"flourescent" poems
Dito sa Lungsod ng mga siksikang tren
sa umaga at sa gabi ng paglubog sa mga makinarya,
Ang sentro ng pabrikang papel at usok, na buong bilis
sa inaliping katapatan at tapang
ay naninirahan palagi sa piling
ng mga madaming mga ipis at daga.
May nalilimutan na mahalaga tungkol
Sa tahimik na hele ng mga flourescent na ilaw, kaalwanan
ng mga matatayog na pangako ng condo't bagong mga kainan, magagarang mga pabuya.
Mga panibagong mga tagisan ng lakas
sa mga makabagong Coliseum ng Roma,
sa bawat amoy ng dugo at bagong silang.
May tipo ng sukal na wala sa mga gubat, at tunog ng mga
malalakas na putok ng baril na wala sa digmaan.
Tila sa kahit anong panahon, mag-alsa man mismo ang Kalikasan
at magpadala ng Tsunami,
magpalindol at magpaputok ng bulkan
sa panahon ng kakaibang asul at pula na buwan
sa pagkakabuwal ng bagong bilang
ng mga magsasakang sa mga mass-suicide
mula India, Korea, at Pilipinas dahil sa di-pantay
na mga batas kalakalan:
Ipadala man ng mga makata't hukbong
gerilya ang kanilang pinakamatikas at
pinakamatatapat na mga bilang sa mga pagsubok
ng panibagong mga pag-aaral at pagsasapraktika,
maaaring Puting Elepante din ang
hindi sasapat ang kabayaran para sa mga utang
na dapat matagal nang nabura at naigpawan.
Mula sa lakas at pwersa hindi lang ng mga diyos
ng mga sari-saring pampulitikang mga pormasyong nagdidirehe
sa mga kilos ng mga taong kapit na sa patalim,
Kung hindi mula din sa lakas ng mga nangahas mabuhay
at lumikha ng mga paraan para makapagpatuloy na
makapagaral ng sariling pagkamulat:
Ang kaaway na papel na salapi o papel na tigre
ay nilikha din ng tao para din lamang
maunawaan ang mga sariling kahinaan,
mamulat sa mga repleksyon ng mga nagbabagong
sarili sa gitna ng unos, upang matiyak ang yapak at
mabuo ang mga hanay at kahandaan ng mga
unang hawan, at huling mga walis.
Ang mga kalabisan ay para lamang mapatingkad
ang kahinaang dala ng kasaysayang nagluwal,
ang kawalan ng pagpapahalaga sa binubuhay na mga palitan.#
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 2:26 AM UTC
Out on the horizon
A line of glowing green
And the squids all flock towards it
That flourescent glean
What is it to them do you think?
An unknown beacon emitting warmth
Do they think they'll find love
As they all commute north
I suppose they are tricked and trapped and tangled in nets
Blinded by the light
Drawn towards the threat
From the green glowing beacon
Their path was set
Into the end and out of the wet.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC
i felt your flourescent heartbeat
on a ***** southern sidewalk
i was staring at my own barefeet
and i saw your eyes from a hole in the ground
you spoke like wind through the air
your words whirled above the garbage
i found a corpse under the floor last year
i keep my pages padlocked in the basement
my stomach is a pit of decaying pipes and retching waterbongs
you are a monster squid walking silent and sunk in thought
i have your eyeballs in my sheets
i have your memory in my bathroom mirror
i have your legs wrapped around my blue veins
i keep my secrets in a lump of tin
and we will scatter these ashes at dawn
we will fly forward on the western wind together
i am the mouth of the void
i can spurt unimaginable wit directly out of my skull
i contain jars full of indecipherable arrangements
you asked me where the rain came from
and i told you we'd be frozen this way
you left a message beside my pillow
i heard the music of your mind
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 10:16 PM UTC
Take my hand - you've got to
feel fun time's heading
closer
Futuristic daydreams
are at hand -handy!
microchipped wild
boys and girls
on rent - hardly paid off -
dance! Roll the dice!
Flicker eyes!
Adrift on the dimlit
flourescent
effervescent
reflector rays°°°°you're
never lost or at loss;
Coloured circles glide
across the dancefloor______
bouncy boots swoon, high heels
crack, remastered barefoot Tribe~
Enjoys momentary revelations!
Latino lovers attracting
honey dew magnetic more-s
rain coats off - smiley coasts shine on~
those cunning shenanigan freckles
pressed redhair beauties against
needy torsos in ecco-leather jackets
electrified silhouettes stunning
like elves un-fading beauty
transforming tuxedos
of a tight
night; a jingle of
Prague crystals into
one dancing wave submerged
by the vicinity of hissing tongues
-been- beaten by fierce kissing
in a stronghold ballroom
frenzy - polarized
beatings - hi-s and bye-s ; a
stroboscopic syncopation
ecstatic hips,
space shuttle
trips
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
what remains...
charred piles of torn up memories
Exposed fragments bitter and lost.
Your Mortal fire burns
every piece, Deadly in its wake.
Is it ok?
Us, a tumor Malignant in nature, benign in fiction.
Your flourescent blue
engulfs until full
eating away all.
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
Viperous, you lash
your tongue blackening my heart,
Fatal strikes one by one.
A blaze, your eyes bore into my sole,
Threatening to peel away the love.
It's snowing, particles drop to then end, smothering
my lungs arousing,
an Impending thought that we were not to be.
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust.
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 4:30 PM UTC
The sideline view
Of a poet's life.
Topics free falling
In ranks of predictable verse.
Lacking vitality,
Inspirations disperse.
My thoughts wander.
Vibrating to the hum of
Flourescent lights above,
As the cursor blinks
In hypnotic rhythm.
Drawing me into
The pale blank screen
And beyond.
*Falling once again
Into daydreams
Of her golden hair glowing
In Autumns waning light.
Hands merged in a gentle grip
Warming the evening chill
With a soft peck of our lips.*
Longing in stillness,
Attending in silence,
The cursor, again, must wait
The many pensive stages
In a poet's futile task of
Placing verses on pages.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
a decapitated dog put on too many sticks to reach out and bite a child who only wanted to play with a soft touch and gapped holed grin.
the lights go out when you can´t know when, say yes to hold lights for when ´when´ happens ¨you can trip and fall¨.
glasses melted with fire to become bigger for a bigger head are still to dark to wear in shadow.
tilted camera you stare with a corked head curious to what goes on behind me, won´t you look my way instead.
dragonfly warrior poorly protecting his flourescent queen from the onslaught of molecules in a world filled with air, with air, with air, air, air.
the volume of speakers are controlled by tiny gods moving their tiny fingers, just a littly bit louder my dear.
can you remember when landline telephones were used, I remember circle dials and zero always took the longest, when did phone get rid of tele?
white flowers and white hanging sheets with yellow sun bolts raining on a clear sky shout with thunder from a noisless wind, I wear earphones tonight.
trees dance better then me, plants taste better then me, pianos sound better then me, me is better then me, we´re equals.
fat cat dreams of being skinny, he wears eye liner on weekdays and thongs on the weekends.
sometimes yoga makes me feel like a woman who feels **** then yoga makes me think what that thought means?
rocks are hot when heated.
Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 6:41 AM UTC
Lost
It is
Bigger and more incredible than the poet can imagine
Spider web nebula dripping purple blood dust
Twisting galaxies more numerous and ancient
Than the mind can comprehend
Storms rage on planets
Millions and billions
Of centuries away
The scream of devil winds
Are only a whisper on my ears
The ancients payed tribute to golden suns
Pulsing in the night sky
Calling them holes in Gods floor
Calling them angels
Each star a heaven
If they only knew of
Red dwarf death soaking moons in heat
Craters full of silence upon the edge of a meteor
Negotiating through the black infinite
Until they impact with force enough
To split planets
Fingers
Of comets
Blonde and blue trails through the void
Sapphire moons reflect scarlet sunlight
Obsidian asteroids circle a glass planet
Phosphorus gysers shooting into orbit
The living heavens
Twisting about a central nucleus
Balanced and growing
Suns coming and going at a whim
Super nova tantrums
Are a flourescent brilliance
God making fireworks
Billions of planets
Some dead and dry
Scorched black by suns
That are millions of times brighter than our own
Maybe some planet
On the edge of a small galaxy of no cosmic importance
A young boy writes his own love poems
To a girl who has no idea of his longings
Planets untouched
With golden seas filled with gigantic beasts
That warm themselves on volcanoes
Misty Jungles hanging with vines
Maybe intelligent alien eyes open
To the light of twenty suns rising
Galaxy after shining galaxy in every shape imaginable
With every planet imaginable
Little neighborhoods
With little streets
Where tiny comets circle
The same planets year after year
Titanic hurricanes
Raging vortex
Tornadoes that can rip the crust of planets off
And toss them into deeper space
Yet...the United States says we need no space program
Because we have more important matters
Like taxes and guns and drugs and war
White people are more important than black people
My god is the real god
You are wrong
You are foolish
You aren't good enough
You don't deserve life
I am right
You are wrong
I am right
You are wrong
................................
For the rest of my life
I could soar at the speed of light-
And I would hardly break the golden bonds
Of our lone-quiet-minuscule-spinning Milky Way
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 3:49 AM UTC
Under the dead beat sky
Collaborations tie us all together
Our ideas cross and human gazes overlap
Streams flow into tiny veins that cover a certain surface area.
Red lights shine on profiled faces in the evening side of the night
Trainers shuffle along the uneven ground around town where signs are broken.
Cigarette smoke pours out of each corner of this run down station
Wrinkled looks despair over the dated flourescent timetables
Just waiting for the next train out of town
Just waiting for the next train out of town
Shove past my nearest man to get to the furthest conception
The long path to the nearest understanding of human nature
Is muddied with distasteful stories that couldnt hold any kind of weight Among us.
Jeremiah in the window of the salon, he puts his makeup on slowly
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
What is it about stairways?
An image of promise,
Or is that mystery?
Cascading in slanted light,
Tempting us forward,
Upward
Delivering us to romanticized paradise
Or ornamented haven.
To sanctuary disguised as a sun dusted bedroom,
Where doubtless, is a hidden love
Of the sort that once uncovered,
Will ever follow us.
Or maybe to dark wooded rooms,
Glowing with strings of frosted light.
Indigo ceilings and charcoaled walls,
Lit up
Or a creaking hallway that will usher us
To chipping french doors with a glassy view,
Where we will glimpse a new and equally hopeful vista.
Perhaps enchantment
In the form of rolling, dark green gardens,
With another Stairway that is their own, but is
Descending,
And which, at its very sight, we can feel tugging at our hand;
Breeze itself, defined and determined
It will be an alluring yet familiar pull.
Luminescence between our fingertips.
The sight a vow that will pull us down those steps
Cool stone alive with mossy cracks, that curve, disappearing from view
Laying us down to wonder,
Only in a moment to reemerge in the clearer eyes of our mind.
Where surely, round the corner, we will just be able to make out that the steps are met
With an unclouded, rosy woodland.
The aspen encompassment of a measured and ghostly chemistry;
Flourescent tree line and rocky hem,
Savage and most lovely,
If we only have the courage to climb or to descend them, a perceptual promise awaits,
An ended hunt.
The perfect tincture of Wilderness and Refuge,
That will make us feel the scope of our existence,
without ever having to doubt whether we are safe.
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 5:03 PM UTC
Our fingers
knotted and crossed
locked in a finger hug
hand hold
on the roof
in the moonlight.
Always in the moonlight.
And you said
how glad you were
to be away from them -
they would laugh if they saw.
Stupid
immature
idiots.
I guess later you changed your mind,
because your long fingers reached for mine
in a big room,
under the glare of flourescent bulbs
Everyone saw,
but no one laughed
at us.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
she's a minimalist;
with a minimal list of things that she desires,
and
things that she requires.
-
she's at one with all things,
so with her all things are one.
she never folds
nor does she run away.
she stays calm
and collected.
with actions dare reflecting
a light that's so flourescent,
posing questions...
like
"who are you?"
"from where have you came?"
"where have I seen you?"
and
"what is your name?"
Aug 24, 2019
Aug 24, 2019 at 12:33 PM UTC
The amphetamines made me god
A street corner king known across town
I feel blue as the pavement moves beneath my feet
I feel gone as the moon comes on
That flickering flourescent light
Down between the streetlights
The record scratch like a Cadillac
I've mistaken for a Buick
The cigarette flick from his window
Spins through the night like a pinwheel
Exploding sparks on the asphalt
Choked on exhaust
Thoughts of you walk beside me
Etched on my bones is your name
I wouldn't call it living
Just existing
Cars headlights sirens backseats
My head is spinning as he asks for change
"No but here's two cigarettes."
That ought to get him through the night
You got a light
On upstairs?
You got a light?
Someway for me to see when the streetlights stop
The road takes on the country
The dividing lines turn to stones and sticks
The sound of night as cows fall asleep
The fields are full of mushrooms that glow caps in the moonlight
I used to pick them at the edge of the forest
I once was happy with the thought of "maybe" having you
Now I don't do much of anything but **** myself quickly
With no one to stop me
With no light
Somewhere between the star-choked horizon and the sea
You fall asleep with another
Your heart gives a flutter when he says your name
When you kiss his neck
When you fall asleep
Dreaming seamless dreams of children and sunlight
Something in storybooks once known as true love
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 10:14 PM UTC
Sun rays roll down the green grass & ochre weeds
Yellow, bitter, flowers, litter the hillside
Long red rays turning pink as split figs
Orange as hot coals, blue as the ocean
Then the bustle of twilight, such noise
Streaking headlights fade into receding redness
Carrying their sound with them, down the road
Figures, sillouhetes, wander by me, quiet conversations
Wind stirs their outlines, rustles their clothing, their hair
Bringing me the scent of dust, of split juniper
Darkness descends, but it cannot ***** out street lights
Or the flourescent floodlights, glaring artifical brightness
Or the blinking red eyes of radio masts
I'll peddle back now, chased by headlights
Down black asphalt roads, black as the night
Radiated heat, gathered from this boiling day
Sweat pouring down my face, into my eyes
Breath tearing at my chest, blood racing through veins
I have to outrun the night, to make it on time
To that quiet destination, a little room on the second story
With a chair, a desk, a shelf full of unread books
A yellow notepad, a pen that doesn't work so well
Arrowheads and unshaped stones, a bullet on the dresser
My grandpas old knife, a symbol of the ****** Mary
Your charms that you carelessly left behind
A small tiled room with a shower to stand under
Watch it drain away, dirt & soap, all of it
A face stares back at me, changed, distorted
A reflection in the mirror, a reflection that was me
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 5:09 AM UTC
Lovers trapped
in flourescent corners.
Skin shimmers underneath
loose tees,
beige with the kind of sweat
that blackens
Levi's in the crotches.
Her fingers *****
at his mice-sized ears
which hunger
for the acrylic traps
she lays with her fingernails.
If lips had tongues
his lips would say:
"I've had plastic flesh
and mercury is in my veins
cooling me
until I'm frozen
in the arms
of death."
And his lips never touch
hers:
neck,
breastbone,
cleft-chin,
chapped ear lobe,
crackling scalp,
fracturing spine,
splitting abdomen,
scarred heart.
his are never touched by
hers:
lips.
They finger the hills
of each other's skin:
velvetine,
innumerable,
wet.
Starships beep in the night.
Beep through receivers
from a place against the earth,
but not touching it.
THeir voices are intimate
and not there.
Cries are heard from space
and cradled as breathing
treasure.
Intimate,
but not there.
Their fingers touch each other,
infinitely
and not at all.
He feels her
as the earth feels
remote beeps
in remote intimacy.
Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 9:45 PM UTC
Amorous affection, the notion, a discrepancy,
An effect of neglect inside of an oleaginous conscience,
A retaining of words inside a container, an unsympathetic, amorphous society.
Something is swimming inside it.
A summation of identifying identity,
Cloaked in flourescent,
The silences outnumber the voices.
Lips are gripped in vices of indifference.
The thoughts are thought,
As sometimes thought...
The words are aiming.
The words are clasping,
Stifling as we are gasping,
Drowning in the oleaginous conscience.
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC
Negative Energy Is All This Town Has To Offer,
Demons Roam The Stained Streets And Hallways,
Every Light Which Shines On Ms Is Flourescent,
Broken Souls Look For Pure Ones Just To Have,
The Satisfaction Of Hearing Lung Deflating Sobs,
Ones Which They Create--Just To Destroy Hope
Feelings Here Are Like A Flag In A Bitter Breeze,
Thread Flailing Wildly--Spinning Dizzly,
Flickering Underneath This Unforgiving Sky,
The Clouded Sky Has Heard Us Yell Why,
Oh But The Sky Never Answered.. Not In This Town
These Voracious Beings Feed Off The Misery And,
Oh! How They Gorge Themselves Full Of It!
They Hand It Out Like A Free Sample--Punch Too,
Knuckles White--Twisted Smiles Stitched On Faces,
Laughing Like A Crazed Hyena Yet I Dont Flinch,
It's Exactly What You'd Expect From A Corrupted City
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 8:39 AM UTC
Russian stacking dolls.
I layer like a jawbreaker
Folding one face
over the other.
My hello, smile, freeze frame.
Molten sugar shaped into points and curves
for eyelashes and lips.
In the days, flourescent and white
I lead, I direct, I juggle
Night spent, curled in the orange glow
bracing against the pain of
distance, wiping childhood away,
being the proverbial 'strong'
picturing your eyes
and mouth, both of us
mimes and mirrors for the other.
Conflict- do I open a portal
to the distance,
and
nod to our promise and hug you
with my heart
or fixate it on it, decline
and hold the refusal
in my mind, whispering into the pillow
consoling the dodge of not
trying to lie about salty cheeks.
'balance on the wet stones,
continue your creation.
You made this construct,
and you know the way through.'
-this is my feverish mantra.
But...
In this dimension I fracture my soul
to live forever, only to get through today,
this year
this week...
while we are on opposite ends of this
fearsome Bridge.
And when the lace comes, the celebration
the toast, I ready myself to take our bright flare
the kiss, and our promise, back with me to my painful, green cave.
and hold it in the dark, cover it, too
in salt.
and pray with every bone and fiber for
the place where our timeline can
converge.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 3:56 PM UTC
She is with him and,
I am here alone,
about to get kicked out
of my house.
He buys her sketchpads drawn
in love, while I weep
in the flourescent night.
I drink
enough to make you hurt
enough.
I'm young
and no one loves me.
Sep 8, 2012
Sep 8, 2012 at 12:51 AM UTC
The patch of plaster at the bed side
I hear the cries you cannot hear
For I am cursed or blessed to be
The architect of my own fate
If things were not so heavy
If the veins were not so deep
The shadow of my doorway is long on the floor
I sleep curled beneath the barred window
My back against the wall. Do not let those shadows touch me.
The screams are unholy
Words inhuman
One night I will fly from here
I will walk through the locked doors
Above me flourescent lights will shatter
I will leave scorched footprints
On the white tile
I will sleep among the unworthy again
And when they find deepest sleep
I will take them from their beds
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 6:57 PM UTC
I am a flourescent bouquet of roses
Picked from the belly of the living meadow
My feet are two brown layers of silt and mud
At the bottom of the creek
Question me about the sun and her secrets
Ask me what the bees say of
How they miss their mother
Watched father die
Sing me a song
And the deer will come
To drink from my legs
Talk to me
Say my name
Flowers yellow blue green and red
Will grow to the sky
My fingernails grow from the soil beneath
Drinking up the water
They grow
Silent saplings
Dancing in the breeze
Fill your pockets with my leaves
Smell the music
Taste the bark
It grows in your belly
And grows warm tendrils
Beneath your skin
Lie in the grass
And the dafodils
Will kiss your ears
Open the clouds with your whisper
Birds will dance in the blue
Fish swim and jump from the water
Catching a glimpse of us
Before returning to the cool waters
Fear not
Bugs crawl
Watching us between the twigs and stumps
Laughing at the joy
Brought by their new sister
We will be dust again
As we were meant to be
Then the clouds will come
And rain on our heads
And push us to the sea
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 9:35 PM UTC
Spewing seed and venom, life and death, lust and loathing, we were Marc Antony and Cleopatra
A serpent suicide and *** poisoned ******* and choking, then we patiently awaited our rapture
When I died I watched you follow, you said "my love I will join you soon."
From your effigy, a malignant magnetic energy floated above the room
We were toxic and intoxicated, dead but full of life
Darkness ensued all but a narrow slit, brimming with shimmering light
I grew to a boy then a man scolded by harsher truths
And then I met you, my Egyptian Queen, so beauteous and full of youth
You asked me for a cigarette, I only had a joint
We smoked and spoke like Nihilists and debated "What's the point?"
For years our love grew again, one day you said to me:
"The vanguard is at the gate and the walls are under siege"
But your battles were waged with ****** not Egypt's enemies
My response rang through history with war-torn lover's pleas
Maybe these lives were insufferable, maybe I hide from the truth
That my only respite was that every night I was coming home to you
Our apartment was just too quiet, soundless and without sentiment
Nothing remained of our candle but spilt wax and the scent of it
The bathroom door was locked, "Open the door, Let me in!"
Under the bathroom's flourescent lights that serpent bit again
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 12:45 PM UTC