el-bookish - Hello Poetry

Ragged the origami crane The china shop, the bull, Bleeding and tired on the floor The bull, covered in porcelain – Just fall asleep and become a statue This is spontaneous so don’t ask it to make sense Bitten in half the book That says it knows it all Bitten in half the beautiful rose “Now I am ugly” It says, “Now I am more beautiful” - I’ve never been thanked For destruction before Ragged the lace of your dress Sorry I did that, Sorry I didn’t do it more Wreckage as modern art Spit on it and call it modern art That’s an insult, by the way. Rummage in the ******* of history The China shop, all shot up Mobsters of words ruining everything Just don’t wake the bull Don’t say the word “Beautiful” **** I turned the radio all the way up The news: Here is a terrorist bomb Here is a tax hike Here is a ****** in a suburb Here is the weather - And I could still hear you over it all “Beautiful” I crumple folded paper in my hand Walk over broken plates Bleed beautiful for you You’ll take it and You’ll love it and I’ll hate you for it The blood on the crumpled crane and the bull This is a joke in the making But I'll only let the punchline brush your lips I won't let you taste I'll make you bite and lick I'll let the punchline give you bruises The blood on the crumpled crane and the bull

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Mar 24, 2016

Mar 24, 2016 at 12:43 AM UTC

Ugly/Beautiful/Crazy/Messy

Ragged the origami crane The china shop, the bull, Bleeding and tired on the floor The bull, covered in porcelain – Just fall asleep and become a statue This is spontaneous so don’t ask it to make sense Bitten in half the book That says it knows it all Bitten in half the beautiful rose “Now I am ugly” It says, “Now I am more beautiful” - I’ve never been thanked For destruction before Ragged the lace of your dress Sorry I did that, Sorry I didn’t do it more Wreckage as modern art Spit on it and call it modern art That’s an insult, by the way. Rummage in the ******* of history The China shop, all shot up Mobsters of words ruining everything Just don’t wake the bull Don’t say the word “Beautiful” **** I turned the radio all the way up The news: Here is a terrorist bomb Here is a tax hike Here is a ****** in a suburb Here is the weather - And I could still hear you over it all “Beautiful” I crumple folded paper in my hand Walk over broken plates Bleed beautiful for you You’ll take it and You’ll love it and I’ll hate you for it The blood on the crumpled crane and the bull This is a joke in the making But I'll only let the punchline brush your lips I won't let you taste I'll make you bite and lick I'll let the punchline give you bruises The blood on the crumpled crane and the bull

48

Desire is a spiraling staircase in a lighthouse You want to get to the top You want to hold the light - Or do you need to hold the light? Want, need, they are the same thing here It's miles to climb But when you reach the top Lungs and legs burning Head dizzy with the circles You will be crowned, triumphant

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Mar 23, 2016

Mar 23, 2016 at 11:30 PM UTC

Desire no. 4

Desire is a spiraling staircase in a lighthouse You want to get to the top You want to hold the light - Or do you need to hold the light? Want, need, they are the same thing here It's miles to climb But when you reach the top Lungs and legs burning Head dizzy with the circles You will be crowned, triumphant

11

If desire is the cause of all suffering It is also its end When you can kiss the bird you hold in your hand But this all depends on what you want Maybe you want to touch the back of the sun Maybe you want to understand history Maybe you want to know why you are - These things are impossible You will suffer for these desires But maybe you want someone to smile and hold your hand Maybe you want to travel somewhere new Maybe you want to be a better person - These things are possible and The suffering of desire need not be indelible There is no dark horse of passion There are only horses, Waiting on the field of desire So pick the one you ride and Go find yourself a sunset

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Mar 23, 2016

Mar 23, 2016 at 11:27 PM UTC

Desire no. 3

If desire is the cause of all suffering It is also its end When you can kiss the bird you hold in your hand But this all depends on what you want Maybe you want to touch the back of the sun Maybe you want to understand history Maybe you want to know why you are - These things are impossible You will suffer for these desires But maybe you want someone to smile and hold your hand Maybe you want to travel somewhere new Maybe you want to be a better person - These things are possible and The suffering of desire need not be indelible There is no dark horse of passion There are only horses, Waiting on the field of desire So pick the one you ride and Go find yourself a sunset

21

Three people are walking towards you They are all dressed in red One is covered in blood One is covered in tomato soup One is covered in their own heart You cannot tell which is which Or who will reach you first to collapse Or who wears their red best - But you realise They all look pretty good in it You'd sleep with any, all of them If they asked Maybe only so you can ask Which of the slippery red is which And then you will be painted In soup or In blood or In heart Maybe then you'll find what tastes better Maybe then you'll find Which red suits you best And this is the question you want answered - Which red suits you best?

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Mar 23, 2016

Mar 23, 2016 at 11:23 PM UTC

Desire no. 2

Three people are walking towards you They are all dressed in red One is covered in blood One is covered in tomato soup One is covered in their own heart You cannot tell which is which Or who will reach you first to collapse Or who wears their red best - But you realise They all look pretty good in it You'd sleep with any, all of them If they asked Maybe only so you can ask Which of the slippery red is which And then you will be painted In soup or In blood or In heart Maybe then you'll find what tastes better Maybe then you'll find Which red suits you best And this is the question you want answered - Which red suits you best?

25

Desire is a small bird in your palm You want to pet it, but you also want to crush it You are the adult who wants to *** in the swimming pool Who wants to eat the whole cake Who never wants to wake up from a dream about flying Desire is a small bird with the sharpest of beaks and claws It's telling you you'll never be innocent You'll never get over it You'll want everything too fiercly And you're not fooling anyone Desire is a bird in your palm, who dares you To crush it To stuff it in the back of the closet To bury it in the yard It dares you to say that You do not contain desire It dares you to do something about it Sharp of beak and soft of feather Whisper-sings coercion until you Are nothing but a conduit for sensation Desire is a small bird in your palm That will not fly away And if you strangle it between your fingers You will find that Desire is not a small bird in your palm It is a haggard vulture in your chest.

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Mar 22, 2016

Mar 22, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC

Desire

Desire is a small bird in your palm You want to pet it, but you also want to crush it You are the adult who wants to *** in the swimming pool Who wants to eat the whole cake Who never wants to wake up from a dream about flying Desire is a small bird with the sharpest of beaks and claws It's telling you you'll never be innocent You'll never get over it You'll want everything too fiercly And you're not fooling anyone Desire is a bird in your palm, who dares you To crush it To stuff it in the back of the closet To bury it in the yard It dares you to say that You do not contain desire It dares you to do something about it Sharp of beak and soft of feather Whisper-sings coercion until you Are nothing but a conduit for sensation Desire is a small bird in your palm That will not fly away And if you strangle it between your fingers You will find that Desire is not a small bird in your palm It is a haggard vulture in your chest.

26

Young Sade I am: Combustible Volcanic Excitable Fractious Perverse Hotheaded Impatient Convulsive Agitated Passionate Alonebutnotlonely Animated Secretive Tempestuous Imprudent Enamoured by the opposite extreme of everything, Easily exhilarated And when despondent, profoundly so A minimalist who wastes words on purpose And harbours private contempt BUT I AM NOT MURDEROUS Nor of savage intelligence Though I am of disorderly emotions I am a libertine I am a socialist I dine with Marie Antoinette and execute her also I am in love with my own contradictions, and have no shame. I do not fear failure, because when I am beaten I will become Brecht’s Hero I am wise enough to value ignorance Even as I spit at it when I find it in myself I love the divine in the mundane I am a pitcher, and a catcher I am innocent and evil An immortal child I love cats and blasphemy and 1000 and one nights of debauchery I believe that nothing is forbidden by nature. I am a mellow atheist, shrugging my shoulders at spiritual enlightenment A PERSON WHO THUS FAR HAS NOT BEEN REDUCED TO GROVELING LIKE AN ANIMAL BEFORE THE ALTER OF COMMODITY FETISHISM AND PROFIT- And I do not intend to. I could eat the world Hold it all in a deathly grip Whatever paint with which my heart is brushed I become a superman and prince And raise the bar of feeling great And I admit my mistakes If only to the dark- But I bear my teeth And smile like I’m crazy Posing for the portrait that they’ll carry past my grave.

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Mar 22, 2016

Mar 22, 2016 at 4:17 AM UTC

Young Sade (A Self Portrait)

Young Sade I am: Combustible Volcanic Excitable Fractious Perverse Hotheaded Impatient Convulsive Agitated Passionate Alonebutnotlonely Animated Secretive Tempestuous Imprudent Enamoured by the opposite extreme of everything, Easily exhilarated And when despondent, profoundly so A minimalist who wastes words on purpose And harbours private contempt BUT I AM NOT MURDEROUS Nor of savage intelligence Though I am of disorderly emotions I am a libertine I am a socialist I dine with Marie Antoinette and execute her also I am in love with my own contradictions, and have no shame. I do not fear failure, because when I am beaten I will become Brecht’s Hero I am wise enough to value ignorance Even as I spit at it when I find it in myself I love the divine in the mundane I am a pitcher, and a catcher I am innocent and evil An immortal child I love cats and blasphemy and 1000 and one nights of debauchery I believe that nothing is forbidden by nature. I am a mellow atheist, shrugging my shoulders at spiritual enlightenment A PERSON WHO THUS FAR HAS NOT BEEN REDUCED TO GROVELING LIKE AN ANIMAL BEFORE THE ALTER OF COMMODITY FETISHISM AND PROFIT- And I do not intend to. I could eat the world Hold it all in a deathly grip Whatever paint with which my heart is brushed I become a superman and prince And raise the bar of feeling great And I admit my mistakes If only to the dark- But I bear my teeth And smile like I’m crazy Posing for the portrait that they’ll carry past my grave.

52

Here is the crown – take it I don’t want it anymore It’s shiny but it’s heavy and means you can never be Alone But you always feel it, Alone It means you need two hearts One light, and one dark One for loving and one for killing And it’s all just too heavy It only means a poisoned chalice, A war declaration It’s supposed to make you closer to a god But only a god that dies And does not come back Except in murder-mystery novels You’re much more suited to this So just take it Rule the world and I’ll be happy in my hovel Take it, before I drop from all this sorrow

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Mar 22, 2016

Mar 22, 2016 at 3:55 AM UTC

Crown

Here is the crown – take it I don’t want it anymore It’s shiny but it’s heavy and means you can never be Alone But you always feel it, Alone It means you need two hearts One light, and one dark One for loving and one for killing And it’s all just too heavy It only means a poisoned chalice, A war declaration It’s supposed to make you closer to a god But only a god that dies And does not come back Except in murder-mystery novels You’re much more suited to this So just take it Rule the world and I’ll be happy in my hovel Take it, before I drop from all this sorrow

20

Out of the age of blue times I saw Gold steel As myths disintegrated Into old wives tales And then into amber, Drink: Teleportation for a price, My cells protest but I don’t listen Don’t hear Only feel The cloying, throbbing, dry thirst and ache The fuzzy bleary dozing-but-not-sleeping circular gnawing Eroding the steel plate of my chest Golden treasured amber Whiskey dreams for everyone! Precious tonic of the crazed, the homeless The hopeless, the disappointed housewives Overworked hands and underworked minds Liquid celebration and tragedy Blue lips purse and twist for a drop of illumination Take me out of this age of remembering Remind me you were only ever a myth

0

Mar 22, 2016

Mar 22, 2016 at 3:46 AM UTC

Wheat Mythology

Out of the age of blue times I saw Gold steel As myths disintegrated Into old wives tales And then into amber, Drink: Teleportation for a price, My cells protest but I don’t listen Don’t hear Only feel The cloying, throbbing, dry thirst and ache The fuzzy bleary dozing-but-not-sleeping circular gnawing Eroding the steel plate of my chest Golden treasured amber Whiskey dreams for everyone! Precious tonic of the crazed, the homeless The hopeless, the disappointed housewives Overworked hands and underworked minds Liquid celebration and tragedy Blue lips purse and twist for a drop of illumination Take me out of this age of remembering Remind me you were only ever a myth

23

I’m getting drunk on a Tuesday morning On a cold bathroom floor Thinking of all The people in the world Who know my heart was at one time large, But is not anymore I’m sitting cold on a tiled bathroom floor Not expecting anything But waiting anyway For a call, So I can say: “There is nothing left to say anymore” I’m just a simple man With a simple grasp on reality I don’t believe in Revelations or epiphanies I only know that one day I will be buried I will be carbon once again And I say this As Loud As I Can To cold white tiled bathroom walls I will have no impact on eternity: I take comfort in this And let hollow laughter drop, the empty bottle fall I am Inconsequence Incarnate- And this is such a relief Because otherwise, all I am is Wasted.

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Mar 22, 2016

Mar 22, 2016 at 3:32 AM UTC

Wasted

I’m getting drunk on a Tuesday morning On a cold bathroom floor Thinking of all The people in the world Who know my heart was at one time large, But is not anymore I’m sitting cold on a tiled bathroom floor Not expecting anything But waiting anyway For a call, So I can say: “There is nothing left to say anymore” I’m just a simple man With a simple grasp on reality I don’t believe in Revelations or epiphanies I only know that one day I will be buried I will be carbon once again And I say this As Loud As I Can To cold white tiled bathroom walls I will have no impact on eternity: I take comfort in this And let hollow laughter drop, the empty bottle fall I am Inconsequence Incarnate- And this is such a relief Because otherwise, all I am is Wasted.

29

Sorry, I’m just feeling a little lost Please ground me. Everywhere reminds me of home Everywhere is strange Every bird call is a galah or a crow and Everyone drives on the wrong side of the road. Remind me of the time we went to the beach And all of us had the same waves crashing On the shores of our dreams How we all had the same sand In our shoes, Remind me of the mosquitoes And how we made a game of Waiting like crocodiles before Snapping them between our palms, Remind me of snow on the gables Gothic cathedrals and cobblestones And how you can’t help but laugh when I Order us mulled wine in Polish, Remind me that I have hands That can write things Remind me that I have feet And can always walk somewhere new, If I get bored Or Lonely.

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Mar 22, 2016

Mar 22, 2016 at 3:28 AM UTC

Hey, There, Please

Sorry, I’m just feeling a little lost Please ground me. Everywhere reminds me of home Everywhere is strange Every bird call is a galah or a crow and Everyone drives on the wrong side of the road. Remind me of the time we went to the beach And all of us had the same waves crashing On the shores of our dreams How we all had the same sand In our shoes, Remind me of the mosquitoes And how we made a game of Waiting like crocodiles before Snapping them between our palms, Remind me of snow on the gables Gothic cathedrals and cobblestones And how you can’t help but laugh when I Order us mulled wine in Polish, Remind me that I have hands That can write things Remind me that I have feet And can always walk somewhere new, If I get bored Or Lonely.

25