the sieve and the sand

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

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.”

..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.

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”

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

He was
a melancholic wave
handsome
in a silver-green night
his fingers pressed joy upon
lips and expiring pineapple cans,
imprinting eternity and warmth.
Street lights, shadow worries
and steaming breathes twisted threads
of his existence
only the wind hurled a “hello, I want to hug your bones”

Uninvited like a brick lying on a seabed
Hole-heartedly wasting away
never minding god and men,
mulling over fishes’ easy swims in dirty water

Dear friend,

I think you’re a sick joke from mother earth, and meeting you was my loss.
From now on, I shall endeavour to forget about your very insipid existence. But before I do, I wish you’d crawl back to your poor mother and seek her forgiveness. She shouldn’t be blamed for the monster you are. On hindsight I am sure she would have turned prochoice on you, hurling your satanic ass in a limbo. Then again the demon lord must have his dues, and you are it.

That said, if you must be a bitch of darkness at least put some effort in it. Do not just work a shady corner. Go global, go genocidal. Have a vision or something. That is my last advice as a friend. 

At least when you finally land in hell, you will be able to proudly say ” I have done fantastic work for you!” Maybe then will your master let you sweep Hitler’s ashes from the grimy bathroom floor while he unleashes his horde of minions upon you. Do not get all coy, let them enjoy your suffering as they showcase their craftmanship to you. I am sure their creativity will literaly blow your mind. Let the next fiend do the cleanup! 

I am sure down the ammonic hole, there will be enough cannibals more than willing to feast upon your splattered brain. Perhaps Idi Amin will do you the honor. At any rate, they will all have their turn as you explore together the meaning behind words like eternity and despair.

That being said, I will waste no further time on you, or keep you from your vile plans. I wish you nothing, but the worst. Do not keep in touch. I look forward to not hearing from you again. Kindly disappear. 

Sincerely, 
Go to Hell              

Sally squanders bits of youth on the dance floor
like a tit in a trance, boogying towards death without resistance,
her body quivers and twitches in a lovely meaningless despair,
she is digging for truth. Intangible and eternal.
Her beauty is in the moment; a transient luminiscent energy firing up her atoms in an electric storm. 
    

Last night, a god dreamt about me,
and I saw myself in the flow of his dream.
Amidst the vortex of  thunderous thoughts,
the eye of creation  was ever watchful.
It was a moment of intense gratification and heightned love,
for this sublime higher being had a spot for me in his consciousness.
I was the  red wine stain on the cosmos’s wedding gown.
The universe was festive and I was bold and depraved,
wildly engulfing myself in the brightest stream of light.
I had not a care. I was a mere fabrication,
thereby disengaged from any morale obligations.
Far from the grasp of gravity and
the vicissitudes of a life rooted in a consensual reality,
i stemmed from the dream instead and 
bloomed in vivid space.
I was
Aghast-marasmic
no
more.   

You leave me alone in your apartment, 
 I feel dented, swindled, and hanged up like the abstract painting on your wall.  
 I wrap your white bed sheet around my neck , it holds better than your words… when you pretend to see Me as larger than life; you’re so snug ego-boosting me, and like an ailing puppy I need you. 
I fidget from wall to wall wearing your leather shoes and your tshirt, big enough to get lost in and forget that I am who I hate the most…