nathaniel
American
We tell ourselves stories in order to live.... We look for the sermon in the suicide, for the social or moral lesson in the murder of five. We interpret what we see, select the most workable of the multiple choices. We live entirely, especially if we are writers, by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the "ideas" with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience. / / Northwest Native, its beautiful up here
this night of the yellow moon
sings a slow and somber tune
the story of my ancestor's soul
is shared around the watering hole
naked whispers in lover's ears
serve to calm my sorrow's tears
a laugh echos from across the room
and smiles burst like flowers bloom
a pretty girl with an angel face
passes out dreams with a sour taste
we all know her by a different name
yet she answers us all the very same
hey would you like another pretty word
to compliment that come on line you heard
and a hey, hi, ** how are you?
is as common as a pair of tattered shoes
tap tap tap on the red stained floor
and a drunk brother asks for a little more
another drink to satisfy my tongue
another song noone knows who sung
yet every time we all know the words
in unison we sing like cattle in herds
and the church bells ring another time
to call us in to confess our crime
but we'll frequent again tomorrow night
for a chance to look through beauty's sight
another pleasant dream on this plain
saves you another night from this pain
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 10:26 PM UTC
fireflys and glowing light
come play my eyes tonight
sing and dance two by two
lift my feet while kissing you
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 10:18 PM UTC
Round the path these wraiths walk
paced to keep the gears turning
save for a few this is Lady Justice
her arms holding even the smallest souls
sounds of buzzing and locks clanking
dominate above the incessant chatter
backyard handshakes hidden from prying eyes
dogged deals shaping these shatter lives
and the word of the day is always "waiting"
taking one last look at the hands of time
before that dreaded voice bellows through
then its the cold slap of flash on cement
these veal on twenty three hour lockdown
spinning their tales these jailbird tailors
lying to each other for stolen smiles
each in a different stage of the same life
bathing in the omnipresent light of fireflys
dreaming of a wisp of smoke or a hand stroke
whichever waits for them on the outside
they'd believe in the patience of the buddha
if religion were on their tapered tongues
as it is there's always faces against the glass
eyes peeled to savor the brief passing drama
apathetic to the other prison dog's plight
drooling for the next passing hour
as they count them like sheep herding sleep
cleansing their conscience in the communal rainshower
everyone praying for the wings of freedom
to fly them from these sullen gates
the others still suspended in solitude
letting one man tell them when to eat and wake
their voices becoming mere whispers of wind
poets robbed of their rhymes and words
grown accustomed to breathing processed air
measuring their time in months, weeks, and years
locked away with the shadow of their fears
Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 9:50 PM UTC
Tangible sin, its what i'm looking for
let the rants and raves begin
cause tongues of fire can never settle
for a one line poem or a break in tone
they need the blood red of wine in their glass
these aristocrats drinking from the lower class
we are far too outspoken to speak of silence
that's something only the seculars teach
Maddness, now there's an idea i can get behind
Imagine ideas like countries
nuclear weapons at their highest state of alert
what we believe is what we once held true
and whose finger is this on the trigger?
then eventually, yes
the tyrants will get voted into office
doing away with terms and treaties of old
eventually you'll get two shoes per person
as you read your generation's scripture like truth
from the nearest stall bathroom wall
for a good time call, God
cause he doesn't charge you per hour
well, only on sunday mornings nine to noon
but for everlasting life who wouldn't drink that elixir?
just one more broken promise
cause Buddha told me i'd be back again
back again to serve in the same platoon of freedom fighters
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 11:57 PM UTC
life lived in dreams
this paper holding the seams
living and breathing, these aren't just words
the desire to soar above the birds
to speak to myself on a river bed
converse with a man long been dead
experience life beyond my skin
dance and play with my buried kin
If i don't forget maybe i can stay
a little longer, a week, a day
when this world begins to fade
i find myself where i last laid
holding together these fragments of will
long enough to reach my quill
writing fiction birthed from my mind
in these darkest depth i did find
a real non-corporeal life
free from chains and strife
a stone of truth from this stream
a truth stolen from a dream
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 11:44 PM UTC
Skip the drugs
And give me a double dose of serotonin
I certainly do like those laughable days
The heavy sun reddening my face
Just a few minutes away from my lover's embrace
But I wait so I stay here and pace
Take the pills
So i can socialize among the saddening lies
And a week is a day
When your world starts to fray
So i take a seat with glass in hand
Waiting on a phone that will never call again
In my mind I knew this had to end
So take another pill
So the world won't seem so gray
And I make another pact
Not to die today
But I lie to myself far too often
To truly know the color of my character
Like the night it might be black
Like my anger when i look back
Or I could be a saint
Waiting on my rapture from a God of grace
All I know is that there is an end
Not so very far away
Aug 24, 2011
Aug 24, 2011 at 1:46 AM UTC
Tonight I feel a heaviness in my heart
A wreckage of a moment that has yet to pass
A hand reaches beneath my breast
It grips my heart with a cold iron hand
Like false light I lie about the night
That moment we spent we only wanted to rent
It was cheap and never lasted past the stroke of midnight
A phone call you'd rather not receive,
you know this had to end,
you know I had to leave,
One day too long in your company
Funny how feelings change so quickly
So now once again I'm all alone
The sound of your voice changes tone
Now it's like foil between my teeth
And I find it's so very hard to breathe
I take another pill so I can fall asleep
Maybe tonight my dreams won't make me weep
Maybe I could die at peace within my sleep
A wish that I have folded and buried far beyond my reach.
May 21, 2011
May 21, 2011 at 10:35 AM UTC
My Warrior Woman
With every inhale I pass through you
each cell of your radiant body ignites
with your every exhale I am reborn
as a vague image in a mirror's light
held in the eyes of a single Angel
and so I ly my head in your arms,
close my eyes,
and awake as a single syllable
passing through your lips
grateful to spend a mere moment
within your mind and mouth
and even as my flame flickers and fades
as your breath blows it away
I search your longing eyes like scripture
for Salvation never present,
never saved.
May 21, 2011
May 21, 2011 at 10:26 AM UTC
I'm seriously considering blowing my brains out,
Gray matter that used to hold my consciousness
now plastering the walls behind my carcass.
Blood Art,
a new cultural norm for an over populated planet.
Euthanasia be dambed lets ****
the innocent,
the consumer,
the ******
I could cure this planet of all it's problems
if only I had more ink in my pen
and more shells in my Shotgun
Jan 6, 2011
Jan 6, 2011 at 10:39 PM UTC
It starts as a small voice, a quiet whisper
at a pitch just outside your conscious thought
then it's slowly building steam
The drums get louder and coal is shoveled faster
the idea begins to pick up speed
and its voice gains a bit of volume
You hear it and dismiss it,
not even a fleeting pulse
Selective hearing in the emotional spectrum
Keep stepping forward it will fade
We don't talk about it
It's just our way
But that little demon has some great ambition
to pull you off your cloud.
You've told your every love goodbye
So you reach for the Sun
and fall from the sky
Cause you never had wings
that could reach that high
Jan 6, 2011
Jan 6, 2011 at 10:34 PM UTC