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Trapped into Tranquility


A walk down a nature path led me through some brush.

I stepped too close to a blackbirds nest and at me did he rush.

I ran, I fled, I waved my arms but nothing seemed to scare,

the nasty thing from swooping at me and shitting in my hair.

I took a roll down a steepish hill and at the bottom I came to rest.

To my dismay I looked around and found another nest.

Now two birds chased me as I ran to a twisted purple tree.

And this is where I sat and hid but birds they still found me.

My racing heart just wouldn’t calm, the demons they smelled fear.

I knew that when I stood back up they’d peck me in the rear.

So here I sat and forced myself to breathe more steadily.

And between the birds I had just become trapped into tranquility.

I looked across the field and meadow and further to the berm.

I slowed my breath and calmed myself but my captors they stood firm.

I began to think about all the things that suddenly came to mind.

And in these things a sort of peace was I to come to find.

Memories of past endures, reminisce of past events.

Future thoughts of what’s ahead: new sights, new sounds, new scents.

The angry birds’ taunts and songs became my ambiance.

Along with other natural sounds, a wolf crying like an ambulance.

These sounds along with the roars of the deer, the crickets all around,

I felt myself growing tired so I laid back on the ground.

The birds, ballsy fuckers, hopped to the earth and toward me did they prance.

No harm they wanted but instead, to my surprise, I saw them dance.

I watched this act of God at my feet, and then I began to think,

my fucking goodness these drugs haven’t worn off all week.

Someone else


A thousand words nor photographs

can capture the landscape of your face.

A hundred different scenes,

but none the perfect place.

Tens of different motions,

none match your flowing grace.

A hundred miles an hour;

can I never hold your pace?

A thousand words spent wishing,

but it all just went to waste.

To be known


One

sits

on its

own, in its

home, all and alone

with no one to share its tea, scones.

Wished someone felt the same way it felt, felt just to be

known. But no one is home. Plenty of space to build its own throne. Play King Nothing on its

own. Look to the sky, with a foggy cataract eye, a tear for fear wanting no more goodbyes, a crack in the dirt and suddenly a shone

of loving and home. Into its home. No more alone. One can close its eyes.

Two spend time, no one, no longer alone, friendship which it grown

and grows and a pair like a bundle leaves their poisonous homes. Bond of steel and bridge of stone. Even on their own, no one, but hurtful they are

prone. Funneled like a cone, emotions left at home, don’t like to be unknown. Change makes breaks

and sights set stone promise broken fence gates, dust from bone

ash to ash and water from stone

always set to be

the one that’s

always

left

alone.

Here and Gone



Upon the black canvas
Lone comet streaks.
Deep orange, flurry of sparks,
It climbs, peaks
The mount of the stars;
At the convergence of light
The flame trembles,
A volatile mix of chemicals,
Pulsate inside.
The inferno from within
Blossoms, spins,
Outward beyond casing—
Fiery Fit of Rage—
Vying for heeding.
Bits of flame melt to shades:
of blue, of red, of green,
oceans, flames, leaves,
Paint the sky;
It is mesmerized.
In a moment it dies.
Vanishes.
A figment of former life, left
wisping in the wind.
And It cares
no more.

Oasis


I’ve wandered
For seconds,
Minutes,
Years,
Searching for―
yearning for relief.
Harsh arid sand
Blasts the land
Tarnished skin cracks under wind;
Feet hardly keep float
On this dry ocean:
The Sinking begins.
Knees crumble.
A tumble―
Collapse.
Broken.
My Sight. It sees
between the lush green
My Desire
My Dream.
I begin a crawl,
Flinging past behind me
Only believing
in the richness of the converging
Black Dirt. It’s soft,
streamlined;
It feeds the leaves that brush my skin.
Merely a harmless deterrent
For the actual want.
A gleaming crystalline pool:
Ripple-less,
Center of calm clarity,
Heavy head hangs over its smile
A glint of midday sun. Pearl incandescence.
The weight can be bore
No more. I let go.
Sand. Granules enter Orifice.
Pores fill in. A wish never granted.
Winds continue whipping.
Skin continues breaking.
Never there. Never had a
Chance.

 

Go to Sleep.


Go to sleep little one
Do not be afraid.
Who am I, you say?
An angel. Sent here today
to watch over you,
guide you on your way.
My hands? Cold?
Yes, child, they keep you away
from the direction you came.
For where you came lies no peace.
Grinding, wailing, gnashing of teeth.
Screeching of metal, screeching of people.
Can’t you feel it? The sinking of your heart.
Drowning in the agony of crunching parts.
Avert your eyes, little one, no need to look back.
Family? Friends? Do not worry.
They will join shortly. Now come, lie here.
Rest, and partake in
Eternal slumber.

 

Yesterday Upon the Stair


Yesterday upon the stair
I met someone who wasn’t there.
He was luminous
Shining
Piercing the night,
A flesh-bound knife.
She descended the stair,
Trailed by radiant hair,
Complacent in flow,
Ebbing
Graceful
Silent, it followed.
His glowing face;
Her empty face;
Gazed down upon me from the foot of the bed,
Banishing darkness with presence,
A protective essence.
An empty promise.
From glaring at me with blank face,
To staring into darkest space,
All he did was lift a finger,
And she withdrew
From something they knew wasn’t true.
It wasn’t there in the corner of the room
Wasn’t there at my bedside.
It wasn’t blacker than darkest night
Lowest cavern
Deepest abyss.
It’s body wasn’t wiry
Fingers weren’t thin
Nails weren’t sharp.
It’s presence didn’t chip away
At the fabric of my
Psyche
Soul.
I didn’t feel
Fear.

 

“Would you like to Donate?”


No thanks
Said Pompous,
I Donate already
To 50-plus charities
That should be enough
So stop asking
Vulture.

No thanks
Said Apathy
Why should I care?
These children dying
These animals crying
out for help? They
aren’t:
Me.

No thanks
Said Poverty
Those people are
me. That money
is mine–
I can’t give it up.
Even for my kind.

Boredom


Lights
Flashing, blinking
Envelop the room:
Neon explosions
Scar the purple
Walls.

One little fucker
Maddening flickers
it snickers. I’m done.

Punch through the glass
The mirror before me.
Shrapnel is flying.
running behind me.
A stampede. A stampede.
The door, open swings.

But fist full of slivers
bones crooked, splintered
connects with a face
someone from this insane place.
And I have turned his lights
Off.

 

I Had a Dream


There is something wrong with me.

I had a dream. It wasn’t pleasant. I sat in a chair, in a white room. A fairly beautiful brunette woman sat across from me.

She cocked her head to the right. I think she was waiting for me. To say something. Maybe to do something. I’m not really sure.

It wouldn’t let me look at her torso. It made me stare at her face.

Which, on the corner of it, appeared a blade. It seemed small at first, but like a rising shark fin grew to be longer than her head. She pressed on it, dragged it across the skin, the soft complexion. Trickles of red seeped out around the blade edge. I was kinda intrigued how little she bled. I kinda wanted to do the same. But I couldn’t see my hands. They didn’t exist.

The perfection of her complexion melted under rivers of warm fluid now uncontrollably flowing from the oval she was carving. Like a smiley face cookie from the bakery. Severed from her, still plastered on, it seemed leathery. I wanted it.

She dug her nails, long, immaculate, pearl white, into the small crevice she created for her own convenience. The peeling wasn’t quick. The very fibers strained themselves, vying to hold onto her physical identity. They snapped, writhing and dying like worms.

 

The red of her new face stared at the old. Clenched teeth made it hard to find emotion in the setting. She outstretched an arm. I took her offering.

I wasn’t sure why her identity was so warm, hot pressed against the skin of my own face. Her nostrils barely lined up with mine. I bit off a chunk of the lip, to make it fit better. I licked her lips. I walked over. My hand clamped onto her neck. It was frail, soft. Like her face; like her identity.

I think she tried to fight. But she was easily overwhelmed. I forced her into submission. Through grinding teeth I could tell she wasn’t enjoying being raped by herself. She never screamed though.

I guess she never really had the chance either. Even when I was behind her, I made sure that she was always looking at me; looking at herself. The vertebra seemed a bit dis-aligned, but honestly I didn’t; she, didn’t care.

I hung her up to dry.

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