"hourless" poems
Cold, unforgiving.
My soul froze in time.
I gave love its last chance,
And clocks stopped.
The big hand contorted,
To mock my closing veins.
The small just pointed
And laughed in my face.
So I shattered all the timepieces,
Forbidding me to count the seconds alone.
In an hourless world,
I lost faith in hope.
The walls as my best friend.
My bed the only lover.
I'm content in waiting
For my torturous life to be over.
But you found me
Wrapped in passing seconds.
Prisoner to tic tic
Pacing in my head.
Where my skin
Tasted of decay.
And my claws retired
From scratching at the gates.
Given up on fighting,
Satisfied with thousand pound lungs.
A half timed beating,
Beneath my hollow ribs.
My souls began to thaw,
Clocks began to move.
All from your touch,
All from your air.
The big hand straightens.
And the small silences itself.
Opening my veins.
No more comically mocking my pain.
Your gentle hands piece together,
All the pieces I shattered.
Back to counting
All the seconds I'm alive.
My walls become acquaintances.
You replace my bed.
I'm not waiting,
This life won't end.
No longer bound
By the song of passing time.
Free from "tic toc",
It's a little less crowded in my head.
Warmth returns to my skin.
My hands click awake.
Not ready to scratch,
But to create.
There is no fight to give up.
Air quickly lifts my lungs.
There's a full paced beating,
Inside my glowing chest.
All because you touched me.
You kissed me.
With a calm fear,
You woke me from my sleep.
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 2:26 AM UTC
Veasna Ta Kvak recording
playback
over Chinatown cafe again
while recounting recent events
to journal pages
muddled from frequent
exchanges bag to bag
(Been to Taipei airport, Bali, Vancouver, most
recently)
blind fate
blind fate
shower me with Indian daisies
and photographs of Railway
New Delhi!
Hanoi Old Quarter/
Vietnam monsoon/
evening on balcony/
Darjeeling water boiled
and filtered anti-malaria
golden drink for honeylungs and
spring-soul morningtide
under moonlight canopy
of Avalokiteśvara
the fruitful
Bodhisattva!
English lessons
and future
hourless
comely chimera
in sleep phenomenon
Benares phantasmagoria YELLOW
(near Mata Anandamai Ghat)
speaking to Aghori
prophecy
Kala Bhairava
FIERCE ILLUSORY APOCALYPSE FAMILIAR
WHERE IS YOUR NOOSE?
the Ganges is full of lice and flowers
candlewax melted into holy water
sickness
equal to
harmony & jubilant
eyeclose and mouthcurl.
The future mysteries in
Mexico City poorboy
$2 mystic orb jade green
reflective underneath
dirt now in North American
bottom white four floor house
basement suite coffee table.
Visions indivisible
from the Viridian roundly haze
but surefire in their accuracy
I'm absolute
and universally formed
for the next few cacophonous
decades!
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
You are a dream
I could have for a thousand sleeps,
A wonderful dream
in a moonlit night of loneliness,
Of winding roads
where our hearts may never be lost,
Of silhoutted horizon
where our love is unnoticed by most,
Of soaring mountains
where there are no impediments,
Of azure skies
where broken vows are ours to mend,
Of shallow rivers
where our memories may never sink,
Of hourless forest
where a never ending story do exist;
Yet you are only a dream
I could have for a thousand sleeps
A wonderful dream
in a moonlit night of loneliness.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 10:28 PM UTC
please, raise the plea for water
under moons no drop can shine
how could one such tiny fraction
bring about this deadly drought?
rivers flow through course of pipes
sewage is all they'll become
I don't think they should expand
there just ain't no room
hourless, placeless bring no gloom
rather rigid obsolescence
and the river has no room
for any defect
should you find yourself out there
keep the bottle right at bay
you never know
what there is to fill.
Mar 31, 2010
Mar 31, 2010 at 10:44 AM UTC
I put a lock on the clock
tied its hands with rope
if that made time still
halt its fast gallop!
There was an eerie silence
as lay dead the tool
with time now my slave
I could take it cool!
With there nothing to pass
I felt the burden off me
to lie back and relax
lead a life sans hurry!
For a while it seemed so nice
my time was what I liked to be
reading and writing and dreaming
walk hourless freely!
But soon boredom got me
grew a void of unease
a dead clock wasn’t that good
closed time killed my peace!
Time’s passage the timekeeper speaks
so we aren’t complacent too free
but keep the flow somewhat disciplined
by following a tool friendly!
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
She must have heard the heartbeat bass drumming on my soul as she walked by,
In step to my own music.
The folk chords that created my favorite songs
Generated your will to march onward.
The car radio spoke the language that we discerned in an interstellar quantity.
Like morse code, we channeled our platonic love through soul vibrations that
traveled the ground up through our skin.
I wish I could cradle you as we breath in synchronicity with the pulse of the earth.
My steps will reach your pumping heart and it will long to be connected through the time of our music.
And I'd never need another soul to complete my harmonics,
You understand what humanity means and what connection gives
In hourless presents.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Lullaby my baby
Sing me straight to sleep
I could drown in your brown eyes...
Time,
And time,
And time again
The days are hourless
And I am powerless
I lay me down, and close my eyes
While you sing your lullaby...
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 12:08 AM UTC
It's thrilling and it's terrible,
it's wondrous while unbearable:
the piquing mind which seeks to find
the riddle in the parable.
Just when you think you've caught a glimpse,
your eyes will make a trick of it.
Elusive and seducing up until you have to blink again.
Seeking out solutions
to all of the wrong problems.
Powerless to the hourless,
oh, how could you hope to solve them?
Traverse the universe
like it is yours
for the unwrapping--
the only thing
of anything
to ever free its trappings.
A specious speculation
to a quiet congregation,
got you searching your thought corridors--
all you see is already yours.
If you're thinking life post-mortem
could be anything but boredom:
Try to think again.
Create your own Eden.
When what is real is relative,
and yours is unlike mine,
could you say how well I live?
Your virtue is my crime.
Traverse the universe
like it is yours
for the unwrapping--
the only thing
of anything
to ever free its trappings.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 6:17 PM UTC
Groaning is but poetry
Intelligible garbles sewn together
Into universes - She stands
Making faces in the mirror
Like Bukowski in a fogged up tray.
A lighthouse, posed exterior,
Terrifying beacon of an hourless day.
Eras lie behind her eyes
Reflecting that pupil-smile stare.
Teeth glued and mouth stitched shut
Oysters woven through her hair.
She knows the lot, or just enough
Enough to make it clear
That sanity has lots its sense,
It has no business here.
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 5:36 PM UTC
I held the pool of her in my hand.
A universe succumbing to its weight.
This smallness, of me, diminutive letters on parchment.
A lens, rupturing itself.
There is no way, no way at all to be, now.
We are committed and forbidden to our own fate. Pale hour.
Hourless East.
You give it what it asks for. You always give it what it asks for.
You collapse. Paper house, conformed for service.
The endless hunger, pleads for you.
A dressless girl on wooden knees.
You think you prefer not to go where you are not wanted.
If that were true, it would be easier to leave your self.
Somewhere,
in a room,
it is a slow dance, and mostly never.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 12:37 AM UTC