Ephemeral expounding of the real:
More hopeless than sad abature. I wish
People would preen themselves and slowly heal,
Without some needless and agathic skirmish.
...
I passed the tunnel
Dividing the self and foreign,
And I touched the walls
And I torched them;
...
Twilight lane, come to my feet,
I wish to walk forever.
(There was a story that I wish
was uttered.)
...
She huddles herself like a foetus
submerged in bathtub plasma,
her screams are silent screams
that desacralize the night and the rain.
...
Black hole sun, won't you come? *
Across my eyes, you waver
like a moth inside a jellyfish.
...
unfettered disruptions knocking on time's ivory door
a woman with cold feet
a prince on a white horse
...
wrestling winds in tireless dust
the meager face concealed in rust
the burning necklace and the ring
the water in the shore stirring
...
she has that insouciant touch of a corpse
that never putresced with time
she has remained
as a memory remains in the crannies of the brain
...
festering greens squatting in fizzled quaint rain
a cocaine mitigation a shanty somber face
guttling the sudoriferous darkness bundled in a blanched blain
it is a pole chilling diamond cracking steeplechase
...
Like a voyeur of suffering, you've viewed me,
Like a garrote, you've sedulously subdued me,
To my inferiority, my pain you've imputed,
I have found myself alone and muted,
...
comfort the waters of turning harmony
the wild is writhing in malign agony
in this shifting nature of the lights
there is no glow within just cacophony
...
Just a cloud trying hard not to fall as rain.)
A Sonnet To Society
Ephemeral expounding of the real:
More hopeless than sad abature. I wish
People would preen themselves and slowly heal,
Without some needless and agathic skirmish.
I walk in strange despair, but why the world
Is jocund quite: has no idea at all;
Shall wait until the doom has really unfurled-
Till then oh, savor the impending fall!
Lukewarm, small tete-a-tete among fremd strangers-
None shall know anyone. Woods, rivers, hills,
Just places not to be, just rattling dangers
To the created solitude, health pills.
The children have their hands held out, go on,
Go on, hold them before they are all gone.
she is whole as a dewdrop sticking to a cobweb
Is this prismatic place really just a cage?
And hatred seeps into the window blocking light from within, and the roof crumbles into the skin, and the teardrops like cinders glow.
Like ink to water, Like diversity to death, Like money to fire, Like skin to a spearhead, What are we But specks to eternity?
life is a fissure upon the most uniform surface of death
it is in the aorta of darkness not some mere shadow that i find my will to thrive
tomorrow let's begin to climb every black ladder to reach a bluer harmony
Textile moon, starry umbel, udder of darkness: Uncork the unbearable lightness of sleep; So, I may cry tonight.
and everything hides itself within the shadows of feral nature
an invective against the small things this mammoth wasteland
blue too blue bluer than the bluest ocean her grumous grief
shadows fettle the ripples that carry light from a different world
withering twilight chromatic mist shadows bestrewn solitude unbroken
the bolide of truth strikes the eyes falls infinitely
the bullet of life pierces slowly the water of death
the turret of despair brings more hope than ever
gimcrack as a clock he holds on to something that will never stop for anyone
streetlight-smoke engulfs me in light i feel no warmth but the harsh cold of darkness
welts on the sky at sunset whipped all day
your cold touch has written a slumbering poem i cannot speak lest it wakes up
your eyes are ice behold the beauty in all its warmth and let it turn to water
the night whimpers in all majesty as if darkness were a purpose
the ceiling fan has converted to atheism realizing it is no god
i have been breaking walls thinking they caused the divide the divide was the cause
the skin soaked all the oil yet it is the soul that burns i wish it were my funeral
the future consumes us with such intimacy as if it were our past
flickering halo of reality come find your darkness in my dreams
the venom leaves the snake sparkles in the sunset it's autumn
chopin slithers in calm taps on the door from inside
it is not melancholy but denial that scuppers all encouragement
the wind on the roof casts pearls before swine when it beckons me to fall
emetic scenes hold me by the neck and pull me back to reality
i am at my bourn the evening is dark yet warm the beautiful patterns of clouds are imperceptible now
cloak-and-dagger war flesh tired of bones chaos all too flexible
you always were fond of aberrations now you wander the edges in search of level land
calibrate your sadness against his and then call it love
too ordinary this pursuit always ends in silence
parsimonious leprechaun guides you to a ditch when the treasure is up on a tree
she stood disciplined flat as paper critics now disregard her
pigeon-faced cold why is my soul the only home familiar to you
it is catch-as-catch-can always the delight of sacrificing yourself
propitiating with death won't provide you contentment or make you feel alive
fake to shake it hand in hand with all fools in a whirligig
poetry is about giving dimension to your depression
the loneliness of wisdom is crippling
and in your eternity man will not find a voice to say goodbye
belligerent anxiety incising the tear glands ocular sands muddling into a ganges by the ranges of many an exorbitant depression fleeting expressions of different indifference
you look up and down hoping for the ground to consume you hoping for the ceiling fan to fall
her faucet leaks she can no longer laugh hurriedly she closes her windows
Tonight is a dream. Tomorrow there'll be no one. You'll walk with a limp.