Dissection is an ugly sport,
was written on one of your bio papers.
But really, it seems so clean to me,
just a scalpel, latex, formaldehyde
and all systems are go. First you cut
the memories, time for picking the brain,
next is the assault on the senses and emotions
then the rose that blooms somewhere inside,
it happened too fast, cut, butchered, gone, then
the wrists, but in all the wrong ways.
Now you are propped up,
well preserved, yet falling into pieces.
sorry for the morbidity, I got carried away with the theme set in the first line, and once that happens I just run with it no matter how crazy it gets (actually I do censor myself to a certain degree). This poem makes me sad.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Vagabonds
Prodigal clouds wafted in this evening,
gilded and gaudy, they moved with the santa ana winds
that swell and ripple through our rocky valley,
bright travelers in a strange land, worn and tossed
they followed the inevitable path over mountains,
blessing deserts with rain, loitering over florescent cities,
and finally, drifting out to sea.
Lost into the coffin that devours us all-
Dissolved with the dusk.
gilded and gaudy, they moved with the santa ana winds
that swell and ripple through our rocky valley,
bright travelers in a strange land, worn and tossed
they followed the inevitable path over mountains,
blessing deserts with rain, loitering over florescent cities,
and finally, drifting out to sea.
Lost into the coffin that devours us all-
Dissolved with the dusk.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Pondering Wheat and Tares
Drop me off here, on the ashen asphalt, I am feeling just fine,
propped up between two cars, just like uncle's cobwebbed wooden crucifix,
benignly watching over the dusty floor of
somewhere I forgot to remember, to forget about
because I'm feeling just fine and this old conscience of mine,
rusty and sharp, has been smoothed abit, but it still bites.
So come here. Yes, really, I'm feeling fine.
Help me forget that I care.
I have a very strong conscience, and sometimes I wish it would shut up, sometimes it would be easier to be amoral or just have a more lax conscience, but I cant escape from it. It is part of me, for better or worse, as are many other things that I was taught since birth. Sometimes it feels as if our breeding is inescapable, I am molded, set.
Other times I am thankful for it, I am thankful that I really do care about people and ideas and places and things. I am glad that I have some ideals, but it is crushing to realize the reality of the world: the realization that no matter what you do or try to do, the situation is only going to get worse. I am thinking of the economic, military, and political situation of the US. We are screwed no matter what because the system and situation is just too entrenched and complicated to be worked out.
So I just sit here with my headphones on, read the news, shake my head, and just enjoy the music.
gnight yall
propped up between two cars, just like uncle's cobwebbed wooden crucifix,
benignly watching over the dusty floor of
somewhere I forgot to remember, to forget about
because I'm feeling just fine and this old conscience of mine,
rusty and sharp, has been smoothed abit, but it still bites.
So come here. Yes, really, I'm feeling fine.
Help me forget that I care.
I have a very strong conscience, and sometimes I wish it would shut up, sometimes it would be easier to be amoral or just have a more lax conscience, but I cant escape from it. It is part of me, for better or worse, as are many other things that I was taught since birth. Sometimes it feels as if our breeding is inescapable, I am molded, set.
Other times I am thankful for it, I am thankful that I really do care about people and ideas and places and things. I am glad that I have some ideals, but it is crushing to realize the reality of the world: the realization that no matter what you do or try to do, the situation is only going to get worse. I am thinking of the economic, military, and political situation of the US. We are screwed no matter what because the system and situation is just too entrenched and complicated to be worked out.
So I just sit here with my headphones on, read the news, shake my head, and just enjoy the music.
gnight yall
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
The Eyes of Orpheus
He was going to be president,
someday, lost to the transient, raging
wind that flows from east to west
as the earth, clutching us and binding us,
turned ever so slowly.
He really was going to be Someone
who lived up to and exceeded
the expectations of each dew-kissed day,
who knew his path, and was strong enough
to force his way through the walls
of air that blow from nowhere to nowhere,
now just scattering ashes
until they condense into form:
to lean pale features, to sinewy and scarred hands,
and the cold, focused eyes of someone
who has seen it, lost it,
And still desires.
someday, lost to the transient, raging
wind that flows from east to west
as the earth, clutching us and binding us,
turned ever so slowly.
He really was going to be Someone
who lived up to and exceeded
the expectations of each dew-kissed day,
who knew his path, and was strong enough
to force his way through the walls
of air that blow from nowhere to nowhere,
now just scattering ashes
until they condense into form:
to lean pale features, to sinewy and scarred hands,
and the cold, focused eyes of someone
who has seen it, lost it,
And still desires.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Guilty Premonitions-A Short Story
I cannot think of any poetry tonight so I will try a very short story. Actually most of my poems are short stories that use the minimum number of words to convey a feeling or an idea or two.
Guilty Premonitions
I have always had the feeling of impending doom, but today it was finally confirmed by a significant event: Today after I finished my daily self-loathing (which consisted of looking at my to-do list, hating myself for not having done it since it was written weeks ago, then saying that I can do it later. Quite mandatory for any self-respecting procrastinator), I looked up from my livid staring contest with the beige, floral-pattered carpet, and I accidentally saw myself in the window, much in the same way a hapless horror-movie character looks up into a mirror and is frozen in terror.
In this glance that became a look that became a glowering stare, I saw myself in triplicate. The me on the right was nigh-transparent and dark and sinister, the me on the left had more form but was all the more frightening for it; his warped features sitting in plain view.
The Me in the middle was solid, but the features were so jumbled that you could not tell who or what I was, but whatever it was, it stared with its multiple noses and lips and furrowed brows that sunk into jet black eyes; staring with a cold cruelty. I saw a monster.
Guilty Premonitions
I have always had the feeling of impending doom, but today it was finally confirmed by a significant event: Today after I finished my daily self-loathing (which consisted of looking at my to-do list, hating myself for not having done it since it was written weeks ago, then saying that I can do it later. Quite mandatory for any self-respecting procrastinator), I looked up from my livid staring contest with the beige, floral-pattered carpet, and I accidentally saw myself in the window, much in the same way a hapless horror-movie character looks up into a mirror and is frozen in terror.
In this glance that became a look that became a glowering stare, I saw myself in triplicate. The me on the right was nigh-transparent and dark and sinister, the me on the left had more form but was all the more frightening for it; his warped features sitting in plain view.
The Me in the middle was solid, but the features were so jumbled that you could not tell who or what I was, but whatever it was, it stared with its multiple noses and lips and furrowed brows that sunk into jet black eyes; staring with a cold cruelty. I saw a monster.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Gravitational Oaths
We rise and fall together in a sea
of seedling rye and and dandelions, laughter
staining the silence and our old jeans
with streaks of verdant green,
even our skin becoming one with chlorophyl,
the gravel cutting a blood sacrifice to seal it.
The trees were talking then,
and we leaned on them to hear
through the sandpaper bark, the echoes
of the changing seasons and turning earth.
And we are back to frolicking again
tied inexplicably to the dirt,
falling out of orbit again,
like a meteor, or satellite.
of seedling rye and and dandelions, laughter
staining the silence and our old jeans
with streaks of verdant green,
even our skin becoming one with chlorophyl,
the gravel cutting a blood sacrifice to seal it.
The trees were talking then,
and we leaned on them to hear
through the sandpaper bark, the echoes
of the changing seasons and turning earth.
And we are back to frolicking again
tied inexplicably to the dirt,
falling out of orbit again,
like a meteor, or satellite.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
We are versatile creatures,
our lips both kiss and curse
our faces are both truthful and lying,
our hands, oh our hands,
you lay in my arms and I in yours,
and I can only think about how easy it would be
for one of us to betray all trust,
destroy all hope, in one incongruous,
destructive act-
To lie with our actions.
crappy poem is crappy, I think.
If you know me, I am an agreeable, patient person. I try not to be confrontational, but if I ever get into a "fight or flight" mode, you will almost never see me choose flight. Certain things just seem to push all the right buttons to make me irrationally angry, ask my brother about that, there are very few people who have seen that side of me other than him. He had it down to a science and would piss me off to the point where I just wanted to strangle him (I was shocked at myself for feeling this way), never did, fortunately for both of us, but he avoids doing that now. Some things just come with maturity, including the lack of desire to irritate your siblings.
ps I really like the "stir the blood" album by the bravery, it is so dark and gripping, the lyrics have so much meaning and the beats are driving
our lips both kiss and curse
our faces are both truthful and lying,
our hands, oh our hands,
you lay in my arms and I in yours,
and I can only think about how easy it would be
for one of us to betray all trust,
destroy all hope, in one incongruous,
destructive act-
To lie with our actions.
crappy poem is crappy, I think.
If you know me, I am an agreeable, patient person. I try not to be confrontational, but if I ever get into a "fight or flight" mode, you will almost never see me choose flight. Certain things just seem to push all the right buttons to make me irrationally angry, ask my brother about that, there are very few people who have seen that side of me other than him. He had it down to a science and would piss me off to the point where I just wanted to strangle him (I was shocked at myself for feeling this way), never did, fortunately for both of us, but he avoids doing that now. Some things just come with maturity, including the lack of desire to irritate your siblings.
ps I really like the "stir the blood" album by the bravery, it is so dark and gripping, the lyrics have so much meaning and the beats are driving
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