Wednesday, January 30, 2013

5th and 43rd

Exsanguination in the darkest of alleyways, where only a flickering sputter of light permeates the afterthoughts of rats and those who've long since distanced themselves from the at-large biddings of incorporated vampires and conglomerated succubi.

The temptation to scream is ever prevalent.  Yet inactivity has rendered you mute.  Dissociation has severed your linguistic abilities clean and deep. You sit in the corners and alcoves.  You've done it for so long you remember no other way, you are invisible to the passers by and even when noticed, there isn't much left of who you once were. It's hard to fathom that this is the same person we all once knew so well. And to see you here, in such a state, I have to wonder what could've gone so terribly wrong to pen your conclusion in such a way.

and I can't help but think,
that penicillin is everywhere.

Found dead on 5th and 43rd.  A situation that easily should've been avoided.

Swing on over to D'verse for Open Link Night. THE place to share your own poetry and enjoy all those shared by the terrific poets in this outstanding poetic community.

Monday, January 28, 2013

Inkwell Runneth Dry

A tornado haunts the wind stream

With a riveting polarity the torso is severed at the point of exemption.  In the midst of violent acrimony, the jagged lens of an anguished shadow reveres the shuttering flow of arithmetical limbs unadorned.  Upon a barren sunset, the tragic reminder of totalities betrayed, emanate, yet never emancipate, those demons harnessed to the tautest of sinew.

Razor blades showcasing their discontent to those of disconnected premises— preambles used to offer a free vial of gaslight to any outsider delicate enough to witness the upheaval anon and still remain focused as strongly as they are at the present moment. Oh, the afterbite!!!
Lifeblood changes when immersed in bubbling rivers of grief.
             Diagnostic postscripts remain unresolved.  This dilemma is for no reason other than a sudden, yet momentary lack of ink.  Consignation must unfortunately be delayed until the morning after the morrow.  Such contrivances and misgivings occur whence the inkwell runs dry.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

52.5 Seconds Ago

Extra, Extra, read all about it…
     … And the…. exclusively….
Extra, Extra, read all about it…

: that’s so this morning,
downloaded the full scoop after
my first cup of joe, just before the
spoon sunk the last of the cheerios swimming
in the bowl

Fire: Electricity
Fan blades: Freon
Like: Love
Communication: Status Update
Words: Emoticons and Textspeak

Husbands tweeting wives two rooms away
to tell them they love them

Brother texting sister to turn the volume down on that game of angry birds, never looking over, never prying neck from it's downward angularity…despite being an arm's span apart

Nodding to the tunes you just prepared
Setting playlist for the afternoon commute
A sound interrupts, indicating something has just broken
Only to find it’s some coupon, for some place you never knew existed, despite being down the road for the past six months

Extra, Extra, read all about it
…breaking news…hot off the presses…
Read it first…exclusively…
Extra, Extra, read all about it

:(Shaking head in apathetic disgust)
That’s so fifty-two.five seconds ago…

For Brian Miller's Media discussion for this week's Poetics over at D'Verse.  Check out his excellent article and then tune in to all the amazing responses linked up to the best community of poets around.  

Thursday, January 24, 2013

A Song for the Doubter

You got people telling you
You don’t know what your doing
You got people telling you
You got no place pursuing
                                                  But they don’t know
              But they don’t know

Just cause something’s never been done
Don’t mean it can’t be done

Illogical (E-Lodge-Ick-Uhl)
Phenomenal (Fee-Nom-N-Uhl)
When the
Impossible (Imp-Pah-Sip-Uhl)
Probable (Prah-Bib-Uhl)
Then real (Re-Uhl), then real (Re-Uhl)

You got people telling you
There’s no point in dreaming
You got people telling you
There’s no reason for believing
You got people telling you
There’s no chance at succeeding
     But they don’t know
              But they don’t know

Just cause something’s never been done
Don’t mean it can’t be done

Illogical (E-Lodge-Ick-All)
Phenomenal (Fee-Nom-N-All)
When the
Impossible (Imp-Pah-Sip-Uhl)
Probable (Prah-Bib-Uhl)
Then real (Re-Uhl), then real (Re-Uhl)

Always going to be people saying
There’ll always be someone talking
But they’re isn’t ever going to be
Someone like you/Someone like me (Repeat while fading out)

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

A Black Cloud Meets a Silver Lining

waving candor
grieving fully-
postulating gestures
impressions etched
into glass
cold and frozen
destined to break
destined to break

smiling lasciviously
predatory masks
are invisible, until
the moment strikes
shark-tiger-crocodile skin
leopard-piranha-lion's roar

and when it does, victims fall
defenses drop, ease is made
trust is gain, safety is but a word
tomorrows a casket that
bears someones name
names are but recreations of characters
names carry history but only if memories suffice

You never know who your villain shall be, perhaps it's a devil,
perhaps it's an alternate you, perhaps it's a friend or a lover, a doubter or an acquaintance you just made

don't take liberties on today
for you don't know
what date there'll be
on the page of your

Oh, how depressing
what words are spewed with shades of coal
how can one live in such a fashion
betting on an inevitability solely not to be wrong
what kind of lyrics?
what kind of song?

Breathe deep
mouth to diaphragm
Breathe deep
hold for ten seconds
and spew your negativity away
then wake up and dream some more
and find that happy door, that leads you to a place of glad

You're too oblivious to see the serious nature
that bows before us now
have you not been paying attention
the world is falling apart
The planet is dying
the wells are drying up
the flu is everywhere, infecting
perpetuating a sickness that is but the beginning
to an end that will be before us before you think
natural disasters are cropping up so quick
the supply is in demand
but machines supply the labor
unemployment rates skyrocket
arguments are all that is salable
to a mindless generation of
hands-out sheep, willing to beg
for whatever pile they spew upon your
dirty plate

But what is gained from speaking so
find a joy in life, any joy and 
if that evil does come true
then, well, then you will have loved
something, and that something
will carry you on through
and if finality is the dish
served warm
then hold on tight
to all the positive memories you 
have worn while letting
those destructive songs cease to play
for once we're gone, so are they
just believe and pray and pray
it'll be all right 
no matter what end comes our way

hopeless optimist
I pity your shock
when the bricks crumble
and you fall down and down
as I doubt the life you've lived
will take you anywhere 
and then you'll frown and remember
the warnings you were given yet
chose not to heed…pathetic, that's what
I see

And here we have it
those who cannot negate the
optimistic cry, eventually
turn to slander and negative barbs
I'm so sorry you live the way you do
but chastise you I will not
for you make your choices and 
I'll make mine, I pray
for you the best and hopefully
you'll find something to live for,
something to deeply love while you can.

For this week I had the idea of a poetic dialogue between an eternal pessimist and an eternal optimist.  Not sure how I feel about what I wound up with, but in any case, satisfied that idea to some degree.

Monday, January 21, 2013

Into The Dark Beyond

As daylight fades into a darkened eve
Time drifts aimlessly—in search of recovery

Distinct varieties of transients and ne’er-do-wells approach, commingling about—a myriad of deceptions adroitly portrayed

Fall into the arms of fireflies
Above horizon’s lit
The variance in the stars
As sapphires glimmer among the endless seas
Unveil the minions of tragedy kept
A skyline of sundrenched scars
                                         Eyes, once alive, quietly weep

As hours mask what lies beyond, take
Comfort in the sheltering caress of the dawn to come

The rogue’s gallery cannot see you.  Alleviate your fears. You are safe, for there are plenty of those without.

To occupy their gaze is an emanation from within.  The vibrancy of guilt is hereditary and you feel it must be claimed.

You cannot escape yourself. You choose not to. You feel safe amongst a violent sky, despite disgrace consuming whole. 

You kneel atop the moistened earth, hands clasped, eyes aimed high, wondering why you must be such a case.

Yet, after prayers complete, I spy you from my pane, as you live amongst the dark beyond, and crave the night the same.

Soon thereafter I do too.