Spasms

Slipping into Silent, Sempiternal Slumber

Howling, rabid emptiness chases the velvet night into a wildfire
Like the tall meadow grass is set to flame, when a wildebeest races across it, and coal-flung hooves collide
Clack spurs breeze spurs spark; Ignite…
And you, you seek refuge from your demons in this industrial, urban cave
Lean over the dark-stained, diamond-patterned, leather-clad and red velvet bar
Fidgeting fingertips drumming contemplative brooding into the stale air
Amaretto sour in a lowball, like a smooth, solid paperweight cupped in your caressing palm –
There was a time, in your glazed reverie… a warm, solid breast cupped in your caressing palm…
Oh those starburst eyes, spun from star-death kissed dreams, engulfed in yesterdays closely held far-aways –
Those young, ripe aspirations, like invincible silver-screen tutti frutti morsels
Almost turned the mountains to gold
And now, reconciled and bored; You pull at frayed, tender threads
Ply the mocking hands of fate with slurred quotes from unfinished poems that tremble
As you recount needle-sharp trials, that left clichéd burnt dreams rife with ghost souls –
The aftermath of cruel, crushing disappointments
It doesn’t actually matter how you got to here
To this here; sitting at this bar, belly warmed by this Italian-crafted aphrodisiac that melts the webs in your mind
Lets your skin breathe and loosens the macraméd bondage of your tongue
Until there are no walls, no blurs nor lines to censor the blunt within your words
You consider that while you are typically congenial; Blunt will do just fine at the moment
As into the liquor-fumed air you direct your attention toward fates tyrannical existence
Launch a stern admonishment to remove its sadistic tentacles and reacquaint past with present –
The babies breath with the lamb
Reignite the tingling anticipation you once felt up and down weathered and stiff vertebrae seams
Fill your head with origami clouds that spin your mirages into jeweled wings
Which carry your shoe-boxed reflections, metaphors, notions and half finished creations
Into this current, resigned, vanilla existence
Carve the dim air surrounding you into the dazzling fireworks that swirl through your imagination
Like the wheel of life nailed to that stubborn tree in the corner of the yard
Its spinning needle spitting sparks that heat your blood –
Snap your gloom like crispy bones
Burn into your skull, to relieve the pressure that your contorting fingers can’t massage away –
Husk that ritual, of fingers to temple, that provides an impotent mute at best, of the riotous, tolling spasms that throb
Or at least maintain some semblance of mediocre pain between the fingers and the booze…
It’s funny how no one knows your name
You’re like a smeared chalk outline on the wall
But your face kind of resembles someone that someone thought they saw somewhere, some time ago
You suppose that’s better than nothing
And return your attention to the molten liquid that loosens clenched vocal chords
Considering that possibly no one would think you sane if your lips moved in an attempt to scold demons
Despite those same cynics revering a faceless, bodiless specter called karma –
Of whose evidence you’ve never witnessed, and whose name you’ve spat toward hell
However, you have wintered with fate, its stingy, cruel, decrepit fingers twisting, squeezing your hand
Dragging you into its bone yard of the puppeteered forsaken
Where it climbs on the backs of demons, its egg-sized, wobbly eyes and arthritic claws digging beneath their thick skin –
It goads them to suck the juice from lottery ticket souls until they wither into shrunken tombs
To harbor nothing more than disappointment, faded eyes and sawdust…
Demons have known you well, dwelling in your mind, and in your house
You’ve seen them creep from behind the curtains
Seen them drag their dead limbs across the room when sun dust settled and the shadows fell
Heard the bed groan as they climbed in beside you
Hissing, yammering creaky-breathed soliloquies about a wasted world
Hammered into your pounding head lotus dreams unfolding 13 years of nightmares
Where crow, feather, beak and bone foretold that this apocalypse was your Everest, and –
“Another?” disrupts, returns the present, so you study your glass in its knuckled perch
And decide that there comes a time when fate must learn that you’ve had your fill
“Whiskey, neat, I’ve had enough of the former,” you remark, as you conclude that we each have our own demons
Some haven’t entered battle yet, some have already lost, some are still putting up a fight, while some have won
And insane can be a lovely distraction; You’ve no quarrel with her allure
So they can be damned, with their pointy fingers and clucking tongues, you think
But now, it’s time to scoop up hell and send it raining down
While you stand firmly on the ground, and on the brink

Froth

Invoking Innocence

My skin peels away from my skeleton
Arching, peeling in slow, arduous motion like my mind
Fleeing this wretched, wrecked enchantment; Done
Soliciting the thready arms of madness or assisted suicide
Over the wall the dust blows
Blasting, grinding into my skin and eyes
Pulverizing all I know… my heart your derelict, symbiotic field; Fallow

– hissing pain, burdened… top-heavy with synthetic froth –

Rocky clouds stomped toward stars to swallow or collide
I was smothered in your remedy
Sticky honeyed treat with delayed side effects
Soothing my veins, until scripts for me became her type, your fingers in collusion; Density
A regression of y on x

– After years of frigid, pulseless solitude, where talking with fantastical, amorphous beings, draped with angel wings, achromatic and ratty, like a demons hooves, was the only way to contour my mind into a wonderland, so the stark, lonely, soulless ambience in which I was encased, would cease to be encasing…
Your side effects were devouring the organized mess of my making, and I –
My lovely disorders, eating away at my self-stitched, hand-written, carefully formed humanness, like hammer to my clay; Such careless chipping and cracking, a submission beyond repair, leaving behind perfume-rusted lips, bitter eyes, a heart of malnutrition and paper…
Pages and pages of words without resonance; Love letters missing love; Who knew?
My spirit of charcoal ruminations, dotted with withered, pastel-canyon veins –
That weeping from the depths of your bones that chokes, suffocates; A scarecrow, sans stuffing, flat, dull, and, rotting at his unsoiled, virginal feet, witness to your harm, deceits pungent ravages in the lifeless eyes of a dead bird; Your disbelief and anguish stare back at you –

Dirt-grey, tracks in the snow epitaph, worn, shoddy and cruel
An apologia left in breath on a dingy window overlooking the stagnant brown grass
Love or lust or lust or love?… a perpetual anxiety, waxing, cutting contemplations; Duel
Patio table littered with coffee rings, cigarettes, flecked with poetic, tear-laced ash
A blue postscript: Images may seem further than they appear
Words may be apocryphal. Believe at your own risk and impossible notions
Scent of love in freefall. Chaotic reaching – warm fingers tracing spine only to slip; Veer
Into the abject, grim tomb of a universal ocean
Ghosts of love, woe in death, specters of dreams that were unmet
Crashing bone into bone, splinters like a twig to stone
Eternity has no name here, where what begins becomes what ends, no fond desire; Forget
Fine print isn’t suited to restless eyes re love caveats carved into wishbones
A torrid tangle of delicious and damage: Words, coffee, cigarettes, frost and flame –
Belladonna lull sweet but deadly
Your mouth learning my body, lovingly insisting that this was final, we were… final; True
The feel of you pressing against me, lips on my neck, fingers in my hair, tangled there, tangled there…
A singed, burnt, combustible palette, gasoline can leaning against the wall
Falls early darkness lets me hide; Trauma rest…
Put you back away ferociously
Each time I recall

A tale for romantics at heart

Powerful Provocative Presence

The Man and the Sea

She’s rolling and writhing, twisting and turning today
And he’d like to feel her arms wrapped around him to play
But he can’t leave the shore, and he doesn’t know what to say
So be watches her closely, wishing he could be
The blue of her calm, sunlit bay
“Mar,” he whispers, feeling a chill where the wind whips round his hair
“Ven dame tu alma,” Come give me your soul –
While the Wind replies to him, “Take care.”
Cause she’s a vindictive lover, possessive, she’ll smother –
While you breathe your last breath of air…
But he didn’t listen
He wanted her kiss then –
No other lover would ever compare
And Wind soon grew weary of his nonchalant view, and died
And Mar beckoned to him, with waves of seduction –
By flowing and ebbing her tide
He watched a while longer, and his yearning grew stronger
Like an ember becoming a fire
Only she could cleanse him, feed his burning hunger –
Satisfy his fervent desire…
She was his vision, perfection unequalled
Every mans reason to love
Without her he’d crumble, falter and stumble –
Below the blue sky above…
Take me for your lover, you’ll not need another –
He claimed as he paced on the shore
But she ignored him while dancing before him –
So that he wanted her more
And he felt his hopes dash, when her furious waves crashed
Against the rocks, like his heart
And anger bred conceit, he warned her of defeat –
And threatened that he would then part
But dawn found him sitting alone in the sand –
His eyes a dark intense stare
Then he rose and stepped forward, this time with no warning
Since Wind was no longer there
“Te perdono mi amor,” I forgive you, my love –
And I’m coming to hold you right now
To taste your sweetness, to feel your completeness
I’ll love you forever, he vowed
They say there’s a legend of a man and the sea –
Her seduction was too much to bear
And he swam into her, his hands outstretched
Like lovers stroke each others hair…
And sometimes at dawn, when her shore is empty
And her secrets long to be free
You can hear a faint voice, though no one is there –
“Mi amor, viene a mí.” My love, come to me…