Friday, December 20, 2013

Nightmare Scenarios

With stressed shoulders
hunched like hackles on a cat,
I should just breathe deeply

I am fighting phantoms
that have no idea I exist
as they claim their nighttime prize

I despise these hooks
in my brain and bones curved
captured clavicles crunched tight

because of bunched nerves
acting burned just waiting
for the whip to drop

scorpions strike fast
especially when they know
where to hit

who wouldn't be pissed
if the first instinct here
was to shove myself in shit?

Monday, December 16, 2013

The Conquered

I, head on the chain
lies forgotten on Kali
i've learned much tonight

so invisible
wondering why she humors
when I am faded

I suppose it hurts
when you're a faceless echo,
a forgotten lark,

when you are nothing,
the nameless soldier bobs on
despite the worn leash

the courage to leave
despite the harsh digging twine
is hard when bodiless,

hanging afterthought,
left to gaze at strong Vishnu,
who's never despised

party to mad love,
mistaken for ambrosia
I am just mortal

a severed witness
that eavesdropped on hot glory
and burned for his trouble.

Thursday, December 12, 2013

The Settlers

I wonder if they realize
how insulting it is when
you know that even when
they are with you,
hugged by you,
under you,
comes the cruel clue
that they would push you
in two seconds
into rushing traffic to
be with who it is
they're really pining over,

watching them get more excited
about short throwaway texts
than your physical presence
presently scratching at
pulsing temples beating
in time to temperamental ventricles,
I am like a thin stencil
being stared through
and smiled wanly at
like fellow subway
passengers that sit too close

why am I the obligatory dose,
the eager ringer,
ego feeder,
mediocre-fuck-and-second-stringer
spending resources and spent force,
why am I the sterile stenographer
when y'all reading back the feels
for your stories in sexual escapade court
listening carefully edited reports
all the while cooing
"we really like you, of course!"

All I can hear anymore
is chortling and snorts
leaving me here to type
mad poison out of my pores
only to still come back
unexplainably begging to eat more
so when I eventually end up with
y'all again I won't melt under
such a incredulous and caustic source.

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Flight

Halo of shadows
float in the December sky
rooftop masters call

beckoned back to home
wireframe wildlife refuge waits
exercise cut short

the next day will come
the masters will slowly
wave their makeshift flags

the feathered whirlwind
will make it's sure rotation
like cooing clockwork.

The Hook

Inside my prone lip
sits a curved hoof sharply
drawing me upward

she an old burnt spoon
is being cooked by me
is it any good?

after quick summer
she bubbles into my veins
soon gone by harsh March

is it wise to flop
at the bottom of the boat
of aloof fisherwomen?

Is this affection?
Or relentless sadism?
Is it her warm hands?

Or is it the sight
of bright blood bursting sudden
under her hooked knife?

Sunday, December 8, 2013

The Tulsa Tornado

I am somehow lucky tonight,
twisting through the williamsburg twilight
like a discarded cigarette
off of Roebling swept around
by the turmoil within,
but with upturned chin,
I opt not to hide and bury myself
in pervasive pain made plain
on a grim windswept face
placing myself at the Grand Victory
looking for some kind of win in the
cold December wind

Boy was it worth it not to go home
or I would have missed her power
claw it's way off the stage
into my rib cage in the way
that she shoots it
from boots to brain
she's a typhoon see,
singing through the roof
as hard as she can,
I look at her boyfriend thinking,
"damn what a lucky man"
to be able to just be near that
force, blowing ventricles off course
loving the fantasy of
if I got to fuck the source,
but this is the closest I can get,
listening to battle maiden vignettes,
if someone like her was mine,
I'd be set.

The Backup Plan

Someday, I hope my number
will be called for something else
beside greasy tragedy gumming
my works like tar,
far flung from being nice,
I wonder why the result is
the same lame maybes
and "I like you"s that fall
heavily on keen ears full well knowing
I'm bowing before the eunuch's blade

the man with no balls
can be trusted but he can't
be celebrated or respected,
nagging expectations pinned and braced
against the women's inevitable laughter
when this soldier grows bold
and tries to conquer,
knowing his window is open
only so slightly,
but why climb out when
one's fists end up clenched
tightly in the dark

Maybe this odyssey was meant
to be sailed alone since
validation only comes by luck
or if she's drunk
or if the day stunk
and I only got to be inside her
because it was convenient
it seems my destiny as a contingency
is steel coated and inevitable
remembered only on a bleeding vagina's
careful schedule

I can only hope to gain respect soon,
like a hidden island stumbled upon
like accidental treasure,
the pleasure lies quiet and elusive
someday hoping the hidden jewel
will hold equal measure with ethusiastically
charted but tarnished plunder
listed on her and all over their ledgers!