Tag Archives: play

Elizabeth and the Zealot

His embittered smile proclaims of an innocently senile man, but his rancid breath reeks of irreparable psychological damage.

Outside, a group of children playing tag in the playground across the street, clambering across loose gravel and joyously shrieking as outstretched hands willingly grab for their shoulders, caught unaware and simply caught.

Inside his shirt, the old crucifix his long-deceased mother gave him on the brink of her deathbed, clasp half-broken and several priceless encrusted jewels missing; a toothless grin, unfaithful gaps. The tiny metal weighs heavily against his unwashed chest, the unpleasant sensation almost burning a hole through his heart. Sometimes, he mutters a memorised creed out of reflex, though no one believes in it anymore. Perhaps not even God Himself. But him?

Mindless gazes. The chipped, mouldy statue of a weeping wooden saint in one dark nook of the living room, rotting food and dusty candles its ever-resilient offering. The mirror, barely reflective, smudged with soot and cobwebs and his tuberculosis-infected saliva. The closed window beside him like a sleepy eye, tiringly wary as it occasionally betrays a resounding laugh or a glimpse of excitedly-billowing hair. He forgets so many things nowadays, but he always remembers. The children. He must watch the children.

Or else?

Or else…

Grabbing his ragged coat from the settee, the man coughed into his fist once, twice, and absently wiped the offending knuckle onto his beige pants. He headed for the door and resolutely grabbed the tarnished doorknob with a shaky hand. The hinges squeaked. A child, perhaps the acting leader of the pack, called out for everyone’s attention as he insisted to play hide and seek.

A countdown, and the palpable air of small bodies scattering. The man decided musingly, that he would humour them and join in their little pastime. He’s always been good at hiding. Though, he sighed out in quiet lamentation, with his old age and raging rheumatism, it would not really make the job any easier for him.

But only one child would win the game that night.

No one would ever find her.

He’ll make sure of that.

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Filed under Prose

Sucker Punch

hey, sucker punch love

burn the roof of my mouth

and make my tongue curdle

like sucker punch blood

.

let me smile for your fist

knock a couple chipped teeth

cheek pressed to the floor

wild crowd screaming for more

.

hey, sucker punch love

play me now like you play god

might be from infatuation

or from the hairline concussion

.

make that puckered-up face

as i stumble into third place

swing the bat and let me have it

oh, you know you love the damage.

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(Don’t) Turn Back To Me

Somewhere along the way, I somehow convinced myself to play

The waiting game like it meant a thing, like I wouldn’t lose anyway

You were the part of my mind still clouded with nostalgia

But lately, it’s now been replaced with a nicotine-grey paranoia

.

Still, you kept me hanging on with all your hooked apologies

And dragged me on for miles despite having nothing but weak excuses

How foolish I truly was, I thought the violent bruises looked pretty

A vicious reminder of the time we spent—a fucked-up memento mori

.

But now I’m getting really tired of having to constantly check in

Obsessing over your absence, getting caught up in that empty nothing

Somehow, that’s the only thing you’re always consistent with

But the rest of this connection is a mess…was it all just friendly bullshit?

.

I understand that you’re busy, and I have no right to be hurt at all

But a sliver of conscience would have been nice, instead of the way you stall

I don’t even know why I’m still trying to paint myself as the bad guy

Spitting poison in my sharpened words in an attempt to catch your eye

.

But maybe it’s better off this way, and maybe I should stop pretending

That I’ll be worth a single damn to you, that I was ever even anything

I just wasted my breath when you never listened, we’ve done this all before

Though I guess this time, I just don’t have a place in your pretty plastic life anymore.

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Filed under Poetry

shut up when you’re talking to me

We keep the beat with your blistered feet
And we bullet the words at the mockingbirds singing
Slept through the weekend and dreaming
Of sinking with the melody of the cliffs of eternity
Got postcards from my former selves saying “How’ve you been?”

~*~

those clever words

are only things

you said in your sleep…

but i still listened,

and i still believed in them.

i’ll wear my heart on

my sleeve just so i could

wear something new

i’ll wear my brain over my shirt

just so i could pretend that

it’s something true—

but feeling and thinking

is already out of style

so guess my fashion statement

is faded, bleached out in

the bad kind of vintage

so won’t you give me

a cheap trick and tell me

“don’t be cruel, honey”

like the parasite that ravaged

our lips turning to scarlet

but i couldn’t find the letter

or monarch butterflies

in our holiday down in las vegas

when we lost the highway

for the third time that evening.

it’s a picture perfect eternity

the goodbye that never leaves

it’s the most insincere you and me

the “happy birthday” that doesn’t age

have i blown your mind yet?

or were you distracted by misery?

there’s no take two’s, i’m afraid

but encore’s full of apologies

so just talk, like it’s all we can do

talk because it’s all we can do

and listen to the insomnia

lash out in crashing profanities

if you’re too afraid to stay

‘cause these doldrums won’t play out

forever…would they?

~*~

Whoa oh, we’re so miserable and stunning
Whoa oh, love songs for the genuinely cunning
It was ice cream headaches and sweet avalanche
When the pearls in our shells got up to dance
You call me a bad tipper of the cradle
Tired yawns for fawns on hunter’s lawns…

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Killing Queen

That first summer we spent’s
One we’ll never forget
Looking for any kind of reason
To escape all the mess that
We thought was what made us…

~*~

Sometimes I laugh at the thought

Of me writhing, as I vainly fought

Against a spell you held me under

You broke the walls, I ran for cover

.

But instead of playing me the victim

You merely stared and started singing

And I revealed out from my sanctuary

No longer afraid of what I can ever see

.

As tenor rose to the star-canopied skies

Hearts cadenced, synchronised lullabies

I locked the doors, left the windows open

Closed my eyes as you smiled and went in.

~*~

Ain’t it funny now? We can see
We’re who we’re meant to be
You still have all of my
You still have all of my
You still have all my heart…

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Filed under Poetry

anatomical dissection: ears

the very ends of my

threads are frayed

and my earphones

tangle up and unravel

as i intertwine them on

my fingers and press play

i’m going deaf from

listening to too much

of this earsplitting music

but it’s the only thing

that can shut out the

noise of this world and

the noise in my mind.

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Filed under Poetry

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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Filed under Poetry

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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Filed under Poetry

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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Filed under Poetry

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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Filed under Poetry