"ashing" poems
The snowy lilies gird her pith - in wake;
bejewelled love reposed in truest sleep
as Floras' wreath outdone by sorrow's make,
then thought; what comfort worth are stems - to weep?
Could petals glint upon her sombre plume
and sorb bereaving rain - of mourning kin,
or priestly Latin's timbre out of gloom
and Schuberts' toned refrain - a lighter hymn.
Although, a striking; flowered plush pervades
as fragrance spliced with copal - yields in heart
and over each an ashing pyre cascades,
begotten times and seasons - death not part.
Embraced the blossoms, now upon her lay;
a sweeten lilly - kissed by loves defray.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 1:05 AM UTC
The bodied lilly fires in ashing haze
and from her amber embers I devolve,
into a weeping candle - churning maize;
an orb at night, alight to my absolve.
Remorse suffused with jasmine glazes woe
as moonlight trailings battle hue my grief
for left no infant child to mirror so -
my lover's petals, ceasing lines of leaf.
Nor have, I flare to scribe a marbled ode
that could so hymn or bear my love that shared
nor stone as cold as grey, be just; that owed
the flaming satin, fate had not so spared.
Then let this writ incense - her newly form
until my vigil dims; to death's reform.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 2:54 AM UTC
i tried to eat my whole heart raw once.
but i could not stomach it. could not stomach the noxious ventricles down my throat, could not swallow the bollus of unfleshly pink carnage.
so i broke it into pieces and i blamed you instead, because it seemed easier to say you broke me than to say that i ever loved you.
i.
this is how you broke me :
whenever i thought of you ******* her i would think of dying inside.
dying is a blessing.
dying is the movie that i am too young to watch but too old to resist. dying is divinity, it is paradisical death in slow motion, an entity mushrooming in between the eyes of a decaying rabbit. it is tears being ****** back into the eyes of a small girl, legs apart, ***** ripped, the fruitlessness of futility bleeding out like saliva from a mouth. dying is being idle, dying is being able to think without questioning existence, dying is a moth, paled by smoke.
it is that tuesday night i promised myself i would never write again
if all i wrote was about you.
ii.
this is how i broke myself :
whenever i thought of you dying inside her, i would think of *******
******* is a blessing.
******* is the reason an orchid can sing without a stigma. ******* is the malformation of your tongue when you say " i hate myself, because i hate you, but i hate you more. ". ******* is about three blocks away from love. ******* and love are probably secret **** buddies. ******* is saying you love her. ******* is saying you love me. ******* is that heart-shaped bruise that you left on my wrist, that tuesday night you ***** me and called it love. ******* is telling me i am not her.
this disposition of 'her', the realisation she plays a better 'her', than i play 'her', the realisation that she stole 'her' from me, when'her' was a dream both of us could hope to fake.
iii.
why people are kept broken:
you once told me, while ashing out a cigarette on my neck,
"it is better to stay broken so nothing else can ever break you again."
Feb 19, 2011
Feb 19, 2011 at 3:06 PM UTC
I drive all day
I drive all night
I drive to pray
I drive to fight
I drive
To survive
I drive
To thrive
I drive
Through lies
To criticize
**** eating flies
To minimize
My nocturnal cries
I drive until my hands bleed
No time to road sign read
I must satisfy my movement greed
Until I gain a glorious lead
And I may finally be envied
I drive all day
I drive all night
I drive through rain
To see the light
I drive through blame
To see who's right
I try to stay in my lane
But traffic is tight
I hear a car horn refrain
That's this road's blight
I drive until I hallucinate
But these visions are great
Much better than my fate
And as the hour gets late
The visions determine my state
I drive all day
I drive all night
I drive into clay
Once I lose sight
My car tires
Wrapped in barbed wire
Engine on fire
Like a funeral pyre
The ride has become shaky
From all the bumps I'm taking
In this massive bet I'm staking
That I'll brake before breaking
I drive until I fall asleep
Drifting down this pavement creek
But instead of crashing
Like a cigarette ashing
I fade away without a sound
Into the blacktop ground
And realize I love my car
After we traveled so far
But this revelation comes too late
As I approach heaven's toll gate
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC
I will not hide despite the cameras in the sky, nor will i fear the satellites or Internet spies, and i will fight, and i will fight, as to not comply to the lies that co-hearse the norm, into standing idly by, in malformed, and twisted histories, twisting history, into a pearled vision of ministries giving eulogy, to enemies of the light, using light to blind the masses, before the flashes of infertility begin emanating from the cities, under the unity of, We The People, turned predator, under better sedatives that are better delivered, straight to the dream, or belief, of, or in anything.
Dare to dream, turn a blind eye to everything, or just something else, assigned children, or stolen wealth, while warmly held, in foggy hostilities, of those you rarely see, while soldiers of the peace, protect the streets, with covered faces, and powder burned fingers, lingering just out of reach, from the stones that burn the armored cars SAWing through the crowds, with the pulsing sound, of a million hell hounds, hell bound, machine gunning the bodies on the ground, for the pale riders, feeding on the dark horse, on course for a four course meal, leaving hopeless poses, of crying corpses, ashing in the wind of their trail.
Its our blood of defeat that lines the streets with the feed for the beast, as well as that same blood that feeds our victory, as we shall be exactly on time for the end, and the beginning.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 1:44 AM UTC
First flame of rebellion
Cough of wrong
Tip ashing like laughs coming
The paper peels back
Like stress of mind
With each
P U F F
Inhale
B L O W
Smoke curls
And fans as beautifully
As the faces around you
Conversating in the cold
Intellect Intelligence
Swavely sung as we **** on our sticks of
Death
Youth burning brighter
Than the ember incinerating the innards of
Our rolled false freedom
The night grows old
As our fingers feel the
Stinging heat
Of a bud burned out
As exhausted eyes blink
We tap our packs
And tuck them sweetly into pockets
As mothers to children
We leave one another with
An ancient bad taste dry on our tongues
Returning to our traditional lives
To complain the same as always
Until tomorow evening
Repeat
Repeat
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
"just think of all the things
that the whales and dolphins could teach us"
she says
ashing her cigarette
with a cheeky grin
happy mother's day
pizza and beer and tequilla
and all that i can think
is how proud it makes me
to know that she's the home i came from
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
(A) gloomy night with the rain falling on my
(B)ack, yet you're not here, you're never here. Please, just get in your
(C)ar. Come to my place, meet me at the
(D)iner where we first met. Turns out, it's
(E)xactly how we left it. And that's not even
(F)air, because we aren't how we used to be when we first
(G)ot here. We're different now, we drifted and you no longer love me and it feels like
(H)ell. Because I still love you. I always loved you. You were always my one and
(I) loved you. But that's the past, and now I'm
(J)ust a figment of your imagination- who the hell have I been
(K)idding? I was just a passing thought, the
(L)ittle rain droplet on the window that you follow, but,
(M)arvelously,
(N)ever remember.
(O)h lover, come to my place. I can make you your favorite kind of
(P)ancakes. I still remember how you
(Q)uestioned if I was ever really alive. I suppose you have your answer now.
(R)un, run far away because you're over me, but I still remember your middle name.
(T)ucker, your middle name was tucker and your first name was as
(U)nique and beautiful as you are. Do you remember how I would kiss your freckles? You'd get embarrassed, but that was my favorite kind of
(V)ernacular. Your cute, embarrassed language was so enticing, and I longed to hear you speak. The rain is falling on my back, and you're not here. That's probably a good thing. The rain is falling and its
(W)ashing away what remains of you from my
(X)enophobic skin. You're washing away and I'm so glad it finally happened.
(Y)ou're gone, you're ******* gone. You've been gone for a while now, you left a while ago, but it was me, who refused to let go of something so disgusting and yet somehow still amazing. You're gone now. You're gone, and I finally feel completely,
(Z)aftig.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC
Lightning lashes
At the night sky,
Splitting clouds
Over this unholy
City of ancient gods,
And I peer at the
Ashing remains
Of civilisation
Once mighty,
Now can be
Summed up
In a yelp
And a
Groan.
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 1:06 AM UTC
friday morning,
we wake up hungover
from last night's binge drinking,
because even though we love our jobs,
no one really wants to work for their entire lives,
when so many things are unanswered,
perverted, and misconstrued.
hashtag all of those millennial catchphrases,
to garner hearts from your friends
who you haven't seen in years,
friends who work in San Fran,
Chicago, Greenwich Village.
crank up your laptop speakers,
as Neon Indian's Polish Girl
plays that **** synth,
and take a drag from a P-Funk,
before your Grandma hits your
shoulder with the newspaper daily—
right after she speaks in Vietnamese,
asking you what is your name,
because she has Alzheimer’s.
but in these social media days,
isn't everything that is worth mentioning to your sister,
everything that is worth fighting for,
everything that is ****** in this world,
on the internet (maybe, just Twitter tbh).
screenshot the cat meme you like,
save it,
share it,
move on.
if only she wasn't allergic to cats,
maybe it could have worked out.
that was 7 years ago.
*** ova it. Then, mix your red bull with your coffee,
because the next 10 hours of your life,
will be revolving around caring about people
other than your ungrateful and ingratiating ***
don't cry,
when I say good-bye.
stay for a while, under the shade of the rooftop
where the deejay spins Frank Ocean
and Frank Sinatra records,
as everyone is drinking scotch, or Yuengling,
and ashing over the veranda bansister,
; the bad boys try to open their souls
to the good girls. and the bad girls,
reveal too much to the good boys.
we devoured those drugs, as though
they were jelly beans from a convenience store,
and then we broke into the store
and ate some more.
break the coals on top of the hookah,
puff, puff, pass—
inhale, exhale,
fit the deformed piece
back into the Dinosaur puzzle,
and crawl back into bed,
pull the covers over
your trembling body,
shut your eyes,
and reflect,
for the day is heavy with regret
and unsaid things.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 2:43 PM UTC
Please grasp me,
press me to your chest.
Hush my frenzied inhalations,
I can bear this pain no longer.
Dip your fore-finger,
across the roughed wake,
of my cheek.
Blot away the trauma.
Rest your chin
dangle its weight
my head -jeering-
screeching
little girl-
clutches her temples.
It flickers, clarifies.
Back and forth,
Rocking, in fragmented, jerking
motions- her underweight
figure slammed along.
Blood purges with each
maddened- hoarse gurgles
the spittle deposits at
the overhang of her lip.
Snagged in the animosity,
of gnawing, writhing inhumanity.
TASTE IT rusted copper
An ashing purple, crusty
and running over engorged rims
of milky cocoa.
Darling, tip out your tongue,
lap up the shrivels
of failed organs and deprived marrow.
Images, flicker.
Pulse, with the steady
throb of an aching yawn.
shift
Reality sweltering
Chilled moisture scoffs-
the nape of your neck.
Muddled, focus,
focus.
honing in
back-
and-
forth.
Rocking back and forth,
no good.
Not good enough.
No help.
Flicker
malicious snarls.
Fluctuating horror,
impales your upper thigh.
-SILENCE-
Whispering -hush-
-hush-
don't
let him hear
hush
whispers
Make it STOP
whispers
-hush hush-
help
ME
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 8:00 PM UTC
this all could have been mine
geometric shape wallpaper
and dashes, dots on my sheets
mom making my bed
smoking non-filtereds
and staring in the direction of
old globes and stuffed squirrels
posters of campuses i should i have attended
shirt no pants
no shirts
scribbling something partially worth reading
legs crossed
listening to that song for the fiftieth time
ashing on the floor
waiting by the phone for you and only you
but this isnt home
i didnt grow up here
i slept here
i embraced those who meant something
i giggled till tears
dripped into my oil paints
but even watered down they were made of use
a spring in this bed is
right the **** up my ***
springy is what they call me now
ill scrape those stickers off
a six inch blade till dawn
and i would be no closer
to those days where i cheesed
where you begged for me
where i began to loose myself
where i became less of a person
and more of a character to you all
cartoonish
no
my home is not here
and if you try to get me to own
a single element of it all
ill decry it
i know its not healthy
but i was thinking
that i could make up the difference
in my bedroom
not only with my hands on you
a gentle graze
or light and deserving
application of the pucker
but with my pen to pulp
and a gush to the world
so that a secret might
be known to us all
not just me
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
I can't feel a thing, sitting beneath another cold wind.
Smoking an ******** note,
Slips between your moan.
Watching the night take another one.
Ashing a toxic sigh, yet the morning smiles.
And I keep ignoring sleep,
Who catches my darlings dreams.
Till I take another drag
Till I close the door
And take a ride on a cosmic lore.
Believe me, its peaceful under the moonlight.
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 4:13 AM UTC
Leaves die in the fall,
and I’m that cold wind.
Cancer that kills
all cells within.
Everything I touch
just wilts with a nudge
as glares and smiles
all start to judge.
When the sun finally rises
and winter’s away
grass in the fields
all raise to the day.
But my back yard withers.
All sad to see,
everything I touch
dies to its knees.
Beautiful, but yet
with a touch it is crumbled.
Unknown to me,
my touch only stumbles.
Loosening the dirt
with sweet talk of a dove.
So quick into lust.
So quick into love.
When all is settled.
At last a right pair.
That match lights in flames,
ashing in-to thin air.
This winter’s a cold one,
as the cancer spreads thick.
Clenching last breathes,
and killing so quick.
A life so familiar,
Living’s a tease.
Everything I touch
dies to its knees.
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
The taste of cigarettes has become a trigger
tugging on my memories of intimacy with women
the mere thought alone of smoking is ***
I smoke a lot
lighting that cigarette with fire
inhaling that smoke
that sensation tingling through my veins
exhaling then inhaling
again and again and again
sometimes inhaling deeper
and exhaling slower
I love to watch the smoke plume out of my mouth
and linger in the air
it's such an intriguing contrast
between the oxygen and smoke
though sometimes I get lost in it,
this cloud of death
and see it bigger than it is
sometimes I forget to breathe
this is a habit of mine
pretending that I don't need air
I sit there motionless
as the veins in my neck
begin to protrude out from under my skin
and my head becomes heavy,
too heavy to keep up straight,
and my mind becomes light
then, as always, I open my mouth
and voraciously inhale some oxygen
I guess there's just something in me that wants to breathe.
A beautiful woman walks across the street in front of me
*** ignite, inhale, exhale
I turn up the music in my headphones
then, she makes eye contact with me with this look in her eyes
it was deeper than what was in between her thighs
and as if she could hear the music in my head
the flow of her body as she walked away swayed to its rhythm
this seemingly insignificant moment turned into something beautiful
it was euphoric
this simple acknowledgement of exsistence
of which I had experienced so many times before
had become enough to distract me.. . to distact me. ..
to distract me from the cigarette in my hand
which was now ashing itself
there was nothing ****** about it yet the after effect felt just as good
but it was a different kind of good
a good I could only feel from that moment alone
I looked down at my cigarette, now half gone
and contemplated on whether I should finish it or not
I stood up and walked to the edge of the sidewalk
and as I threw the un-finished cigarette down into the gutter
I realized that
Life is ***
there are so many things out there to ****
so many thoughts to ****
so many vibrations to ****
and I would like to **** for a very long time.
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 1:21 PM UTC
we'd drive long hours, longer than my stretched out hair,
until the air was absent of pines
until we were far over the leering mountains like snaggle teeth,
jutting out, sharp, distantly lavender.
classic rock would blare from the speakers,
almost crunchy in our palms,
like old, dried flowers,
and walls of heat would slam
solid.
our clothes would be in napping, crumpled, piles
and sunlight like gold coins would spill through the
open windows,
resting on our skin like afternoon breath;
light and hungry.
our fingers would be nesting like slender birds
on the doors, leather burning our palms,
hands holding various types of cigarettes,
thumbs periodically ashing
into the screaming, sweating wind.
the summer was a woman
giving birth.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC
Drinking wine from water bottles
Losing the feeling of upper class
It is just another bottle to dive into
The haunted house on Kirby road
The single lit candle in the abandoned bathroom
Dogs barking on chains
Signs screaming private property
Driving through graveyards
Ashing on the dead
In small towns the gas meters don’t matter
As the youth hunt for fear
Disturbing the peace to find
The little girls grave.
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
I never live like the best,
ashing this Snicklefritz blunt on my chest,
let those little embers burn and make a mess
because the pain is better than stress
that threatens to envelope my life
I'm sick of a 9 to 5
ruining all my clothes for a paycheck
that's worth less than a dime in the times
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
cigarettes still taste a little like our last kiss — like it's 5 am again and we were stuck in rusty rooftops, waiting for the break of dawn, or for the other to initiate the kiss. that being said, i always wished that 5 am's lasted longer, and that cigarettes burned longer, and that we kissed longer. but before we knew it, the sun had risen and there we were, ashing our cigarettes on the floor, kissing our last kiss. but here i am, darling — yours for the breaking; my cigarettes, yours for the taking — so kiss me again. break me again. leave me again.
say goodbye to me, darling. say goodbye, just once again.
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 8:09 AM UTC
Red
do you remember the way his words were like the plague on your skin, and how you compared yourself to burning wood; crackling and ashing all around you. can you remember the combustion in your eyes that was put out by the sprinklers from your face; he's chasing you around the table with hostility in his fists; there's red on the ground. Ring around the rosy isn't as fun as it used to be.
Orange
do you remember loving the way others laid their hands upon you? but it will never be quite the same as the sweet taste of his knuckles, kisses- are what he called them. when he finds another has laid his hands on you, he kisses you with great passion and rage. sprinting after you, come out come out wherever you are. tag, you're it.
Yellow
can you remember when you woke up in your closet, hide and seek is so fun with him. there were yellow lilies by my bedside, I just know he loves me. he left me a note, "another round?" I pick the petals off the flower and lay them around me, covered in yellow sugary pollen they whisper to me "he loves you, he loves you not" don't worry, he'll find out soon enough.
Green
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, get down from there they yell. it's going to take a lot to put her back together they say in a clamor. you jump down and stain your white pants from the puddles and the grass waiting at the bottom for you. all the kings horses and the kings men could never make her smile again.
Blue
rock a bye baby you sing to me, please oh please don't put me to sleep. these black and blue kiss marks are screaming out, others might hear, what should I tell them, should I shout? I pace around the room, he says to you, hush little baby don't you cry, your bough did break and your cradle will fall.
Indigo
there's a time where we try to reclaim our youth because of overwhelming nostalgia, dreaming in children's games and nursery rhymes. things are not always as they seem in the dollhouse, this is a sadness much deeper than any other, if you asked me to name it I would tell a story of a deeper shade of blue, an indigo of sorts, but people are not toys and I will not be your puppet anymore.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
Time? Its 9:00
Driving to town
You're happy to finally see an old friend
You call her your girl
Pulling over into a convenient store lot
You check your phone
Something came up
She canceled
Sadness fills you
So you text a friend
Earlier he said you two would hang out
But he canceled too
You begin to feel lonely
You message a bunch of people and no one responds
A cigarette finds its way to your lips and its lit
A walk around town
Dark and empty, you only see a few cars go by
What time? Its nearly 10:30
You're all alone
Sad, frustrated, lonely
All by yourself
You realize you've gotten to your second smoke
You keep walking
Brief moments you can see your feet and the walk way in front of you
The night is empty
The street lights are dull
Infrequent
The pavement under you chills your feet
A chill that creeps up the bones of your legs
Creeping
Until the hand ashing that cigarette is shivers
Back at your car
Time? 10:20
Your phone lights up
You're blinded by its light
A message
A stranger? A guy? A friend?
Someone you know
He "hits you up"
You know what he means
You're hesitant, but lonely
So lonely
The street light pass, like a drunk strobe light
Off and on, off and on
You can make out the worn and shaking hands on the steering wheel
You don't know how, but you're in the car, a block from his house, before it hits you
You feel sick
Lonely and sick
You're there
A dim light
A couch
Cold again, you're laying down
Now you hurt
Lonely, sick, and hurting
The world moves in rhythm
Back and forth
The dim light is a haze as your eyes unfocus to block out the world and its rhythm
Time? Its 11:15
Cold again the rhythm changes
You want to cry but can't
You haven't been able to in a long time
The third cigarette is smoked
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 10:01 PM UTC
2/17/2015
last Thursday, the snow came
down on Nassau street
and the ludlow alley
by the record shop
It came down in flurries
goosedown down on streets
where, in the spring,
students balance 12 packs
help us out!
And in the fall
they're not to be seen.
"Sir," I ask
stepping out from where
my friends drink flat whites
and chocolate lattes.
"Can I *** off you?"
i grab the Marlboro and walk away
It's funny how people suddenly
notice how cold it is outside
when you're out there alone.
**** little lady
it is cold outside isn't it?"
and "aren't ya cold, girl?"
a David Bowie leaks out of the record
store when someone opens the door
to leave or go in ? I don't remember.
"yes, it is cold," I reply, ashing.
"aren't you outside too?"
"Well.." The men
have no business talking to me
of course.
"Do you have a ride home?"
"Goodbye," I twirl on the stomped cigarette
go back into the café
say hello to my friends
and watch the pedestrians
scurry out like weevils
in the goosedown, which
I can only see because of the
Orange lamplight.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 1:30 PM UTC
I wonder
If I was at a party and
Our eyes locked as strangers
Would I keep on walking to
The window I was ashing my
Cigarette at?
To the table with the liquor
Placed on it?
To the music device I was
Tinkering with?
Never to second glance at your
Camouflage veneer?
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 11:12 PM UTC
*nothing as reckless as a feigned indifference, reckless with a negative connotation- that is-
a pretended falseness and concealment of passion, obsession, a love….
inconsiderate of a universe’s ability to destruct, to ****** away any given scenario, to wipe clean the gravity between two souls, two minds, too much gambled. too large of a bet. high risk little return, no return.
none at all.*
we bathe in sorrow hoping it lightens to laughter.
ashing cigarettes on our skin, dexterity
laziness in us all
leaving coffee black
leaving ashes paraphernalia of the love I burnt
with fists that turned cold, so cold, unclenched
a melancholy weeping for the sighs of metal breath.
an injection of remorse, what’s it quenching? what’s it worth?
what’s it asking? what’s it taking?
are we sinning? are we praying?
where’s the Dying end, where’s it stop,
tonic, what’d it tell you? did your analeptic 'screaming-to-the-ceiling' testify to the woes endured by a life on earth, a life lugged through, broken by its intricacies
we’re all on hands and knees
singing, sobbing, pleading, throbbing
it’s a beauty in the dead leaves, the Fallen I feel badly for, a reaching sympathy,
beyond what my hands express
we embody selfish bringings
bursts of breath
balloons of noise of gasps of the lapse preceding death
is it hypocritical to enjoy the lack of closure, the abrupt ending, keeping bottles kept?
the myriad of leaving
the method to Drinking
heavy heaving
stumbling cross-legged through this party of contemplating Permanence, a greying breeding
*i imagine a man heading a room ceasing noise not having to demand it no, rather whispering, whispering streams of thought of consciousness.... or the lack of it
on buzzing fragments of philosophy and rationale.....
or the lack of it*
the lack of a sounding foundation
the lack of a solid grounding of a planned pathway of a plan at all,
bottomless to the Bottom of the top of the
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 2:53 PM UTC