Most Hated of Them All.

I hate her.
I hate the way her face displays,
all the things she hides from me;
I hate every breath that she takes.
I curse her smiles;
I make it rain all over her parades,
I saturate her blankets,
and every clothesline that she hangs.
I feel sick;
every time her victory banner is waved,
those with hearts as dark as hers,
do not deserve such good days.
I cast catching nets;
to halt the successes she’s made,
all the good she’s accomplished;
from within a questionable Human state.
I hunt her;
track marks in the mud from her chains,
her pace has picked up now,
but her attempts to escape are in vain.
I watch her;
watch each line appear in her face,
along the tip-toes of the crow’s feet,
so I step away from the mirror again.

Identify.

I told you
didn’t I?
you know
I had to try…
to hold onto
my own
hell-bent
detriment…
so indeed
and, earnestly
I let the
arrows fly…
loosed carelessly
to describe
my over-tired
and broken mind
there it was…
no doubt
all laid out
to scale
and personalized
to the very
best ability
of me –
personified…
yet, it’s trifling,
a novel compound
like your loyalty
unwieldy…
weighing down
wrought-iron-bound
an anchor  
drowning me…
I tried
early on,
to say why
spelled out
in bold lettering…
to emphasize
with clarity
such shortcomings
like to mine…

 

The Back of the Monkey.

A pet in the lap of the admiralty,

purring to the stroking,

laughing at the joking,

you mean to keep me,

to reward your infidelity,

to please the eye by which you see,

to one day stuff my dead body,

and display the beast in me.

Fixed onto the back of the monkey,

the stray in the street,

bloody hands and dirtied feet,

you mean to tame me –

to take me home and re-name me,

to clean me up and change me,

to alter what Life’s made me.

You think you’ve tapped a bead,

but your eyes misconceive,

oh no, that isn’t me,

and since you fail to see,

the truth comes painfully,

I’ll draw blood before I leave,

there’s no re-naming me.

Razor-Wire.

You wanted it…
you just had to get,
you begged for it:
a piece of me…
and then, that was it –
I did accept,
the invitation sent,
maybe ungraciously…
I showed up one day,
when the skies were grey,
guess you hadn’t been,
expecting me…
but there I was,
plenty of space
to smash in your face…
and put an end,
to the pretend,
of any friendship,
between us…
I am a lover,
but I am also,
a quick drawn shot,
one or the other,
and that is all I’ve got,
You asked for it…
you had to push the ticket,
couldn’t let it be,
had to poke and prod at it…
the red tape around the lips,
the sign that restricts,
exactly this type of,
unnecessary bullshit,
you ignored the gates,
the locks,
the razor-wire fence,
went on past the sirens,
blazing loudly out against…
disregarded everything,
spelled out for you,
in white and black,
bold lettering…
so don’t complain,
wipe them away,
crocodile-tear-stains,
throw it away,
and sink into
your own world again,
wasted away,
I forgot your name.

Hardwired.

“…love was as hardwired into the structure of the universe as gravity and matter.”
– Dan Simmons, The Rise of Endymion

 

Love is not knowing, but jumping in anyway.
Love is the feeling of stitches dissolving in your skin.
Love is the smile of an innocent child in the grips of wonder.
Love is a giant, canine bearing sea-lion being afraid of you.
Love is sunshine.
Love is an all-encompassing acceptance that changes your DNA.
Love is hoping against all logic or reason.
Love is being the first face to come into view, every time.
Love can be tangible.
Love can be fickle.
Love can bring us to our knees, in many different variances.
Love will NEVER leave us alone.
Love is darkness.
Love is light.
Love is the answer as well as the question in languages that humanity does not yet speak.
Love may be a language that humanity as we know it never learns.
Love was the mother of all Hatred.
Love is the force behind all of it, everything.
Love bore Mother Earth, the Sun, and every star.
Love is God. God is a Goddess. The Goddess falls back in Love.
Love can conquer all.
Love doesn’t necessarily want to conquer all.
And lastly,

When I didn’t love Love,

it loved Me, Anyway.

Eating Thorns.

All this time

in between

then and now

been simmering

been building up

rather patiently

brooding silently

been grinding teeth

been stomping feet

been digging holes

with an upward swing

eating poisonous thorns from trees

like it’s sugarcane

with Mexico’s best peyote

cigars and syringes

sparkling fringes

champagne, cocaine

and pornography

somewhere out there

fathomed too deep

where I hardly sleep

but my eyes stay closed

my mouth remains sewn

over words of my own

this place is forsaken

this space can’t be taken

the loose change shaken

from the secret pockets

sewn inside my cheeks.

 

On “What Ifs”.

“What if…?”

and, as the words
shoot from my mind
through my lips…
there’s a sign,
shooting from
somewhere
far behind.

What if…?

And, I cannot know
the aftertaste of
a poison on my lips…
a crash above,
low the high
circling
what was.

What if…?

And, as the chance
sucks itself down the drain
out of my fingertips…
there’s a pang,
deep inside
everywhere
all over again.

What if…?

And, as the present
becomes the past, here and gone,
time all spent…
hard and long,
lungs howled
everything
emptied of my song.