Month: July 2012

And His Master

poetry

And the ground opened up before me
and a Djinn appeared
and it stared in to my Immortal soul
and said not a word
and though it frightened
it did not deter
and I was stalwart when it bellowed
and I was unyielding when it clawed
and though it’s malevolence was immeasurable
and it’s breath too hot to bear
I did not flee or startle
for I knew that a Djinn,
powerful though he was,
was not a match at all
for reality

i need to go running more often

poetry

you are waiting for
a miracle to happen
as you look in the mirror
your body decomposing

the blood will turn purple
then black

energy will ebb and flow

until left standing alone
in a field full of corn
is you with just the crickets
mocking you and you are
waiting for a miracle
to happen

i’m telling you that
statistically speaking
you will turn to dust
waiting for a miracle
to happen

your beautiful face will
be lined across
and the tears of regret
and the pangs of nostalgia
may bring you to your knees
waiting for a miracle
to happen

the building and mirror will
disintegrate

the president’s plane will
circle around

tons will be moved here and there
in metric and standard
humans imposing their will
and you will be just waiting.

Republican

poetry

I cast my jacket to the ground
and walked on in the warmth
of the setting sun

When his thermometer read
each of those seventy-four degrees
it was disparity

His man had sworn it
not a notch past sixty-five;
his universe shattered

Bless this, our water
one more time. Oh,
I beg of thee, to shake
this tree and let the rain
drops go. Soak the leaves
so my dog can lick ground.
We plowed those fields,
sown down with golden
stalks and stretching forth
to rake the clouds from the sky.
All our work, from day to
day, with bent backs
and bruised knuckles,
just to sit beneath this tree.
To feel the drops once again,
fall from leaves onto our skin.

poetry

This Country is real people mostly

poetry

When I was 14 there were
a few small pieces of paper
that were everything and
it was phone numbers mostly
and one of them had those ideas
for that film I’d like to make
and then a list of singles
that I would try to download
as time allowed
through one of three peer-
to-peer file sharing networks
(fingers crossed they were clean)
and now it’s almost a decade
and almost the same amount of paper
but instead of folded neatly in
a corner of my wallet or wedged
in the back of a spiral notebook,
they’re all tucked away in Washington
and Goodness willing they’ll
stay that way and Goodness willing
this time next decade they’ll still
mean
something

You were twenty years old and fresh to the world and now you’re little more than an abomination and a celebrated one at that and the boy that you’ve tied yourself to is naught but an anchor that doesn’t mind if you sleep with him every once in a while as long as you think that what you do is called love but it isn’t and it never has been and I’m glad that you’re happy but you’re wrong

poetry

And I say to you,
with the cloths tied in your unkempt hair
and your smug smile and your foul lips
and the swagger you seem to reserve for
every waking momen
and the lack of cash to fund you
and the lack of food to feed you
and the fact that these two truths stem
from a lacking in other parts,
I say,
What gives you the right?

Fly away, birdies.

poetry

This murder sits as a beggar’s banquet
waiting to be fed by those
who would give all of their love
If they had it to give

But I have fed these foul crows before
and though my coffers are full
These will get no charity from me;

My coffers are full but my patience
for animals,
for simpletons alike,
Has run as dry as Giza,
In it’s later years

my favorite nightmare. the one i cherish. though it’s filled with fear and trembling, i secretly hope for it every night before sleep. that one.

poetry

there’s a sad song playing on the
radio in my head, and it unfortunately
does not fit the mood.

in fact it’s ruining my experience
here at the pub entirely. the sports
on the television would be great if this
dumb violin would stop being so effing
brilliant. and the beer in my hand
would taste much better if that trumpet
could just shut up for a while, why
must he jam so long, so righteously?

why must the music that never shuts
up play so clearly? so beautifully? so
wonderfully in all the right ways, but at
all the wrong times?

done.

poetry

blanket pulled
up over my shoulders and wrapped behind
my neck as i climb in to the perfect
position and hold myself
steady trying desperately
to think of anything other
than the itch on my nose.
anything.
until sleep comes.

Feelings

poetry

their dowry is composed of stinging plants
and biting insects because these things are
all that they can feel in this world, really.

They scratch ’til they bleed most every night
and hope that everyone notices and scream
if anyone looks for too long or tries to suggest
that scratching was a bad decision.

They hold their bloodied bandages aloft in
the centers of busy shopping malls and they
announce that everyone is wrong because
it isn’t supposed to hurt when you scratch
that much.

And when nobody listens, they know
that they hare vindicated.

And God Forbid you recommend a different
sort of dowry.

Then again, at least their plants and insects
are readily available these days, else
these private martyrs would never have dowries
at all.

We touched souls,
you and I.
grasping at clouds
as they passed us by.
in the morning mists
when birds turn to song
each warbled note
becomes a strike on the ancient gong.
sounding out the passing day
watching the dewed grass
where we kissed and lay.
We touched souls,
you and I.
first ours and then
others as they filled the sky
whispering softly
like the birds in song
kissing their ears
telling them peace won’t be long.

poetry

There are two kinds of people in this world. Those who have willingly attempted crazy things because they knew it was worth their energy to be able to say they have done so and those who never show up on time to simple family events. Also there wookies.

poetry

If you can’t think of the last time it’s happened there are two feasible reasons. The first is that you’re losing your mind and therein your ability to remember simple things. The second is that it’s been so long perhaps it’s time to try again. The third is that you’re doing it right now and on some seriously mind-altering drugs that are confusing the hell out of you. Given that none of the above are particularly likely, perhaps it’s time for a brief review.

Cairo (Cay-ro, a small town in Missouri)

poetry

I’ve been kept up at night
with thoughts of Cairo,
such beautiful despair.
So far in nature from your
Egyptian namesake;
so quiet and so bare.

So tonight I won’t sleep
in honor of Cairo,
a town that’s slept too hard.
And blanket my body
in vines and rubble,
and lay out in the yard.

And if I grow old
I will grow old like Cairo,
so far from its own birth.
I’ll break down my buildings
and re-grow my weeds,
and sink back to the earth.

sold.

poetry

her hair wasn’t right
and her pants didn’t fit.

the glasses she wore slightly
too low on her nose and it was clear
her eyebrows had not been plucked
in months.

he shoes made her feet look
enormous like aircraft carriers
supporting the Old Colossus.

shoulder pads were definitely
present in her dress, something a few
decades behind at the least.

and everything was wrong except…

she wore stripes. glorious stripes.