Jun 29, 2014

i see, in the black
studio cave of creativity.....

gangling, disinterested youth.
into mecurial, liquid madness...

fluid, upon the stage,
they fly, toward the lights.
moths, to a burning moon.

momentary flashes,
of. god's humour,
in flight across
the mechanical sun's
gelled brightness.

and then the curtain falls.
and they drift back,
into their former selves,
inarticalate, but secretly

impressions of last week's practical theatre exams.
Joe Malgeri
Joe Malgeri
Oct 17, 2014      Oct 19, 2014

See the freak of nature as they mock him and taunt him,
Closed minds criticize what they can’t understand.
It’s hard for them to look at him once without smirking,
Waltzing to the rhythm of ‘The Formative Man!’  
They talk at him, drown his mumbling, interrupting, never listening.

Humble as a spittoon, he thinks he must deserve it,
"Why else would nice people have cut me to strands?"
Those he trusted have said - “It’s just your imagination,”
Waltzing to the rhythm of ‘The Metamorphing Man!’  
They talk at him, drown his mumbling, interrupting, never listening.

Showed repeatedly that he wasn’t worth defending,
Taught to be a doormat, not groomed to be a man.
His shame, guilt, doubt and fear have now turned to burning hatred,
Waltzing to the serial killings of ‘The Transmuted Man!’  
They talk at him, drown his mumbling, interrupting, never listening.

Josph A. Malgeri - 3-12-05, Copyright
Ben Nicolls
Feb 25, 2011

Everyday you are different
Though inherently similar
You show me something each day
That is completely new.

Whether it is as simple
As the way the light reflects
In your ever-changing eyes,
As subtle as a change
In your alluring smile,
As creative as a new thought
That bursts from your mind.

You keep me on my toes,
My pen scratching at the page,
And my adoration stronger
Than the day before

Dec 2, 2014

I don't remember how you fingers felt through my hair on sunday mornings
I don't remember the colour of your skin against the bloodied tiles
I don't remember the dilation of your eyes as you confessed your love for me for the first time
I don't remember the way your eyes twinkled as you laughed
I don't remember you being happy
I don't remember being happy
I don't remember us the way we were supposed to be

Nov 25, 2013

Dost thou love me?

Art thou in pain?

Doth the wind change shapes?

Shakespeare is dead.
And I fear all that you held
is dead too.

Magician pulls the strings,
To the puppet wings...
We bleed.

But for what is this chatter,
As the rain doth pitter patter,
Drawing ever closer the sea to my feet.

A breath of fresh air
Too sharp to swallow softly,
I cough and magenta butterfly's

Falsetto wings.

I never learnt to sing.

Typical pulsating blood organs
Punching blue and black
Against bones made of metaphorical steel.

You stole me.

10:50 pm. Lack of sleep week 2.
“Smash your metamorphic protolith,

Rain drop ruins my melancholy
Rain drop brushes my border collie;
his tail wags across my shin,
breaking my ever-building reverie.  

“Smash that”, says the rock to its falling neighbor,
letting it go without attempt at a rumbling tremor.
“Smash your metamorphic protolith,
sedimentary is your bona fide nature”.

The quartzite stone has no room to reject but yield,
but so behold: I catch it with my awakened shield.
Lays in my hand the metamorphic stone,
Ecstatic to be shiny and free.

Broken from my reverie is where I sometimes wish to be,
for there I meet my life’s expenditure,
my loved reality.
There the marks of my imprint awaken; there I become me.

Fall then rain! Do so duly... for I vow to be
the rightful branch of your sprouting tree.

K Mae
K Mae
Nov 6, 2013      Nov 7, 2013

alchemize this world
constant metamorphe
myself to birth anew

on the 10w Tuesday train
metamorphic waves
Aug 7, 2014

feathered shadows
ripple like the water
in the wind
on which they're cast

molten metal
droplet beetles
dive beneath
the shimmering water

bathed in
metamorphic waves
of bending light

inobservably tiny legs
in a graceful fury

sliding through the world
like slow-motion lightning

or a brilliant spark
unnoticeably extricated
from its source

7 am promises lost to metamorphic beauty.
May 15, 2013      May 15, 2013

why here?
an ego that was spun. spun. sent spinning downward.
why now?
his hazel heart abandoned in the pure snow of brain.
love. is there anything else?
as flesh touches hardened images of self.
it hurt
stars. eyes. mocha minded thoughts.
come closer
crazed hands beneath soft blankets.
oh this?
7 am promises lost to metamorphic beauty.
not remembering music. soul. twisted limbs.

Nov 11

I hate that you follow me into my dreams
The fact that I'm "safe" is hard to believe
I can't erase the image of you waiting for me
When all I wanted to do was run to safety
But because of dreadful family ties
Because of zipped lips and petty lies
I gingerly approached you with tears in my eyes
You know my address
And it keeps me up at night

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