La Jongleuse

La Jongleuse Jun 2013

Untitled

The way things were when
sunlight started to terrorize the morning
and then eventually, the evening sky.
My chest thumped at a glacial pace.
A slow hibernating thaw.
Those days I slept quite easily
whilst my mind ran away with the time.
Taking time with clowns & thieves alike.
Sponges indeed, sponges after all.
You crept in one night, hanging moons beneath your eyes.
I had exploded.
I closed.
On the loom, black lace then white cotton.
In my room, a screaming then a humming.
Cigarettes scattered the floor like sacrifices to some distant deity.
Who must have heard my prayers.
Something about all your silence
threw blankets on my lungs
and off my bed.
In your youth,
I feel soft.
Joy, I want more
just you.
you. you. you
&

La Jongleuse Jun 2013

(smoke signals)

endless people in the red room,
spinning, a massive trap abloom
just spiders on acid, wrapping up their prey

the twinkling chandelier hung,
i’d like to hang about, maybe hang myself
dim the lights & let the Fools’ charade progress

glass drinks & the vapid women,
all with waists that shrink
drink, drink, they’ll skip their dinners

i’ll be choking in the corner,
hugging the wall or some nameless one
it doesn’t really matter at this point

scene bloated with endless empty words,
the hall set ablaze by this social abyss
crawling up the wall like vines with claws *

there are holes everywhere
let me pass the hour blowing smoke rings
lest the poison I contain be spilt *

lest the walls crumble
lest the clocks tell the time
lest the song repeats

La Jongleuse May 2013

refract

We lived and died in the age of flowers
Whiskey on our lips,
Whispers on our lips,

I was a little too quick,
a little too quiet,
Your laugh spoke worlds to me.

& although I did not speak your tongue
When you made movements of words,
I swear I felt the earth tremble.

We lived and died in the age of flowers,
Love on my lips,
Lies on your lips,

I was a little too open,
a little too brave,
Your mind escaped my own.

& although I could not understand,
When you closed like a fist,
I swear I saw your demons

We lived and died in the age of flowers,
Weeds between those hips,
Goodbye on my lips

La Jongleuse May 2013

props to a performance

Orange peels,
an overstuffed ash-tray,
empty wrappers,
for those capsules
that wake & then
those that hypnotise.
Swallow smoke.

That bitter black drink,
keeps me confident,
that I’m alive.
My heart rattles
in its calcium cage.
Despite the voice
that beckons
“Why go on?”

The looking glass lies
I feel like holding my breath
until I burst…
I feel like wasting away.
Let me shrink
Let me fade away.
Or pass in some
spectacular manner

Orange peels,
Cigarette butts,
Missed phone calls.
***** sheets.
Trembling up to my fingertips.
A seamless motion-
hand to mouth
Always hand to mouth

These are my props,
this is my performance
in permenance.
Oh how I grow tired
Of singing the same old song.
Oh how I grow tired
of singing

La Jongleuse May 2013

the ides of March

That night, I’d swear I was 19 again
dodging, dancing, dodging you,dancing,
while the acid in my stomach
made smitherines of my pride, of my hope,
all that hungry grumbling
i tried my best not to choke
in that high room where
smoke crept in a cloud-like roll
I know this feeling & I’ve been here before

You whisper, were you saying much?
So many words, maybe some meaning?
None of it meant anything in the end
So I spent the night loving someone new,
only hoping to stroke out that primal passion
If I can’t swallow him, please let him swallow me
Now I know,
No one likes to see open minefields like me
Not at twilight, not with quiet smiles
on their drunken lips,
not in stages of recovery,
Or rebellion. April.
I thrashed violently as if something
were closing in on me.
But there was no capture & I was only desperate
to stop feeling.
Anything at all.
I just craved joy.

That morning, the Ides of March
I knew it  was dead, and all this shedding
was just me  trying to rince off the stench.
Alas, the perfume of decomposing beauty
has me running circles about your shadows.
All these spirals, all these cycles
The years march on and I still prefer intoxication
More than anyone I know

La Jongleuse May 2013

effloresce

When night fell, I slept
& dreamt of spring,
flowers; daisies blooming
left & right … but
the colours were askew
& so I asked the moon
to trade places
with the sun.
& she obliged.

But still, in that new light
I felt guilty.
All those red petals
no longer belong to me.
A passerby came along
& I panicked
trying to find a name
for what was clearly a rose.
(there were thorns after all)

I remained speechless,
dug up the flowerbed,
& burnt the remains.
I was only trying to
keep up with appearances.
Those colours
have no place
growing here.

In the field of my mind,
posies of wild-flowers
mostly delicious little daisies,
sometimes those shameful red roses,
I wish the latter would just wilt.

La Jongleuse May 2013

parasite

do you still despise your father
because he had another woman,
& left you & your brother for her?
"oh no, now, no one will ever care"

do you still resent your mother
because she turned a blind eye
& collasped with shame when it came to light?
"oh no, I'll be more unyielding than that"

& so it is no small wonder to me
that when you gaze at yourself
you must see the ***** that you are
you still take his money after all.

that sort of self-disgust must be
pretty hard to swallow, digest.
no wonder, you're always hungry & hollow
oh you'll consume anything he pays for

(I, myself, must admit I made the mistake of
finding an abyss inside a void)

but spaces are not always places
aches are not always pains
I loved you once