between here and bostonsomewhere between here and bostonMore Like This
you let me run the tips of my fingers
over your ribs and trace the veins
that tangle themselves around your dimpled skeleton.
among the jumbled mess you call a body
i found a frayed and cut-out piece of construction paper
with your name scrawled in red pen around the edges
and in the morning i slipped it out of its placement
all for my own self-entitlement.
when you were not looking i slipped back in
and weaved between your desolate bones
like the red fox you've nicknamed me
and i put back a new glossy replica
and wrote both our names in a dripping wax.
you noticed the weight of me
while you stretched your sore limbs
and felt a pressure laying heavy on your chest.
when we came 'round to familiar roads
and dirt paths we could travel without our eyes,
you tossed your foundation to the wind
and left me in the junkyard that was once our bus stop.
only the dreamless ever die of hopechimera sleeps in their mindsMore Like This
and doubt lies quiet in their hearts
while dread grows in the pits of their bellies
hope creeps up their spines
poisoning them with its sweet promises of the future
Love's a CompromiseMy television said that love's a compromise,More Like This
So do not squabble over this lackluster meal,
But split the rent, assign the chores, and lick the lips
For seven years of fortune, sweets and sweet somethings.
The rhyme behaves like clockwork when it prophesies
Approaching rainstorms drowning what you termed ideal
And rifting partners farther from their partnerships
Because your needs don't matter like your quarrelling.
I stand on the crest and I sigh,
I climb down the side and I lie
That all that's a waste
That all that's a taste
Of festering gluts I'll decry.
My head physician said that love's a compromise,
So you will play like chess the play of tender will
Without destroying pieces while yours fall from grace,
For that's the peril intimacy will entail.
So trying's vain if you can't let this jeopardize
Nor take a move without a stumble forth to kill,
And rifting self in death's destructive lust embrace
In choice of fear or hate will tempt to scrap the scale.
Faults Across the NightAs I stand above the city,More Like This
admiring the lights
I catch a draft -- a syllogism,
a fault across the night.
The stars are shining music,
no one listens anymore.
Underneath, the hollow winds
now blow reflections to the shore.
It's rushing through my hair
with memories of time and space,
full park benches, bloody trenches,
the entire human race.
Suppose that you could read the wind,
would it have much to say?
Could it carry, like a ferry,
a message through day?
Use a fallen leaf as paper
and a twig or rock as pen.
It could right down every motivation,
whimsy, plot and sin.
It could tell our children all about
mistakes that we had made.
Imagine every warning
from a mother's lips, obeyed
It could save them all the pain we felt,
because who needs it anyway?
It could save them mass addiction,
if they'd only just abstain.
It could save them crying mass regrets
they'd harbor with disdain.
But whose to say they'd listen?
After all, it's just the wind.
Can a man believe in purity
passively passionatei like to feel insignificantMore Like This
a speck of consciousness
in a universe of nonsense
TearsDon't shed tearsMore Like This
for love lost,
but for love
that you will
never be lost
I Kept OnI died, I screamed, and kept on dreaming,More Like This
I lived, I breathed, and they kept seeing,
what I was and who I’m not, all I am that’s left to rot.
They pulled me away and broke me down,
left me to die in a sea of stars.
They lifted me up and put me together,
helped me walk with a healthy smile.
I clawed, I stabbed, and kept on singing.
I laughed, I cried, and I kept on thinking,
that all I am has nothing's worth,
and all my time is wasted.
They lifted me up and worshiped my blood,
made me a god from my own dust.
They broke me down and tore me apart,
made me a slave of my own life.
I pulled, I pushed, and my heart kept beating.
I stopped, I quit, and my blood kept burning,
with fire and ashes, with the stars in the night,
with silence and sandstorms, the rain of flight.
They knocked me down and stomped on my dreams,
left me empty with a hollow heart.
They held me close and soothed my soul,
gave me hope to keep on living.
I fell, I flew
Dread Mornings and Pricey CoffeeMorningsMore Like This
are a tired trope,
overused like a piece of old rope
that trudges around
in all its pneumatic glory,
parading like a king,
can't it see its folly,
for walking on a string?
It takes a great patience
to endure its icy stings,
that spill forth from metal hoses,
and the drudge of cold muscles;
I am wound in tape,
too strong to break.
There is little solace
in the light of the day,
and equal bleakness
in the black water
that sits in front of my face,
they call it coffee;
but I know it as the price to pay,
to unshackle these chains
WithdrawThe bashful mimosa behind my ears bloomingMore Like This
Falling petals returning into the breathing abyss
Sunlight escaping from within my closed fist
Hidden selves emerging from the primal sea
Meditating upon the compass rose of the heart
Root chakra slowly spreading its scarlet petals
Thoughts spinning into quiet mandalas of vines
Dreams diving through the waves like orcas
White lilies growing from the cursive on my diary
Protected by the silver ring of a promise to myself
Silence spreading underneath my folded wings
Leafless trees reminiscing the summer greens
The ghosts of yesterday hold me in their embrace
The iridescence of being loved like a fragile dream
Shared moments melt together into a stream of gold
In the beyond where all our souls come together
now you know betteryou were never one for shakespeare's iambic pentameter,More Like This
so you nixed the meter and measure the gods composed
and wrote your own sonnet in time with the beat of your heart
and the shiver of your tapered spine.
instead of crisp and company issued egg shell paper,
you dragged the pen you bought yourself back in sixth grade
across the smooth canvas of tanned skin, littered with sunset bruises
and did not mind the clashing of colours.
you always wondered if it were true what the newsstands said,
that art flutters to life when misery takes shape
but you never really believed such nonsense,
until your spine shattered, your inkwell ran dry,
and tanned skin was just a distant memory you associated with the sun.
now you know better.
Yet the Strange ContadictionsViciously killing a rabbit who dared to bite his handMore Like This
Cutting off another rabbit's leg that was broken in the trap
Freeing it to live a three-legged life
Because it had licked his hand
Feeding a wild magpie by hand
Because it had learned to speak
The name that they had given it
Yet shooting smaller birds who
Fed on the over-abundance of codlin filled fruit
Thrashing the dogs with long, thick wire
Until they bled
Screaming with pain
Because they had gone off
Hunting, free, for three days
Yet cherishing a repugnantly over-bred, balding chihuaha
With a fontanelle that never closed over
Forcing the young girl to sleep with it in her bed
So that it wouldn't get cold at night
Despite the special miniature electric blanket in it's basket
Making the young girl sit guarding it
Whenever it needed to go outside
So that eagles and hawks wouldn't fly off with it
If only they had....
Wanting to run away so badly
Yet fearing the consequences
Of being caught
And brought back
To face the music
Windchimes Can Trigger MemoriesWindchimes hanging inside a small roomMore Like This
Where no wind blew
The sound of a fist pounding
On a table
Painted pink and white
The pained yelps of dogs
Kicked by a man's booted foot
One pees itself in terror
The slamming of a pink and white door
The gargled sounds
Of a woman being choked
The rancid stink of a man's unwashed body
Gun oil and pornography
Dried blood between his toes
Do you love?
Yes I love
The moss covered rocks
The gurgling creek
The soft brown topped reeds
Birdsong, the thumping of rabbits
The spice and musk of pinetrees
The quiet, gentle places that only I knew
Now slashed down, torn down
By the possessor of weapons
Stamping his ugly feet, using his opposable thumb
To destroy beauty
And raise ugliness in it's stead
This is his kingdom
Extraordinary Kindnesses - The NursesThe young Chinese doctorMore Like This
Was bald and very nervous
Around the female surgeon
Because he was working at the hospital
In order to pass his medical exams
His scalp always reminded me of a sweaty mushroom
I was scheduled to have an operation that day
So I was surprised when the Chinese doctor
Told me that I could eat breakfast
I queried this with him
But he impatiently told me to eat my meal
Because the operation had been postponed
So I did
Later the trolley came for me
The wheeled stretcher, if you will
With a couple of the jolly, friendly
Pleasant men who seem to be the
Standard type of trolley pushers
Jovial, kindly, chatty, humorous
All designed to set you at ease
But genuine, nonetheless
As they wheeled it into the room
I said "But I've had breakfast"
The young Chinese doctor came in then and
The nurses charged him with allowing me to eat breakfast
He said that it was my fault
That I had eaten it without his consent
I told them all that I didn't care
I would go for the operation anywa
The EnablerHer brother's not a personMore Like This
Because he's only eight
He's her possession
Another reason for a burden
In the pack she loves to carry
Holds her mummy
And her daddy
Her best friend and her virgin
All the victims she enables
So she can heep her head in fables
High in martyr land
Where she's no princess
But the God
Same old plot and
Hollow land and empty steeple
Giving nothing but her version
Of her silent resignation
That she blurts to everybody
How it hurts to show it hurts
Oh she's rejected and exhausted
Always busy and down trodden
But that's just the way she likes it
To be needed
In her weakness
To be strong
She aims to always
Keep her mumma
Big and fat
So daddy spends the money
That will keep her snugly safely
Inside her little room
Writing for her little circle
Living in her land where
All the characters she steals
Puppets prancing on a stage
So she will never have reality
Won't understand causal