I can't see through your eyes
It's too hard and takes a lifetime anyway
But I read what you must have read
As a child coping and surviving
I can't image how hard it must have been,
Mother stuck with you and that is that
She always said she had her reasons
She tried to explain them to me
The immature never listen anyway.
I think I might understand now, it took me another decade.
What was the value I add, you always asked,
The anthem of the mind only you could hear,
But I heard it too, in song first,
But I heard it too
We live to grow, everyone, together,
In the world you lost your Father
And as to a scared little child of nine
A shadow never quite the friend,
I can feel that fright you must have suffered, sometimes,
I wonder why,
Perhaps you still ask the question for this reason
That you might forget and everything is lost
Your life taken from your hands,
Then come those hungry who cry out for more
Just as she wrote, the anthem of her cold heart
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 4:08 AM UTC
Slowly they count
The hands of time
Gliding without rest
Macbeth he screamed
They are here
A slow and relentless march
tic-tok, tic-tok
Here it is and there it goes
Without applause.
Stand still impervious!
The moments wash over you
Yet still of grit and mud
You are ever a rock, steady.
You close your eyes
As a tear niggles your flush cheek
Life is here and there it goes,
You mind is here and there it goes.
You are but here
Never moving
You are but here
Never moving.
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 3:48 AM UTC
scared
little heart
you fool
in fervor
don't walk away
live, love
all she wants
is you hand
on her hip
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
I am small
I am worthless
but for my beating heart swell,
I am useless
Not a chance taken
not a hand reached out,
but for the roll of the bones
I am alive here
And perhaps well
I am insignificant in my mind
and I am useless
For in the fire of ambition
People find drive
And perhaps in the arms of retribution
People find action
More so in act of living
People find the need to live,
While I have found none.
I am sitting here, still,
Without a sound
Except the sound of my heart
My body live
Mind still
Fear and other maladies of existence
I am but a man on a beach
A castaway
Food, shelter,
Alone.
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 6:47 PM UTC
in grandiose dreams of building castles that last of sand stone and other things from the dirt, the air is free so I'm told, I should build castles in the air and foundations under them, said of chicanery the old fool by the pond, but none the less it is what it is, imaginary, never materialized, sadness in the face of it, to get out of town starting down a quite calm road that lead nowhere, I walk out to nothing
the slaves mustn't revolt they mustn't think they must be quite and sit still, their arms move and no more hear hear you dunce back to your seat there are lines to scribe and things to quarter back to it back to it worthless meat neeord waits for none
the streets aren't clean, left in this gutter to dream, out at the cars I see the stars and their precise meander oh how I wish I were a star without a care in the world, pun intended hurhur, looking down upon everyone else and going about it, these mechanical birds wound up must be such fun to watch, **** **** and **** oh I wish I were a star. I sit here in this filth, putrid, but home, a star I am for myself, shining black gold.
this crippling fear the walls close and so it would seems the madness of it all consuming, for the walls they close and I'm here and nothing is changing, the sun sets and that is that, don't lie down, time to go at it again, happy ******* friday here's a monday for you.
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 10:44 PM UTC
unsuspecting,
another stroll in the park,
happy tottle caper
jump the village wall,
Never be sad little one
your horns will grow
so your life flows
but the day turns
to night this sable dark
you are placed on your sternum
to head an inoculation
comes death, you sleep
not knowing much
but a moments struggle
to live as such.
Dec 27, 2015
Dec 27, 2015 at 5:04 AM UTC
Tonight I sat by the corner of my room,
Dreaming of nuclear pasta and
Bottles of ultraviolet water.
I was alone, and it was bleak.
Everything around me was lost
In the sadness of everything else
Swallowing everything else.
I sat and wondered about each moment that passed
And how each moment slipped away until the next came afresh, unbound.
But I remembered the one that came before the one next, and that too was bleak.
Bleak, cold, filth, like a grotto filled with rats and dead fish.
The floor creaked as I shivered sitting there,
Life it seemed was given and not had.
I lit candle, for it seemed macabre
And I need that,
It was homage, an appeal.
The shadows about me had flickered as if alive,
A life given.
I remember wishing, wanting to be something.
For the few precious moments that passed it seemed believable.
Betwixt my cold finders and burning wax,
I could feel and light sprung briefly.
The joy was maddening, almost manic.
I had whispered ferverently that I had won,
Ever briefly,
But the voices had come back,
And those moments had passed,
I blew out the candle and wept.
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC
I don't care much about this night
And the rest of everything else
For now I'm infinitely happy,
Really,
And I don't ask for much more than this.
For tonight I found someone
Far from a madding crowd,
Who's interested in the little circles I draw
In the bare sand by my feet.
Of why I do not know,
But the attention,
Oh how giddy I feel, like a canary.
All I wish to do now is cradle her soft face
On my shoulder
As I hear her quiet Cantonese
Listening to anything but.
Laying there with her I'll peer into her almond eyes
And find love, lust,
Amongst other sins.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 2:45 AM UTC
i.
eating chocolate-chip fudge cake
heart racing pounding
surrounded with flesh
suffocated, constricted, fighting,
living
for guilty pleasures yearning
digestive juices to action
there is purpose, conviction
the food eaten, none
calories wasted heat not raised
such first world problems, is control
ii.
guilty pleasures
a woman walks up to you
her body for sale
she asks for a chance
to take your money
you quoth bill, she accepts
judgment, opinion, cravings,
the touch sweat confuses for
not loving back
you’re still lost
not having a girlfriend anyway
curb, not succumb to such drive
you’re not forgiven the lonelyness
copying the rest of us and marketing
iii.
relative definitions for everything
no one agrees disagrees
trikha tomia stalemate
money, living, dignity,
your sweatshop is not mine
the immigrants need new life
in the sweat shop they work
for pre-school
there is dignity no dignity yes
but also a body for sale
or a fat man eating his cake
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 4:19 AM UTC
The circumstance of chance is never that
Things are set right,
That your life will flow like the gentle squall
Across a field of gold.
The circumstance of chance is what you make of it
And how you chose to live with it.
You can blame your father for his house,
Or your mother for her abandon.
But never does it matter, I tell you again.
The circumstance of chance is too much to take
But if you stepped out of it all,
And understood that
And that your mother was terribly afraid of the world around her,
Or that your father too driven by fear for the lives he is responsible for,
It is only then that you realize
Love isn't given away freely to anybody,
That the man next to you needs a soft smile
To live his life another day
Or that you need yourself on the darkest of days.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC