nyanyanyan - Hello Poetry

I can't concentrate. My mind is whirling in a million different directions, bouncing off of satellites with a pseudorange accuracy of 12.5 centimeters...piercing and grazing that thing in the middle of my chest, sending a myriad of semi-coherent signals, all ripe with articulation, all priority levels stamped HIGH.

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Mar 21, 2012

Mar 21, 2012 at 8:39 PM UTC

Anxiety1

I can't concentrate. My mind is whirling in a million different directions, bouncing off of satellites with a pseudorange accuracy of 12.5 centimeters...piercing and grazing that thing in the middle of my chest, sending a myriad of semi-coherent signals, all ripe with articulation, all priority levels stamped HIGH.

1

A sloppy connection made through dry sockets Man-child trembles at his capabilities Poor thing, my charge A fifth of *** and a bit of battery acid So true A false wall that keeps the roaches in Volunteer for a bit of community service I serve, teach, and protect (frail ego systems) I serve it up spiced and garnished Cut up neatly with uniform premeditated precision Little bite-sized baby food morsels for his mouth So easy to chew So true So easy to swallow The boy, lewd rude lust thrusting (Drag in his line, correct its arc, and begin again, slower now) Poor thing The spotlight making his naked man-machine Glow surreal satellite white, overexposed; Pour viscous shadows into every exquisite crevice In repose, underexposed He begins to decipher my light projection I put it to my lips… My motive ***** Poor thing, always at a lack Pretty vacant boy bomb (Sigh…just lie still life) Just one of the boys Just one of the luscious little wind-up toys Just another pound pounding of flesh (Fact: humans are mostly dark meat) He passes out before I can do any real damage Superimposed, film the oily residue cell by cell It is my body, oh yes My doppelgänger dictates the disease (White sound waves will wash my body Clean to a distant, lonely shore) Dip me in saliva I come up gilded, salt streaks straps stinging So true I am sick of the flaming hoop trick I am sick of his radiant Vegas platform (Sick of trying tying a knot in this cherry stem) Ambivalence a smeared lipstick stain from yesterday My thoughts are exactly 21.5 miles away Just once I want something pure

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Feb 28, 2012

Feb 28, 2012 at 9:07 PM UTC

So True

A sloppy connection made through dry sockets Man-child trembles at his capabilities Poor thing, my charge A fifth of *** and a bit of battery acid So true A false wall that keeps the roaches in Volunteer for a bit of community service I serve, teach, and protect (frail ego systems) I serve it up spiced and garnished Cut up neatly with uniform premeditated precision Little bite-sized baby food morsels for his mouth So easy to chew So true So easy to swallow The boy, lewd rude lust thrusting (Drag in his line, correct its arc, and begin again, slower now) Poor thing The spotlight making his naked man-machine Glow surreal satellite white, overexposed; Pour viscous shadows into every exquisite crevice In repose, underexposed He begins to decipher my light projection I put it to my lips… My motive ***** Poor thing, always at a lack Pretty vacant boy bomb (Sigh…just lie still life) Just one of the boys Just one of the luscious little wind-up toys Just another pound pounding of flesh (Fact: humans are mostly dark meat) He passes out before I can do any real damage Superimposed, film the oily residue cell by cell It is my body, oh yes My doppelgänger dictates the disease (White sound waves will wash my body Clean to a distant, lonely shore) Dip me in saliva I come up gilded, salt streaks straps stinging So true I am sick of the flaming hoop trick I am sick of his radiant Vegas platform (Sick of trying tying a knot in this cherry stem) Ambivalence a smeared lipstick stain from yesterday My thoughts are exactly 21.5 miles away Just once I want something pure

47

Cleave the terrible meaning into two It starts with the insidious I-- Whole universe pregnant Of which not one sheer, shorn sigh can be released: And yet, it is wet on lips, serious as blood To speak these dread in a tongue that is strange So that you would be safe from their intentions Simply to give pleasure to this hopeful mouth, of forming their ripe shapes. The same inscribed, only to strike away Perhaps In making them briefly actual, therein lies salvation? But too, the nightmare That if this destiny is given its head The fugue of the Horsemen ends.

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Feb 8, 2012

Feb 8, 2012 at 7:38 PM UTC

tiny words

Cleave the terrible meaning into two It starts with the insidious I-- Whole universe pregnant Of which not one sheer, shorn sigh can be released: And yet, it is wet on lips, serious as blood To speak these dread in a tongue that is strange So that you would be safe from their intentions Simply to give pleasure to this hopeful mouth, of forming their ripe shapes. The same inscribed, only to strike away Perhaps In making them briefly actual, therein lies salvation? But too, the nightmare That if this destiny is given its head The fugue of the Horsemen ends.

14

Lips parted, wet to smother me, and The galvanized gibbet of your stare . making myself small . knees to the floor Swallowing my own unquiet heart the battery acid bite of ****** foreboding I require your alms approximately once every 18.75 hours Pitiful, fragile: a dove with two broken wings For this, I yearn for the heavy hand of your regard Render my flesh to the pulp of my ancient beginnings . born again If you are willing, I am able . I pray I will look to you . your appalling prophet . made whole in my unholiness And I Fling myself to flagellate my prostrate body upon the temple stairs Each bruise after counted My proof, bludgeoned on a tablet of tissue. I will guild the seed of your mercy . bind it in stained glass . idol for my reliquary . I have played Mary: both of her faces By the Book but only to drive away So many to alien lands, discovered as a ***** Unable to accept my enormous blood debt— Condemn me, the abomination: I beg It is my calling Shove that cross into my arms, nails and all I will drag my carcass forward through the spitting masses My heart, full of rapture.

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Jan 18, 2012

Jan 18, 2012 at 7:36 PM UTC

Cross

Lips parted, wet to smother me, and The galvanized gibbet of your stare . making myself small . knees to the floor Swallowing my own unquiet heart the battery acid bite of ****** foreboding I require your alms approximately once every 18.75 hours Pitiful, fragile: a dove with two broken wings For this, I yearn for the heavy hand of your regard Render my flesh to the pulp of my ancient beginnings . born again If you are willing, I am able . I pray I will look to you . your appalling prophet . made whole in my unholiness And I Fling myself to flagellate my prostrate body upon the temple stairs Each bruise after counted My proof, bludgeoned on a tablet of tissue. I will guild the seed of your mercy . bind it in stained glass . idol for my reliquary . I have played Mary: both of her faces By the Book but only to drive away So many to alien lands, discovered as a ***** Unable to accept my enormous blood debt— Condemn me, the abomination: I beg It is my calling Shove that cross into my arms, nails and all I will drag my carcass forward through the spitting masses My heart, full of rapture.

25

Trick tricky on a radiant platform Jezebel, arms full of gnashing curs She loves everybody, that girl She always meant well The most dangerous thing in the world Riding the dragon straight into the apocalypse Nine heads slavering, always hungry Swollen with decades of wasted debauchery Brimstone falling from the rafters, pillars of melting wax, melting faces Tongue to the iron, proving my lie A deception of self, it’s a ******* masterpiece The garden lush that falls to rot, Lunatic blight, land that salts itself Spending what was spent until it is finally dry like wither. I, I run hot and cold, a cheap parlor trick gone bad Changing phase to phase and back again, losing a little more each time Tiamat to fire the kiln, I wait Too polluted by far to continue this way any longer Wrapping myself up small for you, so helpless and inevitable Hell-bent on teaching you how to better abuse me Help me to recreate myself, oh yes please I am, you will find More pliable even, in the heat of your hands

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Jan 5, 2012

Jan 5, 2012 at 1:10 AM UTC

Clay

Trick tricky on a radiant platform Jezebel, arms full of gnashing curs She loves everybody, that girl She always meant well The most dangerous thing in the world Riding the dragon straight into the apocalypse Nine heads slavering, always hungry Swollen with decades of wasted debauchery Brimstone falling from the rafters, pillars of melting wax, melting faces Tongue to the iron, proving my lie A deception of self, it’s a ******* masterpiece The garden lush that falls to rot, Lunatic blight, land that salts itself Spending what was spent until it is finally dry like wither. I, I run hot and cold, a cheap parlor trick gone bad Changing phase to phase and back again, losing a little more each time Tiamat to fire the kiln, I wait Too polluted by far to continue this way any longer Wrapping myself up small for you, so helpless and inevitable Hell-bent on teaching you how to better abuse me Help me to recreate myself, oh yes please I am, you will find More pliable even, in the heat of your hands

24

He was not beautiful. Unlike the others, those spectacular animals That grew exotic, wild He was cultivated carefully Handicaps tied to a splint Hold him up and covered in burlap --Milkfed-- Long ago, he had played his card for Unique And got a handful of Subtle Wrongness Poor thing, pitiful and susceptible to the hunt, Described remotely in their ****** chant A sign, a portent dropped With ominous carelessness It's inevitable-- Gross ineptitude, even without the physical weakness, Is no match for Chaos You know the end... The Beast Will feast

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Dec 31, 2011

Dec 31, 2011 at 6:48 PM UTC

Feast

He was not beautiful. Unlike the others, those spectacular animals That grew exotic, wild He was cultivated carefully Handicaps tied to a splint Hold him up and covered in burlap --Milkfed-- Long ago, he had played his card for Unique And got a handful of Subtle Wrongness Poor thing, pitiful and susceptible to the hunt, Described remotely in their ****** chant A sign, a portent dropped With ominous carelessness It's inevitable-- Gross ineptitude, even without the physical weakness, Is no match for Chaos You know the end... The Beast Will feast

19

I am ready I disobey the god's revival And trash the odds of my survival Unlike my mother, and her mother before her, I refuse to dabble in caution craft forevermore Second sight seductive suasion My vaulting vision sans precision Harlot harbinger I am of endless happenstance Sterilized with indecision C'mon, baby-bomb, take a chance I am ready, now, To throw everything here away It's all just trash and trials treacherous Earlier today I had a fever dream-- Of waking in another place The sun fracturing the skin on my face (But still I laugh to dance blind And kiss the cyan sky) I dream Of the tandem-lipped tides that vie to taste me Wet finger fringes ******* at my toes displace me Rising up to bring me down (Almost makes me want to drown) ...but here my bubble won't burst Here it freezes first and dies of thirst And so I am ready To dance dollars out of rich Japanese businessmen For paradise I can translate all their yen It doesn't matter If I slither for our supper Or whether we sleep indoors tonight Islands wild with abandon We could be living radical and random We could be living freezer-burn free An outbound invite to jaded shade This golden opportunity (Hourglass sands swallowed by the sea) The spiders of the rainforest are calling creepy And queer, sustain and dim to disappear Echoes of whispers from the ancient banyan tree Calling me....

0

Nov 12, 2011

Nov 12, 2011 at 9:25 PM UTC

A Declaration of Independence

I am ready I disobey the god's revival And trash the odds of my survival Unlike my mother, and her mother before her, I refuse to dabble in caution craft forevermore Second sight seductive suasion My vaulting vision sans precision Harlot harbinger I am of endless happenstance Sterilized with indecision C'mon, baby-bomb, take a chance I am ready, now, To throw everything here away It's all just trash and trials treacherous Earlier today I had a fever dream-- Of waking in another place The sun fracturing the skin on my face (But still I laugh to dance blind And kiss the cyan sky) I dream Of the tandem-lipped tides that vie to taste me Wet finger fringes ******* at my toes displace me Rising up to bring me down (Almost makes me want to drown) ...but here my bubble won't burst Here it freezes first and dies of thirst And so I am ready To dance dollars out of rich Japanese businessmen For paradise I can translate all their yen It doesn't matter If I slither for our supper Or whether we sleep indoors tonight Islands wild with abandon We could be living radical and random We could be living freezer-burn free An outbound invite to jaded shade This golden opportunity (Hourglass sands swallowed by the sea) The spiders of the rainforest are calling creepy And queer, sustain and dim to disappear Echoes of whispers from the ancient banyan tree Calling me....

42

Before you spun the translucent filaments around your body To seal your scars, so that they may stay fresh You opened your mouth with your fingers across the signals And sent me a packet of code that said: Stay.Away.From.Me. I withered and died, completely slain A corpse that can still weep Every ******* day— Like a road that leads into a wall Like a snake eating its own face. And I threw myself around Into frivolous hours, empty words I choked on spite to say Strange faces culled from a few stupid lines Things wanted, terrible with the meaningless Hopeful wolves, perfectly politely slavering But the bare harlotry of my mourning is mute and blind Perfectly politely proof and void Perfectly.fucking.ruined. All you had to do was drop One Word and I could have stopped I would have died happy, but No— With the cheering of a sadistic crowd at my back I grip the filthy saddle between my knees Unable to even express my disgust The evisceration of my eloquence, complete.

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Nov 3, 2011

Nov 3, 2011 at 8:37 PM UTC

Stay Me, Dear Ruin

Before you spun the translucent filaments around your body To seal your scars, so that they may stay fresh You opened your mouth with your fingers across the signals And sent me a packet of code that said: Stay.Away.From.Me. I withered and died, completely slain A corpse that can still weep Every ******* day— Like a road that leads into a wall Like a snake eating its own face. And I threw myself around Into frivolous hours, empty words I choked on spite to say Strange faces culled from a few stupid lines Things wanted, terrible with the meaningless Hopeful wolves, perfectly politely slavering But the bare harlotry of my mourning is mute and blind Perfectly politely proof and void Perfectly.fucking.ruined. All you had to do was drop One Word and I could have stopped I would have died happy, but No— With the cheering of a sadistic crowd at my back I grip the filthy saddle between my knees Unable to even express my disgust The evisceration of my eloquence, complete.

23

I disgust myself This weakness I have for it all For meaning, for connection, For the Great Him The need to constantly be keyed Up and into words bigger than me My hormones are more than happy to oblige And the not so subtle subterfuge Sucker that I am Aware but still hopeless But I eat every last morsel Cut small to fit my childish mouth A mouth that can do Very Mature Things A mouth that can honestly lie to herself ***** please.

0

Nov 3, 2011

Nov 3, 2011 at 3:14 PM UTC

Modus Operandi

I disgust myself This weakness I have for it all For meaning, for connection, For the Great Him The need to constantly be keyed Up and into words bigger than me My hormones are more than happy to oblige And the not so subtle subterfuge Sucker that I am Aware but still hopeless But I eat every last morsel Cut small to fit my childish mouth A mouth that can do Very Mature Things A mouth that can honestly lie to herself ***** please.

15

Sweetheart--singles' night Slick fake leather dream. The long pink cigarette choked between Passion-fire red top And hell bent bottom lip Delicious breath-- A car crash in your eyes. The spike-heeled goddess who never loved roses. You show your eye teeth in that Slo gin smile. Those thighs of yours speak to me In another illegal language A freight train made of flesh.

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Oct 30, 2011

Oct 30, 2011 at 12:46 PM UTC

Carnivore

Sweetheart--singles' night Slick fake leather dream. The long pink cigarette choked between Passion-fire red top And hell bent bottom lip Delicious breath-- A car crash in your eyes. The spike-heeled goddess who never loved roses. You show your eye teeth in that Slo gin smile. Those thighs of yours speak to me In another illegal language A freight train made of flesh.

13