Love-hate

December 20, 2011

My cat merlot sings when I’m not around
she calls me names
her heinous gaze reminds me of you
and like a beaten child I quiver in a corner
where you left echoes of your solistices
slowly I bury myself in visions of you
your voice resonates
you’re like a hyphen between the piles of my small-fry years
keeping my soul afloat

While I was looking fey and shuttered
longing for cobblestone streets and
lanterns of warm orangey hues
you fed on ashes and brumes
eyeing everybody else
squashed torn up and hateful
but stars kept getting brighter
and the night darker
you screamed, I drank rhum
you cried, I scratched your skin
I couldn’t prove that I love you
or knew any worthwhile trade

On my way to a different place
you snacked on my will instead
I felt your hand breaking me
down into domino pieces
[but was love such a terror
that it should send me rolling down on the ground
piece by piece]
so I grabbed my luck and ran
only to later find myself holding you up like
an oriflamme of love and hate
[no wonder my cat merlot sings when I'm not around]

I pray to satisfy that habit
and quieten that impulse
that sends me home rolling with bricks
self, I’m not a railway for your venial faults
I hail from a family of fidgeters
and clumsy dressers
I live without thorns
I’ve shed my fervor and feverish hopes
after all the things I have seen
my spirit is worse for wear,and
my soul is a derelict gallery
yet I pray despite my mild beliefs
and unanswered questions

I’m a matter-of-fact person
an unpolished minimalist
but I have yet to let go of God
for when i go home
I close my eyes to every pretend soul shiner in town
lit the fire inside and
throw away all the blown up situations
that do not go anywhere
every day I hear how the world is going down the hole
how I engineer destruction around the planet
how my greed enable others to exploit and oppress
how my uncanny knack for all things mediocre affect the atmosphere
how my lack of resolution is robbing the ground we all stand on
how my apathetic disregard for others is what will do me in the end
and soon,I hear, darkness will grind the last inspired minds until
all the world is channelled through the fetid cave of a mad clown gobling up
our mashed up bones and marrow

drained and severely unkind, no longer a man,
I turn to the source of good
trying to recapture that image of God
underneath the filth I’ve become
I pray so that I may not be defined by the absence
of God

I have swum across the waves for sometimes now
and it is the saddest thing when you look away
ugliness reels its head
You stay besides me
thinking of me
loyalty keeps burning
where love has left
a few honest words
would provide the necessary hurt
but the ideal man you’re trying be
won’t leave me alone
your gentleness is a wicked thing
it is wringing life out of me
and I have to do myself the unkindness
of letting you go

I know I’m better off
I have thought of all the words to say
I have said them before
I have trodden this path before
it just does not get any easier
but this time I’m sharpening my nails
ready to scratch over the surface of this breakup
so get off your horse
don’t try to be so perfect
don’t back down
I need to find out what was real
the depth of what we lost, of what we never had
and of what we will never be
before I can walk away

pure love perhaps ?

October 8, 2011

long before our
hypertensive phase
philosophically close
and butt naked in the summer heat
we peed rainbows
and understood the sincerity of our mustaches
like worn out travelers climbing up towers of mud
we cultivated a mystic and ate stones for fun
we called on heaven at will
angels knew us by name

Buddha smiled and
sat us on his lap and rocked our fears to sleep
Jesus walked us to a home we didn’t know we had
we marveled, but strings attached to our feet tripped us
and we rolled back down the ravine,
into our lovers loving embrace
but suddenly life had dried to a haze
we tumbled in confusion
inarticulate, dysphoric and crazy
until someone stuffed us with pills
quieting us down,but

sometimes when our eyes meet
memories break a trail through our inertia, and
we can hear seraphim sing, and
feel the peace we felt then
when our heads rested against Buddha’s belly,
and feel Jesus’ s warmth when he showed us our home

sometimes we think we’re the sane ones
sometimes we know we’re the lucky ones
we count our blessings more than our pills

find someone you can love

October 3, 2011

track that stranger down
cover his eyes
shape smiles on his face
nothing is strong enough to distort
his innocence and fluidity of spirit
you can throw many lies
set off vapors of ferocity and guile
he will heal
he swallows the whale in the room
he knows his name, heart and vertigo

when a cloud of dust settles
he brawls with anxiety and panic
he seeks a space to unearth the sublime
the universe is large, he is tiny
on this territory of tears
but he moves his spine
shakes his legs
and draw exhilaration in

for better or worse
the wheel turns
he faces the sky, the ground
and for a little while he can see himself move with the world
feeling its beauty and misery

sometimes a woman picks him off the ground and
he comes up radiating the strongest light
he feels safe
about that silver line
shivering in the sky
and when winter calls him back home
he takes that memory and wraps it tightly around his heart
a warm blanket for all that is ahead
for the days when he will wake up, and break down on the floor
for the days when he will need to fight all the terrible things on his mind

Motherland

A string of pathos
loathing
sadness
irreality/absurdity
On the up hand
tenderness
humor
empathy

Introspection

I have been on a voyage (and slowly coming through)
searching for a place to be and fly higher
longing for reprieve and harmony
while feeling toyed with invisible forces
stranded without direction
falling into the narrow
losing sight of what is
with only a fiery energy within calling me back to myself
So, I have been away
in between worlds
in between jobs
but this time I might just come into being
hummer my ego and expand
build a home of true embrace and connectedness

Gratitude

Opening myself
to a landscape so pure [gratitude]
[a silencing kick to the ego]
realizing that we all have our own gifts
energy and enthusiastic beauty
[Praise to the universe
May we all be blessed, and radiate joy
and hope for others]

a String of Thoughts I

Porn:
under the bed
a stack of cathodic whores and stallions
with cataclysmic charms and vices
to propel his sail into minutes of sulfurous lonely passions

shamelessness:
Friday night club
Huddled together
Pain shimmers
and If Jesus had been Jesusina
he’d wipe his tears and snots with Jesusina’s skirt

Redemption:
she is so rough she doesn’t mind
when fate calls on her
she does not rally around trust
someone got away with her innocence
she breaks
she hates
she leaves trails
exhaling in a fog
regrets that aren’t hers
a contagious distress
aftershocks from a childhood poison
her light is done and gone
but she sings right
right to everything she has
true to the sounds in her soul
she bends and screams
pushing pain back an inch
she can hear her own voice
brimming with rage
she feels powerful under
the same sky she breaks
and hates under
and that’s how she knows that someday she’ll hold herself up
roll down the valley
pick up a stone
and defeat that giant on top of her world

I move along
harvesting fruits of my youth
pulling weeds off my back
Quietly resisting the itch to
pull my heart between my teeth
tune to the echo of eternity within
but my blood hummers like a debt I owe
and Nothing covers me

On my one-way journey
I dance an inch above the ice
lie on grassy mountains
hum with birds
howl with wolves
feed off the surrounding glow, and
in a flow of wonder or sadness
in hues of blue
I dig through the sky till all the light comes through

To the bitter end
I water the fool within
watch her restlessness grow
trying to decipher shadows and sounds
and grate the pavement on her passage

So it is
when black crows caw for my flesh
my bones will grow bigger and
fill the frame of happiness

I AM ON THE REBOUND

June 29, 2011

I’d scrape your knees and elbows
feed your dog meat behind your back
spit in your best friend’s coffee
and still come short to your petty misery

There was a time I was eager to please you
and you pleased yourself with my soul
robbed me of my candor on top of my meager money
now you holler at me on the street and
call me your little-no-one

So don’t say I left you with nothing
my marrow is still fresh on your lips

Yet you still thirst after a puddle of tears
like some thirst after god or happiness
but not today
I will not cry, pain is what holds me together
one day, far away in time,I will sit down and cry
remove stitches and acknowledge my past

On the Loose

June 25, 2011

he drew lines
[I am not happy, but I am not any less alive]
said I owed him loads of money
I offered my skin in the mirror
or heaven in my blood
but he said, he didn’t need any …

he would not crown my love
[some people get unhappy trying to get happy]
‘said I brought him misfortune
folks from my past stood heavily on my eyelids
they said I needed a little lesson
[sometimes,you just need to live with your eyes closed]

for years, I dug a tunnel to him
but he threw sandbags around his heart
‘said love is a thief and it’d cost him his sanity
[don't wait to be found]
my friends said breathe soon you’ll wake up
with grey in your hair

I looked to the sky for meaning
birds told me what to hope for
‘said you wade in the water or you drown
[don't wait to be understood]

but I don’t believe what anyone says anymore
I once saw happiness flying with pigs
‘said it’ll come down for me one day
I laughed and let it go
[even pain knows when to stay away]

Dandelion and crossbow, shape of an eternal queen
in a constant brawl against the forces of blah
gesticulating her lack of remission, she was born by comparison
with a disclaimer of all she could be
a poster child for mercurialness and incompleteness,
colorful and blind, hopeful and loud, sultry and brave

Life attendees throw words like spires
in a swift race for her light and desire
before another season comes and withers her
she who isn’t herself yet, she who is dust motes
whirling in a morning sky
half-shy still, she’s got a halo that kills
like a well-kept feline
she hops to places she does not know
diffusing soft light, and

in a tarzanic fervor swings on electrical umbilical cords
landing her static heart green with moss before a cosmic plug
her wiring need repair, her lights are going out
her dreams in hover, all her imperfections and compulsions
roll up a red carpet, in total resignation, to
an organic culture she cannot fully encompass

Risk your Hell for Me

May 21, 2011

you’re a male bimbo and I’m a pond fish
in the hands of a hungry man
it’d simply be best if you’d just unfasten your belt
we’ll not fulfill any happy endings or jump through walls
Look at me, I am already losing my inhibitions with lemons
so step on a chopping board and bear all that must pass
in any other world, we could skip this crooked path
but it’s not so easy to catch up to all that we have not become
Sometimes, you have to reach the end to be more than the skin you’re in
so it’d simply be best if you’d just surrender your defenses and lie with me

I had sworn to never re-read stuff I have written, yet at around 3:30 am, I found myself doing just that. Only to realize the outlandish fact that it’s been three years since I have joined S&S Much to my shock and dismay (given the non-committal side of me ) you’re slowly turning into the freakin’ love of my life which is troubling to say the least (but in a good way).

So having (somewhat) known you guys for some time, I think confessions are in order:

# I have never told anyone about the fact that I write at S&S (nobody has actually read any of the stuff I’ve written-possibly because I have yet to like any of my scribblings- I am just glad/surprised you put up with it)

# I am secretly convinced that none of you actually exist (like I have never thought of you as actual human beings- you sort of exist in a parallel dimension)

# My shadow personality is like Foma Fomich (“The Village of Stepan-chikovo”), tyrannical, self-important, master of the universe, full of crazy antics [except my universe has a population of exactly 1, thus having no human beings/servants to malign or demonstrate my moral and religious superiority to (although I have no clear life guidelines/morals/ethics to speak of, I still insist that they're the best), I am simply absurd]. In short, like Fomich, I am a person who lacks awareness and is not able to understand the disparity between what he actually is and what he believes he is* (I am paraphrasing someone from a blog I don’t quite remember the name of.)

# Candy is to me what fresh blood is to vampires

# I have imagined & written tons of recipes/scenarios for some of the Disney’ s characters ( I think Tweety could turn into a quite tasty stew for Sylvester, and let’s not talk about Road Runner, I have contemplated kidnapping executives of the Disney Corp and forcing them to produce multiple cartoon (cooking )shows where Coyote Rock catches, cooks and eats Road Runner in a souffle, or as a summer barbecue or kebabs over sautéed rice (ah, the choices… Don’t judge me, I think it is only fair- those creatures had it coming).

That’s it, I have no more confessions/trivial facts to share. Actually, I could have written this in an email, but I decided to trespass on the wonderful space reserved for poetry because that’s how I roll, I am a Rebel without a cause(what am i saying ?! oh the shame, the shame, it’s not 1955 anymore).

Signed
FreakyNewchild

“He was not born to shame.
Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit.”

Defenseless

April 19, 2011

..when the outside breathes close to my window, and that the door squeaks
and the friends we don’t want any more invite themselves into our days
Behind curtains, dissolving in … I know I am in trouble
(each season gets harder climbing besides you)
my fingertips run words on your skin hoping to
trace and connect oceans of lights together in a gentle beat
But, you close your eyes floating in the distance
Tossed out into the mountainous region of your heart, I spiral into dizzying patterns
the headwind hits hard and I need control
over someone like you (looking for balance and perfection)
safe behind sturdy fences.

I would like to go there
flowers in my hair
climb that wall too tall for me
hear the angels whisper again
Someone is waiting for me
to grow out of rain and loneliness
but I am a pterodactyl lost in the scorches
and ridges of existence

Violent mornings of birds chirping, scattered nail clippings
and mid days of doodling, cafeteria nightmare of pointless chatter
and incessant chewing and gulping, and afternoon worn-down faces and
listless corpses, then sunset’s corrupting leisure of beer drinking, corrosive seduction, and self-abandonment up to the midnight burps (a Cinderella’s reminder to not bring any stranger home or their STD s ), echoing mama’s “your body is a temple”, thus stumbling back home, and halfheartedly munching on the thought-resolution that “Nobody will fill my emptiness with crap!” And all is well and good until another morning comes out pointing at the zombie in the mirror, and insisting on selling its soul at auction to somebody else who could do better with it.

bird of prey

March 7, 2011

When I was 17 my heart was gray
then came stilettos, cigarettes butts
and love at arm’s length.
I lived life as if it was real
But things don’t really change
I still lie alone besides a railroad
breathing in sunset clouds and
whispering to myself “dream go slow”

Your life plays out like a David Lynch movie
scream you’re not on a winning streak
you loser laughing in a ditch
you lack the beauty of Ilych dying
your wife will forget you, and your children too
kiss your old mistress goodbye
she will miss your pocket money
poor soul self-hypnotizing to sleep
with a “god loves me”
no more, no more
“when you grow up, you will understand…”
“don’t forget to brush your teeth”
“you know mommy loves you, right?”
poking your underbelly
like a “I wanna be your dog.”
You fool seizing on barbiturates
you should have cried
a manly man is only good alive
but not to worry
your pastor will weep, and your friends too
the sun will rise
birds will fly
someone else will fill your spot
better than you ever did
“finish your dinner”
“smile for the picture ”
“don’t forget to say thank you”
and remember “monsters do not exist.”

tulips

February 18, 2011

Bring in the buzz, and the death too
at the foot of our homes
swimming knives
merry whores
lift my dress up
pray Buddha pray
beads roll under your thumb
like chanting bellybuttons
hammering
gauging
love
Y?
Kill the buzz, and the death too

Leaflet

February 10, 2011

“are we alive?”
dancing in the night
give us light
desert sand
a run for our veins
floating trees
purple rain
“are we real?”
fluorescent birds
half notes
crashing out in air traffic
of sky blue pain
“are we …?”
scattered keys
porous terrain
boundaries of grace
give us meaning
(a filling for our soul cavity
a rhythm to our decay)
peace to our howling scars

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 302 other followers