Category: raw

Transformations (day 500)

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Searching and crawling through these empty streets
They call my name but I heed them no attention
Memories caught up in my thoughts like tumbleweeds in a corner
Hot water failing to warm my shaking bones
Sunlight stretching into the corners my toes fail to remain
And I cry with streaking mascara and ugly sobs
Deeply lamenting the loss of all that’s been known
Holding onto something that’s simply figurative

And then, like a slowly falling leaf from the nearby tree
A quiet calm flows over the angst and tremors
Little sparks of light gather at the tips of my toes
My brow begins to smooth as I close my eyes and smile
Children playing comes into focus
And the tea smells just as it should
A transformation undergoes just as the turning of seasons
And the lightness of my steps

Let Go Now (day 499)

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Your poems that crisscross across the edges of my face
Make me feel like the angels have descended
Deep down within the glory hold of the champions heart
Sweet songs emanate out from the edges of sanity
Calling me closer to swim amongst the water lilies
The pond grows thin here, shallow waters and bright reflections

But along the other edges of my face
I see the enemy that crawls slowly closer
I remind him of the fortune that seeps down the drain
While I wash my face in the mornings hour

Now here, like the lost words of a lovers sweet embrace
Like the tiny footsteps that makeup the dust paths across the desert
I fall carelessly in pattern as I saunter along this path
I let the slow beds spoil their innocent laughter
With hands touching hands, faces touching faces

Elbows coming inwards in a bitter withdrawal
Like ghosts that see their reflection one last time
All too short and all to sweet and all too massive
Nobody can really understand that which hasn’t been told
We all feel from within the distance that doesn’t lay the crackers down
Little paths to find their way home after the soldier has been caught

Sing now in the morning of the next phase of life
Sing now as the passive monsters blow out the landscape: serene
Sing along thy empty beaches as they float on home towards the setting sun
Sing on now for the ones that hold their hands out in mercy

Crying after the last golden rays escape the tired pillow’s eyes
Holding onto the blankets that will not let go now

Destruction by a Knife (day 497)

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Design the past like a finely pounded knife
Steel so sharp that it reflects only the fear in it’s suspecting victims
Design it with such fury that it can scare even that who wields it
Forget about the patience and peace
Forget about the delicate pieces of finely woven silk scarves
Master the brutish force of the devil and his raw red meat
Divide up the spoils of it’s destruction into finely placed paths
Chosen for their specific shape and moment of declaration
Point them onward, into their tomorrow that will never come
Their future that will only last mere moments longer
Allow them this one blazing glory
This one moment where they can feel free in their thought and speech
But never forget about their fate, never let them breathe too long
For in this mistake, this gravest of mistakes
It will then be your own fate to die in the eve of self destruction

Dead Wings (day 494)

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Sliding along the path of garlic breath and breast implants
I rescue the old boys from the war trenches in the midst of darkness
Crawling along the carpet so soft
I send my spike into the unknowing bowels of the staunch soldier
With death as a fragrance I sing a tune in my head
Beating so hard my heart mutes out all other voices
Angels and of course the demons that cry into my ears
Send me into tomorrow upon the wings of a god

Gone (day 493)

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Gone is the sanity that I have rested upon
Gone is the broken wing I have mended so long
Gone is the eye of love, heralded with steel
Gone is the breakers edge, chariots wheel
Gone is the mystery of histories story
Gone is the evidence in a place of once glory
Gone is the solitude enjoyed in the park
Gone is the morning call, a flick and a spark
Gone is the choke ring about my own neck
Gone is the control once held at my beck
Gone is the grass I’ve laid with my own two hands
Gone is the bitter truth that never parts from these lands

Dirty I Dry (day 491)

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I’ve met you on the streets of Athens
Scribbling notes in you paper bound pad
I’ve photographed you sitting in a doorwell
Along the dark streets of Budapest
I’ve handed you change from my own pocket
Calm as I was, poor as I be
Because I’m a fortunate soul
You, begging with a bowl
Most would call an ornament
From the crumbles of Istanbul
Sitting on the stool sipping your tea
I’ve washed in your bathroom
My dirty hands of pain
As I smoked the hookah bong
Struggling forward in the death of desire
Bucharest pulls from my hands
I’ve slept alone with my fathers ghost
Dying in the ashes of a holocaust
Purified in the frozen ocean
Of the forgotten Baltic lands
Riga took away my pain
One knitted scarf at a time
Until my condom did run dry
My bitch dog fattened on the ham discards
As I strolled choking through the graves of kings
And as I stripped bare
And threw myself about the rocky shores of Stockholm
I learnt that I could still walk
In spite my increasing desire
To elevate my feet, out of the rain
Dry, protected with the wax from a can

Just Begun Child (day 489)

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Head is spinning like a diamond mine
Two glory ants fighting for the right to live
Albeit dead the sun that chooseth to fry the salmon
Slowly searing on the open pit fire
Chances are I will regurgitate up the sense
I’ve swallowed along with my pride
I’ve nurtured while walking away high stepping
So where do I turn to?
What global recompense do I take as my locked in target
Doomlessly sulking away in the corner
Stuffed with fattened steaks and greasy fries
Catch your coattails upon the swinging chair
And you will find it takes you for a ride
Let alone the low rider, hipster-icized
Did you have to bend over to get such awesome headphones?
Watch your step as the clock attacks you from behind
Lassos your bleeding pride and surrenders your soul
Catches your falling pride and prepares a feast
Don’t lie down now, the game has just begun child

Regurgitating Madness (day 488)

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You only get stronger when your heart is aching
G Love and His Special Sauce has been know to sing
Bright lights and city streets seem to grab me
Chase me under the bridge and seek shelter from the rain
Dying in the lost spaces that close down borders
And holding on to the empty gates that keep flying open
Unsure whether to jump off or to stay around for the ride
Unwilling to admit that I’ve done this ride before
Wide eyes and itchy noses, closes, Moses
Ran two hundred leagues to spread what he believed in
Understanding the inner voice that cared not for turmoil
Or was it turmoil that led to his prophesized greed
Did he only want a new land to live long and prosper
Then with the enemy and dire straits dead ahead and laughing
The poor stock was chosen directly from the top of the barrel
Easy pickings and lost siblings and leftover pieces of sandwiches finished
Don’t die my love! Don’t leave me here in this cold and darkened world
All unaware of my surroundings and digging a hole for the safety net
It wont provide. Only illusions. Always illusions that separate the now
From the bitter truth of the present. Ever looming present
That doesn’t present presents at all only thoughts of what has once been
But let it die, die, die my darling into the depths of an unclear and dark pool
Let it float out of sight so that even the dog staring into its own eyes
Becomes bored and uninterested with the passing moments of time
Never-the-less, don’t take my warnings for they are deaf and dumb
They lack any solidity like the passing gas of an old dog sleeping
Mere regurgitating madness from a voice hidden behind the walls I lean against
Mere ghosts lingering in the ethereal silence that closes in around me

Lines Upon My Face (day 486)

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The lines upon my face that have worn away the years
Don’t give away my fear, they only invite my destruction nearer
But that too isn’t the worst of my troubles that hold me here at bay
They dive deeply into the dark pools with the chances I’ve always took
I have not listened well when I’ve been told what to do
And to thank all those who have aided me well
Would be a valiant pursuit

So I write until I’ve answered the questions that Ive never held back from myself
I explore the possibilities that I’ve never kept away from my soul

I drink to this, in the pinnacle of the night
I celebrate the chances I have yet to take and make

But it would be a fools escape were I to think
My life could be comprised of late night toasts
For had I the chance to hold a romance
I would suffer from the guilt I’d feel
For in the morning, I’d sleep away all my nights delight
And then I’d find I’d have no mind
And be no man at all

So now I sit here and stare away the lines upon my face
Contort and twist and shape and adjust my thoughts
Until that which was asked is far from true
And the answer that is found is much more relevant
To the problems on my mind
Where no chance now could bring back time
To make me believe in you