A city was raised.
I thought to build the streets.
My dreams reached high, I set the bones to stack
My paths, the blocks are set and empty
For my half-thought smog.
And now, in dreams we found no dust
-but these walls are too thick for such liquids.
So the dust will gather;
A gauge of my grinding voice and shaking hands.
An iron jaw cracks a chalky brain
On a sandy skull.
And what starts as a fog gathers dew
And then bleeds from each pore
What the air can brush open-
With mine, I’ll then paint my flashbacks to the floor
With mirrors in the corner.
My city was made.
I dreamed to crush the streets plagued with ghosts
Their graves reached high, as I sank in mine.
I stacked my bones to set the stage
And I shrieked as the smog blew away.
And now, in screams, I see my face.
On a marble shard from the dust pressed arch that I dreamt.
And now we know, my dreams are dry.
My hopes are too hard
And my walls are too smooth.
And now there’s no grooves for your liquid.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 3:52 PM UTC
Vacuum packed with happy voices
Paper blocks the door.
The fire screams,
The lightning tweaks,
The building ocean, ******
Will blast the plastic bonds apart
-and there we see
That fickle seams cant quiet natures roar.
Disguise the bloodied teeth with bleach
-the lions keep their fur
But fiercely they still pounce
And crush the pure and timid
Hear them scream?
But caged, not just the lion paces-
Even plants will shrill and die
When humans try to play the sky.
Deaf to feral growls
(they say the devil howls like the wolves)
Blind to claws and fangs
(his demons crawl and hang above our heads in darker places)
Hold our fears along the way and we’ll build halls
Of Styrofoam and fuzzy lights
To seal shadows where we’re scared to meet them…
Maybe we’re not meant to be in heaven-
Still we roam and still we scream. Still we cry and still
We seem to need the pain.
But maybe someday we can clean our souls…
But till then: “Happy Hallways”
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 11:14 PM UTC
Overgrowth across your face
there's newness in the veins.
machinery has dragged away
your features....
Undecayed, sleep underneath
the leaves and age
cocooned- from those who walk, with those die
they all forgot...
the preachers, safe from sacred
weld breath into coins- some printed with your lips
and some with eyes.
your skin was taken as the ants carry the trees.
Now firmly empty, watching skies
remain in groves left lost for greed.
dear ancients, pity me.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 6:19 PM UTC
Let them dream and let them chase
illusions can be warm, they smell so sweet
when poured in baths (ones set near peaks of
where my plates have crammed uneven seams to fit
where scars have raised to fit the layers of my ego's peel)
the bubbles foam the guns away and
hazy candle light will melt the hatred
with the wax that spills from temporary rims.
They may not hold in heat but jumpers won't approach
the guarded balcony, if only even till the flame comes.
(inquisition sears its burns with christ in mind.. but fruit can
bear no harm to god it grows as one and walks with thirst and only
seeds may say the "why") be sacred,
don't reply, just sleep and let the dreams unwind.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
Hands will half cross shadows
only passing under.
Through the arch
of undecided plights & paths
-And land still owns the roots of objects
cast. Into the light, into the absent.
Of the bright not only eyes can see.. that.
size is of the Brain.
it's sad that has no senses
taste the tears, the waning salts-
my doll, you've cried!
how cute. it's different from the mind.
just hold your tongue and know you've tried.
You've tried your best
(I guess)
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
I think I'll take a walk to find the beach.
-the ocean locked my breath and since I'd thought the wave that cleansed me
I've been drowning.
The air is always fresh in hales
through my throat but never reaches
deep enough.
Hysteric, how I try to breathe
when sand is in my lungs.
And with no tide- just gentle winds
to trace the edges of my wound
To let me know that I'm not whole.
In Hell's persistence, hot or cold,
the pressures dance beneath my chest.
They run in fear of facing what may change them,
Angry that they're chased,
and that they run.
till underwater takes them high enough
beneath the light, beneath the waves.
In wave-less depths they crack and space
will crush them into holes in teeth of rotting suns.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
Washed
in the blood of the lamb
my hands are warmed.
But only till the wind blows
and the chill that holds the clouds
and makes the trees numb reaches down
to **** my youthful seed away and spreads
my grinded spice across the somber
kneeling slaves to God.
Cathedral halls will stretch to petrify
the fruiting flora
with the stained glass sun-
so filtered from the angel light...
My son, you've ****** me dry.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
The anchor pulls my foot
and in the ground I catch the next
chain. So lightly step between the traps
just stop beside the Crane.
You'll find the wings are big enough for two
so why stay grounded-
ground will stay with you but weight
will fall away.
(tornadoes always spin- it's in the eye
we find the still but still walls spin, Avast.)
Say, cage to free
my faint and flighty
heartbeat. Lungs breathe light
to sink a little faster towards the floor.
The ocean floods, a space of crawling
doors and frames, since which, have shattered
all the window pains I smashed with slavely
Mirror hatred.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC