"tragicomic" poems
Funny how I swore;
not to lose my mind,
if you ever leave;
Funnier how
I didn't know;
that it is the heart;
that'll go missing.
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 12:20 PM UTC
I
*In the course of time
Defects commence to notice:
"Once, it was a hero"
Begins to melt
"Once, it was worshiped"
Starts to fade
The desire to be at least half
Becomes a mere illusion
The grief of starting from zero
Not be just a fusion, (I laugh), for
I am my own hero*
II
*An eternal dilemma: head or heart?
Life experiences repeat themselves over time
Look back, not with nostalgia, but with lucidity
Not to retell the same mistakes, that's stupidity
Rectify the defects, but don't be a mime
Head or heart?
These desires of a distorted mind are such strife
Those promises for life are barely a rind
It's as soon as you get to the point of no return
That you realize the fantasy must burn
Head or heart?
Use the head is an art
Using the heart in the right stead
But use them both is my oath*
III
*I come from a quiet little town
But I was never the type of let me drown
Lose and gain accents has always been my thing
So bring me the king of seek that we may sing together
That the best man win.
See, without knowing whether all or nothing
Write, until I have abraded skin, so when the time comes
The tought living at my fingers will shut
Sing, bright or heavyhearted
Feel the beat of unchearted drums
Yell by choice until lose my voice
Murmur lower than a subatomic bell
Until gain a tragicomic muse.*
***The elocution of my brain has no dues
For art is a perpetual evolution.***
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 9:50 PM UTC
Whatever other costumes might have been hers for the choosing,
She wore the robe of disenchantment.
She should have been taught,
Truth skates a razor thin line that will slice the flesh from your bones
When you try to deny it.
The mask she placed upon her face, a tragicomic mockery of belief,
Its blue-black marks tattooing her cheeks,
Were a constant reminder of her mistaken identity of herself,
Mistake.
(And in that moment of stark realization,
Didst thou not ponder the sickening irony of a life gone awry?)
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 2:53 PM UTC
i'll concede to this fact, sometimes Hollywood
does a decent film,
i'm starting to see a tract of:
as far as black comedies go...
no one does black comedies as good as
the H'americans...
maybe i was born too late
to laugh at the British stuff from...
whenever it was in the past century...
and whatever the new quirk is about...
i don't get it...
but H'american black comedy?
pitched genius...
sure... about schmidt
was labelled a black comedy...
but in comparison to what i've just
watched?
i.e. *three billboards outside ebbing,
missouri*?
out-stand-ing...
i'm not saying i'm much of
a film critic... but given the story
resembles the "archetype" of retribution...
revenge, or there-lack-of,
akin to the movie secret in their eyes...
retribution isn't concentrated on
the focus of the murderer, ******
it spreads... everyone is somehow affected
by each others' blame-game-shaming-fest...
everyone can have their soppy
story, their two cents thrown into
the lucky fountain...
and that's the brilliance of the movie:
the victim-hood tactics diffuse -
because everyone has a sad story,
the sad story isn't the story at all:
it's how people still manage to congregate
around a shining bright light
and pull along...
but that's still not the ultimate
genius of
*three billboards outside ebbing,
missouri*...
a well deserved supporting actor
Oscar for sam rockwell
playing jason dixon...
why?
he's the subtle sub-story
of the antihero archetype...
the sub-story just sits there,
subtle... but eventually more gripping...
it's not you want justice to be served...
or you're guessing who did it...
unlike in the instance
of secret in their eyes...
where the grief overburdens
the lead role...
there's a variant of being enraged
in a tragicomic way of
the lead in *three billboards outside ebbing,
missouri*...
perhaps because the lead role has
interactions with her remaining offspring,
and there's an abusive husband
hanging around...
but for me...
transfiguration...
like that Jesus bit...
the film is really all about
the antihero...
and thank god...
another superhero movie
and i'm going to puke...
what with deadpool being the other
antihero...
but unlike that sort of antihero story...
this is so genius in how subtle it is...
a well deserved supporting actor Oscar...
well done.
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 10:53 AM UTC
early this year
gentle as calm ocean waters
lapping along a weir
thumb and fore finger
of right hand would peal back,
(via diagonally flippant motion
asper calendar
representing progression of time)
gets flipped over to veer
in one direction (linear)
revealing the next month at lightspeed
vis a vis tempus fugit galloping tear
thy head immediately lost hirsute thickness,
i starkly share
male or female pattern baldness
extant along
Harris genealogical trunk line rare
yet divulging distress
about limp decreasing strands
sends shivers along spine,
gloomy feeling linkedin
with old fashioned meaning of queer
and perchance tis foolhardy
reeding this Samson night issue must ap pear
tis unstoppable inching closer toward
as mortality gets near
youthful robustness fades
replaced by senescence mere
really ambling along tragicomic stream,
one evinces gargoyles mockingly leer
loosing sleep and kept raggedly awake
in conjunction dreams fraught
with frightful haunting monsters jeer
ring sound reverberating hair
splitting decibel jamming primary cranial gear
aye tell mice elf nothing to fear...
yet maximizing this plight with poem 'ere
Yukon also temporarily part
blond, brown, gold, et cetera locks mud dear.
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 11:48 PM UTC
early this year
gentle as calm ocean waters
gently lapping along a weir
thumb and fore finger
of right hand would peal back,
(via diagonally flippant motion
asper calendar
representing progression of time)
gets flipped over to veer
in one direction (linear)
revealing the next month at lightspeed
vis a vis tempus fugit galloping tear
thy head immediately lost hirsute thickness,
i starkly share
male or female pattern baldness
extant along
Harris genealogical trunk line rare
yet divulging distress
about limp decreasing strands
sends shivers along spine,
gloomy feeling linkedin
with old fashioned meaning of queer
and perchance tis foolhardy
as reeding this Samson night issue must ap pear
tis unstoppable inching closer toward
as mortality gets near
youthful robustness fades
replaced by senescence mere
really ambling along tragicomic stream,
one evinces gargoyles mockingly leer
loosing sleep and kept raggedly awake
in conjunction dreams fraught
with frightful haunting monsters jeer
ring sound reverberating hair
splitting decibel jamming cranial gear
aye tell mice elf nothing to fear...
yet maximizing this plight with poem 'ere
Yukon also temporarily part
blond, brown, gold, et cetera locks mud dear.
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 11:36 PM UTC
***lost the last promise I gripped, slipping, the losses now fixed
homeless, nameless, tragicomic living past the place where scavenging doesn’t last.
ready supply of wretchedness unlimited, shopping cart full of your discards skimmed.
no more we say that evil Oh God, words over exercised, gone, excised, fk-you-exorcised.
lost the remaining of the last promise gripped, the losses are ice in July, fixed.
my suburban brain, burned, the volunteer firemen failed to care, appear.
put my past you, you, exhibited the lesser lesson, the faun ceased dancing.
my cunning can’t be higher’d, hired, arm won’t raise/rise over the wind head.
where the bloodlines went, just veins who purposely are no deafened, dumb, silenced.
no depth, no plumb line necessary, for measuring the deep, the last pairing.
ditched the muse, the witch ***** who offers tantalizing sweets, poison too, nicely spoiled.***
May 13, 2020
May 13, 2020 at 11:25 AM UTC
*homeless, nameless, tragicomic living past the place where scavenging doesn’t last.
ready supply of wretchedness unlimited, shopping cart full of your discards skimmed.
no more we say evil Oh God, words over exercised, gone, excised, fk-you-exorcised.
lost the remaining of the last promise gripped, the losses are ice in July, fixed.
my suburban brain, burned, the volunteer firemen failed to care, appear.
put my past you, you, exhibited the lesser lesson, the faun ceased dancing.
my cunning can’t be higher’d nor hired, arm won’t raise/rise
over the head.
where the bloodlines went, just veins who purposely are now deafened, dumb, silenced.
no depth, no plumb line necessary, for measuring the zero deep, the last imperfect pairing.
ditched the muse, the witch ***** who offers tantalizing sweets, poison spoiled.
the next SUV I see, won’t see me*
Jun 7, 2020
Jun 7, 2020 at 1:44 PM UTC