Back to nought, an empty barrel for a frame
an additive identity for a familar existence
drifting aimlessly in the maddening sea
on a shore that waves lonely a dance back and forth
with a disparaging sequestration, a stumbling knot of nobody
if only zero plus something equaled an upheaval from the
nothing not, a step from annihilation, a small remedy for the forlorn past.
Tag: Poetry
Reach
I’m not quite sure of how I ended up at the latter end of the stick
maybe it’s in my genes to seek out pain, because what I reach for is far beyond my fingertips.
Isn’t that what it’s all about: living beyond the mean existence: towards infinity?
Isn’t it there, in those preposterous parallel lines reaching for something better than this point of survival
isn’t it there that we meet? Doesn’t settling for the first thing that is within your touch a mute of your mind?
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.
Folk
Success!!!
likes itself and it looks so good in the mirror
walking down the red carpet.
Success!!!
is a story you hear about in the news
this is our hero of the week
Success!!!
lies buried in little incremental shadows
that, won’t be seen by the um..hum New Yorker.
Success!!!
That’s all they, them, we care about
how can I align myself to this Success!!!
I can tell by the, our conversation
where on the ladder you’ve considered my climb
I know by your sincere pretense that you want nothing to do with me
but where were you when success seemed so fair, so equal
far out of reached, and yet like moths we’re starving towards its glow
and where were you when success was just a small room
a dying plant, no AC in the summer and freezing in the winter
where were you when I needed a friend.
Love Laws
Can you forget the love laws
and for one night feel the ache
in our curves? You’ll show me where
it hurts the most. Could you forget
about your tongue harnessed
in the Reason of the world? It draws
a rigid line our bodies refuse to bend to.
We’d forget how to construct a sentence
and listen to what is said in a moan
resonating in our eyes, lips, hands
from the pit of our stomachs; speak
a new nonsense. In a moment
we’d lose ourselves in a sound,
like that night, during awkward small talk
desire lingered in the space where
you and I begun. Knowing how to
hold each other, we danced.
We didn’t have anything
but skin, the salt from our eyes
the sadness in a kiss.
Cliche
But now that it’s all gone
don’t cry for me
think about the times we had together
the good times
we danced in the middle of the street
in the middle of our living rooms.
Loving you, we gave each other
everything inside of me
my light says that I’ve made progress
I’ve reconnected my heart to my mind
I’ve reconnected my soul to my being
and beautiful it says
something we should never let go was at my center
essential to my existence, we gave that to you as my torch
and like a fickle god we reined your rain on me, and cared like a human.
We cared while you’re a friend of the cyncial, you are a friend of the scoffing to the ultra sensitive
while I’ve discovered that a cliche is only overused when you’re overtly sardonic.
Love Song #3
anticipation is your smell everywhere
even in the unescapable stench of my dungeon
the prison of my mind of meaningless malodorous
function sweats an immutable sterile sink
in my dungeon, but I’ve been painting new colors
over the mod prints, I drew a protrait of you smiling in crayola.
anticipation is wanting a beautiful idea to stroke you gently like the rising sun
being carried by a choir of her voice, magically you land me softly at my destination…
Come Cover Me
With your joy.
With your pain.
With your laugther.
With your tears.
With your voice.
With your mouth.
With your hands.
With your body.
With your…
I’m lost in what I can’t have
lost in wanting you
Wanting your laughter
to echo through my vertebrae.
Wanting your mouth to sew against mine.
Wanting your voice to sing my name.
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.
The Frolic
I’ve lost my place in this thunder
ringing clear what I have
haven’t gained, with this losing war
I’ve won something.
I’ve lost my place in this thunder
that tragic lightening struck
paper-clipping my worth together.
I need an exorcism done
to baptized my worried hands together
and into a pit of strangers I’d dive
un-bruised by bravado’s curses
I’d dive into circumstanced tidal wave
I the interpellator
lose
myself
I hail i
lose
this champion.
The Pessimistic Corona Ad
Billboard apparitions that might just come true
soon enough
painkillers will wean
the barely noticeable
yesterday with its nausea
forgetting how to walk
withdrawn flowers
will set like the sun
soon enough
Jesus won’t be
the only holy one
the Devil’s company
un-pleasurable
masturbating
will never make
you come again
soon enough
nothing to choose from
nothing to tell
losing all the spit
in your mouth
soon enough
you’ll become
as the many
faceless mimes
configured bodies
shuffling in a deck
confabulated shadows
in a fish-market
soon enough
someone will call for rain
and you won’t have an umbrella.
Quiet
And listen to the silence that is life
And like most things it is fleeting
And watch you fade beneath me
And you slipped away like things
And they are all never lasting
And it was in this moment of orgasm
And never lasting, I learned how to live.
Fludity and Queerdom Ends at Marriage and Your first born: The Falsehoods of Bisexuality
I wear my swagger wrong, I swear it on my body
and cross my legs too feminine, I’m too fooled to know
when I’m too masculine for the ladies
while I squat and spit, squirt like the rest of them
they look at me weird while I’m with them but they don’t know
the extent of my story, waiting in line to pee so desperately.
For the women looking out, and telling me it’s the ladies, I bleed just like you
I invite you to see my red blood stains and be reminded that not every fruit is the same
and for the ones who find just fucking around is good enough until marriage
well, maybe you should date guys who are into fetishes. Because isn’t that what you want, a fish with meat?
Too many times fludity is just a masquerade waiting for a Jane Austen man
Galloping on his horse from a distance
Ooh darling you can give me your feminist queer theory all day long
while all that is queer about you is late like last night’s dream
and all that is feminist about you is just by being a woman
talk to me baby when you can’t cling to your safety status quo image: white, the pretty that is expected to be adored, and, when you realize how forced to love you are like the rest of them.
Games
Stole all of me
like a thief is the knight
killing the Queen of diamonds
And you place your flush
like I was playing with you
with your feelings called a fluff
and dance around with a wall of arms…’
but I’m tired of feeling the tiger’s heart
I’m tired of the open of my open heart
that has burned me for too long
The Death
It emaciated me, the lost resonating its empty space
I feel it everytime as I sit still, letting the silence come over me
in the shower, walking to and from work, during sleep… The silence
that kills the most, when you’re left alone with longing thoughts
untagged and saved for those special moments when the nights are longer.
I feel it everytime I try and satisfy that part of me with old and new faces, awkwardly
attempting to connect on any thread. You have a relationship with things the most
I fill my empty space with cigarettes, spirits, pills, tears… And it grows obtuse now
since there’s nothing enough to feed its insatiable vacancy.
So I put red roses, white lilies, and yellow daffodils upon the places invaded the most
I close my eyes in farewell, and beg for comfort.
Who Dat?
Wha yuh tinkin bout?
Who yuh tinkin ah-bout?
Who yuh muse lovin
on a cream tea beach?
Whose taste yuh tongue savors
yuh hands softly soothes?
Whose body is warm enough
for de cold days and nights?
Whose openin yuh caged lonely love?
Wha yuh tinkin bout?
Who yuh tinkin ah-bout?
Who dat yuh lovin
someplace wey de sky is real
blue paint, a dab of real white
and real hot yellow?
Who dat yuh lovin
someplace wey de night
is ah black board for diamonds
and an old round rock
yuh hope to walk on?
Wha yuh tinkin bout?
Who yuh tinkin ah-bout?
Who yuh muse lovin?
Who dat yuh lovin?
Who dat yuh needin?
Who dat?
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.
Ode to the Infinite Burn
To forget, oh to forget, have to, have to
have never touched your open hearth
where luminosity soaks and then soars.
Watch the fire, watch, watch the fire ignite
watch it ablaze and crack, cheat, cheat
cheating my umbra with orange cinders
blue sparks full of auspicious heights
then dies, dies, dies, it does
in languorous pace, unmindful
of the fingertips it singed, hurts me so
to forget, oh to forget.
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.
COCOYEA 
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