Isn't it ironic
We all wanna grow up and become iconic
Yet the closer we get the faster we run like sonic
Dreams just getting smaller babe don't cry on it
Move on you'll never be what you've always wanted
That's the voice in your mind tryn' put you down
Just hit the ground
Raise your head up and look around
Some have made it
So go chance it
Soon you'll wear the crown
And who ever laughed at you and brought you down
They will all look like clowns drown in the dreams
Come back alive
in your own made up life
Watch me grow
In your nights I will glow
Take my hand and you'll know
That's my hope talking
Am fighting my own self no joking
yet you find me smiling like am the king
A lusty wanderer,
from life to life; I am a butterfly,
fragile, but my desires take me from,
flower to flower, in search of new flavors,
I often find, myself in quandaries, quagmires and coal fires.
And at the end I am left with nothing else, but unfulfilled desires,
the nectar, that used to be my bait, I thought would be the end I seek;
but now it is clear, there is a jewel I want to adorn on my crown: Enlightenment it is.
Now I am aware, a seeker I am first and last, my hungers will vanish when I embrace cosmos.
This butterfly's flight through the mist will end when a flower will feed me with nectar eternal.
Tamaso ma jyothir gamaya (lead me from darkness to light)
Mrityor ma amrutam gamaya " (Lead me from death to immortality)
Wearing canaries, yellow
blurs around my
field of vision, I
reach a hand
for the wall.
Crown of canaries, always
sitting in a high chair, screaming
dizzily at anyone,
"Would you kiss my tangled tongue?"
There's not a lover in the world it bought.
Of course, Rapunzel isn't fond of knots.
Do you suppose there's something I forgot
Or was I born blind and asleep?
Pay another month off with some
Pretty words, a smile to convince.
I've run my debt up since
She can tell you
that she loves you-- but
She can never heal
your broken heart.
Only take you apart,
And always a vampiress
so stunning like
A damsel in distress.
There's not a smile on my road it bought.
It's just a crutch I needed not, but sought.
My eyes swollen, but my brain forgot
Was I born blind and asleep?
A creeping feeling
up my neck like
That my money's no good here.
Squirming- but no!
it has to be!
it got me this far!
...shouted he, delirious
from the wreck
Of a red sports car.
There's not a lady in the world it bought.
Of course, Rapunzel isn't fond of not-'s.
Do you suppose there's something she forgot
or is it me?
People like to look at girls
Swathed in shining fabrics and shades of pink
And imagine they are weak
I have one thing to say to that
And it is
As my polished nails curl into a fist that breaks your nose
And the thorns on my flower crown cut into the flesh of your throat
Freedom skirts on a flat plane, a
rubber-winged rubber soul.
plastic is not earth,
man not nature.
Teens preach change in termly assessments.
My hand is false.
Water wisps along 50's relics
sunk into social ethics:
dry crown, hollow skin,
substance out of stock:
I'm just like everyone else.
I am Echo, talk is not manifestly sound.
Buoys of boys, chained to a femme fatale.
Here I am and will be tomorrow.
And the next,
There's nothing more frightening or exciting than exodus
The way ships are wooed by waves,
under the pretense of more promising continents.
I can see where countless hands have pulled at my shoelaces and wrapped
my arches in ribbons of origami
So I guess I'm kind of deadset on walking for a while.
It's been a long day of finding breathing space between double-knots and bending
broken fingernails back into place;
the self-constructed chaotic embrace of something supposedly so
straight as string brings forth beckoning ghosts of
those figure-eight souls who laid themselves
to waste their Sundays tracing the Hills
on the breath fogged side of some painted-shut window sill;
trading the promise of Infinity for the Religion of Monotony.
Praying through agoraphobic day-dreams
raining across the night sky of their eye lids
with the brilliance of meteorites,
imagining how earth-shattering they could be
if only these tyrannosauruses would just look up.
I have come here
--abandoned the comfort of the quaint, suburban
ruins of the American Dream, which buckled
like widows knees mid frail-voiced eulogy
mourning the death of their Salesman--
and wandered aimlessly into the improvisation of some story-book jungle,
wishing I was better rehearsed.
I have come here
to congregate with the snakes and beasts; to feast beneath
the din of carnal sin and primal instincts. I've chosen to begin jumping
from stump-to-stump like stepping headstones
in a graveyard of fallen trees, where men
who grew up too quickly and forgot the importance of fictional stories,
who learned too early how black-market trade
the need to imagine for something a little more
who smile through serrated teeth,
saw it fit to clear this wilderness for something a little more
Until I found where brambles grew too thick:
for every split their metal tongues would lick
into the trees' skin, a gallimaufry of
vines and branches and roots
would erupt in confused medley,
and their finest mathematics couldn't begin to calculate
the thriving division of a place so un-governed by logic.
I have come here
to this long forgotten storybook jungle to remember
how to reign without rules like a thunderstorm
who, desperate reach down and share something with the sea,
Cares not for the weight of gravity.
I'll band together with these untamed brutes
--these feral barbarians and unbroken monstrosities--
to howl at the moon with the effervescence of a Ginsberg poem.
We'll forge a tinsel-town crown and take turns
playing king of Where the Wild Things Are found.
Because unlike concrete cities
The Wild of Atavism has never forgotten that
Tradition is a catalyst of change
and that nothing is permanent.
I've been having laughing contests with a mountain
because every now-and-again he will crack
A smile, and when a mountain laughs
He does so so gutturally
From deep within his catacomb chest that
the whole Earth quakes -- everything changes--
And I've sort of got my heart set
On being a part of something so significant.
So trust me when I say,
I know the feeling of being
shipwrecked and mapless,
but keep your shoelaces strapped tight
and run off the infinity of double knots.
If you go looking for me, continue
Past the paint chips, through
The open window;
Set your sights to the far treelines.
Don't strain yourself listening for
the laughter of mountains,
Because when that stoic disposition
Finally does crack, you'll feel it in your feet...
No matter where you are.
And from the way his ridges are crumbling,
I think I've almost got him beat.
© Christopher Voss
You are a Lovechild
You like to feel your Midnights rise
If we could bottle your arrival we would
We know how to mark a good hide
That's just the way the Market goes
People like to sing. Eyes closed.
Tell us what you came for.
Since you're a woman,
You and I will have the Blues.
If we're throwing our secrets in a fire
Then what is there left to lose?
Its not everyday that Lady Luck gives smiles
Since that's the case,
we'll be here for a while.
I want to light a fire unto your crown,
So you can light the way into the shroud.
How am I supposed to see
Beyond my cigarette?
They call the place I live the Lost and Found.
I want to feel your Touch when you're around.
How about the dark,
A place to put your lights on?
Come tomorrow, not just anyone will do.
But you lie to yourself about the Promise.
Hoping it comes true.
Even cat callers agree its not the best.
Since the lights are out whose Patience will you test?
They call them Lucky Strikes,
But I still feel the same.
There were so many words
I desperately needed to change.
This is the story of how I opened up my arms
And built a Lighthouse on the rocks
Where everyone belongs.
So come one. Come all.
Come one. Come all.
Come one. Come all.
I mad. I'm in love.
When you faint,
I'm the glove
That will hold you.
Until the Nightmares give you up.
This house we share is a house of howls
Listen. Hidden in locked rooms and
On shared beds our breathless laments
Leak out like slowly drained bottles
Our breath taken by our shared mentality
And sole calls for you. We are wolves.
We are wolves and we prowl sound
Crouched, willing prey awaiting never near.
Crown us with calls we are prey only
To the lack. We are not the only pack.
'A howl heard once lost
Amid life's wanting
Pitiful urgent need for more
And yet again a howl heard to
Me vibrate my very being and
I for you cry back.
Allow again your soul, if let
me, swallow unknown,
For we, to be, eternally.'
honey you should see me with the crown
jewels stack atop a pyre
moaning like a beatnik and a 4 AM cheap hooker
at a truckstop in Saint Louis
i have heard the failure
of words dripping
from ten thousand suburban roofs
from tongues of boys who would
have been around the point
of intellect and left with
nothing but like's and um's
and snatches and playing
with their privates
and slogans like
hip hobart my hip hobart
and god bless america
and for god and country
and heil hitler
wheres the last train to cool
out of a moral landscape
from a moral heart
from a moral chest
shine your shoes read the news
about motel art and the price of oil
clinging to the side of a lifeboat
of boredom and inadequacy
in a world of grey pinstripes
and papers in latin with seals
of broken fuse boxes and cluttered attics
ive heard crying
bookshelves and binary friend limbo
playground bullies and their mother's
nipples when they were bit in the 90's
all in the shape of noise to come
in uncommon deference
to never better
to the shake shake
shaking of basements
on broken foundations
honey you should see the chop of Seneca
and the drowning of dumb
deaf blind Zarathustra
a paper town
a paper queen
care to be my
crown of paper
sword of gold
a cape to put on
when we're cold
take my hand
come with me
build a castle
out at sea
daring sword fights
rule the land
this town was always
built on sand
take a risk
we'll be free
want to be
love so bold
all we're told
a paper town
a paper queen
care to be my