there is a vastness here
where a small breeze,
the size of a decaying sorrow
wakes the cold again
which may be all that’s left of me.
where a diamond pale haze of stars goes on eternal
like sound that has found a final silent shape
on a black sky where it means everything
It cannot speak off.
it’s empty out here, and cold.
cold enough to reconcile
the frozen cries, the kidnapped voices
and the silences that move
with certain cadaveric contractions
along the frozen emptiness
and In the morning when I look out
the previous evening remains
in its blank, cold, unforgiveness
even though I sang for them in
the eternal extensiveness of
the freezing cold, the stones
still cry with mouths opened wide
while the small icy wind and unsympathetic
moon subdue the apricot flowers,
Now the piercing cold day Is no longer enough
For all comprehension escapes me
suddenly jumps with fury hurling terrible hostilities to the sky,
as wandering ice spirits without homeland
begin to groan with a vast and vacant voice.
And frozen hearses, with muffled drums
and tragic music, slowly pass in my being
conquered, weeping, freezing
this atrocious iced and despotic place
plants its black flag in my soul
Now I do confess through boreal breath
I don’t think I will ever see the
Red Tulips again
Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 3:36 PM UTC
for all of us who know
the pain of valentines
that never came
whose secret sobs
leave a teardrop stain
and hope next year
won’t be the same
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 4:44 PM UTC
life lies on me like a coffin lid
the investment of a strange ventriloquism
where no one has imagined me
or the existence of my
verbalizing impulses of emotion
the structured knowledge of
chemistry and music
I shall go beyond
beyond the humming bird
beyond the giant stars
way, way past the darkness
in the valley
where the gentle tempest rests
and there I shall enter into visions
and claim a desolate sun
who possesses enormous
silhouetted slices of hell
i shall go far beyond the speaking rain
beyond the whispers that have taken up
residence in my mind
way, way past the living and the dead
where ancient texts have wept
i shall stumble far across the horizon
beyond the jagged edges of the world
far, far beyond all known compass
where cartographies of silence
roam
here i shall be made a suggestive space
a womb with a heartbeat
here, far beyond all that is
in a dark place of peace
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 11:33 AM UTC
it rains
where scattered white mists
applaud the silhouette
of a sharp and pointed moon
whose coagulant light
dispatches an infinite
population of ghosts
to haunt upon the mind
with tangential interests
are reluctant incarnations
of an intolerable vocabulary
with incoherent signs
these ragged images
free float before the eyes
create a straight line
upon a lime green colored wall
whose ghostly contour of shape
has no reason to be there
then it rains in horizontal free fall
from the ceiling to the floor
where these apparitions collide
in an empty sky of stars
creates a mysterious circumstance
that dictates mischievous epigraphs
where the leaves are black
it is whispered to young men
who reluctantly plant trees
whose shade they know
they will never sit in
it rains in this place
an angry and heavy rain
that sculpts the bones
and blinds the eyes
and the young men lie down
like rusted knives
in an antique drawer
without recognizing
this dredful portent of war
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 10:15 AM UTC
by the lake at sunrise
a strange dedication hangs in the air
concealed in threads of mist
that hang here, ghostly blankets
suspended by invisible strings
there is a silence without end every where
amorphous, it is as if the very elements themselves
hold their breath, poised
waiting for something to happen
while a silvery unexplained light
floats like mercury
on the lurid waters of the lake
the world looks on
in hideous and embarrassed silence
as I taste the lamentations of past times
a discord of sympathies swirl about
i cry out strange words
like making a wish in Latin
i am carried in a high altitude of color
through a French Pantheon of poems
and by the lakeside emaciated figures
form a density of mood
dripping in emotional subtlety
which cannot be properly named
my eyes gaze out upon the lake
in a vocabulary of incoherent signs
images that have no articulation
like that of a rancid stain
of ***** on a curved floor
that compares effects of sensitivity
to neurotic symbols
that rest uneasily on the walls
of hospital waiting rooms
a poetic syntax of sonorous symbolism
sensuously slashed
like a very, very sad crossword
I am high by the lakeside at sunrise
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
unendurable, long and exhausting
are the pains
presumptuous in their plenty
such are these pernicious pains
that swarm in a slivering hiss
upon dark and lurking shadows
aesthetically applauding themselves
as they push here and there
in their wounding commentary
of painful narrative
agonising enough to reduce
the soul to debilitating bouts
of disagreeably damaging experience
with startling exaggerations
that produce disgraceful extortions
upon mind and body
squandering unbearable isolations
fragmenting the cracks
in a delicate structure of personality
uprooting it from a sanctified paradise
providing instead a monstrous, shameful loathing
that makes one choose to become another
other than those unthinking
other than this misery of anguish
other than this pain
deliberately to provoke an anger
the other with ingratiating timidity
or rebellious defiance
favouring a rejection of
all resentful obligations
all that is distasteful
all that is not worth carrying out
such as with a contempt
that allows one to escape into an emptiness
of the ridiculous and the impossible
through thoughts to an absurdity of beliefs
through the deserted streets
the neighbourhoods of the lie
pass the filthy inadequacies
of obscene caresses
where one is mocked
by exquisitely satisfying ******
of vicious pains
pains that control behaviour
freedom of movement
time and space
who appear at corners of the mouth
where lurk sarcastic secrets
now I know in these horrors and torments
that time has stopped in all dimensions
eternity has ceased
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 5:32 PM UTC
……for mine eyes are that of shadows…. shadows that don’t exist…searching out imponderable abstracts….these eyes…these emerald green colored eyes.. reveal the false tranquility of time and expectation… they can picture the veil of illusion that has fallen between me and reality…creating a painful impression of remoteness…while a blindness pulses through my blood…. my eyes beat like a blue sun from an electrically charged sky…they are my eyes….they are such as is…. would cause a step into chaos…an exodus towards the wastelands of fragmentation and depletion…. where fictions are invented daily and all Images change….. where the shadows of my eyes disappear in desperation…strung out in a black void…they cause me to take steps into the space others fear to occupy…my eyes…my emerald green eyes become inside the incantation of a new dimension….yet I am ecstatic in their awareness…..for my eyes are the windows of all the imaginations I possess….they are that shaky bridge between worlds where I take my heels…my eyes…my emerald green eyes…have chosen thus….. that both once closed to each are the opening…..the opening to me….
Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 5:14 PM UTC
a yellowish shroud
is placed hurriedly
upon starched white sheets
revealing vicious contrasts
where the cullan trees lie
where the cullan trees lie
its Hessian appearance
an omen, a foretold event
like breathing deeply in a silence
amidst the history of a great disorder
where the cullan trees lie
where the cullan trees lie
violent ink stains
on folding parchment
embalm themselves
upon the thickness of a sorrow
where the cullan trees lie
where the cullan trees lie
placed deep within
shallow subterranean depths
of an enigmatic being
that is both engineering and entrenching
where the cullan trees lie
where the cullan trees lie
its perplexing sensations causing
a wonderful ingrained passion
to erupt with imponderable abstracts
where truth does not exceed exception
where the cullan trees lie
where the cullan trees lie
the shroud provides a false tranquillity
where there is no longer breath
imposes itself unobtrusively
with wonderful staccato caresses
where the cullan trees lie
where the cullan trees lie
it proclaims an innocence of salvation
yet gives gauge to spectacular routes
and an enormity of misconceptions
amid prestigious beatifications
where the cullan trees lie
where the cullan trees lie
oh sweet smelling blue abyss
oh deluded reality
dressed in a winding sheet
of meaningless words
where the cullan trees lie
where the cullan trees lie
wrapped in phrases of falsehood
amidst this purgatorial fog
a twilight world of mysterious ailments
maintains a world of external restraints
where the cullan trees lie
where the cullan trees lie
creates and emptiness, a vacancy
provides an intoxication of vision
a strangeness of sensation
a world transparent
where the cullan trees lie
where the cullan trees lie
read the sentences of silence
breathe the perfume of never fading flowers
and see for the first time
the unfinished likeness of others
where the cullan trees lie
where the cullan trees lie
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 6:11 AM UTC
my heart ticks with the punctuated rhythm
of a girl busy with embroidery
i see a corpse and scrutinise all its secrets
it lingers with a purposeful dexterity
a tenacity that resembles autocrats
of a starved third world country
a dangerous presence that underpins
a blank prism
my reconnaissance reveals a frenetic arc
orbiting, humming as it does so
with intricate nightly returns
travels between light and shade
where black shadows tred
forming a link in the great causal chain
of human destiny
it is a place where stone ghosts welcome me
with threatening indifference of magical
incantations
i roam through deserted streets
with an inherent clumsiness
like waves on dark coastlines
that in hypnotic deception
form groups of disorientated sadness
where clouds of black crows fly around
sinister watch towers in the dark
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
i hear the collective understanding
of dry sticks as they crack
the shock of alarm signals
like the migratory diaspora
of birds flying south
vibrates across tingling nerves
causing a necklace of choking
to grip at the throat
shivering I try to find a grave
I am watched from the summit of a hill
as a conflagration spreads
flames quiver
orange, yellow, purple, blue
there is an irregularity of thought
within me
my bones will soon
be pitched into debris
a petrified shiver
they still watch from
the summit of the hill
i collapse, gripped with a fear
of a permanent consignment
like that of dropping into a hollow
my face becomes plum stained
the income of breath becomes
a tenacious gasp
smoke swirls around me
blinding my red eyes
I become a misshapen
component of myself
standing like an effigy
hands raised in supplication
hysterically I try to
rid myself of this tyranny
find no distinguishable form
no solidified inquisitive intent
I rush and lash out
with a galvanised
inner adrenalin raised frenzy
a red sun appears
on the summit of the hill
ferocious in its heat
it lacks all euphony
and disintegrates with
debarring light
now speechless and cold
i fear the wind will find me
i move, burrow back
into a darkness
fire strokes across a green canvas
i am fault and disappear
without trace
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 7:00 PM UTC