Category: 08th

We went out again–
‘Do you like American
Music?’ We love it.

We don’t have much to
Say to each other tonight.
We don’t need the words.

I hear you still. A
Flash of glittery something,
Heels stabbing at toes.

Laugh at ourselves
Fall to the ground, hands clutching
lifeblood Irish Cream.

‘Say something, say some
Thing, anything!’ We need to
Hear it, scream it out.

We twist and shout, and
We scream along with our hearts
Let the noise grow too.

‘Boys don’t cry.’ Let me.
I know I feel the same things
As the rest of us

Ripples of movement
Hit walls and bounce back, braving
the throng twice. We sing.

‘Take a piece of my
Heart!’ Haven’t we done enough?
Take another piece.

How much do you need
From me? I know I have no
Choice in the matter.

“I’m sorry but I’m
Just thinking of the right words
To say…” Promise me

That you will tell me
The answer to our questions.
As long as you know.

Release us both now
With your voice. We know
How to sing along.

Let the frustration
Billow from your moving form
And let it all go.

What could we know? We
Are the children of the young
In an unheard time.

Letting the night rise
Far above our eager heads
Forget us again.

They asked to see the garden

All they will find are rotten tomatoes
She never got to pick
All they will find are stripped rosemary bushes
Dead for the winter
Trying to copy their mother.
They might find a trowel, a spade

They might find her little glove
Just one, laying on the earth
I couldn’t know, I can’t bring myself to look

They could find her for all I know

What golden ichor of the gods presents
Itself as cheap as paper bills in hand?
What ambrosia overwhelms the sense
And dulls all mortal pain with no demand?
His drink, the greatest friend a man could find
No elusion like the scurrying game
Memories lost as though they had a mind
Hateful earthly arms set out to maim
What other choice does any man possess
Another addiction beneath his belt
The woes of life the king does not address
Into their toxic drink the men will melt
Until their lives return they will forget.
All they will be is reflected silhouettes.

they found a way to guard the house

three big angry
dogs
foam resting on their curled
black lips

coarse fur
untouchable;
anyone who dared come close
gone
within the second

perhaps i exaggerate but i
could not fathom safety after all

Her silence was as red as the blood on her hands,
& her words were miles from day and night
Her eyes held pieces of the sky,
but we never saw her in the dark.

She told us to reach for the stars
when we couldn’t see them,
as if we’d pry the eyes from her head
when they were suffocating black
with only the star shaped holes in the sky
To let us breathe.

She fed us white lies
that tasted like syrup
Until we tried to speak,
and then the candied words
Turned bitter in our throats

Gave us promises of home,
So she could paint herself gray
and make us believe she was golden
While she played her game
Of locked doors
and locked mouths.

She didn’t get that we
Could never reach the stars
without getting burned,
Could never find home
because home was never real for us,
& could never stop running
because we were always going to be chased.

We
were
never
going
to
make
it.

consciousness dances the line between imagination and reality
like the water lilies from Monet,
it feels like immortality.

honey glazed abstract mortality
and left in the wind to sway,
consciousness dances the line between imagination and reality.

face your neutrality,
and you’re showing up washed in the bay.
it feels like immortality.

overstay their hospitality
and you’re stuck walking in march after may.
consciousness dances the line between imagination and reality.

breaking confidentiality,
isn’t that cliche
it feels like immortality.

fall from normality
into lavender sky turned blue gray
consciousness dances the line between imagination and reality,
it feels like immortality.

sliding down spirals of kaleidoscope daydreams is
a twisting unsolvable riddle,
the solution dangling on your finger tips,
the word dancing on your lips,
stuck just out of reach.

twisting shapes and rhyming colors.

you’re in an abstract state of mind,
standing far from reality,
stepping back from the cyclone of existence,
slipping through mindframes and ideals.

sliding down spirals of kaleidoscope daydreams,

swimming on tumultuous waves of
yellows and greens and reds and blues and
your mind is out the window, no thoughts to escape from,
everything gone except for the tv static in your brain.

a sketch,
with charcoal and cardboard
dusty figures
smudged edges
and chalk outlines.

browns and blacks,
silvers and whites.

a landscape,
with watercolor and paper
elegant streaks
soft scores and
bright colors.

reds and yellows,
blues and greens.

a portrait,
with acrylic paint and canvas
twisted shapes
sharp lines and
splattered colors.

orange and pinks,
purples and golds.

Twisting turning out of time
Out of rhythm out of rhyme
Into corners dark and cold
An angel’s final breath to hold
A knight to stand through endless black
When tides are strong won’t turn his back
When fires grow beyond belief
When lonely souls are left in grief
Our savior strong and just and true
Will fix what has been left askew

In the morning you rise,
Not from a bed.
You rise from a box,
In a hole,
In a stone covered field,
In a city,
In a state,
In a country,
In a continent,
In a world.

A simple world,
A world you know,
But can’t seem to remember.
A strange world,
A world you don’t understand,
A world identical to all others.
Each with a person,
Each person with a job,
Each job as incompletable as the last.

You are alone,
But the noise of others cannot leave you.
You are hungry,
But are too sick to eat.
Your mouth is filled with the taste of salt,
Your hands covered in thick dust.
“My master has a plan,
They will soon free me.”

Your thoughts warm you,
But you know they are not true.
You need to work,
But you are stuck.
Stuck in the ground,
Feet sinking,
Lungs holding onto every breath.

Your body sinks into your hole,
Into your box.
Slowing this new but familiar world drifts away from sight.
The smell of burning fills your nose.
Trapped in heat,
Searing pain all along your skin.

Submerged in complete darkness,
Slamming yours fists on the top of your box,
Hoping someone hears you,
Waiting for someone to save you,
Waiting to leave this prison.

In the morning, you again rise into a simple world,
Where you are alone with only your thoughts to warm you.
Once again, your body sinks back into complete darkness.
The faint memory of repetition can’t leave your head.

Your mind, filled with the same image of freedom,
From yourself,
From your master.

You, yourself are the reason for being here,
But you can’t escape the past.

Tomorrow is another day; the same as all the rest.