Tag Archives: nature

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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Pacific Transit

Spare a few seconds to bring my soul back to life

I’ll take the time to grasp onto your slippery thoughts

Go cry me a river, we’ll save it for next summer

For now, we’ll sleep in hazy hemispheres that skies forgot

.

Will this be more than a yawning afternoon soapbox love?

There’s no reason to believe if the whole world’s watching

I guess there’s something in your face, the way your smiles fall short

Beneath your callused fingertips, no such thing as a happy ending

.

Will a quiet embrace convince you to settle down and breathe?

Facsimiles of youth painted on dewdrops and plastic evergreen

If I really tried, can I find an oasis beneath the muddy puddles?

Should we pick up where we left off, or leave nothing but a dream?

.

Take a moment to set the scene; oh it’s fine, we’ll be here all night

From basement lights to firework flights, time’s shrinking with the tides

That touched our gentle skins and left bruises for strangers to count

For now, we’ll laugh like nothing matters, we have the weather on our side.

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Danielle’s Falling October

Oh yes, she’s my redhead darling

The rarest kind that makes autumn feel so jealous

From her button freckles to her pumpkin-spice skin

She dances vivaciously in a riot of fireplace colours

.

Oh yes, she’s my redhead darling

The rarest kind that always makes my vintage heart feel new

When the pages are torn to cliffhangers and wishful nothings

Her camera smile captures every quaint blush of my pale hue.

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sulk

influences

on the red of

her lips, and

her cornflower

hair glowing,

an autumn moon

sulking by a

riverside bank

as pastel waves

kissed out the

drought of spring

and i remembered

how to forget…

bruised knuckles,

twisted hallways

filled with ghosts

that no one can chase

but her all alone,

and a room which

held my dark fears

but never let them out.

and left nothing but

silent discontent,

wrong phone calls,

her umber eyes under

the influence of tears

until they turned red

and drifted off into

a sleepless dream.

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Don’t Turn The Tables Sweetheart, You’re Gonna Dizzy Yourself Sick

Well, she’s not bleeding on the ballroom floor
Just for the attention, ‘cause that’s just ridiculously odd
Well, she sure is going to get it, here’s the setting
Fashion magazines line the walls now, the walls line the bullet holes
Have some composure and where is your posture? Oh, no, no!
You’re pulling the trigger, pulling the trigger all wrong…

~*~

You act like you’ve got a pretty laugh stuck in your ragged throat

Proud of the way you dirty your skin, proud of the way you gloat

About the veins, they’re just veins, they’re just another empty sea

I don’t want to swim, I don’t want to sink, I don’t want to censor me

.

Can you see the way I twist my hair into a noose that I’ll never hang?

Well the knots have hurt my fingers and for a moment my hands stung

All this beauty left to be romantic about, but sometimes nature is a bore

The bayside’s wayside in screaming trees, sometimes nature is a whore

.

When we did it, it was funny, it was temporary, it was just a tragedy

Coming from the cheap seats and you clapped for the longest irony

Now it’s your turn, it’s not funny, it’s forever, it’s a bruised symphony

We paid the balcony scene just to watch a charcoal sob for a penny

.

And your lips spill with attention and gush that you don’t want any

Paint the crooked crucifix on your pallid cheeks with bitter and honey

Now all the hypocrites adore you, blood-type A of sycophantic rude

Play a victim with a rifle to their shoulders, act as if it’s how you should

.

Now the trigger smiles so happy, does that bullet taste like sweet candy?

Do the fucking polaroids show off the best sides of your broken inhumanity?

Make us sorry that this reality didn’t fit your peach-twill dress and sanity

Was it your idea to put the slit in your throat so you can pretend that it’s originality?

~*~

Give me envy, give me malice, give me your attention!
Give me envy, give me malice, baby, give me a break!
When I say shotgun, you say wedding: shotgun, wedding, shotgun, wedding!
She didn’t choose this role, but she’ll play it and make it sincere
So you cry, you cry (give me a break) but they believe it from the tears
And the teeth right down to the blood at her feet…

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afterwords

rain and quiet conversations

with the shadow of a stranger

warmth of coffee, cold of night

mishaps fleet, transient danger

stresses, messes, second guesses

caught in breezes, puzzle pieces

chicken soup spilled on the soul

artworks of silver and charcoal

daylight saving, wasting evenings

under trees and benches, petrichor

desolation wrapped around blue bones

waiting for the time when it feels like home.

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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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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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