"unspokeness" poems
We haven’t spoken like we did,
Words feel like discarded currency;
Useless now, and inconsequential in hindsight.
Query into the why,
I respond with what,
Like a dam of unspokeness has burst,
And words flow past;
Powerful, but inevitably more destructive than I hoped,
Pushing away the life preserver I am offered,
I can do it alone, because that’s what it will come down to,
Dismissive of pessimism, you make claims of happy endings, so I refute:
“Babe, we’re fighting a cold war,
No one can win when there’s everything to lose.
Lines are drawn, allegiance implicit.
Unspoken resentment.
Vocal frustration.
A couple’s quarrel that never was,
Like Frankenstein’s monster,
The rearranged parts of our whole,
Pieces of fiction,
Light folly with cruel consequences,
Denial sets in,
My road to hell will always be paved with your best intentions.”
I will not hear, I will not see.
Willful disability,
Crippled with envy.
I am a monster with emeralds in her eyes,
Seeing the universe through glass tinted green instead of rose,
I am the monster who is thin and jagged,
Unable to produce my own warmth,
Cutting everyone near.
I am the monster who plays house,
The monster who wants it to be home,
The vicious beast with a place to rest its head,
It’s easy to be alone, but somehow less satisfying.
"My road to hell will always be paved with your best intentions.”
Our destruction is mutually assured,
No move is left unanalysed,
Hyperawareness.
Things we side aside before are the objects of argument;
Proxy wars.
I am a giraffe racing a gazelle,
Long strides mean nothing;
Beauty is the crowd favourite,
Tripping over my own limbs,
Tendons severed by chasing wildcats,
Falling, devoured, as beauty reaches the finish line.
Détente.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 7:42 PM UTC
*speckled cityscape compulsion
<>
it is 6:40am.
the ending credits roll on a Hannibal horror film
that I’ve seen many times.
but it’s just an old rerun, familiar deviltry,
slept through it thankfully
the kitchen window gives up a sunrise,
but it’s just an old rerun, familiar deviltry,
a streaking swath of burnt and bright,
so oft described, the color commentary
previously immortalized by better poets
than me, easy found elsewhere.
the speckled cityscape in this pre-awakened urbanity,
it is their moment, these red flashes, all about,
tall buildings chanting “stay away from me”
to you sleepy pilots, looking for a strip to safely land
in a tumbled jungled of obscene density.
still, they highlight against a river of deep, bright oranges,
burning surrounded by the most beauteous array of shades of blue,
compelled against my will to thankful write,
for gifts such as these cannot be so casually dismissed,
cannot be willfully ignored, to do so, denies our genetic commandments.
a hopeless, thankless task to ask of oneself.
the perhaps intrusive. Sunday, maybe the babies
will visit, macaroons, pre-halloween bags of candy bars,
at the ready, pre-opened by small, tall inner children for sensory testing.
Milk Duds, Heath Bars, Whopper malted ***** Hershey white chocolate,
checked by adults for safety and quality control.
all these I see, in realized eyes and whimsical musings,
in perfect silence, for the Sunday city morning
is worshiping the coming day in a church like silence,
where each patron fills in the empty sounds
with hymns of their own making...by moving their lips
in fervent unspokeness
the sky river reflects more modestly in the East River,
for a reflection is always a second best version.
30 minutes later the real and the apparition both,
disappeared, and a palest sheer blue, white streaked sky,
just an old rerun, familiar deviltry.
why is the sun rising
is so worshipped,
for there will never be a full day of
just sunrise colorations,
but the speckled reds still
a true color, still showing,
on perpetual guard duty,
bidding adieu to its
morning lovers,
until tomorrow,
in my city of lips.
sun. oct. 20 2019
Oct 20, 2019
Oct 20, 2019 at 8:21 AM UTC
No pink puffy
clouds
no streams of sunlight
no angels
no gates
only you
The only person
I've waited my whole life to meet
You'd run up to me
and give me a hug
that would make up
for a lifetime
of unspokeness
your warm brown eyes
and contagious laugh
would make everything
okay
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
Anomous snitching,
Tooth dead crinching,
The Grinch has made his way in!!
Talk of the town,
What's made is yours,
And what's ours is yours.
You bee sting amongst the nest!!
Epeleptic symptoms turn the chairs of doctoria request!!!
Antsy fingers,
Written unspokeness,
While the ongoing brokenness rewrites history paradox sense!!
Repentance,
Repentance,
Jurrassic marmelade!
Giving up all your readiness for our creditless credit carded trades!!!
Grass root momentary,
Head stone obituary, you are soo lovely in day!!!
The weeds that pull wrap divinely,
Enter signification relieve all things timely...
Relinquishments own freshing!!!
Grads of the ages for a scripturetic blessing,
How seasonal this all is!!!!!!!!!
Four chambered mansion, hearts beats immaculate to sweets and treat's of sugar can value!!!
Where coffee rocks fall through open lace of white state rags....
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC