"hinging" poems
light cursed falling in a singular block
her,rain-warm-naked
exquisitely hashed
(little careful hunks-of-lilac laughter splashed
from the world prettily upward,mock
us….)
and there was a clock. tac-tic. tac-toc.
Time and lilacs….minutes and love….do you?and
Always
(i simply understand
the gnashing petals of *** which lock
me seriously.
Dumb for a while.my
god—a patter of kisses,the chewed stump
of a mouth,huge dropping of a flesh from
hinging thighs
….merci….i want to die
nous sommes heureux
My soul a limp lump
of lymph
she kissed
and i
….chéri….nous sommes
6.3k
captive audience listening
to the hornets pouring out of me
i was running fingers
listlessly down your face
and dreaming of acid rain
—a picture in my head
that refused to die
ever mindful
of the bedroom door
hinging on your aches
and unborn eyes
the reanimated heart
chimed
with the twisted shape
of what awaits us all
a rising overture
from behind the veil
warm, wet handed
in a bath of blood
Dec 21, 2017
Dec 21, 2017 at 10:15 AM UTC
Stretching and shouldering night away a sun crouches
to birth black's ousting
by one more empty circle of dark's hollowed pouches
then outs in sparkling showers.
Spangled with myriad star-labour unfolding membranes,
like numberless leaves
dreamers listen to soft serenades as the universe favours
lullaby-songs to deep breathing.
Silvered surface shivers with night-eyes as glittery dust
follows with dart-swift
flight each soul's winged journey while murmuring such
mysteries to those sleeping still.
Glimmers on sightless horizon reveal light's celebration
while untrodden dew
newly writhing in close-capped life waits inertia's frame
stirring to shake before rising.
Piercing the brain time's needle regathers worn threads
and remembers that more
sown seed means now-grown grain needs re-collection
in daylight's mind-aware storage.
Open-eyed, naught is over as hinging on less or more,
sun, with slumber done,
now hurries to open the thin partition between yawns
of torpidity to more hours won.
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 5:12 PM UTC
all day on the brink
saline hinging on lashes
reading minds far away
fortune-telling actions
and overgeneralizing
filtering the nonsense
to make room for the
nonsensical
minimizing positivity
maximizing black and
white negatives
focusing on despair
internal anguish;
vicious cycle of
irrationality
automatically
a day in the life
inside of me
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
Nababasa mo ba ito?
Alam ko oo.
Dahil dito sa mundo ito
Alam ko naririnig mo ako.
Maaring maging mahaba ito isusulat ko.
Pero sa huli pagkakataon magsusulat ako para sa’yo.
Sa huli pagkakataon pakinggan mo ang sasabihin ko.
Naalala mo un gabi sinabi mo sa akin gusto mo ako?
Oo, alam ko na ako yun bago mo pa sabihin.
Nagtataka ka bakit hindi ko sinabi sayo?
Kasi natatakot ako umasa sa bagay na wala patunay.
Naalala mo un araw na niyakap kita mahigpit?
Natakot ako noon dahil baka marinig mo un puso ko kumakabog.
Naalala mo un araw na sinabi ko gusto din kita?
Ilang araw ko inipon yung lakas ng loob na sabihin yon sayo.
Naalala mo yun araw na nagaway tayo at sinabi mo may pag-asa pero takot ako?
Alam mo ba yun araw na yun kinain ko lahat ng takot ko dahil mas takot ako mawala ka.
Naalala mo un araw na sinagot kita ay naging tayo?
Sobra saya ko dahil may tao tumingin sa akin kung ano ako at wala hinging pagbabago sa akin.
Ikaw naaalala mo ba lahat ng yan?
Naramdaman mo din ba yan?
Sa huli pagkakataon magsusulat ako para sayo.
Huli? Oo huli na. Dahil baka kahit kailan ay hindi ka na lumingon sa akin.
Sa huli pagkakataon sasabihin ko sayo,
Oo minahal kita.
Oo mahal pa kita.
Oo nasakatan mo ako.
Oo sobra sakit na mas pinili mo bitawan ako kesa ipaglaban ako.
Oo gusto kita tulungan pero binulag ako ng galit sa puso ko.
Oo galit ako sa kanya sa babae hindi ko mapalitan sa puso mo.
Oo gustong gusto ko na ako ang piliin mo nun gabi un.
Oo na sana pangalan ko ang sinabi mo.
Sa huli pagkakataon, oo kung ako ang pinili mo lalaban ako.
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 4:46 AM UTC
What is hoped trickling between
splintered crags of hard matter
as between slabs of sliced I
like water through the desert crust
the beginning-end fusioned whole?
it resplendent through the cracks?
What might be enough
for its time being
might be the first loosening
a knot’s dissolution
beginning
unwrapping light and breath
deep underground
after prying like suffocation
the thing loose, never budged,
still you yanked, pulled,
screamed, spumed, more than
frustration through your fingertips.
For the brain, don’t be fooled,
s’more the psychedelic fruit
than just saying apple computer
the pulpous embryo of imagination
feeding
what seed, sprouting tendrils,
protracts without desire
(but causing desire)
ever outward, growing, clasping,
(hinging on unhinging) meshing
an electric net
and collapsing a shock they say
until the taste of its taste
is so succulently pungent
that after hours of dull mumbling
its projection upon the mirrors
it bursts in puffs of screams
short tense contractions
[image fizzing, over-heating].
Like a cracked computer reading
an animal program: *Alpha Beast
of the Ill-Illusioned*. Or: *Runt Wolf
of Gaia, the Undarwinian Survivor*.
Software ones and zeros digitizing
the command:
Must do the act cannot be done.
Till it breaks. Unimagined.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 8:11 PM UTC
I used to be hidden in my room
choking at my mouth's roof
as if stuck within a stutter,
exhausted from existing, hinging
like a wind-chime battered by a hurricane.
Then a troubadour with honey hair
had me humming to his ear-worm
of a melody, depicting a choreography
that jolted my legs into frenetic mania
like an early talkie starlet's.
For years, I have memorized
this intricate chord structure,
immersed myself in its crescendos
until I could belt it backwards.
It's the only song I know by heart.
There is this one tune, though,
if you can even call it that,
this atonal reverberation that alerts
the darkest corners of my mind,
a slowly muttered siren song
leading to lands I never want to visit.
I can never fully decipher
the lyrics to an entire verse.
It's the excerpts, scattered
like dust mites in a concert hall,
that try to nibble at me piecemeal,
romanticizing the revolving door
of self-destruction, bruises
veiled as smudged calligraphy.
So please excuse the minor notes
that hiccup from my vocal cords
every other half moon or so.
It's just the ebb and flow
of awkward drumming
that disorients the ear,
causes me to trip up
on the patchwork of refrains
we've spent so much time weaving
into heavenly cohesion.
Above all, please remember
that no static or din
will ever shoehorn its way
into our ironclad harmony.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
Every day a battle raged
Shall i go or shall i stay
Between to worlds my fate does sit
Hinging upon a soft limerick
Twisted by the change of day
I yearn to be more free and gay
Yet these burdens pile on
until I am no more then gone
I, but a soft limerick
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 3:08 AM UTC
Let's take a second
Recalibrate this conversation
You do know, right
That I am the hinge on this life
I don't want praise
Or a pat on the back
But even hinges need WD-40
From time to time.
**** it,
I need to be greased constantly
I'm needy in that way
(Therapy helps)
But look into my day-to-day:
On my left is the Wall,
My root and my reason
My family (my girls).
The Wall is permanent, important
(Those words don't do it justice)
On me it relies on necessities of life.
For that Wall, I hold the Door.
The Door on the right,
Replaceable, not solid,
It's a means (to an end)
That Door is temporary, minute
(Compared to the house)
And on me it rests, day in and day out.
On ME it rests
I am the only hinge
The other?
We won't talk about him
But hinges only have two hands, you see
One on the wall, one on the door
I have no hands that are free
Hinges are fierce little *******
That are good at their jobs
But they age all the same
So **** off.
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 5:47 PM UTC
You've been wondering that you've got
No tiny false extraction point
A deluded perception of reality
Blood flowing round the corner of the streets
There's a creeping centralisation of power
And a hoarse whisper in your ears
It's time for your magnanimous self
To let the ego drain away
A thousand battles and memoirs
Those anecdotes you never read
They're the fables of your life
Hinging upon a soft limerick
And now when you try to
Juxtapose those thoughts in your mind
The imbecile beings around
Whitewash your victory and demise.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 4:06 AM UTC
Mere concept of childhood fascinated her,
Games that her friends played attracted her,
Memories of others hinging on comical anecdotes captivated her.
Endless discussions of the 'good times' made her meet solitude,
Scarcity of happiness made her meet darkness,
Perennial realisations of sorrow made her meet regret.
She detested the way life abused her childhood,
She hated the way life snatched the chance of having memories,
She envied the way life didn't let her know 'fun'.
She regretted her existence,
For she never had a chance of being happy,
Of being free like a bird,
Of being independent and satisfied.
She was a girl,
Who grew up in the most atrocious of times,
Who faced the loneliest of nights,
She's the girl, who grew up, before it was time.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
A whole world
Begging for
Change
Daring to dream
Endless altering realities
Figuring that the end
Generates a new start
Hinging on the application of
'I'
Just in terms of understanding
Knowledge of the self
Learning about the
Magic inside all of us
Nearing that
Ominous future
Persistent in the
Quest for a better tomorrow
Reach for it!
Stand up for it!
Teach the young to
Usher in their new era
Vestiges of ours gone
Without a second thought
Xenoliths of a different time
Yellowed antiques
Zealous youth to push aside our failures
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 4:08 PM UTC
the comparison doesn’t **** me. i could look at their thin arms or beautiful hair and still
somehow find my place. it’s the irony, the postmonition – the
afterthought, like they are now,
like i may, will become.
i tell you it’s awkward. mostly i just
can’t look them in the eye, like i am indebted to them,
infinitely,
forever the backformation that reduces them to footnotes. i know their stories;
the ones intertwined with yours, once upon a time hinging on your
exhalations, existing only
within the confines of your frighteningly tidy room
and between your muscular thighs.
i know them because they are now mine.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC
The potential of disaster or perfect collision
Did we lose sight of the original mission
Are distance and status creating division?
Confidence wavers at the moment of decision
Hesitant to feel, give into the flow of unspoken words that seldom hold the feeling behind verbal contact, lost passion on the wind drifting off from our tongues and our eyes, watch the hands, does the longing drive you mad, sure of the reception knowing you'll be accepted, but both cowards at the apex not willing to indulge ourselves in the most harmless of risks, a moment, a loss, a potential bliss, knowing our worth, knowing each other, exchanging emotions as we find ourselves within each other's range but like magnets the attraction leads to repulsion, fueled by conceptual barriers constructed by the filth of the physical, calamity of humanity a fickle mind and frozen heart so much so that eagerness for light and love is masked by fear of pain and past, like walls that form between our dreams that petrify reality, the game is played until its done, until time has won, and we've never begun, but oh we dreamed of it with clarity, the love we'd have, if we were free, like the animals we are, indulging in carnality and hedonism, reject the will of civilization, concepts formed to dominate, put man above man, we could see the boundaries between us rent apart nothing more than empty words hinging on empty thoughts that mean nothing to the energy between us, a million reasons, a thousand rejections, thought if cards played right could be perfection, to bet some time, a move of faith, we could separate from the conscious of man, the weakness and lies it brings, accept the will of the spirits, immersed in the universe, heeding the call of nature we locked away in our own man made order, heeding spirits with wisdom beyond any man, creature, or beast, and see if our love was something God planned.
Sep 9, 2021
Sep 9, 2021 at 10:14 AM UTC
afternoon poo cramp brings a wave of nausea
sweat coats my back causing
the polyester blend to stick to my skin
unsightly wrinkles and folds follow
my belly bulge’s smooth contours
highlighted –
trying to adjust my ball cap
in a pointless effort hinging on the idea
that wiping the sweat from my brow
will alleviate six feet five inches
of gross wet mass;
this of course is fruitless and all I get
is a wet spot on the bicep of my shirt—
gurgling belly as I try to digest poison Taco Bell
and high fructose soda-pop
like I am still a teen
trapped in a 40 year old frame…
one day I will give up the trash
eat a bit better
and feel loads different,
until then, this will occasionally return
and be my revolving lunch fate –
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 1:40 PM UTC
Now I awake at the eve of my daemonic existence
Which we had to abort
On my crown lies a crown of barbs
Unfortunately no light
Raising my forgiving sight for the last time
The only thing I see is my dark wright
Vomiting misconception at my filthy sins
United by serpentine despair
Unanimously designed by a rogue contempt
And yet instantaneously
For temerarious to bother with such vast wisdom
And yet veracious
**Thus destined a dark decent
A blackened spiral
For a blank memory
I look as the darkness consumes my every breathe
Already swallowed by the hatred smoked by fear
I feel the hell fire
Like tears rolling down my body
I am cut chest to toe
The shadows seep in
Vile filth exalting heavenly pleasures
I can not cleanse myself
For all of the scourges I locked away
My shadow is liberated
As it goes, as it always shall
The quasi heroic act of self mutilation
Reanimates their dark possession
Again morbid licentiousness
They found their host and reached parasitical intent
Blackened by serious lust
Tumultuous in the hearts of all who have fallen
All of their jaws hinging malevolently
For the cursing how to behave
No imminence in my decay
I deserve nothing by curdling laughter
I have no cause, no war
My skin blackened by the fires of doubt
Forget my neurotic existence
And the face of the man you fear
For the last time I scream
All of my attempts hallowed
By the fear of being isolated
Abandoned, my scars still leaking
The blackened blood into the heavens
Each drop a life wasted
During this my light is extinguished
A smile appears on a split face**
One final scream
And everything I know vanishes
Somewhere a heart beats a final time
I despise my world
I wasn't created for it
Alas...
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 2:13 AM UTC
but with a liquor tongue & sober head
drafting and redrafting the words stuttering
on my teeth to keep you here
falling backwards on my *** will
prove nothing but that i’m not content
to be anything but in the table of contents
not a side character
in your favorite book
but god i can’t stop tripping
over air and chalked-up asphalt
am i first?
am i the only one? i growl
apologies & maybe’s
but honest to hell i am
filled with vice
glittering with ill-intent
dented craniums
punctured fists
bitten up pen caps
oh sure, you’re inked up pal
but those tattoos for the weak
aren’t going to lift any skirts
her lipstick ain’t gonna paint your mouth
for you
“rosebud”
hah
we walked with ghosts that one time
kicking trash, dodging dead squirrels, singing
punk rock---betting quarters & Arizona cans
to run fast against traffic
(this was back when) we wanted
to look for truths in picture books
and lies in the law
chubby fingers & a BIC stick pen
tracing imagined cartoon lives
our speech planned in bubbles
timestop: fastforward
snarling, “oh baby she’s a classic /
like a little black dress”
with opened siamese mouths /
rolled out tongue
fingerpainting bruises on skin
with pixie stick smudged thumbs
“she’s a faded moon /
but you’ll be faded soon”
between muffled dashboard speakers
streaming swears came the stillness
of carving numbers (each other’s
biography pages)
safety pins hinging on rawed knuckles
forever scarred visual bookmark
waiting for words to cause earthquakes
and fault lines in lungs
what was painted across the wall
in looped **** you’ cursive
timestop: graffiti
i fear the human condition
don’t look at me or i’ll shatter
a powder touch would ****
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 3:59 PM UTC
And how could anyone have known
That two hearts beat to a car drone
That two minds read music notes
Sipping strong, heavy coats
Stumble up the corridors
Bodies intertwine with the floorboards
Breathe in breathe out
That's what's life's all about
Take your hand and trace these lines
Lines created, she said "i'm fine"
They fade away like a setting sun
*Why didn't she jump?
Was she afraid to fly?*
Hinging towards life's favorite question,
**Why?
**
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC
but of course, the three families of a continent,
and many aunts and uncles and distant relations,
as if to say: but in the flood of swarm
whether by twirling zephyrs or foaming seas,
whether certain inaudible sounds of the seen things,
hinging with a creak or a squeak as a condensed
copper, whether it was man who's history
was bound by a envious hunger for the alchemical
crown, from rotting in oxidation iron,
to mandible copper, then through to the metalloid
age of silicon - to the stiff-winged birds of aluminium
and elsewhere still the blood metal desires:
the blood metal of ****** piracy, ransom,
or necessary imitation and all kinds of fraud -
if to mesmerise the human eye and turn the human
heart into a magpie's, if not kept in check by the
voluntary beggars of appearance, as those great buddhas
of the renaissance, under borgias or a sixtus or a julius;
*'he who desires to possess the earth,
let claim by only sitting in silence.'*
(adam mickiewicz)
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
Shallow syntactical grappling
Love songs forever rearranged
Hook is loose lips exchanged
Spying your mind for crackling
Let me in, I hear that rattling
Fire imagination and singeing
Marbles liberating love call
Pow perplexes inspiring awe
Superficial burn's impinging
All hung on passion's hinging
Pay no attention grammatical
Cryptanalysis of undiscovered
Love themes and talents discolored
Smothered a world so fanatical
As true love very mathematical
Like glass ***** zipping out ringer
You shoot beyond my orbit
This game I am about to forfeit
How dared is this heart stinger
Winner of game, a zinger
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 3:25 PM UTC
words breaking free
from the cloud of the mind.
the clout of the imperative telling:
this is the wind blowing from all
directions hoping to touch you
where you sleep,
rests its bone somewhere where
no cold shivers the ground,
somewhere familiar
somewhere where both you
and i have found each other
two separate birds joining
in the morning
Magdalene wears these words
melancholically
hand in glove and earth
in the mouth plump and tender
like bosoms of full women
eyes of men having their fill
of imagined sensations in the flesh
tingling forever throbbing
underneath the white moon --
until then the many loves
will read this hoping for a deliverance
the bow of my breath aims true
but the precision is falsely taken
a sidewinding serpent,
a riotous guerrilla in the bush,
hinging the heartland
a poem washed away in the river
as women rinse the clothes of men
singing songs of despair;
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 8:31 AM UTC
long breath raked out, length of
day. thought pattern diffusing;
shadows cast on a broadening strip,
wallpaper hung close. stolen breath,
an orbit about you. consistent
glow. hinging on ripples, cut around
this field by clear breeze. branches
stretch, churning in the swept
air. held aloft, in their self-arrest.
i do not echo. this frictionless glimmer.
the vanishing extent to which i
can stop falling.
oh, but i do not want to. not
this time, sweet. each day reaches
out with tender hands, to pull
me up& out of this cavernous maze;
undoing meaningless shovelwork.
i find myself, under boughs, amidst
flowers. it's only slightly difficult to admit
this smile was smeared over
my freckling jaw, for nothing,
save for you.
even birdsong seems pale in comparison,
distant bells, ocean mist; undertow
beneath soft waves rolling
from your lungs to lips.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
Cracking thunder fills shallow walls
Rattling the windows
Echoing in the din
Rain slapping mirrors
Reflecting my mindset
This rain cloud having followed me
From school, to bed, etc..
Always clamoring
Shouting out
Echoing the screaming helplessness
Stretching and swelling
Between ears
Popping the fragile control
Collapsing
Cut strings
Knees hinging
Falter mid-step
Sorrow having swallowed
Whats left.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 10:14 PM UTC
dragging lifeless limbs out into
gnawing-numbing-whipping cold air,
forced to trace worn-in footprints
trod by weighted soles, simply doing as they're told.
blind flight through the same
mile markers and blurred road signs,
of a grey scale town filled with dead ends and cul-de-sacs to spin out in.
meticulous repetitious maneuvering over towers of steam,
skin shielded from burns by a molten patchwork
of scars festering fearlessness on the surface,
and covering layers of pages of crossed out phrases
left unmuttered to undisclosed faces.
nostrils filled with pipe dreams
blocking the taste of bitter reality
that's dripping down a swollen throat.
lips hinging on the promise of a cigarette
or a cold brown bottle to sink into,
to deflect the rejection of a soft forbidden kiss
projected by sinister ghosts sworn to inflict
nothing but uncertainty and instincts to flee.
soaking in their shadow is crippling,
but its all chocolate and mashed-potatoes
coated with sugar-laced pleas
when i crawl out from under a tomb of old dreams,
and slither into a porcupine bed
to count old regrets until my mind succumbs to sleep.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 8:57 PM UTC