Tag Archives: nonsense

tabby blonde

you showed up

in my dreams

last night again

and i thought

that was that

.

but just when i

thought i’d awake

’cause it couldn’t

get weirder, you

turned into a cat.

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Filed under Poetry

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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Double Dares, No Take-Backs

I wanna make my way into your kiss
I wanna live inside your mind next to your favorite songs
I won’t slow my pace until your walkway
I wanna lose my mood inside a late night phone call with you…

~*~

Keep me in your sights, and double double dare me

I’ll be your clapping beat, now won’t you sing along

The air between our shaky hands won’t be won’t be

Won’t be blowing until our skin gets it all wrong

.

Smile, but the gloom doesn’t dissipate to the moon

You’re my childish reverie, I’m your little red balloon

Play 21 questions until the question marks are tired

Of answering the same old things in our curious minds

.

Keep me in your sights, and double double dare me

I’ll be the song stuck in your head, now won’t you sing along

The wind beneath our heaving chest won’t be won’t be

Won’t be blowing until our skin gets it all wrong

.

Cry, but heaven doesn’t hear what you wanna say

The angels left you powerless, they don’t exist for today

Laugh until the laughter begins to sound suspicious

No one could be that happy, but we’re just both auspicious

.

Keep me in your sights, and double double dare me

I’ll be the lyrics you never wrote down, now won’t you sing along

The zephyr under our interlocked eyes won’t be won’t be

Won’t be blowing until our skin gets it all wrong

.

Talk, but the stars only hear static words and white noise

Expectations take over emotions, you just wanna have a voice

Count sheep until we run out of sandy footprints to break

I’ll go around, wrapped in your bedpost, dreaming of mistakes

.

Keep me in your sights, and double double dare me

I’ll be the instrument in your hands, now won’t you sing along

The breeze by our swaying hips won’t be won’t be

Won’t be blowing until our skin gets it all wrong

.

Kiss, but hell is so faraway from everything else

Slowing down time as gravity makes contact with nonsense

Dance until we’re out of breath, until we don’t care

You’re my spin the bottle, but babe I’m your truth or dare

.

So keep me in your sights, and double double dare me

I’ll be the only favourite song you know, now won’t you sing along

The tempest brewing between our tense lips won’t be won’t be

Won’t be blowing until our skin feels warm and our hearts get it all wrong.

~*~

Feeling my love mood—I kind of see you
When I climb into my mind, that’s where I keep you
And lately where I waste my time
Mirror, mirror, on the wall, show me everything I want
Because I want you now…

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Filed under Poetry

fill in the blanks.

“And it’s four in the morning
I’m just trying to fix myself
What the hell did I do?”

~*~

blankness.

a constant void

washed-out

into a bleached white

still dirty, yet everything

has been scrubbed out

fastidiously, like

the writings on a blackboard

and the chalk dust

lingers in your fingertips,

the kind that you can’t blow away

and you’re stuck with

that unpleasant texture on your

hands for the rest of the day.

you’re zeroed-out;

multiplied, divided, and subtracted

until even the calculator

doesn’t know how to answer

except for a shameful

syntax error…

you don’t know where you

went wrong in your calculations.

now you’re staring dully

at the beige ceiling

listening to the rhythms

of a nameless music attempt vainly to

make your heart bleed, but it’s

all fucking static to you,

just another distraction to

keep you grounded

as gravity drags

you down in your grave

without even so much as a

respectful funeral or a dated tombstone.

your thoughts are as

senseless as every nerve in

your once-hurting flesh

your body got used to the pain,

one might dare guess

but the truth is you can’t feel it anymore

because it’s no longer your own—

to control, to use, to move around in to

your free will and accord

and you’re just pretending to perform,

waiting for the fateful day that the

puppeteer snaps your marionette strings, and

you drop lifelessly on the

shabbily-decorated stage of your existence.

you don’t even know where these

nonsensical thoughts are originating from;

all you know is the constant empty

sensation, a flatlined perception,

draining every bone in your borrowed body

physically, emotionally, and mentally

until you’re nothing more than

an amorphous bag of viscera

dripping numbly on that plastic chair

still gawping insensibly at the

rorschach beige ceiling, all the way to pure

b l a n k n e s s———

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Filed under Poetry

How To Say “Sorry”

There’s ten million ways to say an apology

But I could only count five stars blinking out on the palm of my hand

Whispering that this illusion’s grand, and I’m too infinitesimal to understand

How the world works and spins in its torque

How the skies are blue and why there’s rain in June

Why everyone lies and why people die

Why memories are memories, why angels don’t fly

Why chaos reigns in anarchy, and why you refused to say sorry

Even though I was bleeding out in front of you

And how the bruises are evidence for my allegations being true

But even without the vivid purple tattooed on my skin

I could still count every single sin

That you carved with a knife on the back of my heart

Saying you won’t end my life when you killed me with an art

Pressing down, feeling rife, tearing my veins apart

Will you still say this was simply for a restart?

For an iota of the darkest eyes you still call human

Face away from the tragedy and turn your soul to the sun

If those lips are crushed under the pressure of the truth

Fucking scream about everything, they won’t refuse if they knew

About the spinning planet, how they won’t understand it

About the blue skies and rainy day day lies

About death and regrets and how angels can fly

About memories being memories, and chaos made to create

And about how you refused to say sorry while you stood at hell’s gate

I’m at a loss for words, and everything escapes—

There’s ten million ways to say an apology

But I could only count one mouth moving soundlessly at the palm of my hands

Saying that my delusion’s grand, and I’m too foolish to understand

Against the stubbornness and the haze, that you were never one of the ways.

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Filed under Poetry

Stares on the Staircase

It’s more the same, a silly old shame
A dimly lit road, it will wither and go
I climb the light post, illuminate the road
For miles away, so safely on your way…

~*~

Counting all the steps on the spiraling staircase

Falling down and breaking my neck with grace

Didn’t know how much the water meant a thing

Until I quickly slipped away and lost my footing

I’ve counted all the steps on the spiraling staircase

Treads in the dark, but guess I counted it all wrong

It never meant a thing to you, it’s just a creaky place

‘Til my broken body’s lying motionless at the bottom.

~*~

Sleep and awaking to life, for a hell of a ride
Sleep and awaking to life
With your hands at your side, paralyzed…

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Filed under Poetry

silent summers and wasted memories

They used to be the rivers
That would take us away
But now you only call me
Every Christmas and my birthday…

~*~

diving into

liquid reveries

and searching for

lost words

i could never

set past my

grievous tongue

in endless

nights of misadventure

and chicanery

rife with fondness

and hyperbole

and playful kicks

jovial as it hits

our wayside brains

though never

directly spoken

we were speaking

in a language

that only we

could decipher

leaving the rest of

the world to wonder

what amuses our

strange souls so

little did they know

we were laughing

at them all along

for they could

never understand

how these broken gears

spin and stutter

and how we turn such

mechanical gnashes

into a symphony

listening to each other’s

lilting cacophonies

until sunset hits

our bloodshot eyes

bidding us its goodnight

and i yearn for those

pastel-shade days…

of glib tongues

talking about stuff

and sheer nonsense

and insensibility

and rancid relativity

and bouts of sovereignty

in blue screen deaths

and sleep infidelity

now a distant polaroid

fettered in grey

and fragmented by time

a memory daze—

i break the surface of

my reminiscing

almost forgetting to

catch my breath

and write the words

i remembered to think

but never said aloud

hoping someone could

still hear the wind…

it was a delicate summer

and yet, rather wasted

on dead air and empty silence

that much, i know

that much, i could see

and that much, i wonder

i wonder if you knew

and i’m rather curious

why are we wasting

time again?

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Plastic Puppy

i toss a toy

quite randomly

to mollify you

amusement spreads

like wildfire

on your chubby face

“dog”, you utter

quite unsurely,

face crinkled in confusion

i smile and say “yes,

dog goes ruff!”

emitting a growl

and the best bark i can do

at the last part

you laugh;

cheery sound breaking

my internal bedlam

repeat “dog!”

and hold the toy

closer to my face

where i could kiss it

in the same way you did

and so i do;

and then i clamp it

in between my mouth

and attack you with tickles

barking and laughing

as you squeal in delight

and the plastic toy

falls away

as we both fall over

in silliness and happiness

on that pastel pink

adorable owl-spangled bed

giggling widely…

this is a nonsensical tale

no one wants to bite

but we are truly barking mad,

aren’t we, child?

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Filed under Poetry

Cyborg & AI

It is weird to admit that I do kind of miss it

Your condescensions, intricate conspiracies

Melodramatic tendencies and odd severities

Shouting matches in the middle of the street

.

Your foolish theories and proud NEET texts

Even your strange and undefinable complex

Of accepting yourself in your “human shell”

Oh, and it does feel nice being taller as well

.

You spout all kinds of nonsenses irrelevance

So much that it actually starts to make sense

Sardonic bites, acerbic banter you say is wit

But we’re both talking a bit short full of shit

.

Your indecisiveness that nearly ran you over

You’ll be reincarnated as life, and I Death Jr.

Bizarre beliefs regarding death and universe

Me giving up and telling you, go write a book

.

It’s all part of acceptance, straight from denials

Which is crap, but now I’ll laugh and surrender

This conversation has been okay, preemptively

Well, until you hit my kill switch again, shorty.

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Filed under Poetry

pesky fruitfly

what’s so useless to you

is saving my life

it’s but a trite distraction

i seem to be rifed

and yet you still wonder

why i never decide

to tell you a damn thing

’cause you wouldn’t

understand it if you tried

you’re not on a side

it’s just nonsense to deride

so maybe you’re right

but you’re not my pesticide.

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Filed under Poetry