The words she paints so gently
Etch my mind
Her voice leaving me stunned
So beautiful and fine
Speaking ever so softly
Sending chills down my spine
She wispers in my ear
Babe are you really mine?
I am yours my love.
Always have been.
Always will be.
Til the end of this universe.
And life as we know it.
I will always be yours.
Some don't believe in forever.
Some don't think about infinities.
My infinty rests with her.
She is my light.
She is my love.
Whispering gently in my ear.
I love you so my dear.
Is that so? I wisper back.
Well beautiful, guess what?
I love you too.
Smoke scintillated by dirty lights
Scent of cheap beer and cigarettes
Arms and legs and heads and butts
In a space ejecting bravado
responding to the auricular bludgeons
plucking veins and boiling blood
arms and legs flailing like spiders
hammered by raindrops
Calloused voices scream through feedback
eking out of anguished amplifiers
while jungle drums synchronize hearts
to their frantic pulse
New friends old friends celebration
in sweaty embraces chanting screaming
stumbling outside the gates of eternity
sidewalk where we gathered round the sordid soapbox
and cast beleaguering gargantuan buildings
and endless cataclysmal streets
to prance along these old sidewalk cracks
stumbling along cigarette butts and beer cans
efflorescing under amative neon lights whose bombinate glow
tingles our skin and dazzles our eyeballs
rolling back into our skulls in the wake of ecstasy
billowing over our ambulant bodies
skipping school on a week day
braving city night life to find us in the nooks
they forgot to sweep out
where trash collects and pretends
to be unwavering and implacable
for a moment
Til it's back on the streets we spill out upon like puke
like the beer sticking to checkerboard floors
and we float home on the feedback high singing in our ears to sleep
dreaming of these ecstasies as something perennial
in punk lover's dreams
Pure when we're filthy.
Not quite a hurricane
but a wind that still blows,
holding love aloft.
I prefer to be behind the scenes
observing the audience
through a chink in the curtain.
I am prophecy self-fulfilled,
but I’ve been before mistaken.
Surprised to learn
they embrace what they kill.
I hate a lot of things and people.
I’m full of hate. Aren’t you?
I hate myself; and, though I don't know you,
I probably hate you too.
I hate a lot,–a whole fucking lot.
At hating no one is greater.
I hate as much as I love and lust:
I’m the very greatest hater!
Backwards, like a sign that's hard to read. Like a leather jacket that's too stiff in the arms but 2 years off the rack. And then the heart explodes in the esophagus. Pieces of young trust comes out all over what the eyes can see, and each body part wants to go back to their respective bed nestling areas. Sometimes, even this little me gets nervous about being vulnerable. You can only burn the velveteen rabbit once.
These are the monkeys of my throat and the dinosaurs that tend to my fingertips. My skin gets leathery before it feels like silk. I don't smell like a motorcycle or sound like the fast lane but I'm not sure if I want to yet. I'm happier not waiting to randomly be reminded of the pain, it's much better to chase down those hydrogen bombs while the cattle prod is still hot and fire-red. Two served and five Peanuts left for playtime. I rather enjoy being a vampire.
This INSET's a successful one
In all aspects that they have planned
With one theme here, through hand and hand
We're all for one, we're all for one
The venue is a perfect place
Here, up and down with all the grace
So beautiful, no time to waste
I want to praise, I want to praise
Our principals and cluster head
Applause to you for what you did
Our dear speakers, you've sown the seeds
You took the lead, you took the lead
The speakers were so excellent
They taught us all with great extent
The knowledge were like message sent
There's no more vent, there's no more vent
Demo-teachers and all us here
We have the smile we need to wear
Please, no more stress and no more tears
The joy is near, the joy is near
I want to say thank you to all
A job well-done, we shall recall
Let's clap our hands, all in this hall
Let's rock and roll, let's rock and roll!
How I’d like to be a man of the people
To write poems that widely spread
To have the public sit up and notice
And nod to every little thing
That I, ever so poetically, care to share
My poems would be talk of the town
In fame and fortune I would bathe
And the public would subtly bow as I walk by
Wondering how I ever so clever
Show what the show’s all about
I would gracefully describe human nature
In a way that everyone would get
I’d share my universal wisdom
The essence of this life
And offer the promise of bliss
There would be nothing I would withhold
From the public I hold so dear
I’d help them cope with love and lust
With pain and loss and death
And all that’s bright and beautiful
But alas, I am no man of the people
And my limits are ever so clear
I myself am an isolated poet
And I fear it’s true what I hear:
That they don’t have a way with poetry, anyway
How do you live here? / who's sins have you / do you forgive yourself / for the sake of what you believe / makes you? / keeps you in momentum / sails unfurled against the clock / How do you live here? / which scars do you show / which ones no one knows? / what parts of your skin were you born in / what parts of your skin are new / drawn over / coloured outside the lines? / what parts of your skin have you always been? / How do you live here? / who's laugh track echoes in your ear / a recording of a long since dead live t.v. show audience / or your now since becoming nameless childhood friends? / How do you live here? / how do you occupy your skin / your sins / your echoes? / what dreams keep you asleep / what dreams keep you awake / what dreams keep you? / How do you live here?