Pen Lux

Pen Lux Jul 2014

Some Hesse for your morning, "Only the ideas that we truly live have any value."

Interestingly enough,
impulse has led it's course.
Repeating the same things,
makes my throat go hoarse.
Each life has so many reasons,
for the consequences they receive.
Keep that
bright
penny
horn
beam
locked in the seems.
Counting dollars for whiskey
instead of the corpse bleeding
holding the beating
of
your
silly
little
heart.

Keep counting your days,
please try
and leave it
at one day
each day
at a time.

leaving
won't keep retreating
the movement of your
crime

yeah you've got
the same girl and
you're still just much too shy.
well look here mate,
I saw your date,
but she's not as
great as mine.

so fine. and charming,
it feels alarming.
trying not to make waste
but to continue the chase
is not an attempt of mine.
I find myself caught
in a bind.

that moment
that meaning
it was nothing more than feeling
the same things I felt, when I felt
like someone else. Today, I feel,
and I am someone else, each day
is today! let's meet someone else
so we can truly be ourselves. Or
just take it away
to a new found place,
because if you go I won't stop you,
I don't mind change. Interesting,
as it was. I find I'm truly alive.
Feeling new things, breathing,
no rings!
I avoided as much that simplicity brings,
I'd never get so attached to such constricting things.
snakes on the loose, cut up and wet, soaking in the
moisture of their guts in their rut.

Not a place to be having
company to boot.
we're all caught in dining
in this strangling root.

cut the cords while I'm dreaming,
I want to rest in peace.
soon nothing but blue water
blue skys and blue brains,
this is all a romantic drama
that blew through my veins.

who could have knew, who would have known?
it's morning and it's raining, let's stay inside all day.
keep away                                                    keep away,
                         the time to play is over.
keep away

                                               keep away.

Thanks to all the people that read and enjoy or critique my poetry. Expression is awesome.

Jul 2014

Third Eye Candy

how it loves

the heart,
and how it loves,
i cannot say.
but you forgive
me.
i cannot know the untamed thing
as much as feel
it's sting-
and I have no god to approach...
to reconcile the
irony.
only the pit
in me.
only the furnace of lost moons.
the ****
jewels
of nightfall,
and nothing
else.
i keep the squalor of our opulent hearts
in heavenly hovels !
i denote the flat note
in a fife's
throat -
and blow the trumpet
of silent
things.

so...

how
it loves,
is lost to
me.
but i burn more
constantly
than I forgive
it

empty.

full of
you.

Pen Lux Jul 2014

splloossshhh

pale
unprepared
another sunrise
waiting for sunset
the heat just wont
let up today
don't want to go
outside, just
want to
light up.

Pen Lux Jun 2014

classified

octopus legs
graze against
a wolf through the haze
passion's ablaze
howling to the moon
in the dimmest of
lights, bodies
stacked and
curving
laying together
in their dark
masses
two animals
intertwine,
intoxication closed
deep in their eyes.

fingers say more than mouths do
words no longer a language that
needs to be spoken.

committing to another work
that is more playful
than painful
and
the outcome
much more satisfying than a
paycheck.

a day when there is no sun
without the moon
because neither wants to
outshine the other.

complimenting each others
form, differences abound
in the sounds of their
creating, maintaining
a life force is more of
a course than a lecture,
writing turns to writhing
as the pens are dropped
to their feet, exposing
much more than
intellectual property woven
into each layer of the room
intermediate communication
is over
revealing all the answers in the
prose.
learning history is repeating
as summer leaves you overheating
the animals which are overflowing
the surface will soon become extinct.
we only have time for actions
there's no more need to re-think.

Pen Lux Jun 2014

stealing work

another day
picking at
my face
wondering
if I'm of this race
because last time
I closed my eyes
I could swear I
wasn't meant
to be human
wasn't built
for all of the
pain, inflicted
because of, or
to me. these
hands were
granted to me
by the grace
accidents
can become.

these hands
create, hate,
releasing
explosions
of alien
emotions.
that's not normal
for a person to hate
all that they create
that's not normal
to destroy yourself
because of a mistake
can't help but miss
and take,
hate for love
as a higher-up
to build your
heart up
from
where you
broke it down.

love can be so weak
love can be so weak
love makes me so weak...
what once was my power
now reeks of defeat, as do I...
yet hate makes me think,
makes me reek just as much,
there's only pain in holding a grudge...
but to be human is to feel both
and I want to feel neither
to be numb and to dissipate
before another explosion.

Is love
the true power
of a human...?
because I'm drowning in it
and the path I see out
is a shore of hate.

Pen Lux Jun 2014

slithering in the heat

darkness of the mind
fire in the heart
my desire
is
my destruction

within the forests of my breasted figure
lies a dormant snake
sprouting fear in my dreams
leaving me empty
aside from memories in my wake
all of the blue I once knew
suddenly bursting into flame

it's time to face what I create
a pair of emerald eyes
unblinking-unthinking
another of the deepest mud
unrevealing
no longer feeling
the last
most terrifying & candied eyes
butterscotch & bloodshot
looking upward to the crescent in the sky
seeing new colors
saying
goodbyes

six eyes
on three heads
sprouting from a body
made of
snow
curling crystals
jagged and etched
along the slender creatures form
hunger tries to consume
this beast
"what is love,"
the fire asks,
"save for a wet & bloodied feast?"

the snake uncurls
as if ready to latch on to it's prey
then soon after
bolts away

the heartbeat of fire:
much too loud in it's calmness
to be frightened by
hunting snow
with intentions to consume
such a succulent meat
will the snake evaporate in the heat of desire
or
will the fire be smoking
in it's failure
to catch the slithering beast?

frightened with a calmness
death is in the air
in the stare
of all
six
sick
& wicked eyes

the fire muses
in it's confusion
of what's right or wrong
the hunt is no longer a game
life and death
no longer simply names
realities of fortune
and lacking
just the same
the snow and the ice
too weak to face this flame

predictions of
when the snake melts down
to nothing but water and bones
she'll gather the crusted crystals of desire
she so often used to admire
used to hold
in a heart of stone

a different destiny to behold
if the snake
were to win
the burnt paper of her skin
would
go grey in the wind
no more
flames
no more
spark
heart grown
dark
and weary

what torture could send the snakes tongue
down her throat and lick the flame
into an outrage of misplaced
words
that held nothing save for demands
in those hands
the blood had stained
how much of how little could last
no more of the new
in the end
what is left is
all that has passed

snake and flame
forever
in cycle
recycling their pain
until
neither remain