Dark Humor (From A Crumpled Desk Note)

It's funny to me
How I will always forget what
He said
But not the way
Light hit the side of his face.
Like a film noir.
It wasn't even that dramatic.
Well, maybe it was.

I could cut the tension
With the worst metaphor in the world.
He spoke the same poisonous words.
Standing there, shouting at me.
Not a thought rolled through
Our heads.
Hot air.
Screaming, pointing.
Blah, Blah, Blah.
I was once his anti-venom.
Is it wrong to look at a scar and laugh?
It's not even funny.
Just pen on paper that looks pretty.

Critical

You let yourself wander,
But never be lost.
In words or actions;
With or without Intentions.
Never trusting
Those vapid tongues
Sweetened by "Experience."
Smiles can shroud the ugliest deceptions.

I caution you
Of words from closed mouths and
Warmth in icy waters;
Ribcages full of apologies.

But you--YOU are NOT asleep.
Awake in your dreams,
Painting a Monet in a black and white world.
Knowing that you know nothing
And that you
Have vision in a blind world.

You choose to leave footprints behind
Knowing
They wash away in the sea,
Just to know that they EXISTED.

Goodbye, Goodnight

I love,
      like a heavy sun-rain,


a woman with scars
              like light through
         my blinds in the morning
             falling across
               the stillness of her 
                                   naked legs,
 casting shadows
            that make me hungry


and
     ache to love her 
        in a field absent of anything
                       but us and moon or
                                         sun
                                      or fire.


   Her eyes float like stars stolen
          from Van Gogh and
     her hands have scars
        like his nights,
                  which I still kiss
                          when I can.


     She has a secret scar,
                 too,
that I used to kiss.


I would brush my lips against
                             it,
then press a promise in,
     a different one every time,
                  but it seems I've broken
                                               most.


Once promised to swear
     by the taste of it,
        thin and white,
every day,


now I grind sand
   between my teeth by
     the long days
     that are not that first, fleeting
                hour of light
                 when the morning creeps in
  and lies next to me,
               warming the pillow
              I leave standing
              in remembrance
        of scars and shadows
                     I forgot to kiss
                                goodbye,
               goodnight.

Laura

     I dreamt it was winter
and you were a wind.

         your feet
and the palms of your hands
     were iced of blood,
   scarred and thin,
       so you buried your fingers
in the fur of my beard
     and warmed your cool
            wet lips
   against  my
desert dweller's tongue.

My bed was freezing over,
     so you climbed in after me
and for the first time
       I slept,
     and then you brought
                 the morning ,
and your eyes sang to the birds.

My heart slowed and yours sped
and we met in the spring,
   and the blackbirds stole
our hair from the pillow

to warm their blue eggs,
                 as freckled as your nose
       or my eyes.

   I dreamt of a fox with sad eyes,
           and a smirking cat.

I dreamt of a wolf and a lioness
           at once,

and so many times
      I met you
        in the morning.        

One sonnet and one almost sonnet

A Sonnet in Memory of Small Wings

of black wings settled live on her shoulder,

of memory dark with the night of all

unlived,

I sing a requiem. Tears fall

as some sunsets never do. I saw her

pass by on her little

clouded feet, ev’n

talked, quickly - violently fell, unfurling

voraciously dove into eyes of

burning

copper, alive with a mercy, to leave

my heart un-emptied. To leave me stay whole,

from blooded feet, floundering

a thousand

frozen miles over mountains maw - respite

from the red impaling crush of a soul

Sinking in, sucking bone,

like light

like sand

Into a supernova.

What light! What light!

Part 2, sort of a sonnet.

What tearing joy to be rent asunder

by beautiful passions and noble

Deaths! Oh,

what faulted, perfect love it is

To live! She smiled to me – against my tender

Cheek where I burn deeper than scars recall,

And I blinked, heard her ruffled feathers flutt’r,

Shuttered

to fall, to stir anew and dance

Themselves,

to laugh and weep the way pearls do,

So quiet and blue.

I , grounded albatross

Of broken porcelain pieces, I lay

Blinded, did pray for flight forsaken

, know

She has gone and I have not pained not died

Or lived.

For such un-birthed sorrows of her

Cruel un-colored sort of mercy, I sing.

onederland

A CATTERPILLAR WITH TATTOOED TEETH

IN A LAND WITH LIGHT THAT SLIDES ALIVE AND BLUE

AND MEN GRINNING BACKWARDS,

I DRANK TEA MADE FROM MUSHROOMS, HEARD FLOWER AND LEAF

LAUGH AT ME LOUD AS FLUTES AS I SHRANK AND GREW

I, THE MAN GRINNING AND BACKWARDS.

IN THE TULGEY WOOD I STOOD UFFISH AND CHOKED ON WORDS

SPAT LIKE SMOKE FROM WHERE, LIKE STONE BESTREW

A CAT, A PILLAR TATTOOED, TEETH

SHARP AND GOLD AS A DREAM BENEATH

A MEMORY.

WHO ARE YOU?

- I AM ME. ,CONTRARIWISE WHO

ARENT YOU?

NOT HARDLY WHO I WAS. NOW A MAN GREIVING BACKWARDS.

THE HARE’S OFF IT’S HEAD WITH CURSED RABBIT’S LUCK,

DODO BIRDS

ARE BURBLING AND HYPNOTISING, GIVING PILLS THAT DON’T DO, DON’T DO

SO THE CAT – I ATE A CATERPILLAR WITH THESE TATTOED TEETH

AND THE WAKEFULL KUEEN CALLS BETWEEN RED TEETH

OFF WITH THIS FLOATING HEAD,THIS

THIS CATERPILLAR WITH TATTERED TEETH

THIS MAN GRINNING BACKWARDS

I Hope You Read This (My Sister's Journal)

I have written this

Over your notes.
A created image I've conjured.
I hold creased memories,
Soiled without your presence.
A face, a figure,
Someone I never fully knew,
Nor will I fully
Understand.

Through the aged rubble
Of your possessions,
I question:
Who are you?
How can I even know
or at least acknowledge
your existence if
I've never seen your true face.

I realize the intensity.
You live on worn backs and tempered souls.
Finding any reasonable explanation,
Or even just a note
Is impossible.

Peering into
Pages of your mind,
I philosophize on life.

Maybe we never really know
Who we are
Or who we will be.

Maybe,
Everyday of our
Meaningless existence
We seek truth, Answers.
For nothing.

Maybe,
Doing what we love is
All the solace
This world
Can ever
Offer us.

Maybe,
I never knew you because
I tried to embody
A memory.

A phantom in reflections
Whom I've never known.
Would I be let down?
To know your stories,
Forming truths within
Untwisted tongues.

Would we be closer
Or more distanced in Space?

Perhaps,
In time,
We can take down our
Masks
To really know
What is inside.

Shipwreck

I lay stagnant

As the sands spill over me.
Waves crash against my face.

A savior.
My sails gently set adrift by the
Touch of the wind.
The boat rocks
But I am still.
The warm lips of the sun
Caress
Every inch of my body.
But I am cold.

Longing, Waiting.
I'll never know
How long I've been away.
How far from shore am I?

Pointless to search.
Pointless to answer.

My oars were taken away.
Stolen.
Yet I will remain,
Stagnant
As the shoreline beckons me
Onwards.

But I cannot answer the call.

Speechless, in ruin.
I may never sail again
But I still dream
Of distant soils
To burry my feet.

But a part of this ocean
Calls me further away.
I can escape,
But from what am I escaping?
Where is home
If this is all I've ever known.

I may never find a home
Between sand and tides.
But I will continue
My search
If it takes my whole life.

Everglades (working title)

This land is amorphous.

a cruel paradox

of old shadow.

- the brave

effort of geography

to remember things

ancient lost.

always a memory.

never, it feels,

alive independent.

Now coffin nail trees

groan

like some belly of a whale,

cast

in obsidian breath,

dark still,

until its burning hour.

some vengeful lights

traveled. turned

over ,

, over.

There are dreams, here.

violent and weird.

bleeding

inconstant

as the land

and sort-of-land

and not-quite-land, here -

- ready always to accept

that easy suggestive stroke

of quick hurricane shift,

upside down

and thunder eyed.

Worn

Venomous words leak
Overflowing a numbed conscience.
Flower petals fall
Leaving only camouflaged thorns.

She sit and stirs,
A thick mud of tears.
She awakens
As the smoke billows
Out of his vacant mouth.
Stains on her apron.

His calloused fingertips
Leave behind larger scars
In need of more than
A stitch or kiss.

Those calloused fingertips
Push button squares
Through threaded gaps
Over the heart
That pounds through
A Pill-covered green vest
In a civil masquerade.

High society dons
Fake smiles in darkened alley ways.
The pain could fill buckets
In nails and shrapnel;
All waiting for a fuze.


As the evening's ballroom dancer,
She puts on her gowns and coverup.

For Rachael

Risen out

of most frigid hell

stand I,

tattered naked

black

in the eyes,

absent of much soul

in them.

Death white

and

claw toothed

I killed my way

free

of the falling green

acidic storm.

Exhausted,

crushed empty

as I forced

open

a wall of fearful distortion,

my body

melting, now

through any

sense

of logical light,

burning dark

tepid breath,

I -

I am through.

numb

in presence of proof

that a beating heart

was just a fairy tale

to me,

smiling little girl,

hoping, stupid thing.

at least there is magic

in a mundane end.

Written on a Tissue

I hope your throat is
Dry
From Pills
You had to swallow,
Words you never spoke.
I hope your eyes
Burn
In distant memories
Cut into your cranium.
I hope your neck
Breaks
From all the weight
A pendulum on a chain.
I fell on
Broken ankles;
Shattered dreams,
Broken by
Words.
Pity releases,
Pain resides.

Flicker

Fireflies on silk,
Smoke-filled memories from
Decades before you
Took innocence's
Quivering hands,
Creating pathways
Of flickering light.

Dot your I's and cross your fingers

A Pendulum
Dangles
From hopeless rope.
Knots form in
Twisted Fingers,
Laced
With vindictive intentions.
I fell
To my knees
Choking on your daydreams.
My swollen ankles and
Your clammy-fisted hands.
I hope to forget.

Black Hole

Lost in thought
I drift with a
Red Balloon
Through the clouds
Of your conscience.

Passing memories
On my journey,
I water the forest
With fresh tears.
Remarking how beautiful
Trees
Look when they
Regrow.

You used to tell me
I’d become nothing.
That I won’t do it,
I can’t imagine it;
That the world is
Too cruel for
Uninspired ventures.

You shoot me.
Bust my bubble.
I fall into the
Weak hands of
A distressed Earth.

She catches my heart
As it falls from
Sleeves
Breaking as it drops.

No one saw me fall.

As it should be.

I’d spend
A lifetime
Lost so deep in
Thought
That the whole world could
Search
For centuries
And never find my tracks.

Sucked into
A self-created
Blackhole.
I cannot measure up
Or down.

Is it too deep to escape?
There must not be sunshine
In my cavern of flesh and bone.

and What of Destiny?

What if

I come back -

what if I circle the world,

and find your door again

to see it empty?

What if our destiny

is to watch from opposite ends,

the flooding, burning canyon

of more miles

than I care to name,

reaching

through the air,

shouting over the

roar of a world

whose people demand you

and whose frozen borders

drag me by the feet?

are we

worth resisting

the momentum

of the turning earth?

will you even want to try

, or are faded photographs

folded into pockets

the best we can do?

don't answer, yet.

don't answer at all.

For Development

Laying in his arms,
The world was still.

Ages could wrap
Around
Our leathered hides.

We live for a second;
This ultimatum.
With neon superficiality
And god-less
Flesh pleasures;

Our hearts

In comatose.

Days flicker,
Filtered through
Rose-toned slides.

Light reacts with our
Silver linings,

Revealing our
Darkest
Undertones.

Eternity

Never enough
Time.
I sat here
Waiting
As you withered
Away.
Sands trickling down.
Each grain weighs heavier
On my forbidden heart.
I cannot
Become your sullen
Romancer.
Image without a form.
You were my soldier of steel,
Destruction Destroyer.
Never again.
"Be my life, my eternity".
You crushed the ice castle
Within My heart.
I stay now.
Hold hands
With love everlasting.
As time
Sets with decay.

Heartbeat Warefare

Spitting razor blades,
I choke on your words.
Withdrawing my troops
A white flag of relief.

Only momentary.

Hellfire and brimstone spill
Through my tempest poisoned lips
Stained
With the blood of experience.

A fuze,
Lit and burning,
Pouring turpentine
Onto faded photographs.

Feeding the fires.

Traitors, liars, cheats
And all their gelded hearts,
Vain hopes, mistruths.
Are there really diamonds
In this smutty coal mine?

Your once crystal eyes,
Oceans of blue,
Form violent hurricanes,
Destroying
The coastlines
And watching me
Run
For safety.

You bruised my skin.
Inside me, stagnancy.
Your eyes speak
Cold contempt
With misjudged jealousy.

I pled
My innocence of heart.
Judged on accusations;
Never Truths.
Incriminations
On leaping
From beds and hearts,
Holding hands with indifference.

My protections.

You judged against
My swaddled crucifix.
Hypocrisy?
Not guilty.

You decided
To believe your own lies.
Never statistic, facts, or truth.
Then you engulfed your coastlines,
Controlling me through guilt,
And encaging my will.

Until opportunity strikes.
My razor-sharp tongue
Strikes through the chains.
But your serpent song
Slithers through my
Apple-core heart.

Spilling my viscera
Through my crimson
Blood stained shirt.
Darkened with each
Palpitation
Of my quavering heart.

To think of death is a laugh;
More of a shame
As I never quit
This battlefield of love.
No matter the injuries.

It's never a casualty;
Just stagnancy of heart.

Mutations to the Heart

Words.
No explanations.
You speak your heart
Without regard to mine.

I am not your captive.
Let me go.

Tethered to a lie.
You bind me with loose hopes.
Broken promises.

Bathe me in gold.
Comprehend my loss.
Purchasing happiness.
What a crime.

Heal. Build. Regrow.
Learning to adapt.
Mutations to the heart.
Never conforming.

Passive touch.
Your leathered skin on mine.
Recoil into my tortoise shell.
Another heart's dagger.

What was taken from us?
Can you feel a heartbeat?
Can you feel at all?
Numb.