"knifed" poems
You came in late, again
I said hello, pecked your cheek
and waited for the flow of excuses.
None came.
You went and poured a drink
I sat awaiting your words.
You came back in, sat heavily down
and looked at the floor.
I felt rage inside my breast,I had news to tell.
You never asked how I was, or how my day went.
I sat quietly waiting, listening to the ice ***** the glass,
I felt as vulnerable as that ice cube, once solid now melting,
waiting, fuming, controlling my anger.
You looked up, you looked at me, no through me, and said
"I'm late because I've been having an affair"
Did a freight train just hit me? I felt despair, but you said more,
"She's pregnant, and is keeping the child"
Clarity liberated me from my stupor, late nights,
meetings, high mileage on the car.
I asked a question,
"Are you leaving me?"
You dropped your head, and said the words most wives dread
"Yes, I have to be a father, do the right thing, I love you but....."
Your words trailed off.
I stood up, took your glass and refilled it for you.
My turn.
"Did you start coming home late because of her? Or because I've gained weight? Or both those reasons?"
Silence.
"Pack your bags, leave the keys, get a hotel bed"
Those words came out so clear, you'd swear I'd knifed you.
~
At the front door, you turned, about to say something, I cut you off
"Send me your new address, I need it for the solicitor,
I'm divorcing you. And by the way, before I forget, you're not the only
one that's been late, it would seem you know how to propagate"
I shut the door, rubbed my tummy, and waited to be called mummy.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
Sometimes maybe the dreams should
go away
--What do you dream about?
Last night I dreamt I journeyed
into that dark part of the city
where even hard-armed truck drivers
refuse to unload alone.
It was late. Street lights knifed
the false dawn and wet sidewalks
shivered off shards of glass.
Perhaps I had come there for a pack
of cigarettes
or maybe I had a message to deliver.
It was dark. I was dreaming. I knew
I was dreaming. When they met me
outside
at the bottom of the long ramp
and told me all the stores were closed,
then I could see the bars across the door
and the sign that said, open at seven.
It all seemed too obvious
but I had found some friends
and they didn't seem to mind the
long walk back to my car.
This was only a dream, after all,
so it came as no surprise
how my blood drenched the dark pavement.
I waited for flowers to bloom or butterflies
to rise from the spot, but
nothing happened.
I think I killed them then,
but it's not clear how I
got to to the soft lights
of an all-night drugstore
and cuddled up between the rows
of witch hazel and staionary supplies.
--Is this what you dream?
This is what I dream. I have yet to find
a satisfactory substitute for the warmth
of sleep, so I dream.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
Her heart was warm
Knifed cuts bled shivering blood outside in
But her heart whispered screams warm.
Your fingertips warm, softly etched words in a language unknown
Confusion sat upon a throne and ordered darkness her heart a home
Yet her heart fought on, still warm.
Seasons blurred by in sunsets warm, her hands may have been cold
Her story silently untold as fury shook her hands
But her heart was always warm.
Coldness hid the light of a muddy warm
Tangled words told and mangled thoughts sliced skin
Morose shadows truth and her heart is still warm.
Forgiveness feels sunshine fall lightly on two worlds making it warm
Your fingertips no longer touch her heart
But sit quietly upon her fingertips, palm to palm
Her hands are warm.
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
By the entrance,
On the left side of the supermarket
A cop was butchered
They knifed his chest
And indifferently examined
Red flowers just grown on his soul asylum
Red flowers
On his soul asylum
The blood splashed on the children’s faces
It’s no blood it must be freckles
It is blood
It’s no blood it must be freckles
By the entrance,
On the left side of the supermarket
A sleepless cop was killed
He had been reading Naked Lunch all night long
And then they killed him
And the kids
Freckle-faced
Each bought an ice-cream
And threw the changes into the face of
A beggar with a boyish haircut
By the entrance,
On the left side of the supermarket
A proud cop was killed
His eyelashes smashed the sun into pieces once and for all
And once and for all his lips repeated:
Kids
Heroine
Tangier
By the entrance,
On the left side of the supermarket
A cop was butchered
He knew nothing about the literary work of a poet Dmitry Alexandrovich Prigov
He just remembered his name
From a literary radio program
In November or April
On the left side of the supermarket
From the darkness and the wall scripts of the entrance
A cop appeared like a comics character
With a cap on and a stiff collar, he had been cutting through the darkness and air
And he somehow reminded a shark
Huge and white
By the entrance,
On the left side of the supermarket
A courageous cop was killed
Then he got up and walked across
The river, which does not divide a city into two parts
He walked with pride
He’d got the power
To taste the sea
Without getting wet.
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 7:50 AM UTC
I am standing
at the mirror
loving every scarred
unruly thread unraveling
in this breathing tapestry
it wasn’t my fault
what happened to me
my patterns were scored
long before I knifed them in
over and over again
picking people and paths
to validate my false hypotheses
unworthy kept me from
letting you love every one
of these holy spastic molecules
until I loosed grip
on erroneous
self-loathing
and I am so sorry
I really needed you
but I couldn’t let you
be there for me
because I wasn’t
and now,
here I am…
scoping silver under glass
making silly faces for me
blowing kisses at myself
and giving a little wink
over my shoulder
as I walk out
able to embrace
the wild unknowns
that await me
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 1:26 PM UTC
The last 5 years feel like a numb, confusing blur.
Like I laid myself to sleep for a while.
Like I needed to be dead to the world.
Then one day I suddenly awoke to a longing in my chest.
A feeling I couldn't fight.
A quickening of my breath.
The outside world shone through the cracks and my legs guided me straight outside.
Fresh socks on the grass of spring's early morning dew.
As it soaked through to my feet, I felt alive again.
But who am I now?
And who the hell do I want to be?
What just happened?
And what am I doing here?
I keep blinking to wake up but I'm finally awake.
It feels like I've forgotten everything, I'm trying to remember who I am again.
I've been playing Eurotruck Simulator for 2 days straight.
Mindless driving through virtual country roads.
I've jack-knifed my truck and need to pay the service toll.
Have to deliver this big bag of seed to Hamburg but I'm stuck in the middle of the road.
The traffics piling up and everyone's honking their horns.
This is way too much pressure.
“Don't Worry Baby” By the Beach Boy's plays softly in the background.
But in fact I'm very much worried.
Whether in my online trucking game or the real world it just never seizes.
All I asked for is a day where I'm not incapacitated by my own thoughts.
They're useless, nonsensical pesters that make everything go wrong.
Stupid worry gremlins with bells on their ankles.
The harder you try to ignore them, the louder they love to play.
Until your mind is an orchestra of gremlins beating their feet into your brain.
It's impossible to get anything done when they're dancing away.
What matters is I'm still trying my best.
I'm leaving the house again, changing my old routines.
I even went out past 7pm.
What a real rebel I'm becoming.
Breaking old boundaries takes time but false 'safety' doesn't serve me anymore.
I sat in the pub last week and finally felt 24.
Maybe I'm a little behind compared to everyone else.
But I managed to save my jack-knifed truck and ship the seed to Hamburg, everyone has their own strengths..
Jack of all trades.
Master of none.
But in Eurotruck Simulator I'm No1.
Mar 9, 2023
Mar 9, 2023 at 4:42 PM UTC
The *** stood stars on end, so to,
whispered, “play with me,” and in
haste we fled. We explored,
discovered, and devised something
bright, half something else sinister,
notarized – black roots pinned a
pink-scorched Mohawk, and
reciprocated, my wild “Mao-Mao,”
or so she’d named the hair on my
arms. The moon endured whilst we
knifed each other with each and
every gasp and sutured wounds left
prior lovers. I’d only come across
her name near the end, “Xiaolian,”
though the tattoo ‘top her leg, told
me, “Lola.” Come what mothers
christen us innocent would be a
poems in and of themselves,
addendum, the delirium aged and the
dance of neon atop our waterfall
soaked bodies - epic.
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
History has shown
They will **** their own
Before living with others in peace
Have no doubt
That hatred is as nourishment
Sustenance
Subsistence
A necessity for existence
They can not do without
Burning hot as fire within the wretched souls
Of those
Whose evil knows
No bounds
Would **** you
As soon as kick you
Because your skin is Olive or Brown
Or you pray to a Deity
That your life revolves around
The depravity
The corruption
Never cease to be astounded
By
Those that NEED someone to hate
Who would these mongers hate
If successful in their efforts
To eradicate
Everyone who was, from themselves, different?
If they knifed all the *******
Burned all the *******
Chopped up all the chinks
Would this, their hate, augment?
If they tortured the towel heads
Killed the catholics
Hanged the homos
Would this, finally, curb discontent?
Or
Would the haters implode
And begin to feed upon themselves
Would short people
Shoot tall people?
Would merely looking at skinny
Make fatty incensed?
Would brown-eyed people
**** blue-eyed people?
Would red hair and freckles
Be a stoning offense?
Would black-haired people
Break blond-haired people?
This is a hate poem…
And hate seldom makes sense…
But sensical or no…
Seems the real status quo
Matters love that we show
There will always be those
That just plain NEED
Someone to hate
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 9:28 AM UTC
Bear with a sore head
Takes coyote on post haste
Bore v. Trickster tried
Hung court just verdict
Bought ideologically
Branded! Brig banished
Like Guantanamo
Force fed on stale chalk
Red glib ref to beasts
Totalists with clubs
Tabulate ***** ad hoc
Bring shame to beating
When stops suicide?
Noble savage survives best
Practice leads young straight
Where head caravans?
Lossless nomads swim through sand
To moor oases
Connect with bazaars
Extra-exponential rock
Scissors paper cuts
Exacto-knifed sharp
Cards tabled until sure things
Made deals pay upfront
Cold hard confidence
Wannabe men drive sweet game
Put all together
Touch trumps tears takes no prison
Uncaged roam space free
Our place ancients planned
Body mind spirit heart team
Here earth *** soils worms
Compost ground debris
Bred sustenance seeds rich peat
Brings about the end
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
I guess you really can not forgive me
in this beautiful country of yours
for I hold you so dearly, under those
Canadian stars, sure we may dream
miraculous things, but weight on
these feathers and waning wings
serpentine jealousy, babe, not envy
please, leave, me, be, innocent, of
steam, send onto me Jesus Christ
Girl, i need someone to clarify biblically
did the catholic we knifed, deserve
to call me a worthless being, or will i find him
in prison like everyone finds him I'm just
happy its 20 14, when Tupac is to be reborn
Judge his reasonings were, my Mother didn't raise me
Catholic, her mother did want her Mothers
Mother , to have not wanted to raise her
Daughter, catholic, in the snow, with a tune
for you, waiting at the St, Stephen Torro Cemetery
Holden , your best friends broken rosary/broken nose
Pope Francis, we came to opposite levels of holy,
Heaven or Hell only knows, over standing does not exist
Mathew 6 Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.
2 “So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. 3 But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4 so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
I thought I had buried the pain beneath
the clouds, half-naked and floating,
a terrible vibration exploding into
immense hurricanes, savage knifed
thoughts drowning my flesh, saw
gashed, whip slashed, a ragged beaten
roadblock falling in drunken depths.
I could feel the cold splintering blade
slicing my neck, a suicidal slain beat
filled with swelling flames, crazy
unchanging borders broken, hammered,
shoved, a damaged ocean bleeding
in strangled waves.
Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 6:02 PM UTC
shiver'd awake,
no rain-guard on your tent.
beautiful to see the stars
when that drunk sends you spinning,
but it got cold. real cold.
the two of you went for
cigarettes. necessary,
after a blur'd night
with raiding raccoons.
piss'd the night before,
piss'd the morning after;
you were right hungover.
while gone,
i built the fire to cook.
(that fire,
that fire was my baby)
rations were raid'd
by wildlife in the night,
left were a can of
chili and some fritos.
knifed the top off can,
began breakfast.
your return brought
cigarettes,
hair of the dog,
excitement at the day beginning.
mention'd dog hair,
available only after
raccoon raids and sinking cans.
night prior we weren't
as drunk as i think.
i remember. i guess.
it fix'd us up, though,
as our immoderate breakfast hit home.
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 7:48 AM UTC
There was a blazed beat beneath
my feet, hard rumbling sounds
knifed and ****** slammed,
a smoked gunshot enflamed
with anger and pain, harboring
hurricanes whirling a crazed
chaos, a smashed sea of squared
thoughts, stormy and ravaged
depths, crime damaged breaths,
scarred imperfections exploding
in gushing bruises, beaten bridges
and existences, unstable and
disabled, a flaming brain of
scorched sunrises,beyond
blackened worlds, a slashing
rhyme with no goodbyes.
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 9:03 PM UTC
(a quid pro quo plug for zaftig women)
women that tip weigh ling needle to spin vicious circle
akin to puppy chasing her/his tail
or require digital scale,
at the extreme alt right registering heavy
ba Jill 'en Jack knifed pail loads
whether young or old ought to be appreciated
not waifer thin self starved as a rail,
instead they suffer unfair injustice
like a trapped quivering quail
thus this fatalistic, generic,
and holistic landlubber
wanted to point head lee
hammer home one secure
heterosexual ******* stronger than
omnipotent Marcy's Playground
weather beaten pail
Trent Reznor's sixty 9 inch rust free steel nail
into the coffin of bias
against bevy of beautiful babes
within the mind of this male,
who inherited genetic predisposition
for being average, hearty and hale
yet feel compassion for those engaged
in an ongoing with battle of the bulge,
hmm... perhaps hiding ample *****
akin to milky sopping wet grail
or accepted unequivocally themselves
without envy of lithesome women,
who seem to possess flair with nary a flail
yet possess much love to avail,
and tis wise to love oneself unconditionally
despite premium aesthetics considered svelte
which mass media accentuates de facto spelt
definition of femininity aka runway models
donned in faux animal pelt
whose deliberate self exhibition
prompts madding crowd of man
to waggle tongue with slack jaws
as if ready to melt
or at instantaneous signal telepathically felt
drop drawers upon removing blackbelt.
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC
We never cracked the mysteries of Pittsburgh,
and Baltimore bled out inconveniently before
our eyes, another nervous snitch knifed outside
the corner convenience store in broad daylight.
Salt Lake City was too pure, too white,
theocracy carved into a wafer of snow.
We grew tired of watching Los Angeles
pleasure itself in the sun like a **** star,
interminably tan and vacuous.
And Chicago was too ******* cold.
So we settled here, where streets turn
the soles of our shoes to palimpsests
where every apartment elevator
offers a wall of infinite buttons
where grocery stores stock their shelves
with bottles and bottles of octopus ink
where neighbors open their curtains
and stand shimmering in moonlight
where weather mixes with nostalgia,
creating immutable, poetic forecasts
where water tastes like redemption
and the skyline rises like a chorus,
so much taller than the cities
we inhabited when we were
alive.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 1:23 PM UTC
My eyes glow and glitter in the night
hard and reflective like obsidian
Watching you cradle her voice in your phone
if her words were golden-plumed cage birds
I would uncoil in an instant, spring and rip
Their little wings off.
Her wail soars
hangs in the air between us;
bleeding other-woman-anguish it
drops like a dead swallow into my palms.
It’s her suicide bid, her Hail Mary.
Your eyes are knifed with remorse
my sigh floats a white feather in the cold air.
In the barren coldness of this
New Mexico night
my wine weeps the dregs of
the distance between us.
My hands squeeze tighter,
bones pop, nails crease skin
the moon grins the truth at me:
I am the other woman too.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
As you **** and jiggle
hop and knock
slip and giggle
keep a foot forward
and the other forewarned.
Slack jawed and hackneyed
you're endlessly forlorn
slack kneed and jack knifed.
High on strife and ******
car crashes on black rock
cracked streets and hard
sweets lined teeth so
stained with self love that
your internal apathy fits
glove-like and I am hungry
struggling against your
thundering angry words
filled with fifty year old
angst ugly with stretch
marks but more from
the sadness dribbling
down your philtrum un-wiped
like I was and the only thing
I now want cleaned off is my
memories of you smeared
erratically and etched eternally
onto my life.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 8:23 AM UTC
serrated blame
pressed down against skim
Shame
thought I caught glimpse
of me
as blame angled in
The hunt for something realer
took a walk up the street
just to see if I could still feel
my molecules
Squirm shift like the seraphim
to become to become
but all I transcend is
day into knifed
so now I grip a different angel
cold aloof primal
uncompromising wing
Slips in
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC
I remember it like yesterday
That night I saw you dance
You were alone, and I was watching
You had me in a trance
I was celebrating nothing
as you danced to the Bo-Deans
I knew I had to find out more
When I saw you in those jeans
It may as well be carved in stone
I'm never gonna change my mind
It's as good as done once I decide
I'm never gonna change my mind
We dated for a couple months
Marriage, well why not?
It was just the natural course of things
I didn't need a second thought
My friends kept working on me
Saying you're moving much too fast
She's nice but, do you know her
Are you sure that this will last?
It may as well be carved in stone
I'm never gonna change my mind
It's as good as done once I decide
I'm never gonna change my mind
Next in line, was having kids
That just made too much sense
And the the dog and the big house
with the old white picket fence
The rumours kept evolving
I just laughed at their attack
They said that you were cheating
That you had knifed me in the back
It may as well be carved in stone
I'm never gonna change my mind
It's as good as done once I decide
I'm never gonna change my mind
I chose not to believe it
You loved me, and I loved you
They were jealous we were happy
This was not what you would do
Then I caught you with our neighbor
You begged to stay, and I said no
I truly, once did love you
Now, it's time for you to go
It may as well be carved in stone
I'm never gonna change my mind
It's as good as done once I decide
I'm never gonna change my mind
You're never gonna change it
I'll never change my mind
It's set as hard as concrete
I'll never change my mind
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
Black out before sun down
Slippery jabs of guilt slide
Sickness knifed in
And never seen again
Not by you
You lose control of your mouth, your body, your balance
Your hands wave ‘round your head in some imaginary joke
Your toothy grin and those hands still flapping are aimed at me,
And still, no one is laughing
No memory of yours holds my embarrassment
Your mother, your father, your husband, your daughter
We remember mean accusations over stubborn bottles
We know the secret you keep from yourself
How do I shift this guilty weight from my dark heart to yours?
Can I steal your excuses? Can you recall your childhood shame?
Let the light of truth shine fierce after the sun steals away behind dark hills
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 5:28 AM UTC
I don't dance
Not to this tune.
I won't prance.
Not with this gloom
Two left feet drag like cement bags
Across the room
Old bags with scabs.
Scoweling laughter , certain of my doom
Broken knees like jack knifed trees
I'm threw
So I will pick up my bags.
Lace my cement shoes
And tell the old hags with their scowls
And their gloom
That still I dance.
Across the room
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 8:20 AM UTC
I always feared meeting eyes
They could let people see you in depth
Read the unsaid
And find your weakest
I struggled to meet your gaze when we first met
Days, weeks, and months
Before I finally let loose
Of everything that left me bruised
I admired your patience
As you unearthed every layer
So delicately,
You saw through my struggles
Through my vulnerabilities,
Through the jabs on my soul,
And through scars that ran so deep,
And just as I began to get comfortable with those emerald eyes
You knifed through every wound I thought was healing
Twisted, coiled, and stabbed me again
Standing there, watching,
As I gasped in pain
Only to realize
I’d given myself away
To a bunch of glorified lies
As every piece of my heart
Clung on to the pain you left me with
And that's when I knew…
Why I never trusted ‘em eyes…
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 5:52 AM UTC
this thought,
one texture
old sweatshirt
the roam's grin grows
iknowiknow this home is
****** wasted eaten knifed neatly
how??how!how?
texts to ex's
needy emojis
********** us
the bones are coming now
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 3:22 PM UTC
Crouched in viewing the shivering cobweb
craftily spanning a waterfall's edge
I saw fine precision-knifed filaments
cunningly strung with infinite wisdom.
A weightless weapon of swinging steel,
death-celled bed spun on gossamer wheel.
That devilish duvet of glistening gauze
betokened real craft as the spider paused
then in obscurity tensed for success,
alert with magnetic insect suppression.
Hairily silent as tensile wires, cleverly glued
met miniscule life of wriggling food
that by moving caught death in but seconds
while spider gave fly lethal injections.
As water's curtain cascaded to ground
and whirling catch-trap spun victim around
fed spider wiped mouth, cleaned sticky legs,
repaired any holes and prepared for the next.
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 6:35 AM UTC