Be Rid of You

You can keep your sentiments
and all your love attachments.

You can keep your loneliness too
because I have my own.

You can keep everything that draws your face
or expects you coming through the door

I’m going to free myself of you, all of you
I will free myself of you and all your things

that lingers alone and anticipates
when I don’t need them anymore

I will free myself, free myself
free myself from you!

Wasted on BMB

Easier for you to rip me out
rip me out, out of history
replace our ghost with
how long it takes a device
to catch my pulse.

You say I’m foolish, uncomplicated
when I saw you crystallized far further than your catalog chatter:
bringing the world up to speed to your gospel.

Shadow Box

With your, I think about every scenerio
my mind is big, and therefore I think…

Do you have a shadow box? Even as
when the morning is bright?
And what do you do with it ?
Have you ever wondered what if you
were asked to dance naked in front of
well… friends, would you ever try to be yourself
in front of a narrow mirror?

Inside my Terrane

You couldn’t possibly know how much you mean to me
you couldn’t possibly know, even as I try to tell you
limited by the expression of a syntax, I’m left with a lisp
trying to pronounce joy.  I’m only a jester with failing hands
a useless mime, forever maimed by the unforgiving allusion 
the imagination of life without you.

Ghost

It’s terrible being alone when what you want, the one you want, doesn’t want you.
It’s terrible being alone when all you’re stuck on is the last time you saw her dance
dreamy, she makes you laugh when nothing does anymore, and your shoulders are relaxed. 
It’s terrible being alone when you have to wait in line for the one thing that makes you forget.
It’s terrible being alone as you write about your ghost, as hope with its glory pines away.

Las Vegas

Las Vegas says she’s too afraid, too afraid
my dangerous touch on her delicate skin

made up with precaution, made up of rules to bend
because I ain’t got nothin to lose but the end

Las Vegas says she’s needing someone stable
yet she’s at my ramshackle table with those hungry eyes

with those sweet lips that I brush so, so gently 
tellin me I’m not the one oh Las Vegas

tellin me there’s no wedding moans
behind doors that only just groans   

she’ll leave me, leave me suddenly
my bed early in the dawn will howl for her trace

my danger, my dangerous love
recking reckless will grieve over her midnight kiss.

Love Song #2

My bright eyes light up when it sees your name
I want to sing lovely when I hear your melody
walking through my burning thoroughfare 
lights me up when you do anything.

I can’t pretend even when some nights are just accidents
only an accident, a treasure you can collect by the shore for you
those rainy days when there’s nothing to do, so you can recollect
a time when you were crazy: driving 90 on a 30 stretch, not slowing down
for speed bumps, you’re a drive by, you’re a wave crashing in, a gush killing with no exit.

My eye sees what it wants and is clouded by intelligence
as all that’s available is the ridiculous richness of contact, even when you were drunkard
all it sees is your trail of blood, making my nose raise to the gash of air finished
like a lonely as a wolf wandering for his scent home.

Love Song

Am I only treasure you can collect by accident
for those rainy days when there’s nothing to do
so you can recollect a time when you were crazy
driving 90 on a 30 stretch, not even slowing down
for speed bumps, you’re a drive by, a killing with no exit.

My eyes light up when it sees your name
I want to sing when I hear your melody
walking through my burning thoroughfare 
lights me up when you do anything.

A Jesus Birthday

At the closing of tonight
I’ll sit painstakingly reminiscing.
Reminisce over saying goodbye
then dance alone again.

My home with those many walls
keeping me still, smelling the strong aroma
my favorite dish, beef stew marinating
as the lady laboring over the stovetop cares for
making it all the better, this has been removed for
just a room filled with bitter cold things.

Reminiscing over the place that once was
still measuring the range of her laughter, and the saddness
that is like milestones, as they carted me away to the institution.
Reminisce over the fear and devastation, I found staring back at me
in those brown pools of continuous wonderings, should I even be taking this on?

Reminisce over the appearance of truth
and the presence, oh but a stagnation,  a straggling grip of desperation
where there aren’t any days drenched with tortured love songs.
But I was getting better at seeing the light.  Too late… 

Shouldn’t I’ve known this storm was coming?
Since, they say 33 is the year of the crisis, where the unexpected occurs
except no one told me, as I walked into the eye of a  hurricane.

Possessing the Secret of Joy

Is in those moments when you’re most blinded, you’ll find it possessed, bazodeed, when you’re least aware of what you have. That moment of joy, seeing her standing there waiting, pieces of her blowing in the wind. She smokes another cigarette, checking her cell phone because she’s lonely without you. And when she catches a glimpse of you, all you see is her dimples. And your smile is broad enough that you silently cry a secret joy, because even though you can’t really see, your eyes find each other. You embrace.

Is there such a thing?
Are there moments so sure
that you’re so unaware of?

Find it possessed, bazodeed
with your cataract eyes
incapable of recognizing joy

as she waits there for you
dimpled and broad smiled
lonely for your sauntering suspension?

We embrace, because it’s been that long
since we’ve caught a sighting that spectacular
shooting ephemeral phenomenologies
burning a thousand years away.

Attachment is Such a Hard Thing to Undo.

No more inquisitive brown eyes
to stare into and lose myself.

No more little ears to measure.
No more love songs to sing, because no one is listening.

No more dimpled smiles.
No more of her laughter, grabbing my attention.

No more flippers for feet
with flipper covers reaching to her knees.

No more secret language to make up
and joke about amongst ourselves.

No more soft kisses to have in the morning
waking me up from my slumber.

No more gentle caress of the middle of my back.
No more love to make during the late hours.

No more dreams to have of little ones playing in our backyard.
No more dreams to have of us growing together.

No more recipies to try.
No more spoons to lick.

No more you to teach me things.
No more coozied drunken debates.

No more you to admire naked in the sunlight.
No more you to watch sleep in the moonlight.

No more you to come home to.
No more home to come to.

No more time.
No more love.