“I have a head cold and I don’t like it ‘cos it makes it hard to write”
I still get to fracture my imagery
no matter how far away the topic
may place these pictures.
The girl before me is twisting her soul.
She’s changing her pace.
Her blood begins to boil,
and flowers sprout forth from these crimson rivers.
They must not distract me!
Once again my sight is distorted.
My balance is unwound.
When the world is bleeding,
I must find someone to hold.
When my brain is reeling,
she becomes the perfect statue.
Vision clears, the truth draws near.
I see the beauty but
her clay must still be removed.
No, I won’t let this sadness come again.
Right now there’s words that must be written.
Oh, dear me…I can’t even think straight.
How much would it sting, I wonder, if I
had been a young boy who loved myrrah?
My, my, my…seems to me you’re falling down again, son.
You are hallucinating and sick.
You can’t even write this poem.
Its vocabulary is weak.
Usually your words are so powerful!
You could uproot a tree with one of your poems!
A tree? Hell, an entire forest!
But that is not the case today.
Incense burns.
Stained glass windows melt.
My arms and fingers break.
When did they become twigs?
When did I start making sense?
“the circumference of haunted things”
Waiting to see the wisdom.
The cards won’t come out shining.
I can feel this breeze.
My bones turn into tree trunks.
Grim visions scan the sky.
Chemicals paint your window.
Solid blue…you cannot look outside.
You cannot see my frosted glass melting.
In and out of this reality, leaving a cube-shaped aura.
Nothing to feel the sharp pain.
To let you know you’re alive.
Metal reflects the sunlight.
These pinpoints cut my eyes
like scalpels. I turn away.
Clouds wander and I
can see forever and nowhere.
Take one more step to reach the horizon
only to be maddened when a new one approaches.
Create them, destroy them.
Just take one more step.
And another…and another…
Nothing will feel the same again.
Not when you return,
not when you go away.
Ancient buildings hover in the distance.
Stone cathedrals haunt your memory.
Time, time, time. Some would say it’s important.
I happen to disagree.
All these shattered windows in these half-remembered
dreams mean nothing if not accompanied by misery.
I too meant nothing until the picture
faded. Then my reality became a picture on your wall,
and whether I was right to say this or not,
I told people I finally mattered.
“Exercise in Cut-up, Key of 7”
Wisdom knows
of the sun.
the mysteries of you.
no boundaries,
stranded on Mars,
forever untying.
to the glory
I follow my heart.
“If Literature Were a Lady”
If literature were a lady
I’d ask her for her hand
and take with pride on a tour
to show to countless lands.
As they read her body,
full of rising stars,
they’d admire her allusions and symbols
as mysterious as life on Mars.
I would never wish to deceive her
for fear she’d wilt away,
her remains blown out to the aching sea
on a dismal, windy day.
Her speech appeals to the eye of the mind
as loud as a clap of God’s thunder.
The day that I stop loving her
is the day that I’ve finally gone under.
“Bizarre Fragment”
lovely sweet smell
almost tangible smell
(smell of mother)
I’m coming home again
strange crystal aura
shed like tears
“Cold”
“I think I’ve got a cold,”
he said to me on that winter night
when England glowed as Evils should
on evenings devoid of delight.
They nudged each other’s heads
against the corners of the room.
In my ear a terrible ringing began
to spell out the true Nature of Doom.
Their Arms and Heads point toward Heaven falling.
Access to my oceans close off.
No more sounds can touch my ears,
Not even the Sound-of his Cough.
“I think I’ve got a cold,” I say.
“It’s whispering secrets inside my head.
I’ve caught the Disease called Forever.”
Don’t touch me once I am dead.
“Grateful”
time on this earth,
time on this earth.
it’s time I’m not worthy of.
my body is a gift I don’t deserve.
there is a glow spreading over my skin.
if you would be so kind, please hand me this sin,
the sin that was drained from your veins.
I want all the highs and lows,
the praise and the ingratitude.
all you need is my trophy and a smile.
the spotlight will focus on you forever
unless you refuse to release this sin
which I am so willing to take.
give it to me.
let it trickle down my throat.
yes, yes…give it all up.
I need every last drop.
spill your sin into my stomach
so that now the light moves on to me.
you helped me get here.
I’ve finally gotten some attention
and I owe it all to you.
I try to thank you but I’m pushed away.
but don’t think I’m being rude.
to you I’ll be forever grateful.
“Column I & II”
down the street you see halos
and missing doors and me,
catching no one’s eye
although words fall tenderly
from my lonely lips, lost
in oceans of misery. They
lived another year, sleeping in
and loving the tomb of sincerity.
Then one day I found
my Jesus power
and these words were resurrected.
Loveliness and joy
started to paint different colors
across my sky.
Overcome by screams, the rest of the world
lost its grip on a grain of sand,
the one remaining speck
which defined right and wrong.
I don’t want to see you anymore
or feel your
accusing eyes as they drop
boulders of guilt
on my broken back and sunburned shoulders…
don’t want to see your
translucent body twisting
beneath waves of water
and as your beauty rotates in that haze,
I don’t want to remember your screams
because it was my fault
the blood never came
when it should have been a river from you.
If only it had poured out, then relief
could have flooded in to replace it.
“Ode to Toby”
Hey, Toby, my friends
seem to desire your body.
They want to feel you against them
and hope some dream might wash ashore,
declaring life might be something more
than hideous.
Listen, girl…no, I mean woman…
you have even managed
to charm the hell out of me.
We all know (in rumors)
how much I prefer
slanted eyes and yellow skin.
You badger me,
complaining these words
are too harsh to hear.
Well, hey, I never
promised the truth would be
as smooth as your skin.
Don’t take this all the wrong way.
Kaleidoscopes
provide
1,000,000 different patterns.
I never wanted
any of these pictures
to be offensive…it just sorta
happened that way.
Please forgive me.
My bones are subtle.
This scroll is yours.
I found you
damaging my skin
while I was outside dreaming
and everyone else
was inside breathing.
(age shouldn’t really be a barrier)
Honestly, I don’t know
where my opinions fall anymore.
Rose petals turn into feathers.
Someday I will gather enough
to reconstruct my wings,
because falling through the stratosphere
is the last burn I ever want to know.
“lost now”
I remember the day my hands started freezing.
The ligaments would not obey me.
A classmate rapped his knuckles on my skin.
“You’re turning to stone,” he said.
My anger could have popped the stars.
Celestial remains would have fallen,
scarring the planet eternally,
but I couldn’t let people suffer that fate
just because I was angry.
This has been destined to happen.
I have been asking for it, really.
Being such a dedicated artist, I should have known
someday I would become a work of art.
Not necessarily a masterpiece,
but a work of art just the same.
Then again, I never expected I’d become a statue.
Why am I not turning into a novel?
Why doesn’t my skin push forth hieroglyphics?
I don’t know.
The days passed as they always do.
As my final days slipped away,
I held myself so far outside
that I could examine everything.
I wander the rows of buildings.
Concrete shuts out the compassion.
It exiles the caring spirits.
It forbids them to dwell here.
Still ,if you try hard enough,
you can sense the beauty.
Open your heart.
We have all heard this.
I wander and let the children surround me.
They are all so beautiful.
Each one shows me a pictograph,
but you can’t read these things
when you are trapped inside.
If this is the place where I’m a god, I’d
hate to see the place where I’m human.
No lessons can be learned.
No friendliness can be found.
Some people caught me seeking out
Asian beauty before it was too late.
They hurt me with sticks and stones
which broke my bones
because they hit me before the transformation had come.
Now my arms have stoned over.
That’s how you can describe my situation
in a politically correct way:
my body is “stoning over.”
Bones, goodbye.
Skin, so long.
It’s been great knowing you.
Now it is imperative that you leave.
Fingers fixed in a writing position,
eyes focused on the paper,
heart unable
to feel anything.
“Not Given a Title”
I was just hanging around
in the afterglow and warmth of a nuclear explosion,
listening to music that sounded
familiar yet so distant from my memory.
I lost my hat
when a hand full of lust whisked it away.
I chased it into the mouth of a dragon
and got lost somehow, somewhere,
trapped deep in its guts.
Even though the belly was full of fire
I still sensed a chill
which made it no different than
the situation out in the green world.
I felt ice on my back like freezing rain
as the hands on my watch started to strangle me.
Yesterday I felt like a torn couch,
the springs busted and rusty…I
didn’t become a receptacle to any harm that day.
Rolling forward as I fall from the wire,
fall warmed already into the fire,
yet I still detect their ignorance.
If I weren’t there, they could ignore me.
So life is like an avalanche,
made up of rocks and lies,
and some of them are so small
that they even look like flies.
“not much of a life (or death)”
you…don’t see I’m just a pervert…you’re so blind…most people have to die before they can go this blind so you are lucky…I lived in everyone else’s shit…but you see…oh that’s stupid of me to admit or forget…your hatred crushed my skull…my brains splattered across your face…at least I’ll never suffer under your touch again…thank the creator if there is one…so many things crawling over your legs…spiders, ants, the hands of horny men and even a few women…your orifices have all been well-explored…tongues and pricks have dwelled in these caves…all your slimy lies leak out of that giant hole between your legs…like I care if you want me to hump you…I may be a pervert but I still wouldn’t fuck you…green liquid poured over my body…my whole life is a burning realization of the scum that lines the walls of any skull…so what should I do to you and I? Well I guess the answer is written in my hand…I’ve got the naked gray barrel opening up its secrets…I let the gun’s seed pass into your skull…then I, the flickering image of a pervert turned psychopath, sit on the bed and think about your face…smeared across the walls…so prettily destroyed…I remember holding your head face-down in my lap…your lipstick still forms a ring around my prick…I never washed it off…but where I’m going they won’t care about that…all that matters is the “love” I have inside…maybe they want me to clean my insides out? inside my head it’s so cluttered…man I’ve got so much shit inside my head…I can’t exist…hell I can’t even be dead…
“Poetry”
how lonely it is
to be all Alone-
To have fractured Feelings
And no one is Home---
I have no Friends
To come visit me-
They’ve all got each other
As good company---
And you are the one
That they love the most-
With you, you’re the Messiah
With me, I’m the ghost---
They’d be with Me
If they weren’t with You-
I’ll kill myself now
Nothing better to do---
I feel Empty-inside-
I need to speak with you
You’re out, busy with friends
Nothing else is new---
Once I could have loved you
But you’re no longer the same
I try to speak with you
But you leave me in pain
“Looking Back on My Life”
I do too many drugs
I drink too much beer
I lived my life
Trembling in the shadow of fear
Coughing in the sunlight
Smoker’s hack in me
Touching lovers on sore spots
Break their chains, set them free
Tucking in my shirt
Scanning life for a certain thought
Licking my lips
Looking at the candles I bought
Recalling the countdown to death
I felt flesh crumble and dissolve
Then I lifted out of my body
So deformed it could not evolve
I left behind a life of defeat
A life of corruption and waste
I may have made bad choices
But I never had bad taste
“I’d love to…”
I’d love to beat you
With 1,000 tiny voices
That are always booming loud
But you can’t ever hear them
As clearly as you’d like to
The blood flows, colored clear, through the sky
It doesn’t stain a thing
“I”
I’d escape from levels of hell once thought impenetrable.
Your eyes, even in this afterlife, reflect everything I’ve ever felt in my heart.
They appear on the insides of my eyelids.
Quickly the image multiplies.
A glorious smile contained in the shape of your lips and teeth.
Your bronze hair spilled over my face in dawns of love long ago.
Now, somehow, there’s a wall of hate between us.
No chisel can break this barrier down.
The genesis of this obstruction is a mystery to me.
I think and I think and I think forever.
Blood, like tears, pours out of my sky.
What’s it feel like to touch the dead?
I don’t know.
Touch me and see, touch me and see.
Discover all my inner planes of pain
where you’ll find her memory-rubble
placed high atop Mt. Memory,
her face caught in a smile.
I never disrespected her,
I never demanded anything of her.
But now there’s no way to grab the chalice from her table,
not even the one that is designated
the cup of friendship.
Without even noticing, or realizing, or knowing how I did it,
I pushed her into this sea of hatred
and she was quickly carried away by the waves of an angry storm,
overwhelmed by its power.
Years have gone by since last week, and I bet she doesn’t even recall my name
as we sit only five feet apart…
with the entire world between us.
“godhater”
a white oval inside my eyelids
the middle dissolves and it resembles an eye
the background is a red haze
the red haze shatters as if it were glass
and it all tumbles into oblivion
when I open my eyes to see you
you’re gone…left an indent in my bed
visions of a world much colder than this
churning out metal books for god
through a fish’s gaping mouth
chains with racist fear
a fear planted too deep in me to conquer
so deep I can never pull it out
the hour sprouting out of her head attracts me
I never knew a love like this
and I’ll never know it again
the nothing that I consume
turns into energy for a stabilized god-thing
it gives me power
no I’ll never change my ways
because I love having power
otherwise I’ll be a spineless coward again
wait…no…oh my God
the rolling deathangeldemongodmachine crushed my beloved
beneath its wheels of hate
I toss away my power to become another
Godhater
“I hate death”
I hate death
And living and
All thing between
That twist me
And turn me in turns.
Whatever was coming
Is turning away now
Yet its sneaky grip
Already latched to my flesh
Tears me apart and
My bones crack, yet there
Is something else now,
Only it glows with purity
And no more wounds can
Reclaim my flesh.
For now I have come back,
Resurrected on the day
That I first went away.
Now I see the truth
As if I have never seen it before
(and you know what…I don’t think I have)
This being my second time around,
I know no anger
For a returning soul
Is already numb
And bells call out
So I know
---I am the messiah---
“In Your Head”
style drains out of this world
I couldn’t laugh at the punchline
because the liquor didn’t hit me
yes I need to be drunk to laugh
especially when I need to laugh at you
because your jokes are all flat
they’ve lost their bubbles, their excitement
you shouldn’t remain alone on that stage
the wooden stage will turn into a plank
and those who hate your humor will be there
they will be the pirates
their swords will tap you on the back
and you’ll have no choice but to move
god yes your jokes truly are that lame
you couldn’t even make a stoned man laugh
and supposedly they laugh all the time
get off that stage
listen here comes a readout
typed out by the buttons on a computer called the human brain
in your head, the information was analyzed
now we read this insane verdict out loud
“you should be a stand-up comedian”
there’s obviously a short circuit somewhere
I bet it’s deep inside your head
“A Dream Come True”
I wish I could…I wish I could…I wish I could heal this inner wound…there is a place on that stage where I once hovered between the curtains…the barrel of the gun was shivering with fear as it tapped the side of my head…no one noticed I was ready to pull the trigger…”The show must go on,” they would have said…but your hands were there for me…they caressed the gun out of my hand…yeah in my dreams it happened that way…but in reality no one cared enough to stop me from releasing the bullet that said “I hate my life an myself…just like everyone else”…the metal crashed through me…it took me away to this place where all is dark…I belong here…suicide is a dark mysterious thing…humans are dark mysterious things…what is my punishment? I hear the voices of the people who claimed to be my friends…they call memories of me “sickening”…I’ve made this imagined rumor true…everyone really hates me now…I was so paranoid that I wished it into life…and now I’ve made a dream come true…
“Simple Boy’s Tale”
I am just a simple boy, and I’ve come here with a tale.
If there’s one thing I’ve never done in my life,
it’s run outside, my arms outstretched,
screaming, “I’ve had enough of love!”
In fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever tasted this sacred emotion.
There was once a time
I knew, I knew, I knew
the loveliest woman ever created.
She would whisper songs into my ears
and all my worries, like butterflies, would shake their wings
and so effortlessly fly away.
They’d pass right through the majestic dawn,
leaving nothing behind…not even scar tissue.
I was working as a stock boy at a corner store
but money was no object, or so she said to me.
Once you think about it, you really do wonder why we dwell on it
or care what kind of job is held down by a young woman’s lover
when we ought to be concerned with how much love they hold inside.
The summer came fast then slipped away like a relaxing breeze.
We pulled out the fans then had to put them back.
It was so confusing and fast that I had to sit down.
Winter came and our breath turned visible on the air,
spelling out in plumes of condensation, “I love you, I love you, I love you,”
and in her presence it seemed these were the only words I knew.
Then she said to me, so vacantly, “I really ought to go.
It’s getting late in the year, but I still love you so.”
Her lips brushed against me and smothered the flood of tears,
and she turned away…
and she turned away…
she left and I stood dumfounded on a patch of ice,
my eyes numbed by the light.
She made me wait all these years
and now I’m starting
to wise up, to accept my lack of luck.
She is never coming back…
never ever coming back…
so I’ll deal with it as one with true strength ought to.
I’ll shrug my shoulder and lift my head up.
I’ll lift it up so high I’ll touch the sun.
“Sad Story”
Her lovely thoughts fell through my head
and, no longer wishing I was dead,
I fell into the curve of her arms.
I drifted off to sleep, cushioned by the gaze in her eyes.
She was in a trance as she looked at me.
“Lady, oh lovely lady,” I said,
“I planned to cut my throat but your love has dulled the knife.”
Then her eyes skipped across the room,
following a crooked path I’d never see.
The lights expanded as they passed through the window,
widening to embrace us in early morning pleasure.
“This could be the start of something new,” she said.
“This could be the start of something new.”
I woke up with the dust in my head.
It was years later and she was gone.
I’d mourned for her without even realizing what was wrong,
but I’d never see her in that special slanted light again.
Throughout the years I’d received all the attention
while she had been foolishly ignored.
She died from the cold that comes with loneliness…
shriveled up…blew away.
I knew I was the only one to blame,
wrapped up in myself like a selfish child’s birthday toy.
The crust formed by dried tears I never bothered to wipe away
lines my eyes like foreign walls.
I never felt this pain before.
It’s something unflinching, original, and true.
“This could be the start of something new,” I said.
“This could be the start of something new.”
“Laura”
She floats like petals on the water.
Her name is…
(oh God I can’t remember but then again
how can I forget?)
her name…what is her name?
name is what it was
beauty on the air
cures the eyesore in my eye, Laura does
yes she does
I want to wake up to her face
Go to sleep in her embrace
That’s what I want from Laura
Fills my heart, Laura does
Yes she does…
Louder now!!!!
YES SHE DOES!!!!!
Are you satisfied?
No, not yet!
Not until Laura is in my arms, forevermore,
and we stare across to the other shore.
Some demand looks,
but I hope she is not on this list.
Some demand personality.
Hopefully that’s where she gets her kicks.
Cannot remember, cannot forget
I still have not gotten
My beautiful Laura yet
Torture my soul
Not my eyes, oh Lord
With the beauty of Laura
Who is not mine to hold
Yet
Cannot find a way to end this
Yet
I cannot go on
Mustn’t dwell
Cannot dwell
And now I fell
On a body
Rotting mind
Disgusting find
This body
Turns out to be mine
No longer divine
I decline to give any information
Not formally part of this investigation
Who killed me, you may ask
Who committed the horrible task?
A former version of me, from the aching past
Not whom, but what, my friend
What did me in in the end
It was love
Given to me from above
Love for Laura, grace on Earth
Give my child
Its destined birth
No one else could be so true
As I am right now
When I say
The rest of this poem was written
During my overly sentimental days
So to avoid further embarrassment, I’m going TO END this FUCKING PIECE OF GARBAGE RIGHT NOW because it’s making me sick just to read it and I cringe at how once upon a time I thought this was actually good poetry.
Just leave this one behind, folks. Don’t even bother remembering it. My skills have climbed high above this drivel, written when I was maybe thirteen or so.
At any rate I said the poem was ending, so it’s time to go.
“Good”
if you think you’re divine
don’t waste your time
bleeding and crying over me.
your sun sheds no tears.
I could donate a dime
to this slot and get
a magical stone as a gift.
now I can carry my treasure
because my fingers are complete.
you are the one who finally assembled them
so I suppose I owe you one.
come travel these glorious landscapes with me
and we can discover life together.
“A Post-Modern Feeling”
This music fills my house
You cannot escape it
It hurts the mouth
Bullets destroy us
A .44 Bulldog in my closet
Bleeding from the line of life
Love cannot be true
One LSD tab sent me to Hell
The government is a cheat
We will stampede the monument
We will knock it down
They will stash it away in the attic
No one wants to see its pathetic beauty
Save it for someone special
Neon is not the answer
You may think so
But I know it’s all fading
Words cannot hide the pain in your joy
Words are thin these days
They’re getting thinner as you read
Scrape your vision off the floor
Put it back in your eyes
Witness the lies you’re told
Overthrow the museum
Throw out the Buddhists
Work all the bugs out
Use it for defense
Watch the watch as it watches you
It looks at your face too
Knock out the beach fortress
The smell singes your skin
So may skinned alive
And so many more still to die
Stop the war(s) in Central America
Maybe you’ll find the peace you need
“What?”
Where was I?
I forgot about what I have to do.
(No, this isn’t suicide.)
It’s a difficult time.
(No, this definitely isn’t suicide.)
Trust me, my friend,
for I have never lied.
By the time you are through here
I will have finally died.
On the hill, a giant…
In my soul, an inescapable pain…
Drift through the wind like
nothing at all.
Words are not messages.
Words are punches to the head.
They can hurt, can turn you transparent.
Let me blow it out into the open
WORDS FAIL
I do not mean to be crude, but
there’s a parasite in my brain.
It makes me spread rumors I know aren’t true.
Makes me reveal things I don’t want to
think
about.
They all plan against me.
Why don’t they love anyone or anything?
I do.
I love you.
Carve into the chest slowly.
(what does this mean?)
Crazy, am I…
(what do I mean?)
I am crazy???
(what do you mean?)
No, I cannot be crazy…
(what do we mean?)
Who even cares anymore?
Not I.
Forget about it now.
Here is my heartbeat, going up and down.
Crash through the center of time.
(what are you saying?)
I’m saying I’m dead.
See you later, my dreary friend.
Until then, may the Greek Masters rule.
Through the land of nothing at all may you go.
Who knows?
Maybe you’ll see me there.
“Swimming in the Sand”
Waiting for a ride,
My hand outstretched
Swimming in the sky
Swimming in the sand
Look down the barrel
Firing the gun
Killing the stranger
Killing the sun
Feel the morning dust
Brush against my cheek
Gathering up all the rejects
Staring at all the freaks
Burning heat peels away my face
I know now I’m far out of place
I am asleep,
I am awake
You are not the real thing
You are a fake
And I am not truly a man
Until I spend some time swimming in the sand
“Incest Wreck”
I sit here
in life
where God has divided me.
I dare not remember my life.
It was an incest wreck.
My eyes are slashed in two
in a horizontal, relaxed position.
I lie here like iron bound in the planet’s crust.
My tomb-like mind regurgitates past fears.
Strong image of a hooker with naked legs spread…
image of a hooker
image…
…of bobbing head
legs close tight grasp strained moan of pleasure
gushing liquid mats down pubic hair
drained and smoking inhaling and choking
stoned and broke laughing at joke
The life I was living was an incest wreck.
She dozed off like a dying angel.
I find her name on her license,
left carelessly on the table.
…………………………………………….
Recognize my sister’s name! My sister’s name!
Afterwards, there was a bullet making a quick tour of my head.
To my life, she was the threat.
After all, she’s the one who made my life an incest wreck.
”The daylight whispered…”
The daylight whispered.
The tree limbs swayed in anticipation.
Sometimes in winter, when the leaves
are banished to the ground
and the limbs are pressed against the
sky like skeletons, I can sense
my spirit dwindling.
But someday soon,
I will find my strength again.
“clearly”
clearly…early morning remains of last night’s rain slapping the leaves and the dirt…I hear you breathing heavily…as you lay beside me…for a while I wander off to explore this forest world…finding a strange sight at its core…a garden created at the beginning of time…left unattended ever since our ancestors deserted this place for the cities and the money…I pluck an orange from a nearby tree and its juices flow down my throat my chin my fingers…and I bring one back for you…I touch your shoulder lightly…it is enough to wake you up…and enough to make me feel the pride in seeing you near and knowing you are mine and I am yours…I inhale the scent of your skin…my eyes drink up the sight of your eternal beauty…we kiss and my tongue is coated by the sweetness of your mouth…
the sound of your pleasure fills my ears…but the sensation I enjoy the most is the feeling of my hands on your perfect body…and I have also reached inside your head…dipping my hands into the pool of wonder that it contains…I never dried my hands after that day…and my hands still drip your beauty…
“Not Good Enough to Send Anyone”
you are shining
burning bright
carving patterns in my night
when the earth is cold and dreary,
thoughts of you make me weary
I wish I was more like you
so my legs wouldn’t falter
hungry again
constellations are breaking open
they echo my loss
every single day
sometimes I think they
recount your errors as well
when I blink my eyes,
the words become blurred
never quite sure
if you lost
anything
I know I have forgotten
my favorite beauty
somewhere, where alcohol and
jock-stench covers you,
I hope someone repeats my name so you can remember
the one “nice guy” who came around but you pushed away
“words crumble words are cheap…”
words crumble words are cheap words have no meaning in this lifestyle
when I crush words I feel creative when I suck out their life and carve dullness in your mind, oh yes I…
it’s still drifting there wherever it sees purple horizons that might harbor all the demons
who want so badly to cause your permanent downfall
a moment that will be collected and reflected to entertain the gods
if your will is dying they won’t even renew the copyright when the time comes
so you must learn how to live now before it’s too early
greatness holds you down…maybe in some alternate universe
but here your life is a worthless cliché of self-loathing and you sicken those who
cherish you
no on can respect you when you let suicidal thoughts crawl through your mind
when the sun rises would you paint it black to make your demise come sooner
or is it enough to close your eyes and press a gun to your left temple and let an explosion
end all this madness
well I wonder sometimes what your mind considers
will you exit this world through a bullet hole or a stab wound
why do think this way when you know how much we need you here
we need to soak our eyes with your vision
for you are like water
soft and flowing cool and relaxing
we must reconstruct your senses to show you we care
or perhaps I must convince you myself
because the others are unable to feel as I do
and I must say I love you so please I’m not asking a favor of you
I am begging you please
don’t do this
please
don’t go away
“A Lifetime”
Apart from the illusion,
I am not real.
I float here, attached to you in fever dreams,
Watching the way you deal
Out those cards like you were throwing
Chinese stars from heaven.
I’ve been coated in good luck by now.
I carved out the number seven.
Leaving my house, I remember you.
As the night drew in like morning dew.
I learned of greed and selfish needs,
And I learned them all from you.
Nothing new can slip into my head
Although it’s a spongy one.
I’m looking, looking, looking now
Down the barrel of a gun.
Images floated in the sun,
Drift like feathers, land on my brain.
My rotting, ancient thoughts
Mouth the words to a forgotten refrain.
Bolts screwed into my thighs,
Turning throughout the aching days…
I couldn’t go this far tonight.
I forgot to expand my threshold of pain.
A lifetime of torment,
It’s enough to drive me crazy
But only if this all took place years ago,
Back in the days when I wasn’t lazy.
“Abducted”
Listen: don’t let go
Or they’ll hear the slip of your hand
As your skin slides over mine
And then they will know I am free.
That is when the image of their ship will reappear.
It will descend upon my scarred form.
Their three-fingered hands will lick my arms
And pull me into the floating storm.
I can sense someone is lying on a slab.
It’s too hard for me to see.
There, a change of position and now I can tell
The man on the slab is me.
Pale faces with obsidian eyes gaze down
In these upside-down triangle-shaped heads.
In clawed fingers they hold their probing tools,
Shredding my genes, examining my threads.
They talk in twisted tongues,
Probably to discuss what my body is worth.
There is a blackout. Hours later, I wake up
And find that I’m back down on Earth.
Time has left.
It packed a suitcase and went away.
My words will never be understood.
No one will believe what I say.
These humans come to my house.
They come crashing through my door.
Two in decontamination suits drag me off.
My friends won’t be seeing me anymore.
“everyboy”
my soul is shattered
my dreams are burning
yet my mind is strong
its foundation is steel & gold
as long as that gold shines and that steel doesn’t tremble
I will be able to salvage something from the wreckage
I will be able to survive
Egyptian-like ages evolve in me
loneliness is abundant here
it seems to crush everything
it seems to be all I have
my mind can shred this pain
I know my problems are nothing
so when you think you are worrying me
please avert your sorrow
direct it somewhere else
because your messages aren’t clear anyway
I have crippled my satellite
I no longer care what you say or do
my life still throbs
even though your love has eluded me
it is only a matter of time
I can wait here
your love is gone momentarily
while I still exist, I will occupy myself
not a moment shall be vacant
even when my brain is sleeping
the thought of you will cause no weeping
because dreams are roaming through my head
silver constellations hover where I rest
“Judo: My Experience”
Ancient windows bleed
when I create new sunlight.
Each move echoes the Orient.
Once again I know the concrete.
I can see them in the distance,
stone buildings rotating in the air.
Circles, circles, all circles.
Leaping forward, counting each time.
My tongue drips Eastern words.
My mind engulfs Eastern wisdom.
Could this stone carving represent
how much I respect these theories?
No, I don’t think so.
Be patient…you will see.
Drowning out the depression by this river.
My fists can shatter boulders.
I am the universe, the constellations,
I am everything and nothing.
No difference between them,
no landmarks to identify this place.
I think…I think…
Yes, I think this is the place.
Place of all places, where gods bow
to each other and perfect their techniques.
My face outlines the cosmos.
These shackles have dissolved.
I can move at last. Centuries
used to make my prison stronger.
One moment was enough to defeat
every enemy that crippled my self-esteem.
Now that moment has gone.
Greater times shall arise.
Could you open the window?
Autumn strips away a branch’s clothing.
Lovely crimson and orange fabrics.
I shall tremble when they hold darkness.
Contemplate this season and
never understand the reasons.
No metallic components here.
Just flesh, blood, and bone.
Muscles contracting, relaxing,
opening to caress the sun.
I spot an ox-drawn cart.
The cobblestones speak as I walk.
You deserve all this and more.
Here, wrap this belt around your waist.
Your technique is superb, a skill
which finally developed your belief.
You can believe in yourself now.
Stick and stones may break your bones.
Knives and bullets may tear your flesh,
but never again can anyone tear your soul.
Never again will you think
there is the slightest chance they can beat you.
“these words follow”
I inhale your stench
it’s too much to contact now
your sunshine and rainbows
all withered away
A star sanctuary
god, demigod
flowing like molten lava
grinding hot teeth
to tear soft flesh
massacre the street lamps
One woman left to gnash her teeth
to rip her skin
to execute her soul
One woman left to tear herself apart
to learn the truth
to escape this pain
“Strangest Love”
Aching, turning, not yet in my older years.
I met you and felt everything let go.
The pain was shattered by your beauty.
Melted beyond recognition, it crawled away.
I let you float into the framework of my body.
Slowly your fingers caressed my innards.
Liquid love spreads across my heart’s surface,
Smothering all the pain yet to grow there.
What was going on in my head at that time?
It wasn’t a pure thought, I know.
You banished the idea immediately.
I didn’t even have time to see it go.
You are still here, held in my image-recalling machine.
After releasing all this evil, you left my skin.
All you said was that you had work to do elsewhere.
I assume you had to free others of their anguish too.
This appears to be some sort of job you have.
And for this reason I love you, dear lady.
Don’t worry about me being faithful.
For this romance, you don’t have to be near.
No one understands the sweet pain of heavens
Dripping from these empty cells.
They wipe the slate clean in order to have new order
And they sound off in chimes like bells.
Escape from this asylum, you ordered me.
These walls are so delicate and thin.
It’s a shame to destroy them, my love,
Like puncturing an angel’s soft skin.
I need your uncertain love like flowers in bloom.
They feed the greed of my infantile thoughts.
The aching reality of another dawn I’ve spent as a teacher!
Here are the halls where my soul was lost.
There is no aging in my homeland.
This place has no name and never will.
A freak at my feet withers in borrowed pain,
And the world breaks apart like glass.
Although it’s a strain to be living this life,
I can’t say it’s completely bad.
Knowing you has been like learning magic,
And it’s the strangest love I’ve ever had.
“there is no…”
there is no feeling left in these bones…old bones…weary bones…I know not what I do so don’t hold me responsible…nor can I comprehend what I say…my senses are shattered…all nerves have been cut…every tie has been severed…don’t trust my lips or my tongue…they calculate incorrectly…when you bury me please make my grave shallow…because I am shallow…I hope the bridge built over me is weak…because I am weak…everything I knew in this world is so much shit…nothing to hold…just sand filling a broken glass…and I know there is nowhere to hide…I’ve occupied every cave but couldn’t call any of them my home…right now I have to bleed so please excuse me but in the meantime…just remember---you are my demon seed…I will always hate you...my alien fingers are creeping across your border…do not try to keep me out…do not try to let me in…I am the ending…that never had the chance to begin…
“crying in the sun”
there was no time to test the waterway
so I risked my soul with a dare to sail
fires burned brightly on the tip of the sky
and I tipped back my hat as I rowed away
some people say I should have stayed
there was no danger, the war had been won
but I’d much rather go home, try to straighten things out
and in the meantime I’ll do my crying in the sun
until then I’ll do my crying in the presence of the sun
I never needed food out here
my slot machine’s three eyes never made a match
I learned how to use a useless tool
I escaped the devil’s living room without a scratch on me
some people say I make decisions too fast
and I’ll always regret my actions when I’m done
but I’ll let you be the first to know
because I always want to be the last
ad I’ll be fine when I’m crying in the sun
“how you feel”
Into my life
come the gods of dying.
Their pained and wrecked faces
are mine to keep.
I own the worlds that crumble
in the hands of the poor.
I live in the room
without a door.
I lead devils to their doom
and construct temples of bone and flesh
using their shattered remains.
God’s hands came here to strangle me.
His fingers have mechanical joints.
We twisted the dial that broke in time
and watched the sky being burned
down, down, down to orange shadows.
Can we try to apologize
for the mistakes made above us?
It is futile to talk sense
with fallen, sterile, deities.
This is what I’ve found.
This is what I’ve thrown away.
Look at the sand-figures dusting the sky.
Their fingers, long and unbound,
trace your beauty
on the face of the blistering sun.
Watch my tired lines crumble
into the horizons of the dead.
We take on all forms of misinformed minds
and souls chewed at by thrashing disease.
We lurk in shadows too dilated to see.
We control words when we snap our fingers
and color dry landscapes
until they are fruitful before us.
They cannot read the book
found in a tree trunk,
so they let it dissolve
in wasted hands.
The shrapnel of exploded sex toys
scrapes my flesh,
and crimson is my aura.
If only you could see
the sand-figures as they see me
the world would turn again!
(if only)
Hear me now,
distant gods of future metal life!
I do not survive with pain
but put it to rest
in the dust raised
where the last giants have walked.
Yes, I walk with the end of their kind,
so mighty and mysterious,
who perform absurd plays
on the stage of my soul.
Their soliloquies are gods
in and of themselves.
I exist perpendicular to the anger
that always sets off reason’s alarm
a second too late.
They peeled the lids from her broken eyes,
that the world might resemble
some sort of happiness for her.
Written on my bed
inside layers of thread
is the meaning of life.
Every bone in my body
is caught in the machine
(which doesn’t discriminate)
and it grins me into powder
which the wind blows into the sea
where I dissolve and die,
scooped up in the mouths of seagulls.
I never had the chance to apologize
for the way I lived my life.
I know how you feel
because it’s all I can remember.
“To a Good Friend”
“Charming,” thought I when first we met.
Her eyes were as blue as oceans and I wanted to
Reach beneath the surface of those tiny pools.
I wanted my hand to sink in
So I could pull thoughts from her mind
To see how the world revolved
Inside her head, and when I did there was a true connection made.
Nothing is as beautiful
As a true friend.
“Hello, I’m Your Tongue”
I have no mouth.
My mind has melted.
Lately I have been graphing out
the energy it takes to suppress orgasms.
Correct this, eliminate that.
We’ll kiss your scars and sores.
Sunshine pours out here,
leaving no excuses to greet me.
Have you ever uncovered stones?
Did your bones ever wither?
They will not notice you.
Your death shakes no boundaries.
Tossing out your wisdom
and mending your shattered teeth,
I always thought love was lonely
and soil only went six feet deep.
“The Wendy Poem”
Wendy’s cool.
Wendy rules.
Wendy’s smart.
Wendy kicks butt.
Wendy won’t keep the poem I wrote for her.
Wendy has more power than the government.
Wendy makes more sense than the government.
Wendy probably did better on the sociology test than I did.
Wendy’s great.
Wendy’s sweet.
Wendy won’t read this part of the poem ‘til it’s published ‘cos she don’t
know I like her a lot.
Wendy understands I asked her out just as friends.
Wendy, I will miss you until next year.
“Asia Carrera”
sitting alone…dark halo room…at this point even the bed is naked…dreary skin of liars…watching with eyes sunken and dead…wasted all these years…hand moving to grab stiff feelings…your moans control every twitch that afflicts this flesh…I know desensitization has claimed you…a victim of medusa’s stare which hardened your soul instead of your body…(thank God for that)…how can oceans of my words wash over you when the stone locks everything out…no way to tell you how beautiful you are and have it mean something…no methods available to let you see through my eyes how you shine…yet there are so many ways to expose you to negativity…so many doors one could open to let in the pain…infinite methods to bleed myself and pray and break myself and beat myself into the ground…
“Would it come…”
Would it come naturally
for me to BE bitterly
cold
Against your charming force?
“I could spill time”
I could spill time
Like grapes
my cards are all dealt
Come Spring time
Choosing to see My Truth
The self-being of me
that HURT your god
can you LIVE with me
Unlikely chances are Stalking
My final hopes of ABANDONMENT
If they ARE killed
i die alone
and the words can’t flow
at an even pace
can they
i ask again
can you LIVE with ME
“Coming out”
Coming out
I warned myself
It will never be
Her last name
Can never wish
TO BE MINE
Love’s sea,
its bitter waves
drowning me
Squealing Into my feelings
when it chooses to appear
I can’t get out
Her last name
It glows behind
Her first name
glorified
GLORIFIED
everyone has glory
even my pitiful shred of a soul
can feel
and see
and pronounce
HER NAME
“My Final Means of Contact with You”
Here’s to hoping your prom night
is filled with nothing but joy,
a wish delivered straight from the soul
of a lonely, unforgiven boy.
‘Tis I who caused this anger to
spring forth in your mind.
‘Tis I who inspired your decision
to let our friendship die.
It is difficult living with this hatred,
which I have helped create.
If only I could become an inert gas
and slowly dissipate,
spreading out through the universe,
disappearing somewhere…sometime,
dissolving from the physical world
so I could no longer whine.
I am the reason you hate me, and
although it doesn’t seem understood,
I can sense your emotions well.
My soul isn’t made of wood.
As I have said, if I wanted redemption
it’s far too late.
No even the scorching sun is enough
to somehow dissolve this hate.
So here it comes again, this wish for prom night boy,
from the heart of a lonely, unforgiven boy.
“Poetic Sculpting”
something has happened…
the sky isn’t burning anymore…
all the flames have vanished…
now the scars are healing…
what could have possibly extinguished this fire?
I believe it is obvious
what force rebuilds these ruins.
Having located the stillness in motion,
I can answer this question alone now,
without help.
my eyes have crossed the cosmos…
spent and dizzy, they have swallowed eternities of information…
they could not afford to contain anymore…
what if one more drop
would make everything spill out?
Flesh dissolve on air.
My eyes study the beauty within,
only wishing others could see things this way too.
now that all my poetic words are temporarily gone, I
find I haven’t even sent my message yet…
this is the most uplifting message a person could allow
to illuminate someone else’s soul:
I love you.
If this is what I hope it could be,
then the world cannot burn me.
Its steel claws cannot cut me open.
As long as this mirror is reflecting your face and resembling
the texture of your skin,
I don’t think anyone else will claim my love.
“Her Place Was on the Tree Limb Old”
Her place was on the tree limb old
Below the one called “Mine.”
We both belonged to the mighty oak tree,
Neither one wishing to be pine.
In winter three leaves fell away
And I drifted on to her limb.
‘Twas then that I discovered with dread
she’d fall before I did.
So in that solemn summer
I enjoyed her company.
Her voice washed over me like a gentle spray
from dolphins playing out at sea.
And when we were subjected once again to the snow,
she crumbled and was gone.
An from that place beside her
there was a mournful moan.
Now on this lonely limb
another leaf drifts by.
She is a beauty, as the other,
but now it’s my turn to die.
The winter’s biting cold returns.
I tumble from my limb.
And at the bottom of the tree
it’s her I see again.
“wearing rain-glasses”
“I’ve got to read this” he said…and he’ll repeat it over and over again…until it drives me mad…there, it’s traveling in a downward path…the basic fact that we have life makes it worth living…this is my reality escape…white letters against the night-black canvas spell out your name…should I contact you? my mind wonders if it’s all there…we need to put it back together again…although these tales all sound the same they spell out different messages in a normal man’s head…there is no actual rancid vapor trail…it’s just a few words I managed to line up on paper…now I’ve come down and my river of words has lost its even flow…the ugly creature’s distorted face and vomiting sounds annoy the hell out of me…at times he thinks he’s god dropping acid…ancient god of decrystallized acid…this means he’s dead…shattered the tracks of my soul…now I can’t travel the lonely trek to that black hole ever again…the effect is nothing on this side of gratefulness…the purple-chested warrior is basking in the morning sun…and I wrote this while I was tripping…my jaw falls off…it doesn’t matter…it was going numb anyway, you see…the book is read…covered with blood…a deer breaks through his windshield and he is crushed to dust…my tongue is choking me…it has a life of its own…the horrors I’ve witnessed for my entire existence…like the rest of the human race I suffer…life cannot be this sad…I wish I could take off my rain-glasses…they make me see everything murkier than it really is…but I can’t get a hand on them…every time I think I’m ready to pull the glasses off, my hand always falls short of the mark…I guess they’ll burden the bridge of my nose with their weight forever…
“Adoration”
It took the earth five more seconds
before the icicles started growing in my nose.
I’ll hit you if you expand me.
One million voices ignored me today.
Each one was owned
by one million people like you.
I would like to feel your warmth
beside me just once. You’re a tiny shadow.
The world is a metaphor.
For what, you may ask?
Death. And death is a metaphor for life.
Life is a metaphor for nothingness.
Nothingness is a metaphor for everythingness.
Everythingness is universal. That
which is universal is shallow.
I’m going to get angry soon
and I don’t know why.
Remember the day we met?
I said, “I want your body but I’m not a shapeshifter.”
And you laughed. Yes, you laughed…an angelic sound.
“Vampire’s Touch”
Push me far away.
I am not living today.
There are two puncture wounds on my neck,
piercing straight through the flesh to my soul,
tearing in me a gaping hole that will never close.
And I feel like I’m stone cold in Antarctica.
No one can help me out of here.
Strike down! Strike down the fear!
I never lose the sense of not belonging here.
There is the sound of flapping wings
and the vampire sings.
I seem to be the only one he likes to watch.
Every night I feel the vampire’s touch.
Once again I see the undead
ripping and slashing at my head.
Long ago my savior fled
and now I shall die.
Now a vampire, I will fly.
No more do I see the sun.
I must flee when the light comes.
I never before loved blood so much
before I felt the vampire’s touch.
“what’s the point…”
what’s the point in telling you…you never know the questions anyway…you lack the vision…you lack the sight…to see you are my goddess…you are my light…it is for this reason that I burn myself…you will never have the intelligence to understand what you are…when it is planted in your mind, the seed of knowledge won’t grow…this truth doesn’t sparkle in that special way…I do too many drugs…and while I’m at a disadvantage you pound my heart into the mud…and it cracks while shifting beneath your suffering…no this isn’t fair but they tell me nothing is…what if you mailed a letter addressed to God…I wonder what would happen…I’m just too dangerous to myself…I am the one who causes beauty’s disruption…I am the one who would not let Satan treat me badly…I’d get revenge…
“something here…”
something here is sweet that I could hold someday
my hands fluttered, my voice is crippled
these fingers weave through the air
they work magic I could never speak
my mouth was never courageous
those occasional rare noises I made were shattered words
my cowardly tongue could not unleash them
now my fingers are reinforced by steel
the sounds have withered away
these words still mean the same
my fingers find them instead of my tongue
they carve patterns in the wind
it is a message I’ve always wanted to share with you
ever since I saw you long ago, when my voice existed
so here I present to you my silent message
its obsidian veil has fallen at last
when I arrive here, your beauty is a brilliant light
burning eternally, reaching a place far away from here
no other illumination has touched this realm
enough with poetry…this message should be simple
and it will be because I am ready to release it
you are the greatest beauty I have ever seen
my tongue is mute…my hands are unchained
they are free, ready, and willing to speak
now I know you don’t need to hear this message
still, I hope a smile will show you appreciate it
“opening notes”
If you try to want it too much
there’s no telling how soon you’ll make it bleed.
If you try to hold it too close,
it’ll turn to sand when you see its greed.
With arms outstretched
I tried to fall
into the haze of yesterday.
My halo broken,
my eyes sewn shut,
how am I
to find my way
when life is a maze
because they raise
so many walls
around themselves,
surround themselves.
And I try…I try.
My hands
turned to stone
when the sunlight
bleeds out of time.
In this life I want to
let me show.
All these things I say
are never heard.
So I fail,
disappearing in the flames,
waiting to confront this fear
tomorrow.
“You hear magnificent stories…”
You hear magnificent stories
of morning sunlight
making the sky glorious
with its holy presence,
but the sunlight always looks gray to me,
as appealing and beautiful
as the pavement beneath my feet.
My eyes dream of different landscapes someone else is standing on.
With each century that passes, I find myself
aged, stiff, dead before I realize I’m alive,
before I can make my dreams come true…
already a ghost again
whenever the clock announces a new day.
I bleed the spirits from my words…
shatter the ground upon which I walk.
And how am I supposed to handle it
when I scar another human being,
when I insert myself into their life
so deeply that the
only way to extricate myself
is by ripping out part of their soul
as I go away?
How can I live with myself
if I cause such pain?
She thinks I’m an angel.
She has put her trust in me.
But I see her ruining her life
like Davinci ruined his ear,
and I wonder if the pain I suffer
by knowing her is worse when the anguish
she would feel if I left.
“SalvatioN”
Churches linger in my eyes
and I search them for salvation.
I peel off the rooftops and gulp down
holy water.
No one laughs until now.
Everybody thought I was God and
for a moment I did too.
And I’d do anything to get that
bitter moment back again.
I feel the way the pain is ripping
me up inside,
and I find no salvation in here.
There’s some other force that hits
me now,
and I feel my final second drawing near.
I kiss the figurehead and its skin
ripples at my touch.
These waves grow wide and stretch
out to the sea.
I’m waist-deep in the water now,
and something drags me under.
It slips away before I can see what it is.
I fool myself into thinking
it was a hallucination…there’s nothing lurking here,
until I go under, never again to see daylight.
I slip into the womb of dark and
unkind waters.
Like cement it holds me fast.
No longer do I want salvation,
just that you grant my wish to be free.
So like vines this force
coils around me.
Some strange thick and doughy substance
fills my mouth.
It crawls down my esophagus,
tightens around my heart
and tears it out.
The water carries my blood away from my corpse.
A gigantic child tilts the world
and gulps sea water
into his mouth.
He drinks my blood which stains
the surface of these deep and
unkind waters.
And, by accident, he swallows
my drifting body.
I need no salvation.
Just wish you were here, so I
wouldn’t be so lonely.
“What am I…”
What am I wondering
while I sit here, the
heavens and angels
crumbling over my head?
I want something
to be real for me,
I want this love
to not be an illusion
or suddenly go
slipping through my
fingers like sand.
And I marvel when
they see me and say
how hollow are the days
that I have lived.
My mind adores the care
they put into building
the walls around themselves.
When I open my door,
my gesture is not returned.
Welcome to the truth,
as solid as a steel bar
and waiting to damage your bones,
made of salt and misery.
There is no way to unburden yourself,
to reconnect and rediscover.
Am I an angel like they say?
Am I a fractured skull, a bleeding fantasy?
Life’s a drag when you inhale
all these various auras of nothingness
and lose yourself in the clutter of their angst.
“A Sun Shines Slightly”
let me hear your laughter
resist the magic if it shines
don’t wreck the system
because I’m far too fond of it
earth is homeward bound
the sun sinks into the ground
know me, change me
break my chains & rearrange me
subtle skies are dying
I painted them hours ago
eons crumble to worship him
now it’s my turn at last
it’s ready wherever it floats
everything goes to waist
and I am happy now
maniac…I’m a maniac
if you could change it you would
and I’d help but we can’t
so just shut your mouth
I don’t want to hear it
don’t want to hear your complaints
the light keeps fading
its source regenerates the glare
as the play comes to a close
stars are earning their names
constellations all look alike
I cannot speak for you
but I am ready to leave this all behind
good bye, good bye
stick to it, perfect your thoughts
sharpen their edges, but don’t cut yourself
we wouldn’t want a great mind
bleeding itself to death
I think we can all agree on that
because how could we wash your shame from our hands?
“you’re here”
teach me to sit
inside the next booth
where the surfaces are scratched
and all the lights go out
when we want them on
just to spite us
tell them we’re coming
tell them we’re here
tell me we’re already gone
we need life
we need love
we need a happy song
sometimes I can’t see
the beauty carried inside me
and I feel like I should be dead
it’s good that you’re right here
to help me destroy
the diseased thoughts in my head
