the innocent

Posted on by under Poetry

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burrowed into their hole

swallowed unceremoniously

by the darker of night

they shiver and quiver

and cannot help but hope

that somehow their prayers

shall be heard and answered

and that they may be

in time returned in kind

but they cannot remember

what at all they used to be

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oh they can still hear the notes

and murmur a few words

broken verses of an old song

carrying truth through the season

spreading warmth through the winter

filling their full before the summer

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they are bright and strong

able and bodied,

puzzled by their own mastermind

but they cannot remember

what at all they used to be

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as they fall prey to sleep

as they run and flee

wild in the colours only souls can shine

full of life and longing

for what they used to be

they cannot remember at all

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a cold white field rests silent

above this citadel of spirits

unresting, unrested, uninterested

when they see the shadows

and they read in the fleeting ink

in broken words and murmured notes

at the brim of the stage

just beyond the deathly rempart

destiny’s unequivocal soliloquy

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and they yearn, and they cry

and they burn, and they try

to remember how to understand

how they could be again

what they never were quite able to be

what they saw reflected

in the shivering fresh water

just below the icy mirror

but they are hooked to the lines

that will sink them to the floor

afloat while the rain pours still

as the call of the deep

offers to swallow the fear

of what they used to be

that they cannot yet remember

.

it is yet the science of it all to question

a madness lined in gold

The Jesus Metaphore

Posted on by under Poetry

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I’ve wine in my veins

So when I bro with the guys

I forget I’m kissing you

I’ve thorns in my pains

‘Cause everybody lies

And I know exactly who

I’ve holes in my hands

So when I close my eyes

I can see right through you

I’ve got tears in my pants

‘Cause there’s only so many tries

That can achieve so few

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I’ll never have the wings as white

As the clouds that conceal your shame

And you’ll never be able to understand quite

What it is to never feel the same

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I’m the man of the house, put the bread on the table

I’m the man with no spouse, the never quite able

I’m the man in a blouse, the mentally unstable

I’m the man or the mouse, never far from trouble,

I’m the man gone to drowse,  currently unavailable

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I’ve blood in my stains

And bone in my brands

I’ve worms in my brains

And twelve lost in this land

It isn’t sugar in these grains

What then weaves my long strands

My love works in hurricanes

Filling their lungs with sands

Until they gouge my eyes

Until they burn my pews

Until they gild my spy

Until they get to you

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Cross my heart, nail it to the post

Kiss me, kill me

Let my shadow into the cave

Early morning or late night,

Always around half past three

Look at me strut, follow where I walk

Look at me dance and learn the talk

Designer toga, lonely as ever made

It’s a Turin, lets me throw shade

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There is a God in me

Only one they can see

I can feel it gnawing

As the end is drawing

Yearning for your mouth;

I am my own maker,

A lone star in the south

Incestuous moonraker

Mystical nobody,

I wonder what mother sees in me

.

One last testament of my youth.

barmaid

Posted on by under Poetry

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you’ve got words on your hands

that you don’t show

you’ve got dreams in your hands

that you don’t know

there is something in your voice

that lures me out to see

something about the shape

you leave

in the space between voices

something after the shape

you cleave

in the waste between choices

and I am wrecked before reaching the reef

sails broken by breathlessness

barely able to hope for the relief

that I may float adrift

along a few waves more

condemned to cross the rift

removing me from shore

I should prefer to drown in meandering depths

hand-woven death shaped into a crown

You’ve got birds in your hands

that you keep close

You’ve got seams on your hands

that you still sew

there is something in that choice

some retruthed fallacy

I feel it in the steps you need

to breathe

in the race between choices

in these flowers of grape

you wreathe

in the taste between voices

and there I feel knighted holy

at the edge of the forecourt of a cathedral

revered in name only

by what power can dredge a bloody thread hall

see Lucifer recast

rebranded, rebooted

Ulysses to their mast

forever song-rooted

you’ve got slurred to your brands

and worlds begin to schtick

you’ve got thirds to understand

while ours begin to trick

the moment till daybreak

called to sunder the silence in the night

dream-burning gaze on sight

the moment when I wake

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hello please thank you goodbye

I know these drank few would lie

And the rest should be fine

Posted on by under Poetry

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I need to pee

I need a drink

And the rest should be fine

I need the sea

I need to think

And the rest should be fine

I want a bed

Perhaps a pillow

And the rest should be fine

I lay my head

Beneath a willow

And the rest should be fine

I could be strong

I could be brave

And the rest should be fine

I shall lie long

Within this grave

And the rest should be fine

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As tranquil as the sleeper in the vale.

Saturn at last

Posted on by under Poetry

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let the voyage be long

through the dark and the cold

let the stars howl their song

in the deepest silence

float this inky sea

slowly dripping ether

a lone forget-me-not

oh when passes the king

and finally crests the wave

I have dreamt of the wild

Saturn at last

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such beautiful science

a letter in the post

a melting of all sold

an island off the coast

perhaps I am ici

or perhaps anywhere

and still I keep the knot

tying back to this thing

that I regret I gave

never thought it so mild

Saturn at last

.

three more to go

until the last unturned stone

two plus au plus tôt

and then I’m all alone

et quand j’étais petit

je rêvais d’un enfer

où toujours je pianote

remember the princeling?

how he came to engrave

the way my words are styled

Saturn at last

.

owe it to the how

if I die young

Posted on by under Poetry

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if i die young

bury me in sand

lay me down on a

bed of roses

sink me in the river

at dawn

send me away

with the words of a love song

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let the world offer

a helping hand

and let it devour

the rest of my soul

may i flow away

in a heart not yet sleeping

erode like the gentle hum

of a mother on her child

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offer my soul to the sun

to be ashened dry

until moon and stars

flood the red embers

if i die young

let my ship never strand

and float the dreams of me

until they last no more

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“It is in the awe of the sea that I wish to lie.”

i know

Ivy

Posted on by under Poetry

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You grow on me, Ivy

Like leaves on a wall

Like a fine german liqueur

Like a six seconds video

You grow on me, Ivy

You grow on me

You grow ever longer,

Ever flourished

Ever wronger

And I drink you in

A sweet poison

Honey dipped in cyanide

And happiness evercome

.

You grow on me, Ivy

Like a late night call

Like a green jay but sweeter

Like fried bacon at a rodeo

You grow on me, Ivy

You grow me on

You grow ever stronger

Ever cherished

Ever wronger

And I bring you in

My suite person

Rosy-lipped speak what I hide

Your sappiness fuels the thrum

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The green, the call

The red, the fall,

I’ve read our story, Ivy

I’ve read it long, I’ve read it old

I’ve read it more during the cold

I’ve made it mine, I’ve made it ours,

I’ve made the time, I’ve 

I’ve read our story, Ivy

And I’ve loved every second of it

Every word, every sentence

The future, the present, even the past tense

I’ve loved it all, I’ve loved it my way

I’ve lost it all, I’ve lost it my way

I’ve read our story, Ivy

I’ve read it,

I’ve

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You’re my envy, Ivy.

It’s like a tree in the wind

Posted on by under Poetry

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I’m losing all my leaves

They’re falling each their own

One at a time, all together

I’m losing all my leaves

Like a tree in the wind

Like a branch in the rain

As autumn falls on me

I’m losing all my leaves

And my roots have grown deep

So deep I cannot see

Where they are leading me

I’m losing all my leaves

To the wind and the rain

To the scrolling of time

To the scratching of this itch

I’m losing all my leaves

And the birds are still singing

And the world is still turning

Under a sky of blues

I’m losing all my leaves

In the bloom of flowers

In this last dance of bees

By the small pond of old

Where I used to fish with them

I’m losing all my leaves

Floating away in the night

I’m losing all my leaves

Try as hard as I might

My fingers are stiff

As my skin after bark

I’m losing all my leaves

And no spring awaits me

Around the bend of the river

Let them carry away

I’m losing all my leaves

I’m losing all my leaves

I’m losing all my leaves

As I once thought they would stay

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A father is a father as a father may be.

By the end of summer I shall be gone

Posted on by under Poetry

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By the end of Summer I shall be gone

Long overdue and wildly planned

In seconds and moments out of bound

Out of mind, out of all norms and drawn lines

Out of the path that has been most taken

By the end of Summer I shall be gone

Towhere nobody does truly know

In matter or corporeal, or in the ether of the mind,

or perhaps in a new form long thought forgotten

I shall be gone nonetheless and that shall be it

No more go-backs, no more waitings,

Not a single tick more to expect

Only the thrill of the run, the ache in the lungs

the fire burning in each and every limbs

And perhaps, just perhaps, a sliver of hope

For a plan drawn in the sand at searise.

Winter and Spring and Summer and Autumn

And Winter and Spring have come and gone

and will come and go again

But no time is like the future present in the face of the past

I have sworn and I shall upkeep my oath

By the end of Summer I shall be gone

Styx and stowns may brake my boons

But wards may never kill me

Three days later I shall rise and

Walk upon the Earth twice lived

Or perhaps I shall sleep evermore

And drift asea, abed, aboard a new ship

A ship of old remade too many times

Love is not for me, life is not for me,

I am not for me, only desire

And perhaps in such excess resides the truth of what I seek

Perhaps in greed resides my wisdom

Perhaps in sloth resides my legacy

Perhaps in lust resides my peace

I know them well these sins

I know them well and yet I don’t

They are etched into my heart

But forgotten at a glance, each beat further and further,

Until my mind’s eye witnesses my Death once again,

I know them well and they know me,

Yet we are friends, together we lie

I know them well when they are mine

I know them well when they are not

Yet they are strangers on the porch,

Not invited across the threshold

Hospitality forgotten, family forgotten, friends forgotten

They are mine and I am theirs, yet who?

I shall be gone by summer’s end

One way or another

Or another.

.

and who forgets the forgotten?

don’t

Posted on by under Poetry

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i see you as i see me

i see you as you see me

you see me as i see you

but do you see you as i see you

how can you go and say that at a wedding after so long

how can you go and reply that at your wedding after so long

i’ve waited so long for that

i’ve waited so long for that

i’ve waited so long for that

well maybe you should have done something

let the word rip out your cage

let the bird drip out your rage

maybe you have waited so long for that

but maybe you should have taken the slap

and let your glasses askew

please don’t marry mike

i swear to god upon his feet

and in the palace of his heart

as bear as the words that claw my throat

i will die upon this spike

i will die until we meet

if you keep only playing the part

and die again once this is wrote

and here’s the angel of death who watches

as the puppets of their lord’s will

dance the dance to end all dances

the one that myriad repeats has ended time itself

and they cannot quite feel their wings

nor the gentle gale that should flutter

because there’s a devil that is dancing

heavy and drunk on their shoulder

there is this hole you’ve been digging

large and deep and full of blood

but there’s this hole you’ve been digging

which i have turned into a bore

i climbed the steps down one by one

each warmer, colder, painfully far

and you lent me one of your spades

to shovel at the fleeting warmth

there is anger in my mouth

and the chorus echoes it well

in all its all knowing glory

the one that comes with such worry

but they too have been silent long

the voices of the lord as impenetrable

as the veil before your eyes

on this day

i know i have no right, i have no claim

you know you have no fight, you’ve been so lame

we know all that and know it well

it’s engraved on the beating flesh

that synchronized when our eyes met

yet couldn’t fucking beat on time

always quiet or always late

we know it all, we know it well

yet i implore upon theses steps

let me reveal what is hidden

in all its glory, in all its wrath

i am the sinner you the heathen

call you benoist call me macgrath

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the fire blazing in my veins is freezing cold

(so i read this and simply almost broke my computer in half in frustration; i know I’m a sucker for pining but come on…)

i needed the catharsis