Meeting you was like an assassination
The moment you spoke
I felt the recoil
Point blank shot between the eyes
In one instant I was alone
Plenty sufficient at self-mutilation
I was content
To wander alone in my own thoughts
My personality cold
Chilled by the ice of the desolation
Of unreleased sorrow
One minute I am still
Meandering hopelessly in my world
Then there was you
Your first word was a slug
Dressed in copper it sank in
Sending shockwaves through the gray matter
I took the hit
My skull accepting the whiplash and allowing me
Some semblance of strength to move
I had no chance to heal before I was hit again
Your touch was electric
A million volts multiplied by the fluid
That is your glowing stare
The sound of my name on your tongue
Becomes a garrote
Taking my breath from my lungs
I can’t speak in your presence
All that I was because to die away
The lonely man who sought shelter
In the desert of loneliness
Bleeding out in the back of my mind
All who I thought I was
In the blink of a muzzle flash
Meeting you was like an assassination
The man I was
Some other man sauntered off that day
Someone I don’t know yet
But am striving to figure out
the car seemed to be gliding on glass
the last inconvenient instant before impudent impact
the mangled mass of metal and his black crisp body
a spectacle for the masses, all 4 of them
2 volunteer fire fighters and 2 EMTs
later, his father, blind now in one eye
from America’s diabetes, had Ramona
drive him to the spot, to the dead oak
as big around as an oil barrel
dead long before Paul’s 1996 Ford Escort
decided to take a go at it
daddy had to see the place
that infinite space between
yesterday and the tomorrow
that would never come, even though
he had already seen, through his one good eye
his boy’s charred carcass at the county morgue
resting on a silver slab, the clean and cold bed
where he would spend his last night
before the fiery furnace,
Ramona and he could keep his ashes
no need for a big service, no money for one either
but Dub, “Paul's boss down to the auto parts store,”
opened his wallet as wide as it would go
for the cremation and a nice urn
Paul would be missed, by Daddy and Dub
and once in a great while, in the fast and furious world
of the flat gray town where he lived and died
someone would ask, whatever happened to
that old boy at the auto parts store
the one who limped a bit as he walked,
the one who rarely talked but always
smiled through his yellow teeth
when he placed the goods carefully
on the counter
Gazing at me like he knows,
he could never love me
He says not now, not now
but he means not ever, not ever
I’ll wait forever,
that will never happen
I want to be enveloped,
in your arms
suspended in midair
a plummet into,
what I was avoiding
reality is frost bitten pavement,
for an instant,
my raw heart stops beating,
this pavements cold,
could I make myself a home
6 feet beneath
I do not belong
where my heart says I should be,
Alone I stand
there’s a bus headed nowhere
I hop on
She’s on her knees,
praying to the pavement.
I don’t wave,
I don’t look back.
that girl isn’t worth it.
Another dream is beginning to diminish,
Wondering if I should stick it out until the finish,
Seeing nothing but pointless motivation,
Creating nothing more than an emotional hesitation,
Attempting to foresee the glass as halfway full,
Difficult with the weight of the world plus mine to pull,
Ruining every descent relationship,
Permanently placing on my shoulders a chip,
Unwillingly getting used to being miserable,
Though the agony is invisible,
Other stating there’s a problem with my brain,
Due to them enhancing the chances of me going insane,
Always stating I need to change,
Expanding the horizons within my range,
Rising up then falling back down in an instant,
Making my trueness fade to the distant,
Who I was before is a thought everyone forgot,
No good available but for problems there’s a lot,
Friends and advice are always unavailable,
Talking to them is always debatable,
But I won't spend my time in solitude,
Waiting for a life full of gratitude.
Nothing So Sensuous
Last night, I went back in time and met Alice Liddell in 1862.
Alice Pleasance Liddell, known for most of her adult life by her married name, Alice Hargreaves, inspired the children's classic Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, whose protagonist Alice is said to be named after her. See her, greet her, in my banner photo, and all will clear.
nothing so sensuous
as to watch a woman,
nay, a woman child,
brush her hair in the mirror.
more than sensual,
all my senses
luxuriating in a gift that cannot be
her head titled, then thrown
from her chest as far back
and your eyes see waves
of chestnut in
and the smile on her face
for the knowing that she has
in capturing all of you.
mesmerizer, she languidly strokes
her hair, though it needs it not.
no, she brushes you to your
your eyes, see her eyes,
in the mirror,
the woman's sensuality
every sense alerted,
you body fired, beyond
she has you,
and then she asks...
would you brush my hair?
have you ever been in love?
have you ever had to tell someone
you no longer loved them
though you still did?
Oh yes, Oh may I?
yes, with you totally, at this very instant.
yes, for I must leave you and return to
my time, my age,
150 years from now
the only way I can do that
is to lie to myself,
no I do not love you
not that way,
for the agony of this
is such ecstasy,
that I can only dare
write of it in my time
lest I fulfill it in ours.
Also, must make reservation well in advance. Small time travel machine accommodates only 15 people....and currently the only "destination" is Victorian England.
I am reclaimed by the earth
That does not judge me.
My waking days mark my entrance
Into the jaws of the snake
Where its tail conjoined with its mouth.
These footsteps in the sand:
Circular groove (we are all asleep)
Heads down, trudging
Blot out all dreams
Until the decicive act and the footprints
Lost in elegance our princes fly above
The dark continent
Above insomnia land
Caring from a distance
Blinked once these prism
Caught a glimpse through the
Clouds of vanity;
Just for an instant the umbilical
To go dancing in the
Belly of God.
Looked far in the night
For movement beyond the stars.
A great being hugged the stars
Like the Mother holds her children:
The moonlight interrupted by
A wing-curved tip;
Head bent to the Chalice to take
Pearl occlluded by the darkly-sweet
Could vous just take a second, a moment, one solid instant
to visualize the boy in the stall with more felt lacerations than words of admiration.
Could the bold, bright, beautiful ones start singing
because I'm sick of the loud talk that goes through the motions of lingering
in an echoed room as they "try" to save the oceans - tell me, did we
litter on the way there? There's a forgotten world in stories told of heroes, breathing clean air.
Could the world give one more shot (a mountainous event) because history needs valor.
But technology is further than requirements for bravehearts to trigger a gun. Envision
a man four foot high, who stands a flag where poppies lie because he was that lucky man
who watched his fellows die
I'll say, weaponry wields death to We, naught could prove me wrong.
Could the world be a little bit more tight; bring back the mystery of gentlemen.
We're too loose and on the edge of loss, and the cost - oh, the cost
is sentimentality that somehow became disconnected when
baring your soul and stripping bare became two
and when I meet the one, my mind is plagued that we shall only amount to half.
Could the world be about more than the new, the sophisticated
or have too many eye closed to the life before the Dodo's died; now only
one view: to screen the disease from the rescued swingers, sinkers and singers
ahhhhhhhhh! basking in captivity: to compensate, we take back by metabolizing habitats.
Could the world be about to - because me and mine are everywhere,
but mind: the brain's likely to reach revelation. Clap, we will excel. After all,
when the world explodes and we reconnect, I'm sure each will preach and teach and leech
until it's known - We'll thank Gutenberg as needed, but printer is no master
when the minds are intertwined. But P'haps it has been a bad morning because I've known you
and you've bled true - long been fixing those around, so they aren't torches who warn off monsters,
instead they shave down fangs of loathing, there's no - not one! - beast they burn.
And don't I wonder? Ah yes, I do wonder: that now
Could the world be about to turn?
"He dodges the blade"
"Tis' but a scratch, he murmured
"Kneels down, Blood pours out"
If I drank once for every instant I thought about you,
I'd be a drunken fool, living in a permanently drunken world.
If I raised my cup every time I thought about you,
My glass would be so high, and never come down.
If I took a hit for every memory of you flowing through my brain,
I'd be so high, I couldn't breathe from all the smoke.
If I rolled a blunt for every memory of you on my mind,
My fingers would be sore, never getting a chance to heal.
Little would you know that those drinks have been drunk,
My glass is always raised, and on the same days,
My lungs get smoked out, with a high that lasts forever;
And those blunts have been rolled and still are being rolled.
But don't worry, maybe one day I'll stop; but probably never.
I can't stop thinking of that moment, when you made that promise,
The one about you and me, and "forever".
I was always a needle kind of junkie.
My friends thought I was crazy, and I suppose I was.
They say to take baby steps,
but addiction never works like they say it should, does it?
I went from pot to pills to blow to needles just like that.
It was nice though,
seeing how I've always been a fan of instant gratification.
Tie the knot, wet the cotton, heat the junk, slap the veins, stick it in, get high.
Easy as pie, nothing can be simpler.
Nothing could be more complicated.
I've been home for ten minutes,
and I promised myself this score would last me through the week.
I'll be happy if it lasts the night.
My track marks were starting to fade,
due in part to probation,
and also in part to the love I've been surrounded with.
Who needs to shoot up when you have people to love you?
I would like a million things,
and a million more,
but why would I want things,
when I can score.
Nothing could be simpler.
Nothing could be more complicated.