I’m fond of contemplation, curiosity, self awareness, imagination and strange things. I consider my style to be dark surrealism poetry, usually about the human condition, and often about love lost. Tragic, haunting, graphic, strange, heart-wrecking sorrow calls to me, and so; I write. I believe there is beauty in sorrow. I’ve lived it, seen it, felt it, know it. I hope that my words create a Universe of their own for you, full of visuals and contemplation.
I apologize if my blog has technical issues at times. I am new to formatting a blog. I edit and fix things as fast as possible. Is it just me, or could creating a site be a bit easier? It’s probably just me… Anyway, thank you for reading my words. I hope that you enjoy.
You were in the midst of your demons, stumbling drunk on confusion and rage I had taken on tragedy, tied it up and put it in a cage The sea in your eyes was crashing Battering, bruising and foul I was swept up into that miserable pain; Cyclone Wondering what I was going to do now You were the web spinner of discontent, flailing lament and chaos so savage it devoured its own meaning I was an inkblot out of proportion, a lonely distortion, and despair drenched in so much blue, it leaked into my shadow We fed each other our mysteries, murdered simple solutions trying to fit the pieces Your nails, staples and razor wire heart didn’t speak in my tongue But modern love bores me with its fraying before fully flourishing And I knew who you were beneath the webs that you’d spun – Beneath the fallout from betrayal, from the most selfish, cruelest deeds That left you a cut, bled, empty scarecrow lying facedown in the witchweed… It took a relentless, thousand mile wilderness trek with magnifying glass schematics To recall those first breathy exposures that we left mildewing in the attic – Those lips scorching new paths by the moons creamy illumination That cast out archival wounds and tiers of paraffin woe, melting once again Fire dance, flames that fly, shooting through a ferris wheel sky I thought that we could, but now the only question is… Why? Now with nowhere to belong No lasting impression, despite dragging my shadow to every sunlit wall And so the suffering… the corn rots on the stalks, sucked dry of its juices by the baking sun As am I, wasting away, parched and brittle from drinking an illusion all wrapped up in prettiness Spitting dirt, my bones shallow, disintegrating, falling into themselves, weeping… dust… My heart feasting on brittle duplicities Meanings have no meaning but we pile them up, create teetering monstrosities Sorrow and tragedy speak in obsidian hues I’ve never seen beautiful until you I’ve never known lonely could soak into my bones Leave me writhing, begging and screaming to be left alone I breathe but yet can’t catch my breath I wonder, am I awake or am I dreaming yet? We were a wildfire storm that chewed up a lilac-frosted sky And I’ll never regret what others will never understand Your name a wistful memoir on my lips – On the brink, like an hourglass sucking down sand When I recall how we decapitated muse and utopia Reckless and colliding like a magnitude 13 We notched fouls and madness, crashed and burned Set flame to the laudanum after we doused it with gasoline Thus this catastrophe that I have become – I dream hopeless gasps instead of tender sighs Wandering through a landscape of charred, lonely ruins
Blue swallowing love Begging, what, my dear heart, were we thinking of?
This stillness of grief Like a soft veil caressing my skin Comforts yet tears – shreds What lies within At times I claw Try to find a way out of myself Leaving more wounds inside That have no sound to imply… This stillness of grief – Seems a very strange thing No help from the Universe No salve to calm the burn The pain masked behind my eyes Raining tears down my throat Still can’t calm the fire – Smoldering, sooty, rubbly – as I choke No revision for these words No voice to be heard A soft place to land A blessing and curse Stealing my lonely breath Demanding my spirit; acquiesce As my fractured heart withers like time My soul forgetting that it’s divine…
This disparagement of love Cupids arms overwhelmed, exhausted with sorrow And I; in my grief I dismiss my significance If I had meaning, or enough meaning Would this catacomb be a sacred resting place?
This stillness of grief Is unlike in the past – Where raging and wailing were thrown from me – Cast Through the night and the valley, down walls, over fences… Unveiling my haunting with no recompenses Now I lay torn and crumpled, like a leaf beneath a stone Hope, a ghost – forlorn, dismissed, wandering without a home Where love should be soft, where love should be sweet Instead there are barbs, rusted wire gouging me As my hurt creeps inside this twisted cage crushing my heart The cherished faith that love abides busted apart Raging tears form a sea where I wish I could drown Get lost in this burnt landscape with its sorrow bleeding down But there’s nowhere to hide, no great escape from loves wounds Even death won’t end this agony much too soon This stillness of grief at this moment defines me It’s all I know, all I feel, all I am… All I see Turned within, flowing through yet pushed down, deep into – Where no one else could ever bear to be Lost although I seek… This stillness of grief
I took you to the keeper of secrets Your webs spun in the ceiling corners, thick and heavy with bits of blood, bone, truth, lies and pain Too late to forgive or forget monstrosities built on deceiving ground There are no demons that can withstand your venom – But there are demons that can crawl in your hell Shaking destruction and death from their ratty hair Spitting cynical vengeance from their empty-holed sockets While their gnarled, sticky fingers scrape the ground into wounds – Caverns deep and horrid, that weep years of disenchantment and abandonment Slithering tongues that lick at bitter shadows, sucking down bile like candy Beneath a cursing moon, churning with despondent love There is no light falling here, to soften this dank, mossy wasteland To caress its loss Or the futile sacrifices To slice through screaming, begging words, that litter the frozen ground like crumpled corpses Anger and hate co-mingled in passionate syllables – Built from blazing memories – An inferno of screeching blades as they saw through breastbone To mangle, eviscerate vein from heart Spurting unspoiled sweetness onto crumbling headstones Red-stained devotion turned to tears of tar The dead don’t sleep here Misery picks at bones Emptiness swallows time and drowns it in a bloated belly – A whirlpool where bereaved shadows howl Wispy fingers reaching for their displaced afterlife Charred misconceptions, bloodstained recollections, infested deceptions Hissing through the trees – A death rattle A thousand limbs writhing, rejected by mercy The dead don’t die here Their shadows don’t speak of memories beneath this caustic lunar sea…Stillbirth Despite words and gestures – Fate is the fearful masses solace Best buried and left untended, left to the curdled weeds – No words harvested onto cold, smooth cement to worship its fallacy No tears, no lust, no blood lost to this graveyard Let its bones dry and crack Wait for the full moon and I’ll meet you there where our madness Will muddle those bitter fruits into sweet We’ll drink until reckless and blind to plebeian, defective drivel Smash our way through the acerbic crust of this suns bitter harvest Lay naked on the flowery hillside spewing words of noetic soulfulness into the ashen atmosphere Until our last breath gives up our hummingbird shadows Shadows that speak