Aram Stefanian Poems

Hit Title Date Added
Coffee Shop (To Jay Brannan)

I'm hanging by inky threatening clouds, and my
Worn out body is going over like a lead balloon.
Feeling like a helium head, I'm gravitating to earth,
But falling into a pit of frustrated wishes instead.

Happy (To Jay Brannan)

I am high on your sweet amazing voice:
It is the same as a head drug after my own heart.
At the way you sing I always rejoice,
Even if everything around me is falling apart.

Boyfriend (To Jay Brannan)

She said, ''You're pretty G.I.B., but that's not enough.
I need a guy who can care for me like nobody's business.''
When she stepped out on me, all I could do was laugh,
Even though my lonely nights seemed darker and endless.

F.O.B. Demons

We are the careless tour guides frightening you into an echo.
Your mind is our temporary abode, and we drive you plumb loco.
We feed on your inborn phobias and predatory instinct.
You can't get rid of us because we are never extinct.

Bit Part

An angel approached me eyeball to eyeball and said,
''I will show you the New City devoid of blood and sin,
But first we have to take a flight over the land of the dead.
Don't mess with them ghosts and keep your nose clean.''

Hero Of The Underworld

To run away from pain you need a little shot in the vein.
You're now one lucky paranoid hovering across the void.
Turn a deaf ear to the screams echoing outta bad dreams:
Your beloved dead soul is freaky, and his kiss - icky.

Extra Time

Pan to pan with the grim reaper, you are terrified:
In his hollow blinkers there's nothing but a damned shame.
He nods to you, and you follow into his footsteps with a joyride
Still wishing he stopped playing that cat and mouse game.

A Flight To Hell (To Kurt Cobain)

At the cemetery I saw a fledgling angel weeping at a grave.
''I am late again in helping those guys who overjolt, ''
He sobbed bitterly, ''Them souls was I supposed to save.
I am always incapable, sluggish, and ain't worth my salt.''

A Flight To Hell 2 (To Kurt Cobain)

I was a rapid shadow heading for nowhere in scorching hell.
Amazed to hear the familiar NIRVANA tune ''Endless, nameless'',
I stopped to listen when someone said, ''Like a living soul you smell.''
Behind me stood an ugly three-horned creature, a knight of Darkness.


The freaky visions of the future are out of left field:
In the land of the living dead they try to turn back time.
An endless wait is the reason they keep their eyes peeled.
The same wall those helpless ghosts every hour climb,