Tag Archives: play

Deciduous Infinity

“Hang the stars who pulled the pin out of my heart.”

~*~

I’m never going to lose you

The way I lost my past possessions

Of paper stars and empty cars

And first-grade last impressions

I’ve cried in smudged ink a hundred ways

Filling up every spectrum and space

I’ve listened until all the tapes are played

And revolving around in eternal ballet

There has been too much ethereal

In quiet holy places and feisty carnivals

Autumn collisions of the sky and the ocean

Peripherals of songs of resting swans

But I’m never going to lose your dream

The way I lost my fugacious incandescence

From bedless hope and faithless screams

You’re my first place last defiance.

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first act, insanity; next stop, recovery

“I never meant to hurt nobody
I never meant to hurt you, no, no…”

~*~

acrid laughter is ringing in my ears

good-natured, perhaps, to them

but the sound pierces like twisted barbed wires

straight through the caliginous corners

of my teeth, bared like a regurgitated heart

and almost—if not just as—crimson

as the fucked-over severity in my demented head

but sometimes it feels good to simply pretend

that the banter is a little less than risque

and i let my agitation be fooled…what an idiot.

as i’m sorry plays like a stenographic record

etching deeper grooves in the back of their stares

but never playing the right kind of music

am i screaming a typhoon in your clear day parade?

i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i want to cut it out

i want to cut my fingers open to point it out

and take all the sharp-edged blame all for myself.

but my testy temper rides on the flexible bullet

severely mutilating this nascent entertainment

that masqueraders and pantomimists have played

for the melancholic, esoteric, plastic actor

and you insisted on applause and receptivity

despite my initial protests against it all

for i am not your contagious chemistry audience

but i surrender my scab blood to you anyway

and keep clapping on and on until my hands fall apart

like a marionette’s lamenting swan song;

like this borrowed skin that sheds itself as we speak.

their laughter is mutating into vicious sneers

stabbing like blunt edges of a mangled fountain pen

and making me grit my shattered teeth—

your fogged-over eyes interpreting it as a smile

amused, but i’m simply bemused by my endurance.

i’m tired. i’m tired. i’m so fucking tired.

of the teasing testing taking terrors tampering

with my dysfunctional mood, its revolution ever retrograde…

it’s not your fault. did i ruin your sunshine again?

i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.

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Miss Mercenary

You had me hooked, careless and cunning
You had your throne, but now you’re nothing
You had me hooked, careless and cunning
You had your throne, but now you’re nothing…

~*~

A maiden for the silken sheets

A muse for the midnight masquerade

Amorous amorphous on feather pillows

A demure bonny on the pasquinade

.

A madwoman for the asphalt streets

A machine for the telephone’s hold

Astounding magic and death-defying acts

Aspiration generation, metal heart so cold

.

A mistress for all your petty problems

A megalomaniac for your world to rule

Alleviate and apprehend momentum quick again

Apathetic monarchy for the masses to adore and endure

.

A miss murder for the mean memorial of the brothels

A monster for the messy and mercurial meltdown motels

Arrogant tease decadent, astringent, leading you on well

All before she shows her blackened eyes and drags you down to hell.

~*~

Fading like the makeup from my sheets
And I’m leaving, send the orders for retreat
I laid to rest this war that we called “love”
It’s for the best and what’s done is done…

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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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bitter; beater…better?

“I’ve been saving myself for you.”

~*~

for me, bring back the beat

symphonies static in summer heat

ocean waves that washed away

the memories that will never stay

saving blood for what can’t be had

never knew you want it that bad

warm as the photographs you set on fire

i’ll be a good boy and say i’m the liar

convince me that this isn’t just a movie

and your melodrama ain’t a comedy

that the rude words colliding on the sky

wasn’t just another plot for me to die

but with everything i thought i’ll create

is just another separation desperate

and i can’t wait to bring the beat back home

but this time i’ll be playing it all alone.

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The Game Played Right

Is there anyone who can make me see?
Help me breathe
Is there anyone who can make me feel alive inside?
Sink or swim is all I know tonight
Well take me to the bed, it feels so right
Wake me up…

~*~

I keep on lying. The silent pieces remain unapologetically in my lips, melting and melding together and apart, clashing like shades of blue and gold, until my smiles are mutated and my bated tongue is in shreds. Fear is an embrace I’ve learned to take upon myself, selling myself short to it, buying away the final remaining original thoughts I’ve slaved over in myriad sleepless nights until I’m a-la carte. Change is to blame for the causeless effect, and I’m asking for more from what can’t be taken away from me, cutting corners and targeting the contrition with a bolted gun, as if that would solve my problem. Would that open the deadlocked box of hope, containing those transient reminiscences of what used to be faith, keeping my wrists from giving itself up to bladed handcuffs and abrading ropes?

No, because it’s been open all this time. I’m merely pretending that it’s fully out of grasp, stuffing the sunshine in a pocket with a hole, then feigning remorseful surprise when I grasp the cloth and fail to feel its reassuring outline. I won’t get away, just as the moon can’t break away from its cruel mistress, no matter how hard it tries. Dependence requires sustenance, never mind if one’s getting hurt, never mind if one’s just wasting time and lightyears, never mind that there’s someone who sucks on the cigarette and there’s one who gets snuffed out in the ashes of its former companions, and both are slowly dying with each harmful, addicting, nicotine drag. Perhaps it’s better to move on, burn my house down with the lighter, and stab a flag on top of a desolate mountain, letting the frigid Arctic breeze pierce my lungs, reminding me that I’m dead inside, day by day, every single night.

Yes, the truth hurts worst when you’re lying on your back in a hollowly-carved bed, watching the tick of the sagging clock draw frowns on your dripping beige ceiling, the crude notches on the bedpost your only substitute for a calendar, not even the gathering dust on your windowsill keeping track of your blunt existence, but is that really such a bad plotline to read into? After all, I’m a mere instrument of conflict, and if I do not fulfill my function, I have no point, and dull instruments are of no use to anyone but the junkyard. So, what’s the point but pointlessness? What is there to release from arrogance, from selfishness, from egocentric human needs and desires, shallowness sucking away the will to speak in freedom, constantly starving for lust and lusting for starvation and dying from either loneliness or hunger in the end?

Give me that. Give me an answer that would morph my vulgar counterfeit laughter back into a purely genuine jubilance, give me a reply that would wash away the contracting fallacies in my conflicted mind and make my craving lecherous soul finally taste the decadent truth, give me a statement to swim in and sink under as I ponder deeply upon it and spend all my cashed-in stars to figure it out until I may finally repose in peace, give me an oratorical rhetoric that would drag me out of the hands of the angels in the ambulance and shock my heart into sinus rhythm, give me something, anything at all that would set this hellish perpetual carousel in a dead jolting halt and wouldn’t throw me off the cutthroat ride, give me—give me what I want. Yet, is what I want really what I need?

Never. Because in this reality, the parallel cruelty prevents any chance of a perfect alignment or even a destined intersection between any limits, and it’s all we can do to keep walking in the thin line and keep a painful positiveness, because backtracking to the negatives would devour us whole, render us irrational, and count us as impossible. Yet, despite knowing all of those and sharing such meaningless contrivances to the eyes that refuse to perceive and the ears that refuse to listen, I still want you to lie to me. Lie to me until your lips are mutated and your bated tongue is in shreds, lie, lie, lie, until the wrong turns right, until forward becomes backwards, until the truth is the ultimate lie, and I’ll gladly do the same to you. After all, we’re just doing what we need to do. We’re just doing all we can do.

~*~

These self inviting auras
Made me bring out the sun
Your body’s played its role
It’s ruined my game
And now I can’t believe I’ve done it
But somehow I still feel
But I still feel, so far gone…

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gospel

play god

and proclaim

it’s a mortal sin

we’ll see you

in hell when we

stop believing.

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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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Childish Traces

his laughter

and wavering

soft heartbeat,

and lingering

fragrances of

her lilac scent

caught between

my calloused,

trembly hands;

the sensations

and stories on

my fingertips

reminding me

of innocence

once lost, and

a purity to still

be preserved.

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Ravine Scenes

An intercepted reverie

Caught in gales of grey

Clamour of laburnum sea

Falters, fades, and frays

Candour of a cold caprice

With dryads of alacrity

Meadowlark lost in pleas

Deigning prosaic coterie

An interactive doxology

Folds of a sporadic play

Somnolent ocean fantasy

Clashes, collides, set in clay.

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