Tag Archives: weird

Star[tled]

If I can’t talk, then I’ll cry!
“Well this is what you get for holding on”
The haunting noise from lonely sung
And buried this in me because
“It’s eye for eye”…

~*~

I’m never one for chasing

Starry words on a starless night

I’m never one for soothing

Balms and reassurances of right

But I will not let your trust

Fade into ashes, descending dust

For what it’s worth, I’m curt

I will not let your bionic heart rust.

~*~

I broke out words, knocked on your heart
This feeling’s new, don’t know where to start…

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

good deeds

if it hurts me

this much to

do something

that’s good,

then it’s no

wonder i don’t

do it as much

as i should.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Ring the Bell Referee, and Let the Fight Begin

Such a shame you had to go and run your mouth
Your mouth is what you make it but at least I’ve got real friends—
Can you hear me now?! Now that I’m a big star!
Fuck you and your new love for yourself! (It don’t mean shit…)

~*~

Life is a kickass enemy, and the rage is a motivation

Let the judges slit my throat over my unorthodox declaration

It’s hard punches and cold lunches packed with action

Move closer to me now, and step into my own creations

Say my sullied name again, I’m stronger than before

I left my shoes under the bridge so when I fly, I feel lighter

Honestly it’s not that easy to have half of my fun

But this crimson ink bleeds so I won’t have to use a gun

My fingers they splinter from frenetic movements

If I’m still alive right now, I’m only breathing in segments

Ideas run wild and I stumble, I gotta pace to keep up

And I have to learn more about gravity to get the last laugh

Hear the sound of my voice among a stentorian million

Fuck the stars and dollar bills that sing against my emotion

I’ll whisper in silver undertones and break my voice on needles

Roll the dice but you can’t solve all my cryptic riddles

Don’t take my jealous life of matches and propane lights

Kill it fast, don’t let it die, I’m on a hurricane tonight

Spit and masticate the contract written on skin and paper

Throw the shreds in the seafloor bed under the polluted waters

But oh my god, I’ve been looking in the wrong direction

Running away in pilchard pastels over twisting intersections

This turnpike velocity won’t be my ultimate weakness

I’ll try not to splinter my soul, I’ll try never to second guess

So stop staring at me now, your glare is nitrogen seething

I promise I’ll be even later for our preliminary meeting

I’ll praise the chicken scratches I’m proud to call my home

Cursed again, this foolish confidence just won’t leave me alone

I’m exhausted, I’m burnt-out, and everything quavers spasmodically

But shit I’ll use my own words, I’m not gonna borrow from the dictionary

I know this adrenaline high will wear out soon, I’ll collapse from temporary exhilaration

But goddamnit I’ll drag my broken legs to hell if I have to, and I’ll abuse this rare motivation.

~*~

And I’ve got so much to give
But I would kill just to feel less invisible!
And you’ve got so much to learn about gravity
So live it up baby don’t look down
(Live it up baby, don’t look down…)

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

sovereign self

if you’re here

to tell me off

about the shit

i do, the way i

dress up, and

how i do my hair,

well darling, i’m

here to tell you

that i simply

just don’t care.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Stargirl and the Rocket Lights

You are a curiosity, or a mental case, as some called it rather crudely and dismissively, and you knew everyone noticed. But they didn’t care, and neither should you. One day, you impulsively proclaimed, whilst balancing on the top of a redwood tree branch, that disappearing acts never got old, so you said goodbye to your squirrel friend, clambered down the tree hurriedly, and dashed home. You burst into your room with a loud door slam, gathered up your paraphernalia, grabbed your half-full rucksack dotted with strange pins and souvenir keychains, which was patiently waiting by your ramshackle oakwood cabinet, and began haphazardly shoving various motley things inside. Once you were finished cleaning up and made even more of a mess in the process, you quickly plastered a teddy bear print band-aid on your cheek from where the rough wood accidentally scratched and left a thin red mark, clumsily tied your DIY pinstriped Keds’ purple and green shoelaces, stretched out—as if competing in a marathon—on an abandoned Twister board on your carpeted floor, and finally you left the house, chasing your dissolution without so much as a backward glance. The first part was easy. The next part was easier.

The nightwalking horizon was tinted virtually the same colour as your ripped stonewashed denim overalls, the reticulated stars were in implausible full burst and clearly visible, a myriad riot like the splattered black inkstains on your bohemian tie-dyed shirt, and the moon was shaded exactly and uncannily like your ivory silk flower leggings, the number of the craters perfectly aligned with the number of the frayed holes by your knees, the ones you tore yourself with zigzag safety scissors. The dreamy air tasted faintly like bubblegum ice cream, and the astral bodies were softly clicking into their designated places, a marvellous tableaux of God’s fanciful ethereal jigsaw puzzle. Nothing more was to be prepared; all you had to do was pass against the serendipitous turn of time. That particular task in itself was no difficult feat for your whimsical affinity. The other factor to consider was your destination. Invariably, it didn’t matter which bus you got on, if you were even waiting for a bus at all, for you have an overpowering ominous sensation within your heart that you’ll always inevitably end up on a wayward road, diverging on the intersection to nowhere. And in your own quote unquote words, as that one cliché that nobody says goes, signal for the universe and the galaxy will come.

Your vintage analogue Hello Kitty clock ticked sluggishly second by second, and the small candy floss pink lights by the side came to life and began to glow fervently as the hands struck exactly 8 PM. You had a lot of time to spend thereon and then, sitting prim and taciturn on the graffitied wooden bench, waiting for the longest forever. You intertwined scarlet camellias on your plaited geranium hair and held it in place with a gargantuan leopard-print scrunchie. You tapped your hands, plucked a few sweet and sour notes on your marmalade-orange ukulele, and hummed a Joy Division song melodically, and you laughed quietly when you flubbed the chorus with a splintered squeak. You counted the cheap glittery stars you stuck on your plastic journal even though you knew the number by heart, some microscopic yellow speckles transferring to your skin as you absentmindedly peeled one at the side with a polkadotted fingernail. You scribbled lines of guitar keys, and doodled literal intricate keys without paired locks, onto the slightly-torn cover page with a blueblooded space pen, and used the same pen to trace the wiry butterfly outline on your right ankle. You observed with childish wonder and twinkling heterochromatic dandelion eyes as prams, automobiles, taxis, and tallyho’s passed by you in an amicable whirlwind breeze and friendly engine revving. There were a billion tangible stars in this side of the dimension, just a little more than the glamorous stars shining on your notebook, and you can pluck each and every single one off their orbit. You had a lot of fun little preoccupations, and the time on your hands seemed almost eternal.

Time was up. When it seemed like the aberrant clocks hitched their breaths and you’ve done a thousand and one tasks to fill such a lacuna, finally, Hello Kitty’s spinning hour hand gingerly moved into its designated place. The moment it touched the notch and exactly as the pink lights began their little show, you tilted your chin until it was higher than your freckled button nose, and stared enthusiastically at the empty tranquil sky. As if on cue, your implausible carpool vehicle hurtled imperceptibly from beneath the atmosphere, burning the crepuscular firmament’s concrete shadows at light-year speed, and arrived with a dissuaded thump, to take you away from such a bland and diluted planet. Tucking a stray highlighted neon hair back in your pierced and heavily-ornamented ears, you cautiously replaced the overflowing tatterdemalion notebook back in your bag, bounced on your heels and stood up with lilting sneakered toes, and ceremoniously stepped into that rocketship invention calmly, without any nuance of surprise or astonishment. It seemed you would simply walk straight and be swallowed whole by the blinding flash, but at the last moment, you turned back at the dominating darkness and sent a quaint, fragile, almost palpable air-kiss flying from your painted ruby lips and painted dainty fingers onto the open space. The entire population of the world must have felt a faint zephyr graze their cheek softly at that very moment, but they were too naïve to even bother with noticing it. Yet you said your polite goodbyes, so it didn’t matter. You grandiosely waved a final farewell, the tattooed patterns on your arms spinning and dancing with pastel motion, and you smiled lazily, quite cryptically, as the metallic-gold doors closed in dénouement with a sibilant hiss and a burst of flourishing steam. The metaphysical vessel roared as it propelled into ignition again, shooting up into the sky immediately and billowing into evanescence out of peripheral view, and you were gone with it. Your wish was granted, and you permanently left behind the life you always tolerated with distaste, into a more interesting place with a better yesterday, and no one cared…except for one.

Stargirl, when you ran away and stole the cornflower moon with you from the midnight sky to elope, did you think no one would be interested? When you vanished and charmingly serenaded the sun into a retrograde motion, did you think no one would find out? Did you ever think, for a single heartbeat, that when your star, hiding in plan sight among millions of the other specks in the star-freckled sky, was quietly extinguished, I wouldn’t even notice?

I out of all people would hate to admit such a fact, but for once in your extraordinary yet ephemeral existence, Stargirl, you were wrong.

1 Comment

Filed under Prose

Candied Bones

So I crunch the candies

Like bones in my mouth

Sweet flooded saccharin

Taste of visceral doubts

Rotund as an ivory strip

Pale striped peppermint

Red and white and that

Coppery taste, just hints

And fragments that I have

Inhaled through my lungs

And I crunched the bones

Like candies in my tongue.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Paragon of Humanity

The searing heated cavalry

Simply feels like a paradise to me

And the glorious neurosis

Is a quaint dream of fine vagaries

Suffering ever truculently

Tickles my funny bones to hilarity

Blood of degraded society

Is but a fickled merry game to me

Funerals are a funtime past

An opportunity to rejoice and laugh

Contagious diseases, it must

Be passed on hospitals with scoffs

Mundane traits of ideologies

Are superannuated and wearisome

Axioms but status quo antes

I’ll indoctrinate my manifesto none

I shall rehabilitate this planet

With my ingenuity and a straitjacket

Unstraighten the spinal cords

With sharp wit and charming words

Yes, all my outré predilections

Might be cause for desultory scorn

But the deleterious injections

It renders me numb to any emotion

The world is a damaged beast

And I’m the perfect nouvelle paragon

On this menagerie of heretics

I’m the sanest man you’ll have known.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Dix-Huit

Ticking the calendar

Checking the time

Counting the candles

Drinking your wine

.

This due date set

Cause for party calls

Fine friends greet

Autumn leaves fall

.

Scarlet ribbon bright

Sky the stars set alight

This day is celebrated

This night rejuvenated

.

Dainty essence of rain

May cloud your whims

But the rainbow gained

Is worth the cold sting

.

After all, life may be taint with grey

Still, you are well-off and surviving

Come what may, for it’s not everyday

That you’re blossoming to be eighteen.

1 Comment

Filed under Poetry

Static Connection

All that hate is gonna burn you up
It keeps me warm at night, warmer than anyone
I think how many drinks I’ve had, no more in either hand
I’m slurring on purpose, and it’s certainly worth it…

~*~

These extricable knots are tied together in one graceless swift motion

And blurry photos jestingly taken for another harried flurried notion

Exchanging thrown dulled knives of raucous insalubrious remarks

And an injected almost-lethal dose of offhanded obnoxious snarks

.

Swinging and swimming against these painted, tainted mercurial waters

Holding onto the moon’s sparse gravity tighter as though it even mattered

The muddled ink dripping onyx blots will rearrange themselves for a story

Feather quills quaintly plucked from a silver dove to create your own reality

.

A candy taffy treat for my aching grinning jaws and falling teeth to chew on

Though I know I’m a terrible jinx, I’ve never been a sweetened potion

The knot that connects the headphones is all tangled up and horridly twisted

Loopy links that lose the music, like a sailor constrictor’s poor rendition misted

.

But even cave stones can wash away their stalagmites and stalactites

And dark scathing thorns can still hold up a blooming scarlet rose alike

And the song continues to play fast amidst the Wurlitzer’s slower tune

In the pages, the bookmarks still hold their place, waiting patiently for soon

.

Heaven and Earth will touch souls first before a prideful man says his sorry

Falls humble to his knees, weeps and thanks and tears apart his self glory

Though I trip on these wires and hear fuzzy connections, I must be absolutely crazy

Because despite every scar and war I’ve gained against, still, I don’t regret the conspiration; it ain’t so bad, really.

~*~

Everything I do is bittersweet
You could tell me secrets that I’ll probably repeat
I’m not trying to hurt you, I just love to speak
It feels like we’re pulling teeth, so bittersweet…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Democracy For The Dead

“The graveyard is not normally a democracy, and yet death is the great democracy, and each of the dead had a voice, and an opinion…and they were each determined to be heard, that night.” ~The Graveyard Book; Neil Gaiman

~*~

A whisper lost in chasmic shadows, seemingly hallucinatory sound of a slither

So let the strangers talk loudly and blither, let their rusty voices echo and shiver

Roaming souls naked, stark, transparent, inert bodies ever decaying and withered

In a place meant for utmost silence and misery, yet it buzzes clear with deathly hithers

.

The resting and the restless all have their personal stories to purvey and entail

But unfortunately, dead rotten men and dry dusty bones can’t possibly tell no tales

Their unheard opinions, smoke from their mouth, are transformed into wispy grey fog

That haunts the cemetery, rolling, choking, tendrils, the cleanest air it clogs

.

The sick and the diseased, the victims and the murdered, the horridly executed in hate

The innocent hearts alongside the thieving rats, all are equal and have one final date

They all pray for democracy for the dead, to let their sussurus voices do some justice

Listen very closely in the dead of the coldest dislimned night, and one just might hear them speak.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry