Sometimes humans just need someone to love them, a voice of acceptance, unconditional and open. Sometimes we need this to move on from past scars that hurt from time to time.
I want to be that voice.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Monday, May 9, 2011
Accidental Disconnects
Trembling at terrible choices,
portents as unknowable as my mind,
heart attacks, insomnia, and paralyzation
bitter tastes in my mouth
and in my mind,
Cornered in false dilemmas
I choose with fear and trembling.
I want nothing more than to embrace
to love, to cry these solder tears
scarring copper hearts, trying to establish connection
to get the electricity flowing again,
but a connection needs two sides.
the beautiful lyrics translated: http://www.netwave.or.jp/~tierra/Gipsy_Kings/lyric/pediratu.html
portents as unknowable as my mind,
heart attacks, insomnia, and paralyzation
bitter tastes in my mouth
and in my mind,
Cornered in false dilemmas
I choose with fear and trembling.
I want nothing more than to embrace
to love, to cry these solder tears
scarring copper hearts, trying to establish connection
to get the electricity flowing again,
but a connection needs two sides.
the beautiful lyrics translated: http://www.netwave.or.jp/~tierra/Gipsy_Kings/lyric/pediratu.html
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Alternate Endings
Dreaming for the first time in so long
in color even, though black and white features are all I see
ink alive with motion, curving into strands
strokes of hair and eyelashes blinking
and nearing to kiss, but right there our pupils meet
black holes absorbing the view.
And suddenly a smile, rose watercolor
splashed across the perfect canvas.
Colliding into supernovae
I woke up, and finally remembered.
in color even, though black and white features are all I see
ink alive with motion, curving into strands
strokes of hair and eyelashes blinking
and nearing to kiss, but right there our pupils meet
black holes absorbing the view.
And suddenly a smile, rose watercolor
splashed across the perfect canvas.
Colliding into supernovae
I woke up, and finally remembered.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Consumption
"We thrive on corpses"
Spring declared as she consumed the dead landscape, claiming
the decay as nourishment, I too, felt her pulling me under
gripping my chest, filling my lungs, luring me to the earth
with lavender scents that sensuously mixed with rosemary and sage,
with freshly cut grass, and freshly cut skin.
And now she has me, locked in with roots and nostalgia,
with the bones of my grandfather and my own weakness.
Let me have my hibernation after all, your dead
keratin has nothing on the weeping willow's long locks,
and our bed has nothing on the warmth
of the winters sweet decay.
Still working on this one, it will be alot of work too.
sometimes I wish to become nothing, to just kind of painlessly dissolve with no memory of me left behind, if you have read my other poems you would realize that I face these desolate feelings every once in a while. I am not entirely sure where it comes from, take a look at my "some thoughts on suicide" post if you want to know more about my past with this. It is not a "pretty" side of me, but if you are reading this then you know that I do not try to be a "pretty" person, I try to be an honest person, even if the truth is ugly.
Spring declared as she consumed the dead landscape, claiming
the decay as nourishment, I too, felt her pulling me under
gripping my chest, filling my lungs, luring me to the earth
with lavender scents that sensuously mixed with rosemary and sage,
with freshly cut grass, and freshly cut skin.
And now she has me, locked in with roots and nostalgia,
with the bones of my grandfather and my own weakness.
Let me have my hibernation after all, your dead
keratin has nothing on the weeping willow's long locks,
and our bed has nothing on the warmth
of the winters sweet decay.
Still working on this one, it will be alot of work too.
sometimes I wish to become nothing, to just kind of painlessly dissolve with no memory of me left behind, if you have read my other poems you would realize that I face these desolate feelings every once in a while. I am not entirely sure where it comes from, take a look at my "some thoughts on suicide" post if you want to know more about my past with this. It is not a "pretty" side of me, but if you are reading this then you know that I do not try to be a "pretty" person, I try to be an honest person, even if the truth is ugly.
Monday, April 4, 2011
For all of you Tuning in this Fine Evening
Maybe if we just run in one direction long enough
we will end up liking it.
Maybe that seemingly important question:
"What do you want from life?"
is an exercise in futility, because
whether we want it or not
Life is already here.
See? There, you are doing it right now.
It is made up of these insignificant moments,
a summation if you will, modeled by your path,
the one you accidentally took this morning
because of the traffic, your dog, and the caffeine content
of your bloodstream. And we keep on running from our shoes
but we are our biggest influence.
Maybe this road, this beauty, this pain
is its own reward. Or maybe not...
we will end up liking it.
Maybe that seemingly important question:
"What do you want from life?"
is an exercise in futility, because
whether we want it or not
Life is already here.
See? There, you are doing it right now.
It is made up of these insignificant moments,
a summation if you will, modeled by your path,
the one you accidentally took this morning
because of the traffic, your dog, and the caffeine content
of your bloodstream. And we keep on running from our shoes
but we are our biggest influence.
Maybe this road, this beauty, this pain
is its own reward. Or maybe not...
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Blood Rust
Black bones and blood,
the creaking dinosaurs bobbing their triangular heads
pulling, sucking, with terrible purpose
their own essence from the earth.
Herds of them for miles and miles
stretching to the skyline, a desert necropolis,
mired in place in a graveyard of dust, the killing
rust stopping joints, grinding until
there is nothing left.
Today you bought the blood, I did too.
It runs through our asphalt veins and arteries,
fueling our vampire soul, if only we could be weaned.
The poetry I write is influenced heavily by the music I am listening to at the time. Which is why I often post what I have been listening to. Here it is
the creaking dinosaurs bobbing their triangular heads
pulling, sucking, with terrible purpose
their own essence from the earth.
Herds of them for miles and miles
stretching to the skyline, a desert necropolis,
mired in place in a graveyard of dust, the killing
rust stopping joints, grinding until
there is nothing left.
Today you bought the blood, I did too.
It runs through our asphalt veins and arteries,
fueling our vampire soul, if only we could be weaned.
The poetry I write is influenced heavily by the music I am listening to at the time. Which is why I often post what I have been listening to. Here it is
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Synergy
Flowing through paths of least resistance,
like electricity, or blood.
We met on oppositely charged plates
and discharged though veins and arteries
beyond my understanding. So
I measured the transfer functions
mapped out the schematic, went to work
on modification, duplication, amplification
in hopes of reincarnation.
That spark of life in the frankenstein vessel,
prep the springtime, organize like children
sick of school and longing for mischief and ice cream.
Hopefully it will make it out alive.
like electricity, or blood.
We met on oppositely charged plates
and discharged though veins and arteries
beyond my understanding. So
I measured the transfer functions
mapped out the schematic, went to work
on modification, duplication, amplification
in hopes of reincarnation.
That spark of life in the frankenstein vessel,
prep the springtime, organize like children
sick of school and longing for mischief and ice cream.
Hopefully it will make it out alive.
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