Tag Archives: philosophy

of gods and gold

i am not

who i say i was

and aphrodite

is crying gilded ichor

.

i am not

who i adorn in lies

and fragrance

peripheral

.

i am not

who i wish i was

and demeter

begs for stolen grace

.

i am not

a god bathed in truth

my predicament

is callisto’s eternal.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Does The City Sleep If Everyone’s Awake?

Drop every pretense, drown every sense you own
For the girl that you love, girl you loathe
Insistent pretext, so what does that make god?
To the girl that you love, girl you loathe…

~*~

Follow home the darkness in the midst of distorted lies

A bellicose pretence that overshadows the most jaded of eyes

Entering, surrendering the only control left to be held back

Indignant morose affability surreptitiously painted black

.

For the girl that you love left her heart in the shadows

She’s keeping it there locked tight and burning the evidence

And the boy of your dreams has a nightmare in his head

He keeps a musket under his pillow for such a circumstance

.

Secrets dripping at the tip of their tongue, are you getting tired

Ain’t it so pretty, the way their drunken minds are wired?

The curtain’s coming down, but the burlesque act continues

And the naked audience and all the masked actors are in on the ruse

.

The flickering streetlamps may not last until the end of sunset

And you may have lost your empty wallet stumbling in a cabaret

Taking profound philosophies from barkeeps, pouring another drink

Don’t know if that sleaze three tables over winked or just blinked

.

Follow home the oncoming intrusion of light in the haze of inebriation

An avaricious pretence that promptly overpowers any realistic temptation

Surrendering the only control that wasn’t there to hold back in the first place

Coruscating affiliations underhandedly leaving hearts without a single trace.

~*~

The girl that you love, girl that you love
Girl that you love knows you don’t
Followed her, followed her
Followed her, followed her home…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

she’s been waiting for the train with a bus ticket in her pocket.

She built a world with her own two hands
Well just give that a thought
And she don’t ever want to make no plans
‘Cause she don’t go outside no more…

~*~

she hasn’t had her medication yet

and she already fell in love with the relentless rain

they all told her she was a crazy pain

as she hung herself upside-down on the crooked rafters

searching for another heart to surrender

but she didn’t find any, no

as all the blood rushed inside her head

and turned her frail lips a deep red

she won’t kiss anyone with a mouth that dirty

until she wipes it off along with her glittering lipstick

and told her mama that she’s sorry

but that won’t be enough.

as of now, the train station is empty

and everyone has left in pursuit of a better life

but she’s still ripping threads off her timeworn dress

and reading profane graffiti out loud

and making her own in the chipped benches

waiting for a vehicle that never arrives

to take her into an unknown destination, for the bad and the better

rendered frozen as time moves on around her.

Leave a comment

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.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Ipse Dixit

You’re begging for the impossible. You plead the fifth and proclaim it’s the inevitable, but I am as solid as the philosopher’s stone circumscribed within the third chamber of my arcane comatose heart. A paralysed blood flow. A coronary heartbeat. The monitor sinks into an eclectic deadline. You perceived the evidence, assimilated the apnoea, penultimately confirmed the apoplexy with an exorbitant sigh and a commiserating disposition. Castigate my otiose conniption if you must, but it wouldn’t make any goddamned difference if I’m a cello strung across a rainbow crossing in the welkin of the Valhalla or a bagpipe resting against a river of magma and hellfire in the very eviscerating core of the earth. It is but an expendable prestidigitation, smoke and mirrors reflecting spectres in the illusion, so why abjure? He himself said it. It is a moot point in a Van Allen Hyperion. For if the very man Himself cannot prosecute it, then let it occur to your benighted follies that your playing God cannot save me. Don’t make me go back. I won’t do it. I won’t.

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose

weeping willow tree

tiredness, the willow trees

outside are whispering for

quaint attention.

the night is young but i

am dosed with strychnine

and nitroglycerine

and evergreen on my lips—

and i ended up stumbling on

the porch steps and i

ended up sleeping among

the enveloping branches of that

weeping willow tree

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Stardust Reveries

Then he waited, marshaling his thoughts and brooding over his still untested powers. For though he was master of the world, he was not quite sure what to do next. But he would think of something.” ~2001: A Space Odyssey; Arthur C. Clarke

~*~

So say that the tattoos

On phantom skin

Are cobwebs of stars

.

Maybe the atmosphere

That you breathed

Pierce the veil and mars

.

Birthed from singularity

Incandescence of

A binary planet system

.

Suspended animations

Earth’s a play toy

Unbeknownst to realm

.

Hyperspace surrealism

White dwarf on a

Sun’s horizon falling fast

.

Man was built for clever

Whims, yet, they

Are never meant to last

.

Crash through a Stargate

Extrasolar negative

Transcending humanity

.

Tip of an ethereal finger

Detonating dawn

Instilling a false clarity

.

Interstellar absurdities

Ebon polaris pins

Andromeda memories

.

Make way for hydrogen

Of one star child

And its stardust reveries.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry