Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Last Moments

Who we were before the blizzard of '82
still lingers in the ridges
of the fingerprints you left on my soul

Back when we were still each others breath
I was not yet to blame
and you did not suffocate yet

Please !
I need to explode !
It's my regret you will erode

... the only thing left I have to hold ...

Back when there was still pity left
I was not yet guilty
and you did not suffocate yet

I spent half of my life negotiating with the past
Second chances are never cast
Now my bones are so thin, and this lucidity will not last

Back when I still had the capacity for breath
I was not yet your last vision
and you did not suffocate yet

Sunday, October 22, 2006

Truth


Without hesitation and lack of a destination
Rachel, armed with only her newfound information
Crosses the threshold of the front door
Still fumbling with reason, her mothers treason,
and fatherless no more.

Where the jasmine Grows

Maybe it was because he couldn’t hear
Or that he didn’t interpret the clutching as fear
Slowly he’s being taught what everyone else here knows
Nobody goes where the jasmine grows


Forty years won’t wash away with ease
Not on this desert fragrant starlit eve
Standing there, a victim of a heart that never slows
Just two feet away from where the jasmine grows


He should never have come back home
Armed only with a stubbornness as strong as bone
Surrounded by the fragments of his past and a fear he never shows
And stumbles whole hearted, breathing restarted, into where the jasmine grows

Friday, March 31, 2006

The Coffee Shop

I was left to face tuesday
veins constricted
starbucks saturated
and wanting

It's hard to concentrate on writing
with the resounding of peace rally drums
regulating the beats
and flow of diction

After a while everyone sounds like them
megaphone distorted
wildly focused on symbols
that are not my own

I know I shouldn't be here
I should be off searching for replacement heroes
mine all died sullen
track mark spotted
unaffected

But I'm entranced by those God Damn drums
Can't they see
I'm corporate whoring
over here ?

My attention wanders to
the hair plugged
future late night
info-mercial star
ordering the most complicated
latte ever

Maybe the more convoluted the drink
the least likely you are
expected to flirt with
raven haired baristas

If there is anything I can take away from this place
it's that I need more symbols
resurrected heroes
and another
cup of coffee

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

The other side of Sunday

I can still remember the scent of you
standing there with daffodils and blood on your shoes
with wisdom failing I was an idiot in bloom
sinking in a freedom laden with thorns and the scorching sun of the afternoon

My lips pressed against a temptress as fragile as a leaf
a reflection of innocence with venomous teeth
this kiss will require an alibi befitting a congressman and a thief
but I am lost like an oblivious mystic with misguided visions and little reprieve

Wrapped in the vines of thirty odd voices
surrendering to the suffocation that squeezes out the last of my remaining choices
I now tremble and twitch while her backwards heart rejoices
so tired of fighting these self righteous forces

It's now evident here on the other side of Sunday
as long as I'm trapped in her talons I can never fly away
she's rooted me here with no objection I stay
I fear tomorrow I will fall out of her favor and loose my flavor but I just know she wants me today

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Soft Spoken

Soft spoken, and broken
Her words just stumbled off her tongue

She still quivers, between shivers
Completely disconnected from what she's done

It seems the silence, triggers the violence
Of what she was and what she's now become

In her pocket, sleeps a locket
Of a woman that was hers but not by blood

Her hair is over, her right shoulder
The same arm that brandishes the gun

Thinks of her fractured past, the days that didn't last
The scale of time before they stole her sun

Never anticipated, she was what she hated
Too many wounds to waste on failed reason

Shoulder raised panting, nervously chanting
This wrath it cannot be outdone

Voices came racing back, she slowly starts to crack
Had no right to feed me love laced with poison

Tracks the crimson pools, on her pure white shoes
Walks toward the door beckoned by the banshee like siren

Tattooed with powder burns, her feeling now returns
Just the disintegration of a child on display for everyone

Lights the cigarette, shrugs off her last regret
Closes her eyes and remembers the time when she was still human

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Season's Change

Could there be any other way?
You let your shadows define you

And just before your seasons change
You find a train to stow away

God forbid, You should use a mirror for something else, Other than self effacing
Does it have fangs or maybe horns? Does it berate while it scorns ?
This Gargoyle perched on the sill of your days?

It's three hours till your winter
And the door is four steps away

Two bags are filled with pencils and a book
A journal of despair, and the chance You almost took

But now the snow has started flurrying
The last stubborn leaves of fall are swept away

I give you one last glance of stated defiance
And pray to myself in this deafening silence

Find in Me the sharpest blade
To cut you free from the bindings of your way

That Your winter will last for only a day
That You'll look at me and choose to stay

As I stood there guts braided and statue posed
All the blood it drained from me...

... as the door, it gently closed

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Survivor

It's meant to fracture; not shatter
but hearts are not windshields
and souls are not made of glass
I'm still riddled with shrapnel
to this day I remain shaken from the blast

Some of you seeped in
now dancing with my memories
It's easier to have conversations with Your echoes
but it always turns into screaming and pleading

" ... Look, You can't blame me I had blood in my eyes ! ... "

When echos become puppets; I know it's not You
I can pull the right strings for forgiveness
though it always sounds like my voice
however many marionettes I can overlay with Your face
You should be here staring at me behind the coffee cup pressed to your lips
basking in the sensation of steam in Your nostrils
and cold porcelain on Your chin

"I was pulled away, I should have stayed ! ... "

You are now my memory
I am Your debris
I suffer now this survival; and Your arrival to a "better" place
where You won't have to gaze on my bitter face
and smell the rot of wounds that fester with the progression of years

I wasn't strong, I wasn't wrong; I just survived
living out my days a slave to time

" ... Look, You can't blame me I had blood in my eyes ! ... "
" ... You don't get it, the blood was mine ! ... "

I wasn't strong, I wasn't wrong; I just survived

Human as a memory

I'm tired of being your memory,
the vision you conjure up when things don't go the way you need.

I've seen myself on the outside,
I'm no longer 12 years old.

You need to let me go,
I am of no use to you any more, I can no longer provide you succor, instead I just fuel your regret

Please, Please! Destroy me and lay me to rest,
so that I may be re-incarnated into the most beautiful sunset you have ever seen,
or the look in their eyes when you told them “No More” ! And simply walked away...
... Now that would be something to be!

But the sun set, and I awoke to find myself in the same place I am always in,
on the ground, looking up at them. I wipe the blood from my nose, and the tear from my eye.
I hear the words they shout at me “Does it hurt fish lip” ? I clench my fist ready, see every one else staring at me,
and get up and run away.

Look, you are not me,
You see people, really see them, even the ones that push you around, you see the glimmer of light in them is the
same glimmer in you. You've become the better man, would you have been this if I didn't run away? Would you be
the man you are today?

You need to see your self for the individual that you are,
until you do all you will be is me, a scared 12 year old boy.