And nothing feels as cold inside as heaven down below
I’ve been lost and never found, afraid
To speak my truth out loud
With empty hands I came into this world
And I’ll leave just the same…

~*~

Blood smeared on the walls

Like the smiles on your two faces

Taunting a mechanical reaction

Of storms and clever rhetorics

That died of natural causes

.

But the truth is far from you

This miserable incineration

Of my outer demons breaking

Leaving the scar issues making

News all over my gossipy skin

.

And my migraine’s headlining

Medications inventing versions

Of the story no one wants to tell

Stigmata leaving sensible stigmas

Bitter bidding angels wish you hell

.

Blood smeared all over the walls

Like the frowns on your two faces

Making a cruel definition agreed

Of cyclones and asinine comebacks

That revived the primal nature in me.

~*~

Death, you cannot take me, you’ve tried and failed before
With everything so deafening, each breath worth fighting for
I refuse to be your casualty ’cause pain has its reward
No longer trapped in agony, you cannot take me, I survive the storm…

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sweet sundown sky

there’s a peach hanging from the sky

or maybe it’s an apricot

or a freshly-ripe pomegranate…

but whatever it is,

it looks deliciously sweet and succulent

and i’m very much tempted

to pluck it off the honeycomb fade

of the descending horizon

even though it might burn my fingers—

and take a bite of that tuscan sun

to taste a million explosions

dancing and flaring on my excited tongue

for a final palatable moment

all before the golden platter sunset

is ushered away from me

and the table is draped with velvet ebony

embroidered with scintillating stains

of sparkling yellow sugar

presented marvelously before me

and i open the silver tray in anticipation

only to be delightedly surprised

with a half-eaten moon pie.

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Gloom Boys in Natural Blue

I have candy floss over my eyes, and no one can ever take that away from me.

I’m a double dare away from jumping into the clouds and getting lost in heaven, and even though their motionless lips tell me otherwise, imploring that the despondent sun will burn my frail skin and my charred cape will drag me back down into the ground, I’ll simply fly over them and defy what it means to be human.

For being an angel is not made of mere matchsticks and febriculic feathers, rather, it is the catastrophic sensation of breathing in your existence from your lungs and never letting it go, holding your oxygen in so tight that your chest will hurt, and tasting the very molecule that the wind is built up of, all before exhaling heavily and letting others share the light that passed the very chambers of your symphonic heart, and inhaling that decadent love once more like it’s the only sugar high you need.

I’ll be dancing a hundred footsteps as I reverently play the halo’s mellifluous beat around my head over and over again, but I shall never get tired of laughing and listening, and the glow never fades, the glow never coalesces into a darker retrospect of aspirations and bad habits, the glow is etched at the very back of my confounded head and if I close my eyes and wish a little softer, I can see pastel whispers floating and resonating behind my dreams, smiling quietly as it tells me fairy stories about twill reveries and acrylic oneirism.

Will you tell me that much? Will you beg in blazing yellow and speak in purple hand grenades, waking up again when the water parks detonate and soothing water splashes everywhere? This is not my gloomy lullaby meant to be kept under hushed tones and clandestine affinities, buried under the bones of ‘92, rather it is an everlasting caprice that is meant to be jubilantly shouted from the rooftops, until the nightingales and mynas and bluejays and hummingbirds mimic the colours in my eyes and echoes back a chromatic rainbow to be chased.

Am I not making any sense, or is the semblance of my self-optimistic throes withdrawing like violent ocean waves? It is not their fault, and it certainly isn’t mine. It’s yours. It’s all yours. This nonsensical tirade making me backlash the usual defamation that is my wretched soul, making me passionate for what used to be desert sand and black light, now efflorescent flowerbeds and ultraviolet ecstasy, making me smile and laugh childishly at the most fickle of things like a madman staring limerently into the cornflower moon. You let a playful cyclone into my bedroom while I was sleeping, and it ravaged my closet and spun me all the way to your window until I was sickly dizzy, and you held your hand out to steady me and pulled me in, winking cheekily at the cyclone and returning its breezy grin before waving it goodbye.

Now that I’m here, will you promise to keep me? Airplane conversations and clustered entertainment isn’t enough to leave me amused. Are you laughing at my sadness yet? Are you performing odes along to me mournfully singing about the underhanded depression that makes me mad all the time and fucks my worried flurried mind up when the night is young and makes me go down the long road home? I’m a car crash that you can’t ever look away from, and I can’t ever look away from you. But don’t follow me to the site of the wreck. If your favourite set of stairs is the one up to my room, piece together the trail of love notes I left in the kitchen that say it all, and when you find me, I won’t ever have to let you go up. Let’s be lucky people, you and me.

Amid tantrums and crybabies, you’re nothing but rare. I may not be a warrior and you may think I’m the worst, but I know I don’t have to sleep alone again. So won’t you stay awake, stay awake for me? If you’re singing about la-la-la-love, my tune is more to the beat of a la-la-la-lobotomy. You’re my yellow lovely jealousy, in natural blue and viridian green memories, I’m losing my mood in a late night phone call, shading everything else from silver to pink to hiding under porches and craving territorial phantasms, it doesn’t matter. My common sense is powerless when you speak, and I’m not royal but I’m stupid for you, and 11:11 can go away because I don’t wish for anything else. I’m tired. You’re tired. Let’s be tired together. It’s more fun that way, don’t you think?

I have gloomy clouds over my eyes, and only you can ever take that away from me.

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La Bella Fantasia

“I swear that I can hear you in the wind…”

~*~

little phantasmic phantoms dance about

growing flowers at the garden of my mind

waiting to pluck out each bluebell and daisy

to fashion the wreaths into something kind

the playful zephyr is a fair weather friend

lulling each berceuse to sleep until the end

orbit sending me high into the atmosphere

but i won’t fall, no—i have nothing to fear

listening to the cherry blossoms that hide

in the boroughs where there’s a tinkerbell bride

and the mystical creatures would understand

with every speck of dust, a magic that enchants

.

but the delphi hearts and oracular tongues

speak of stories and brier thorns that selfishly clung

to innocent naivete still stubbornly preserved

though only to the pristine youth that it deserves

the wily eyes staring into the darkness osiris

as the nettles grow wild prevent cogent dreams

they scoured the atlas looking for eternal citadels

the nondescript pangs unaware of incarnate bevels

shrines that i pray to now submerged in irascible sins

incoherent adages leaving bruised indentations within

will the pixies be daunted? will the elves repatriate?

Quietly accepting the moiety of their unfortunate fates?

.

but beneath the black and white of underground paradise

is a fair place for scathing asters and aureole mirth alike

beyond the curlicues of charcoal smoke that paint the stars

a gossamer love decays, recording a dictaphone of past wars

in an imbroglio of lotuses, past the wafting scent of sandalwood

on the horizon, a transit of venus, a crescent smiling platitude

thoughts as crystal clear as seaglass, reflect candid illusions

show a bouquet from the spectres, a plethora of guiling ruminations

amid the taste of camphor and lead, i return to lacklustre reality

wondering and pondering when i’ll get lost again in my crafted fantasy.

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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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The Other

They’ll never try, they’ll never see
What it’s like to fight, it’s like to be
The other, I am the other
We’ll never hide, we’ll never fear
What it’s like to fight, it’s like to be
The other, we are the other…

~*~

The first dare, the grey stare

You can take me down but I don’t care

The last act, the take-back

I’m more than what you will always lack

.

Because I’m flying until the stars give up

The sky might close in on me but I will never stop

Testing my chemical faith, it may not be in my nature

But I’ll inject it until it feels right, until I feel sure

.

The consume, the in-bloom

You can cut me up but I’ll write my own stitches

The red flag, the white gag

I won’t be constrained by mere gasoline and matches

.

It may hurt me like hell, but my temple stays strong

And I will stay alive even if just to prove them all wrong

They think I’ve lost control, slipped my grasp out of what’s real

But my dreams are more than what they seem, it’s all that I feel

.

The submerge, the great urge

You can tempt me but I don’t need blood to purge

The high-rise, the old lies

I won’t let myself be fooled by those who play nice

.

(The first dare, the last act, the consume, the red flag, the submerge, the high-rise)

Because everything’s just a game, and I was meant to break the rules

And I will play it right, entangled and twisted until I unravel the spool

(The grey stare, the take-back, the in-bloom the white gag, the great urge, the old lies)

I won’t let any of them take me anymore, and I won’t die just to keep score

Because I’m not just a someone, I’m not just anyone, and I will be the other.

~*~

I feel it all, the rise of the fall, pulling me under
With the last breath I breathe
I swear I’ll scream until my lungs burn
I am the other…

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