Remember that one time,
When our fates twined together like blood-red twin kite strings,
The glass-strewn edges whispering their innermost desire: to snap?
No, you’re right
I don’t remember that either.
***
Old work & emoness. Very short. Sorry.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Poem #26: Grocery Store Gods
Wednesday afternoons
Are when the end will come;
When the sky screams red
And bloody, sound of
Shopping cart wheels
Turning corners
The quiet is sanctuary,
Sheep in skins human
Roll carts and hopes through aisles
To the tune of
Old pop songs,
We are the music
We make in the dark,
We are the shoppers,
Alone with the cart-
Men alone crawl like something
Not properly evolved,
Like they have not shed
Their shells,
Their baskets are full,
Their eyes are-
This woman’s heels
Click, breaking the silence
That we have imposed,
She is tall, and dark skin,
And alone.
Staring at packets
Of cornflour and salt,
She is here
She is not
She is-
The little girl staring
The list in her head reading:
Milk, eggs, coffee-
Shit. What else?
She’s too young to do this
Yet too old to be young
In this freezer-space world,
She is-
The employee roams aisles
Off duty, we wonder,
Does she want this?
Surrounded by labels,
To buy them, to sell them,
To go home and love them,
Love is a bargain
On grocery store shelves.
They wander;
They weave.
Their stories are endless
Like stars on horizon
We reach out to touch them,
Our eyes are on fire,
The signals they can’t see
At dark.
We know, now, the sorrow
We invented the longing,
We are the last lobsters
The emptying tank,
Watching the shoppers
As bleary eyes seek us,
And whisper-
“thank god that’s not me.”
While we mouth,
“thank god I’m not you”
And the grocery store gods
Make us whole.
Are when the end will come;
When the sky screams red
And bloody, sound of
Shopping cart wheels
Turning corners
The quiet is sanctuary,
Sheep in skins human
Roll carts and hopes through aisles
To the tune of
Old pop songs,
We are the music
We make in the dark,
We are the shoppers,
Alone with the cart-
Men alone crawl like something
Not properly evolved,
Like they have not shed
Their shells,
Their baskets are full,
Their eyes are-
This woman’s heels
Click, breaking the silence
That we have imposed,
She is tall, and dark skin,
And alone.
Staring at packets
Of cornflour and salt,
She is here
She is not
She is-
The little girl staring
The list in her head reading:
Milk, eggs, coffee-
Shit. What else?
She’s too young to do this
Yet too old to be young
In this freezer-space world,
She is-
The employee roams aisles
Off duty, we wonder,
Does she want this?
Surrounded by labels,
To buy them, to sell them,
To go home and love them,
Love is a bargain
On grocery store shelves.
They wander;
They weave.
Their stories are endless
Like stars on horizon
We reach out to touch them,
Our eyes are on fire,
The signals they can’t see
At dark.
We know, now, the sorrow
We invented the longing,
We are the last lobsters
The emptying tank,
Watching the shoppers
As bleary eyes seek us,
And whisper-
“thank god that’s not me.”
While we mouth,
“thank god I’m not you”
And the grocery store gods
Make us whole.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Poem #25: 3-part Message
Iambic Pentameter Sucks Ass
They were as still as leaves on a front lawn
as awkward stiff as sheets of metal grass
oh how i wish they could be far, and gone
but no, the man commanding them's an ass.
They once were words but now they are deceased,
they once had feelings, now they say no more
with silken ropes you went to tame the beast
and lost what the lines were once fighting for
if you can't tell, i hate the poetry
that loses meaning just to be in form
of ways that sound like silver on the glass
and fall to earth like nothing that they are
Please stop ruining poetry for us
please stop ruining poetry for us.
--------------------------------
Uniform
They tell me that,
when you write
poetry, it must
Be in fashion.
why on earth
would i subscribe to
killing an art
just to make
half the world happy?
---------------------------------
Rhyming Poetry Sucks Ass
We were tired: our eyes were medals
of grey. And we sat as we are, pedals-
What? wait, that makes little sense.
forgive me, for i think that you are- tense.
Tense? these words aren't mine, rather
they are the creation of some other, gather
that i don't believe in these things
much less than you would speak in rings
(Rings?)
Apologies.
It seems that my mouth has been shut
and that these words, once mine are- but?
a remainder of what once was, what could
have been a scene, what should
have been promise, is now
nothing but a cold, black -cow?
dammit.
***
This is a series of poems I did when I had an assignment to write a poem either in iambic pentameter or with some sort of rhyme or syllable structure. This ended up being too hard for me and I turned in a half-legible unrhymed unstructured mess that I wrote on an 8-hour flight. I still got full credit. The above are meant to be read humorously.
They were as still as leaves on a front lawn
as awkward stiff as sheets of metal grass
oh how i wish they could be far, and gone
but no, the man commanding them's an ass.
They once were words but now they are deceased,
they once had feelings, now they say no more
with silken ropes you went to tame the beast
and lost what the lines were once fighting for
if you can't tell, i hate the poetry
that loses meaning just to be in form
of ways that sound like silver on the glass
and fall to earth like nothing that they are
Please stop ruining poetry for us
please stop ruining poetry for us.
--------------------------------
Uniform
They tell me that,
when you write
poetry, it must
Be in fashion.
why on earth
would i subscribe to
killing an art
just to make
half the world happy?
---------------------------------
Rhyming Poetry Sucks Ass
We were tired: our eyes were medals
of grey. And we sat as we are, pedals-
What? wait, that makes little sense.
forgive me, for i think that you are- tense.
Tense? these words aren't mine, rather
they are the creation of some other, gather
that i don't believe in these things
much less than you would speak in rings
(Rings?)
Apologies.
It seems that my mouth has been shut
and that these words, once mine are- but?
a remainder of what once was, what could
have been a scene, what should
have been promise, is now
nothing but a cold, black -cow?
dammit.
***
This is a series of poems I did when I had an assignment to write a poem either in iambic pentameter or with some sort of rhyme or syllable structure. This ended up being too hard for me and I turned in a half-legible unrhymed unstructured mess that I wrote on an 8-hour flight. I still got full credit. The above are meant to be read humorously.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Poem #24: Music Box
Music box,
Spin me a story
So I can forget
The remembrance
Of your last one;
I’m tired
Of all this
Goddamn
Grief.
Play me a melody
That I can weep to-
So no one sees
My bleary eyes
And tries to help me
Cope.
Spin your dancers
Off into the distance
And leave me be-
Alone
When the key stops
I will know
The world is healed
At last.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Poems #22 and 23: Metronome and Fleeting
Metronome
I metronome you
Like you need a heart
To keep place
In this time.
***
Fleeting
I am a ghost that once existed in your life
And now nevermore
I am the fallen pages of ancient history,
The sweet forgotten strains of a sensual harmony
The thoughts that come when sleep eludes you-
Malevolent phantoms challenging your very sanity
I am the time you’ve lost
The chances that passed
The love that faded like a bruise-
Now nevermore.
***
I missed a day yesterday because I was busy 0_0. Hopefully this will not become a trend. Anyways, I posted two shorter poems to make up for it.
I metronome you
Like you need a heart
To keep place
In this time.
***
Fleeting
I am a ghost that once existed in your life
And now nevermore
I am the fallen pages of ancient history,
The sweet forgotten strains of a sensual harmony
The thoughts that come when sleep eludes you-
Malevolent phantoms challenging your very sanity
I am the time you’ve lost
The chances that passed
The love that faded like a bruise-
Now nevermore.
***
I missed a day yesterday because I was busy 0_0. Hopefully this will not become a trend. Anyways, I posted two shorter poems to make up for it.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Poem #21: Frog Babies
Look, I need your help
Because last night is a blur
Of technicolor pond scum
And semi-amphibious words
And I fear-
That my belly grows large
With the quivering spawn of
An eerie translucent,
Headlights-eyed, slimy-skinned
Frog.
Yeah, you heard me right.
Because a frog’s got a lot in common
With the way I am,
Jumping from
Conversation
To
Conversation
In an attempt to
Bring you back
Again.
And if you don’t wanna talk,
Keep the words locked in, cause I-
Gotta tell you
About frog babies.
I’m sorry to tell you
It’s all my fault.
And they’re marching in swarms
Of shiny-toed, ribbiting green,
Webbed feet slapping the ground
To the tune of disaster,
They’re calling me mommy,
Their eyes show me
Sorrow.
Because you know,
There’s some things in the world
It’s ok to be sad about,
Like straddling two worlds,
Half human, half frog,
Half whatever the hell you may be,
Half crying,
Half laughing.
Because I would birth
Several hundred armies of
Tadpole-filled eggs,
Yawning frog babies with
Pearly green teeth
Just to make you forget
And feel human again.
***
True story.
Because last night is a blur
Of technicolor pond scum
And semi-amphibious words
And I fear-
That my belly grows large
With the quivering spawn of
An eerie translucent,
Headlights-eyed, slimy-skinned
Frog.
Yeah, you heard me right.
Because a frog’s got a lot in common
With the way I am,
Jumping from
Conversation
To
Conversation
In an attempt to
Bring you back
Again.
And if you don’t wanna talk,
Keep the words locked in, cause I-
Gotta tell you
About frog babies.
I’m sorry to tell you
It’s all my fault.
And they’re marching in swarms
Of shiny-toed, ribbiting green,
Webbed feet slapping the ground
To the tune of disaster,
They’re calling me mommy,
Their eyes show me
Sorrow.
Because you know,
There’s some things in the world
It’s ok to be sad about,
Like straddling two worlds,
Half human, half frog,
Half whatever the hell you may be,
Half crying,
Half laughing.
Because I would birth
Several hundred armies of
Tadpole-filled eggs,
Yawning frog babies with
Pearly green teeth
Just to make you forget
And feel human again.
***
True story.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Poem #20: Intercepting Strangers and Falling in Love
I saw you from a distance,
Walking as if the world
Had ended
And you were the only one who knew
So why did I want to
Make you see the sunrise?
My star, eating the horizon
Means nothing to your
Dark, brooding moon
And they can
Spin
And
Spin
And never meet
So why should we?
Because we’d both make the world
Spin its axis, or
Because maybe we’d finally
Stand still?
I want nothing more
Than to share your gravity.
***
sometimes you just wonder about these things...
Walking as if the world
Had ended
And you were the only one who knew
So why did I want to
Make you see the sunrise?
My star, eating the horizon
Means nothing to your
Dark, brooding moon
And they can
Spin
And
Spin
And never meet
So why should we?
Because we’d both make the world
Spin its axis, or
Because maybe we’d finally
Stand still?
I want nothing more
Than to share your gravity.
***
sometimes you just wonder about these things...
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