Poems

January, 2009

The One Who Knew Too Little

Thine eyes can comprehend only too little,

For thy heart is spewing, but venom from thy own doing

Sink thy rotten pearls into an empty shroud,

And taste bitter fantasies of thy latent,

latent,

yet promisingly potent idolatry

The incestuous breeding of it has encroached itself upon thy beauty,

And thy justice,

And thy asserted womanhood

Dangling thy Words over the gnashing perils of thy unsettled,

paternally soured soul

Tis the day to terse my lips and blow the billowing smoke aside

And to summon the beauty that aches and bursts

In

And

Out

And to summon the beauty that has implored to grow,

Till the horizon is no more

Mine eyes have utterly felt this laborious birth

Together he and I will tend to glory that knows not of

shambled skeletons or decayed daggers,

But knows of love that endures through all things,

Though

Not without ripe hope or towers of strength

This glory promises he and I,

Salvation,

Salvation,

Salvation

Thy, thy, thy Egyptian entombment needs the Red Sea

And just as he and I have seen it parted,

He and I have walked through it,

And now he and I will watch it plummet down to those who seek

Nothing but odious deaths

The kind that not only stings, but rages against,

against,

against thine own face

Take thy cup and drink

Take thy bread and sink thy rotting pearls

Into the absurdly, strange life

That has beckoned thou (you) and I and he to sit and dine

January, 2009

Je ne sais quoi!

This phrase is my vice for

Weak tumblings

Je ne sais quoi,

Je ne sais quoi

Oo La La

How I love to

Collapse

Onto you

You kiss me like a

True

Betrayer, all tingling and nice

Following with

My

Incensed implosion

of contemptuous

Cries

Kiss me again

I say with thoughts

Of you

Je ne sais quoi…

I love you

Pardon,

I hate you

Pardon again, I am at a school of

Holding

Infamous tension

So,

I will learn from you?

Translation: there are no words, true true

Thus, I am

But

a Fool

(Wink)

December, 2008

Annunciation Part I

The white lily, the one from Da’ Vinci’s painting

is all I can smell right now and

You, the one who left your seed with me,

late last night in the scent of a storm

Here it is brewing, wrapped within my viscera

The immortal angel, the one from Da’ Vinci’s painting

is who I wished visited me this morning, but instead,

The plastic demigod was the one announcing my plight

And it was late last night in the scent of a storm

Here it is brewing, wrapped within my viscera

Here it is brewing, wrapped within my viscera

Here it is brewing, wrapped within my viscera

The cypress trees, the ones from Da’ Vinci’s painting

is where I long to be found under and near

the roots, the ones that could squeeze my belly tight

late last night in the scent of a storm

Here it is brewing, wrapped within my viscera

The warm meets cool and,

the loud march of dark clouds

pervade my sad womb where,

a lily grew and a lily was given where,

an angel was and an angel is far from here where,

the roots squeezed and the roots released

And here it is brewing, wrapped within my viscera

And here it is brewing, wrapped within my viscera

September 13th, 2008

Unfinished Poem

My love isn’t strong as death

Nor does the wealthy man leave being despised

My love wavers in the airless gray

And in the midnight waters it turns into a faceless name

My love isn’t fierce as the open grave

Nor do the despised venture to make this mistake

My love undulates to no rhythm, other than the erratic rhythms of fear

And as a betrayer it denies the world with that same faceless name,

and with those same empty tears

As a skeleton haunts the heartbeats

So does my love hunt the idyllic

Casting myself into the shadowy piles of lust

I picked the gas chamber of my choice,

invited touch, birth, and my tragic voice

To gather as we are reduced to lonely dust

And here we lay buried upon this God-forsaken earth

My love barely leaves my skinful lair

Nor does it burn with intoxicating aromas

My love begets all things old and serves the ebbing dramas

And I sink into an amnesic bygone,

when the wrath of God was colored in scarlet pawns

And now the repetition for recollection occurs,

My love enjoys enslavement, but can tremble for freedom

My love enjoys enslavement, but can tremble for freedom

My love enjoys enslavement, but can tremble for freedom

As a skeleton haunts the heartbeats

So does my love haunt the trees

Casting myself into the pits of hell

To only return, with life on my face,

air in my lungs, blood in my tears,

and sounds that belong

My love is swimming inside Love,

my love is grappling with Love,

my love is resting atop of Love,

my love is Love

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