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Looking On Stars From A Dirty WorldIn some other time, in some other place,
in the vast reaches in the darkest space,
We've given it one more chance,
at undying romance.
At the melding of souls,
to coalesce like the elements,
binary stars around black holes,
Hot love that burns as coals,
along the night sky.
Subjective ObjectiveRiding on the precipice of a collapsing wave-function. In between initial frames of reference, relative to the world at stand still. Becoming all possible states until no more are left to assume. Invincible, irreplicable, pushing off the earth as the earth pushes back. Neither either but both. Micro macro, negative positive, repel attract. Riding on the precipice of a collapsing wave-function.
My Trip To The GroundI've been pushed from behind,
I don't know by who.
When I look I hope to find,
It was me and not you.
Because when push turns to shove,
I'll shove harder than you do.
When you pull hatred out of love,
Not much else is true.
Why am I being pushed anyways?
As I got close,
You should have warned me to stay away.
Now I'm upset as I contest why I feel this way:
You were my savior just yesterday.
As I trip on my feet,
I don't know what to think.
Where's your helping hand?
In black sand I've begun to sink.
You have a mighty smile,
Will you be here for awhile?
Gotta say I think not,
You look like you're lost.
Here And NowHere And Now
Here we are, in the here and now,
nowhere else we'd rather be.
Of all of time and space,
this is when I want to be.
We fly, the universe and I,
together in this place.
We'll lose each other soon enough,
though we're in no grand haste.
Death is the final moment, the clarifying breath,
every moment is that moment, only death has yet to join us.
Breath in the air, death will soon be here,
and now is all we have, for all we really care.
The World Without WordsThere is a world in which no one can say but one word. Any word. Their word. After that, they die. There is no warfare, no poverty, no suffering. Men are unable to explain away the cruelty of their actions, and so man toils under the weight of his actions. No lies spread by way of eager lips.
In this world, there is a man and a woman sitting together in a bar, having a comfortable silence between them.
He leans against the bar, an eyebrow quirked at her. She inspects him with pursed lips, taking him in without interruption. He is a tall man and a big guy. His hair is thick and invasive, and dyed green. She takes more time than he'd like her to, and so he gives her a clown face. She's beautiful. She chortles at him, and he lets his chest down and breath out; she's beautiful and he made her laugh. A wonderful start by most of society.
She tosses her long, luxurious, lengthy hair back over her shoulder and adjusts herself to face him. He straightens up and brushes a hand through his hair,
Man in Space and Time"What if I did do those big and important things?"
I thought to myself aloud.
"What if I stop being afraid of living?"
I swore then I'd instigate change in the universe.
On a tiny blue rock in nothing, I could change the world.
But when I was done, everything was in flames.
I frowned and thought long and hard about it,
sighing as the flames took all breaths away.
"I destroyed everything. I wanted to do good, not bad.
I'm not a bad person."
I stopped being selfish. In that moment I gave up the chains of consciousness
and let go of morality, the world, myself.
"This is the Universe. Flames have eaten my blue rock,
and now they dance in a new world just for them."
The fires raged to life and breathed and were powerful,
and they changed things and sometimes what they changed was beautiful
and sometimes what things became was beautiful. Ash rose in the violent winds,
embers hugged the earth.
"I did it. I lived and did big and important things, and everything I thought was
bad or ugly
An Affair on MyselfWake up early morning, it's time to be on my feet.
No time to eat something, I've got a place to be.
The sun beats on my head, I'm burnt like the sand.
The past whirls in my mind, I can hardly stand.
Time like water flows on by, currents in the sun.
Frozen feelings begin to melt, oh look how they run.
I don't feel the light burn, the peeling of my skin.
I only feel that urge to stop the loneliness within.
I could just scream! Unleash what's inside of me.
That is I would do that, if I wasn't so empty.
I can just shout! Let my heart sing.
That is I would do this, if the words weren't so heavy.
Vapid vixens vex me, fleeting like the wind.
Their faces come and go, stop before they begin.
I like to loose myself, to the bottom of the drink.
I'll think of you fondly, 'til next we meet.
Tender loving is all I really wanted.
Hard to love anyone, by the past you're still haunted.
I don't really like you all, just strangers in a mask.
But a touch is a touch, and there's peace of mind at last.
The MawThe Maw
An endless river barren black with souls,
the living wailing as they wait for Hope.
In all their minds they hear the chewing,
the bones crunching and the blood spewing.
Filled with dread they flail about,
they don't want to die, when will Hope pull them out?
Oh what a sight to see the hopeless hell of humanity,
The moaning corpses shoveled into the Maw,
Freedom to live forbade by law,
The fear of timeless prison,
bodies mulched by society's jaw,
consumed by social religion.
The young, the pure, the innocent.
They're stricken dumb, blind, and tainted.
Their youth is eaten by spirits malevolent.
They become old men with the same cruel intent.
Struggling and failing to escape the Maw,
Before death all are beaten raw.
I watch friends and loved ones sigh and ache in line.
They stumble on, deaf to my pleas for salvation.
Like a haunting their lives are stuck on a miserable repeat.
They dress like government issue live stock,
branding themselves with different lies and false freedom,
A Practice in Freeflow.Set up: A man ought to have his own private room, i.e. a study. A place where can go to work and be left alone for however long he needs it. Even his loved ones are proscribed* from entry. But an artist seeks to express the life expressed within, and how can you refuse your lover from the one place you pay her highest tribute?
And so she enters...
Her presence was first an annoyance. I'm not annoyed with her, per se, but with a foreign presence in my most private of areas. In this small room, cramped with books and papers and drawings and music, lay the spirit of I. The mind's soul, which doesn't seek to know all things, but to experience all things. It is my time and place alone from the human race.
Here she is. I'm not speaking to her. I'm pretending to be slightly agitated and highly invested by my work. In truth, I can't put any productive words down to text. I try to look at her when she doesn't see me. I like to see her. Not in quick glances; those are saddening. I like to take h
Broken HeartbeatYou seem to break my heart beat into shorter syllables,
like every time I touch you,
It just gets
/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ / \ /\ /\ /i r\
________/ \ / \ __/ \ / \ / \ ___/ \ /\ / \ m \ s \ / \ / \_______l i k e__I 'm__g a s p i n g__f o r__a i r_________
I wanted to write you a lovesong.i.
Summer rain has nothing
on the sound of your laugh,
little pinpricks of sunshine
lounging across the cobbled
streets of midnight,
cooled grey eyes, shining
tears of nightlights
glowing like stars in your cheeks;
in darkened archways,
hollow stone walls
reverberating through my skull --
back to earth, loving
taking root under the city floor,
breathing across cool hands
in warmer songs, notes
bundled under my sheets
thoughts that last all night
and drift between the rafters
of my chest
wanting at last;
pure, starry sky and
dawn rolls down the mountainside,
turrets and towers
crinkle-eyed smile batters
falling -- falling --
more delicate than down
softly into the clouds.
one life into another
the moon has sunk
into my soul; I am losing
but the bloodl
She Is PoetryShe speaks to me in sonnets
Sighing her similes
Angrily articulating her alliterations
and ranting her rhymes.
She mumbles her metaphors
Heaving heavily her haikus
Bickering her ballads
at my feeble free verse.
You really wanted a girl who wasn't me.I fell in
love with you or
not quite you,
because you said
you'd never love
sacrosanct perversionhe is
my paragon of feverish intemperance
my blue-flamed boy nova
the burning of my besotted wits-end and start
the reticence under the gape of endless stars
whose abdomen fell
prey to my scathing eyes and starving claws
whose mien asphyxiated
by my irrepressible thirst
past his past lovers and navel gait
how i pine
for the warmth of his gargantuan laughs
for the coolness of his gaze transfixed
on my lips
blue-fire fervor and inferno
dearest penned don
grant me my sip of the holy grail
i would become a polyglot existence
singing of her myrtle and doves
and my mirabile dictu love
on every known continent
ways I have failedscarling I believe
I knew our stars were faulted
The same way I knew that I couldn't stand them disarrayed
I wove you slowly
into my tendons
and I refuse any dimension that finds us ceasing
just pretend I am a man
and not a knot in your chest
I will pretend that I'm not gasping for breath
you are my barbed catalyst
that I refuse to release
I will proudly dress my wounds in the mirror
knowing that everything will be better than I was
there is no part of me undoctored
no words ungreened
and no fiber untorn
you were never just a prompt
but you were always more than my thin hands could manage
I always knew you would outgrow me
Twilight's Dream Falling,
Twas a dream
You in my sight,
Just your eyes,
Oh, the way
They strip me
Of my soul,
So that it be
My darling -
In the days
You caressed me
Falling for you,
Over you -
But twas just
miles to goi.
i am tired
of having nowhere to go after midnight,
when the skies are cloudiest,
and the streets are darkest.
there's a thirst in me
that desires a map for this twisted path of life;
it's too broken in places
to navigate alone.
goodbyes echo in my head as i step
off the train platform and onto the waiting car,
but i cannot concentrate, for fear
that i have boarded wrong.
so all i can ask
is for you to keep your arms open,
for it's the closest thing to home
that i have ever known.
you set my spine to knotting
with imperfect purl of wax.
clip collarbones to drain them
of their cabernet impacts.
your swishing wakes the levy
and grips teeth of the deceased.
churns salivating testaments
in infinite increase.
the twist of looms in chaos
and cartography dispersed.
fine lines in exit vectors
looping twice about the earth.
a curvature evolving
from unmeasured sect decree
that aggravates the dialect
of treasured lecturing.
a clash of fingerprinting with
a violet wild stare.
the genesis of ending
your litigated seraphim
bow fluid at the knee.
dissolve the body noted
by the crimson lettering.
oh lover suffer sweet with me
and lush make every reap.
we'll monument the dimming light
and lustre tourmaline
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