Absent Deformations

Created: 05/24/2009 3:12am

The small clouds of white smoke rise and twist
gliding under the street light

I walk the dark, the bright, the dark
on top of sidewalk stones placed by men who watch from beneath them
The earth is the only smell of history left in this town
stacked with polymer restored replicas
an image sold with velvet curtains
and Doors that lead to the empty alley

Other walkers pass by
and greet the shadow man from the 1800's
who hides behind my steps in the silhouette

The forces have pulled the youth from the streets
into the windows and shipped them away

Where is my army?
Where is my youth?

So still and quiet the streets remain
Rivers of longing are locked up behind thick walls
stirring within the skulls of the self contained
wanting to escape the blue strobe-lit windows

No chaos will arise tonight on these broken slabs of stone
No hallucinations of the hot oil lamp, the quiet candles
No reverence will conspire on these dirty streets

If only the dead could walk again tonight...

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Storm Summoner

Created: 02/25/2009 8:16pm

My goddess of storms
I have been waiting for your return

She whispers a digital echo across the sky
bouncing along a network of organic antennae
ear to ear
mothers to children
they call from their doorsteps

The sound floods down upon the streets
A warm rush of pounding rhythm
smooth and relentless

The leaves dance in front of the shimmering background
florescence faded to black and gray
churning turbulence of twisting force

I stand in the open
breathing the electric charge into my head
standing in front of this faceless menace
this beautiful, dark shadow our goddess has summoned
flowing from her mind into my eyes

Her sounds shake my intent from within
a thick whine of haunted strings
drawing up memories from some changing, eroded past existence
filled with dry earth, love, sickness
bearing witness to the grinding of time
patiently waiting for the parting of the sensory
to watch it arise again

Her storm has arrived
reminding me of this inner sunrise and sunset

Inward shifting without a center
Outward shifting without a center
from dusk to dawn
caught up with the winds above, the waves below,
with every neuron and lightning flash of this passing storm

All the elements pressing me to take refuge
from the spinning in every direction

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This is For

Created: 01/30/2009 2:20am

This is for the ones who walk with me
Sometimes

My beautiful, scentless, tasteless
marvels of wonder

Attached to chaos
The invisible twisting wind
Flowing with digits and duality

This is for the ones who recognize me
Maybe

My tireless, chattering, rebellious
citizens of hopelessness

Hoping for more
The untouchable silent night
Dry with breath and lyrics

This is for the ones who will always care for me
Tonight

My imperfect, ignorant, delusional
subjects of sadness

If the ground was soaked in moonlight
in this frozen winter
you would see me looking down
standing still
steam rising from a silhouette
and the trees would cast their crooked shadows
on the snow around me

I do not belong here anymore
yet we are still the same

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Memories of Sleep

Created: 11/09/2008 1:48pm

The autumn has shifted into a mode of mercilessness
As I walk through the wet streets
The wind twists old memories into my head

The old life of a young adolescent
Filled with longing thoughts and imaginations
Of beautiful contours
Warm attraction
Innocent motives
And colored lace...

I walk back into my old naive self
A time where the observer possessed no marks worth beholding
Where no magnetism could be generated without a hollow association
A time where prayers were silent yet humming on the surface of my skin

This small city pushes me shivering
Along the building walls
Down the walkways
And throws my surrendered ambition to the dark corners of the alley
Stuck to the ground
Surrounded by dampness
Held fast for months
To sleep with the cold and rain
To sleep with the other wet leaves

Why couldn't some beautiful angel gather me up
In the cool, blue, florescent evening
And light me aflame...

Comments: 2

Smashed and Quiet Windows

Created: 10/16/2008 3:55am

We have all this stuff born of our needs
Sent to our doors and we still can't seem to be happy

I've found all the love that a love could hope for
I can't give her the life that I'd like just because
I am stranded...

Happy with clowns that are wed to the grave
Happy with tyrants who live off the slaves
in the ashes...

Born in the backseat conceived in the quiet
darkness where methamphetamines are cause for a riot
We are broken...

Outside where the windows won't open or close
The rain comes, it falls, into the doors
I've tried it before but the pieces are smashed
And they fall in our heads while I'm sleeping at last
We are tired...

I'm tired of eating the animals night
after night I am drinking these chemicals dry
I'm under the sink I'm tired of the buy
Tired of the sale; This life is a lie

My eyes grow thick from their sockets with stalks
No reason to look back, this lobster won't talk
And I tread through the deep to look for my brothers
Now I'm homeless in stride, adrift with the others
and tired...

Comments: 1

To Those Who Are Separate

Created: 08/18/2008 2:49am

For my siblings who are separate
It should be said to you
Everything you are has come from someone
or something outside of yourself

Your mathematics from the Greeks
Your religion from the Arabs
Your language from the English
Your homestead from the Natives

Your family from the visions, hopes of their ancestors
Your love from that which you love
Your faith from those who promise you
Your courage from that which you defend

The fire in the desert
The flood in the wetlands
The burning houses in the Sahara with virgins cut down
The suicide headbombs with soldiers cut down
Our courage makes martyrs
Our ferocity makes orphans
How far will our intentions go to bring progress

No man can keep what he takes by his mouth
No woman can keep what she takes by her purse
So dispense with your shackles and open your eyes

Those who relate things move cultures
Those who relate cultures move oceans

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Another Failure

Created: 08/09/2008 9:34pm

What are we going to do when there is nothing left
But scattered objects
Organized by size
by color
by thought

Songs that we wrote
Paintings we brought home
The dust from the front porch

And we leave our so-called belongings
For others to seize
interpret
remember
imbued with all of our confusion

Why do we really cry?
Is it the recognition of another failure
Another loss of potential
Another wanderer who failed to recognize himself
Who failed at the game
Who failed to recognize others
Who failed to carry the stone
How could anyone carry this stone?
I'm sorry, I wanted to do better than this
For you...
For all of us...
My fucking complex...

Sunken into the ground for the weeds and the flowers
Pushing through the skin...into the soul
Where is your spirit now?
Under the stairwell...
Under the porch...
Peeking out from behind the paintings...
Sleeping next to me by the doorway?

Drone on, always
Just like the ones before you
With all the ones that have fallen before you
I'm tired of being here...
I don't want to leave a trace.

Comments: 0