a perfect, newly unveiled horizon line
ancient and promising
yet reborn as a newborn
to my industrialized eyes.
I haven’t heard sirens in days.
still, there is the hustle and bustle
of movement everywhere,
but not by people
nor Porsches and Escalades
and their infiltrating thick smog.
no inane chatter
and fake oohing and aahing
over Louis’ and who saw who.
no
here the possessions move
the so-called inorganic
the buildings, doors, and gates
yearning to be free
swaying, creaking
their tiny reins of confinement
too much to bear
for their free spirits.
taking their cue
from trees, plants, vines, leaves
which are overgrowing fences
and clambering over walls
a massive riotous uprising at a glacier-pace
to triumph over the bipeds
imagine the horror of the flora
at a sudden interment to La-La-Land
the hopelessness and oppression
at being trimmed twice a week
mutilated and then slaughtered.
no
they are the secret underground rulers
stubbornly proud but humble tyrants
mercifully loving their lowly subjects
feeling sorry for us
we who have been forced into
this unnatural industrial order
not their beautiful chaos.
and yet...
they lie in wait
patiently, silently
anticipating the day
when we throw up our arms in exasperation and relief
and acquiesce to their dominion
a return to times before times.
Aug 13, 2011
Aug 13, 2011 at 1:33 PM UTC
legs forced wide awake
being *****
by the gaping black hole
of nothingness
...
oh **** it...
go ahead...
have at it.
incapable of even
pathetically
grasping for air
or begging for leniency
as they shovel
handfuls of oily, greasy
chunks
of societal lard
and ****
down your throat.
you lie back
and recede
(but not even into yourself)
for they have stolen that as well.
Apr 21, 2010
Apr 21, 2010 at 11:36 PM UTC
as you pull back
for yet another swing
I see the blood of your knuckles
on my heart
my very being seeping out
flowing down the sidewalk
melting with the rain
forming deep crimson-black puddles
staining the already tainted cement.
you have torn out my aorta
bits of right ventricle go flying
the AV node plops to the ground
the complete annihilation
of an already damaged *****
excuse me...
but where do they sell new hearts?
Apr 21, 2010
Apr 21, 2010 at 11:00 PM UTC
all else is hidden
letters, words, sentences
a mystery - kept secret
locked away behind towering fortresses
within overgrown labyrinths
the way in lost among a sea of keys
disintegrating at your touch
metallic ashes wafting through your grasp
drifting along the breeze of
"oh wells" and "too bads"
you watch the current
swirl away with your dreams
your perfect girl
white picket fence and dog
caught in the cookie cutter net
bobbing away
out of reach
that elusive H.
Apr 21, 2010
Apr 21, 2010 at 10:37 PM UTC
running from the bulls
a stampede of innocent bystanders
enraged at that ruby color
sweetheart red
passion red
blood red
mixed together,
one and the same,
no distinction.
off the cliff like lemmings
scurrying subconsciously
instinctually
fascinated by that edge
enchanted into oblivion.
the praying mantis
tracking her mate
plotting, planning his demise
a smile oozing with sweetness one moment,
then the heartless attack,
out to ****
smacking her lips,
knowing full well of his fate.
all I learned
I learned from you.
like mother like daughter
Mommy Dearest
you truly are
the cruelest teacher of them all.
Apr 21, 2010
Apr 21, 2010 at 10:32 PM UTC
all hyped up
on a pedestal
(how do I get down?)
forget me baby...
I'm no good.
everyone clamoring, crawling
desperate for my attention
a whiff as I pass by
the breath before the kiss
slow releases of poison
permeating their being
i am essence of delusion
acrimonious bedevilment
rolled over their temples
seeping into their veins
eating away at their cells
like a virus replicating and destroying
inducing mutations with a smirk
no containment
and to which there is no antidote
passing from one victim to the next
nonchalant and ruthless
on the prowl, half sleep
squashing beneath me
egos, hearts, lives.
next?
as I said -
forget me -
there is no love.
Apr 21, 2010
Apr 21, 2010 at 10:25 PM UTC
a coat of Naughty
a flick of Flirtatious
a dab of Daring
slick on Scandalous
with just a touch of Mischief
voila!
let's go out...
Apr 21, 2010
Apr 21, 2010 at 10:17 PM UTC
the drunkard crawls from an infinite sea of sadness,
their screams echo
into an enormous black sky,
upon finding their sun
which was once an incessant ***** red,
now a cold mass of midnight blue,
abandoning its worshipper
to revel in darkness,
to freeze from a deathly chill of loneliness,
to melt from the nights' stinging raindrops of reality.
but the drunkards,
and only the drunkards,
are secretly admitted
into the hollow asylum of the traitorous mind,
where some imagined eerie light
bathes the shadows,
where they feel the solitude enveloping their bodies
with an alien warmth,
where the raindrops intoxicate their insides
like thick, sugary syrup;
a place where they
willingly drug themselves
into an ignorant stupor,
painting translucent
dreams of yesterday
upon the undersides of their eyelids,
and seeing them
as the art of the future.
solely possessing the key
to the invisible shackles
that chain them
to equally invisible walls,
they lie back in relief,
upon silken feather dust pillows,
comforted by a styrofoam fortress,
while blissfully wasting away
in their drunken
narcotic haven.
Apr 21, 2010
Apr 21, 2010 at 10:11 PM UTC
like a damp newborn
my wings have yet to dry,
but no longer required
to inch on stubby caterpillar legs,
unfolding, yielding to the sky.
growing,
bigger or stronger?
shedding the skin
that until now catered to your touch;
without ears
(for you supply no words)
listening with my tongue
for your toxic presence.
a ball of fluff,
that cannot swim,
who you leave to drown,
rises up out of the water
its wings sleekly curved
stunningly bright, bold, and beautiful.
and you wonder
at the transformations,
even though you were
the noxious chemicals
that began these
beneficial mutations.
Apr 21, 2010
Apr 21, 2010 at 9:57 PM UTC
my love is like...
the sea,
during a tumultuous storm
capturing innocent victims
dragging them down in its fury
and conquering them in the end.
my love is like...
knives,
long and sharp
being thrown simultaneously
at one lone target
piercing it through
so that it never can be used again.
my love is like...
the bite of a venomous snake,
sinking its fangs
into unsuspecting prey
paralyzing them into helplessness
and then mercilessly
swallowing them whole.
my love is like...
a bottomless abyss,
into which stumble the lost
and once realizing their mistake
they find it is too late
for they are destined to be
forever falling
to their death.
Apr 21, 2010
Apr 21, 2010 at 9:50 PM UTC