The Craven: A Parody of PoeOnce upon a court inquiry, while my witness plead sincerely,The Craven: A Parody of Poe4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Over whether or not he witnessed a murder on a mansion floor,
While I prodded, nearly smacking, suddenly there came a cracking,
As of someone's neck snapping, snapping behind the courtroom door.
"Tis some murderer," I muttered, "whacking behind the courtroom door.
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, we linked the oft dismembered mobsters of a chic September,
Yes, the mob's each dying member spilt their guts upon the floor.
Eagerly I swished espresso on the morn I named the torso,
She who until late fought escrow, clauses, deeds, and more.
A wry and wise defense attorney whose office door had read 'Dior.'
Jobless here for evermore.
And the sulking, sad and witless weeping from each extra witness,
Chilled, fulfilled me, raging 'tween the jury's and the judge's snores.
Yet now to hush my unbelieving mind, standing there conceiving:
"Tis some nameless witless witness bleeding 'hind the courtroom door,
Some late nameless witless witn
Man:An arachnid needling into nothing;Man:3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Thrown rope nestled in NASA's outer space;
A Hindu clarinet player's helper
Ascending an airy, azure ether.
A phalange of "my gawd" (an ice/ash pillar)
After an airborne space craft's absconding,
A moon-landing. Impossible motion,
Mired in unimaginative minds
Meditating on Om, missing the flight.
Come Home: A PantoumYou'll always come back to meCome Home: A Pantoum2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
when the lights in the far hills
are done searching. For, new beds
entice adventurers. Too,
when the lights in the far hills
come home, the homespun dream they
entice adventurers too,
but they can't. (Dream we're neither.
Come home.) The homespun dream they
turn pioneers to homebodies,
but they can't dream we're neither,
our wanderlust fit to turn
pioneers to homebodies.
We've always made love free, so
our wanderlust fit. To
turn ourselves towards our home
we've always made love. Free. So
when the last adventurers
turn themselves toward their homes
in faraway lands, I know,
when the last adventurers
are done searching for new beds
in faraway lands, I know
you'll always come back to me.
Anxiety Attackwith both eyes unfocused/Anxiety Attack5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
open my hand
contains the water falling on windows
the distant stars of traffic lights
as far as the eye can see
is in me, because with both eyes unfocused/
open one hand becomes two
now dared to deal
I'm two ghosts pretending to be one man
I'm worried you won't put me back together
see me as whole
see me as falling apart
I'm worried you'll never lose the photo of me
superimposed against the world
pregnant with it
and immortally unimportant
SpacefeintThe astronauts had no rear-view, lying vertical,Spacefeint4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
eyes to instruments affixed, octopoid arms aflight,
moving eerily as one
Like college-bound teens, they didn't look back,
the mother's faint tears smothered by
the thunder of flaming engines.
Old films and space museums first alerted their minor selves
to the intoxicating blue of the earth's
In the simulator, they swigged digital earthshine,
complex watertanks faking weightlessness --
the sim just wasn't the same.
Belts unbuckled, floating on ballerina feet, a speechless face
in each porthole, no one noticed the captain's
His hypoxic brain unbetrayed by gravity, his limp spine
erect, his outstretched hands drifting clouds,
his eyes wide shut.
In his dream: father sat stiffly at breakfast,
the paper clumped in each fist, with
Long before Jupiter's great red beauty spot, the iron
hearts of stars, the moon's cephalic
sea of tranquility:
an unbuttered crust of bread,
The 1998 HousefireThe 1998 Housefire at 198 Wentworth SouthThe 1998 Housefire6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Snow falling on cinders; falling on issues,
300, of Mad,
and Nintendo Power;
falling on a consoles red Cyclopean power (cooked
internally, blinking to black,
volumes of ongoing adventures, dreams of power,
my life in virtuosity, melting,
gooping into Grade One element comprehension);
falling on posters and curtains
gone up fire-fast, like Japanese letters read
falling on the bamboo-print
bed, the heat
to beat the heart;
falling on candles;
falling on bookshelves great with stomach
falling on shadows
I once hid from as from
a hungry ghost;
Falling where Nagasaki
where the ceilingwhere the roof
I feel the pain of everyone.
Then I feel nothing.
The Endocardium As We Know ItIt's the Endocardium As We Know it (And I Feel Fine)The Endocardium As We Know It5 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
That's great, it starts with a heart rate,
Palpitate arterial veins
My Mitral Valve is unafraid
Eat up a sugarcane, listen to your heart burn,
Lub serves its own needs, dubby serve your own needs,
Speed it up a notch: beat lungs, no, chest,
The bladder makes you fatter with pee bright yellow might
Fire up the wires beating 72 per minute
In a ventricle that's higher at a low-fat site.
Oxygen is coming through the larynx and pharynx
Breathing down your neck.
Beat by beat the quarters strangled, lumped, weathered, stopped.
Look at that fat chain.
Fine, then, uh oh, overflow, masticate the common food,
it won't do to save yourself, serve yourself organic snow peas
listen to your heart beat, dummy with a tummy feeling crummy
fat is quite light. You might have colic, diastolic-jam
bright white light fuzzing out your sight.
It's the endocardium as we know it. (I guess I'm just some bones)
It's the endocardium as we know it. (I guess I'm jus
Stitches: A SonnetThe surgeon's plump fist fit in the skull's half-scooped tub.Stitches: A Sonnet4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Stitching up, after the hemispherectomy,
each needle pump sealing off the left half's torn stub.
Grey, brainy clouds roll over missing metropoli
of all function and control, the mind's pup and cub,
neuron-storms over seas of phantom memory.
Only stitching remains to kilter the neck's hub.
Fontanel of Bible-black thread fed through holey
scalp-skin makes fusion from entropy's urgent drub.
Criss-crossing wire hems this fear: scars shaping bony,
knobby, crusty ridges, burbling up just to snub
the stitches, shed like baby teeth, and as lonely.
Right half on a pan, a nurse passed in bloody scrubs.
So the patient voided, avoiding ignomy.
Weep Western TearsDeep, swallowed in voiceWeep Western Tears6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Eye of the monastery
I weep Western tears
Swallowed in the Western eye
I weep tears of voice
Swallowed deep, I weep
In the eye of Western voice
Eye-deep, I swallowed
In the monastery, weep
Western voice of tears
BangsBangsBangs6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it really doesnt matter father
said this is where she died
(everything that made winter here
bearable made summer death);
is there anywhere
death hasnt trespassed?
(Im not afraid)
any office, jail,
(I dont believe in heaven in the winter)
Pentagon warehouse, behind
lock after lock after lock after lock,
no crushed tick, no swallowed spider?
its much worse
biking beyond the bridge,
still breathing, unbearably heavy,
where, graduation night, years back,
(I dont believe in winter in the fall)
a sober wrist-snap kissed
grill to abutment,
the first day of the rest of our lives
spent leaving behind
and wilting bouquets
(mine, plastic, actually,
dont hate me)
lock after lock after lock after lock,
I slept where she died
in the attic
of his minds eye
Feather, Knife, and WifeUnpretentious princess at the lip of the wildFeather, Knife, and Wife4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
broods on her position in the tribal order.
She's gritting her teeth at development's border
with weapons unfit to inspirit kismet's child.
An arrowhead barely tattoos the tractor tread,
A hand-axe fells not the crane its longevity.
Ironicallly, the machine's owe their brevity
to the First Spirit's black blood wrested from breast's red.
A computer geek morningstar, alive by chance,
going cold turkey off his electronic life,
stumbles from the rubble of Armageddon's fire,
surprised to discover unmolested expanse.
She trains him in the ways of feather, knife and wife,
First Spirit's gifts renew him, return him, rewire.
Monster PatientPatient monster making wishes on unbreakable glass,Monster Patient5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Knuckles a coin down his tree-knee fingers. Knotted,
A pretzel. I sweat the saps of his family tree.
A broken promise, I forget he's in there, staring,
Patient monster backs into the dark to stain my
Glass prison with ghost lips, empty eyes. Gaiety and pomp
Make me their marionette. Curious cat. Cold-calling chaplain.
Existence, a whisper from the shattered throat of a
Patient monster evaporates into dreamy clouds,
The toxic hallways soak up, a dewy cocoon.
Distrusting, glassy warden. Deserted, happy, and
Cold. Shivering foetus. Awaiting the return of my
The MummyMummy is exhaustedThe Mummy5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
From standing on what feels
Your scraped knees and elbows, scars and scabs
Mummy woke up too old
To remember his withered up snake, his broken flute, his dead wife,
Says don't let him sleep past a nap this time
Mummy is in an existential funk,
Is worried he'll live
To bury another child, more flesh and bone and whatever
Watch Your StepDelicately placing light bulb in trashWatch Your Step5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Delicately climbing in through the window
Delicately cracking breakfast on the rim of the pan
Delicately planning future with the lawyer
Delicately pulling the skin off the foot
Delicately appraising the new music
Delicately allowing the thoughts to flow
Delicately closing eyes against the showerhead
Delicately accepting the pain inside
Like some respectable host
Like, pile it on the bed in the room no one uses
But the doors are urgent now
With the weight
A barn door kind of red
Like aliens arriving outside
To take away, but run without
And everything's bursting behind and now
Captured, kicking and thrusting, feet waving goodbye
Like new angels
Delicately watching the needle change hands
Delicately seeing through the passenger windshield
Delicately taking the steps back inside
Big TopLadies and gentlemen, astromen, and courtesans,Big Top4 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Your undivided attention for a second please.
Tonight you're gonna see things that'll turn you on your earrings,
If you've got a weak stomach aim it at your knees.
Please turn off your pagers pass along and sign the waivers,
Someone will be by shortly to collect your names.
Before we raise the curtain please be sure that you are certain
That your children can be hushed we don't have time for games.
First, direct your eyes up to the woman in the skies.
Mothers, should you shield your daughters from her siren song
They'll turn forever cursed to wander vainly o'er the earth,
Longing for a lover, legs half as strong.
Next, Felix will juggle just as sure as he will struggle
To escape a straight jacket from the bughouse, see.
Then Adelaide and Adeline drink marmalade and pickle brine
While singing Kiss Me Under The Banana Tree.
Now I need a volunteer not vexed to lose an ear,
Man enough to a put a shoulder to the wheel.
But if Mena should miss,
Mollusca1.Mollusca2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Find whatever it is that is your treasure.
Bury it alive.
I wrestled the guardian angel for my birthstone,
just a pearl like some full moon risen from a mollusk's growing pain.
I counted the sheets of nacre like birthday candles,
peeled away each one until I at last remembered
that what I treasure is an infection.
It was a gentle kind of wrestling,
not Biblical, not even assertive,
more like the way two sprite wolf cubs play,
a light lunge, a jovial snarl,
a fight over nothing in particular.
The guardian angel renounced itself
as a guardian angel, said
I am a siren.
I lie in the tunnels of nautilus shells
and sing until I collapse with the echoes.
Then it hurts, like a shard of the wrong song
embedded in my skin.
It never healed the ache of adolescence,
just buried it under a fall wound's nacre.
Said one day, it'd show up in my smile.
On the day of the dewinging:
bury me alive.
I want to see what I can agitate the earth into.
Puddles From What We DenyWilted ProspectsPuddles From What We Deny4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
From Another age
You're not who you wanted to be
So you attempt to just turn the page
But you Catch yourself
In a nearby mirror
Sitting on a shelf
And you wish you were someone else
Who's that in the mirror,
Can you identify?
Malformed by lies it seems
It's dreams became the most defied
Consumed by time wasting fillers
As to not try
Forgetting your morals and needs
Bleeds from what You Deny
You get my Metaphors?
I see your lies
Leaking from your pores
I know 'cause
I'm just the same
Seeing my youth Yelling,
Screaming, behind locked doors
From our inner parts
Making constant shaking
So it spews from our hearts
Who's that in the mirror
Can you identify?
No? 'cause it seems
It's Dreams became the most defied
Now it seems your feeling down
Sitting in your home;
With eyes of stone.
But inside you give yourself a spin
Fighting all out
But when you fight yourself No One Wins.
People rarely ask,
But when they do
You're "perfectly fine"
Lesser PieceDrifting off to wishes now I am consumedLesser Piece4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
By the mile
Went in my head to relax now I'm
Lost in all the Files
Now Information's stopped its way to
My melancholy Melon
For Sanity's arrested me, I'm a
Some may say that it is a crime
To live in my head all the time
I just can't figure how they think
Without inner thought I am on the brink
So please no disturbing
While I think out my own lesser piece
It's only me in here
And it's me paying off the lease.
360 Blind Eyes360° Blind Eyes360 Blind Eyes3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Those street corner pharmacies don't bother me...
cooking up that crack...
serving that black...
caramelizing those apples...
crystallizing that meth...
but at least it's not my kitchen...
He's Robin Hood...
on the level that Hollywood...
would be in contention...
terrorizing the scene...
mad scientist splicing the genes...
with killing machines...
but at least it's not my dimension...
They combine these positions...
with Columbine vision...
plus out-of-mind conditions...
lead to out-of-body renditions...
a suicidal homicide mission...
but at least it's not my decision...
and it's not my problem...
not my solution...
not my blood...
so it's not my ablution...
not my business...
not my institution...
it's not my crime...
so it's not my execution...
You know it's not my world...
these are not my people...
they are not my equals...
this is not my power...
this is not my evil...
this is not my chase...
they are not my steeples...
this is not my realm...
The Soul Broker I am the buyer and seller of souls. I’ve bought them all and I sold you yours. For the world must run like the gears of a clock, and sometimes you tick or sometimes you tock, but everything given will be taken away and for every silence kept, a word must be said.The Soul Broker3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Naturally, you must assume there is cost. For everything gained, a penny is lost; of course this life can be no different--when the check arrives, you must pay the difference. But not all who ride on the sunday train pay the same price to get out of the rain: a king’s ransom might obtain far, far less than the pauper’s cheap pain.
Your father paid the price of sweat, a back bent under the yoke of the world; accrued worldly financial debt but was recompensed with the jokes of a girl. And he would say he walked away wealthy, with his empty bank account, for his daughter lives today quite healthy and loves him in equally large amounts.
A novel LustMeaningfully StareA novel Lust4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
At the windows near the roof
There is a reason why
But I Never have the proof
So Questions not in I
Provoke their Inner thought.
Something they've to strive for,
For it can never be bought.
Yet here we are poetry
Part of what may separate us.
A longing for more insight
Of what may calm the lust
The most uncommon lust
For not wealth, nor skin, nor bone
The lust for use of time,
For knowledge, emotion, or skill to hone.
let's start a revolutionour people are becominglet's start a revolution4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
what a load of bull when we go to sleep with
smiles on our faces,
ignorant to the fact that
forced compliancy in the form of conformity,
are the factors that make up this
gag me please;
it is a sad day indeed-
we've invented gender,
picking apart all who don't fit into
the social construct we call
clearly, there must be a problem here:
power and control has overrun the matrix,
blinded us in blatant fury
to the point where our existence
is not a way to exist at all!
call me a social nihilist-
i believe in nothing,
a day where eyes can turn to the
and see America
for the monster it truly is.
it is a sad day indeed when
the media feeds our children so much
that they cannot tell the difference between
and a nation that
Georgie's CrumbsThe scars lie in zigzags across my throat. I don't remember the knife that made them, and they're not the point of this story; Annie is, and I'm mentioning them because she never asked about them. I loved her for that. Instead, when she found that I always played extras at the drama club because there were days when I couldn't speak in anything but a whisper, she taught me how to mime. I spent hours practicing in their dusty living room, swaying to the clatter of Georgie's nails on the piano keys. Georgie plays piano like Annie rides horses.Georgie's Crumbs2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I still find the memory of her down by the old dirt road, where he put Georgie's piano. I turn my head and catch the scent of the wind, the way the air felt when she smiled, the way the dirt tasted when I stumbled off the horse and she caught my hand and brought me up beside her, drew me up to the sky.
I sometimes wonder what she'd have done if I'd been on the ground that day. I drew up Rook before the corner because I wasn't bold like Annie, didn'