Dec 8, 2009

Just these little crushes

In the month of may, when the sun carves through your skin,
Do you skip to the country fair just a little bit far?
The mayflowers peeking from the rocks you see from your moving car,
Do you wish you could be there to avoid all the din?

I went this summer with this sweet little boy,
He looked, I blushed, we played this game.
I felt like the beautiful, aristrocratic dame,
When he held my hand and gave a whoop of joy.

Childish. Sappy now. I wrinkled my nose at the patterns.
Blushing? I chided myself. Do you not know better?
Until I found in my bag, a crumpled, old fashioned letter.
This is definitely more than what you deserve to earn.
Skipping several beats, I read.

"Thanks, I like you."

Just when I thought I ended the pattern,
It weaved one of its own.

Nov 20, 2009

Fear

The icy tongue swept over his hair,
it prickled, slow.
Yellowing, it barred its teeth.
cocked its head, challenging.

There was no choice, he ran at the mocking head.
Slow, deliberate, it spread its arm, taking him in.
...the cold spread to his throat now.
closing on his throat. Now.
Rasped what he thought was his last breath.
Clutching, his palms, sweaty despite the cold,
broken nails, dug deeper.

Its wheezy laugh, booming in his ears.
He could not shut it out.
It curved his spine, slow. As if it were to kiss.
He struggled against what, he did not understand.
He did 'cause that's what he wanted to do.

Sunlit streets conjured up in his mind,
he dreamed for an angel to save him.
He lay there, whole now. Looking at the broken teeth, now barred.
Ward 02 was now streamed with the receding twilight.
His straight jacket, slack.
Rushing steps. Swish of lab coats.

Nov 19, 2009

Its a big effin' sinking boat, mister!

Purple twilight
Darkens.
She twists in agony.
mascara, now forgotten, streaks her hollow cheeks.
She snorts between whimpers: at herself.
Pity, incredulity sometimes.
Every person pointed towards self-sacrifice.
Yet, she wanted to indulge in herself.

So many heartbreaks,
She mused over the statistics.
wanting to believe that her pain is unique.
But its not, she mused.
Loss was all she knew,
yet every third person, lids down, was shedding the same tears
that she claimed her own.

She pulled the sheets closer,
her smile, maniac.
As she hummed to herself...
Pull your act together,
Just...don't rhyme when you whine!

Oct 26, 2009

Beloved Son

Scared. So scared; it feels good to be scared. 
I saw your tiny fingers rushing through your mother's womb. 
I cradled you, but you were lifeless. Then. 
Your blood soaked eyes did not see what it was born into. 
I closed mine. 
I put this on your grave marker:
'Beloved son, my angel. You were loved.' 
I placed a wreath on you, as I dropped a flower on your mother's. 

No Glory

She wipes the speck of blood off her thigh, 
The trail, invisible. 
Clotted, it is blue now. 
As dark as the twilight outside the curtained window. 


"Alf-past seven now", she muses. 
The frail cot creaks as she gets up, cracking her knuckles. 
Ladles the little water she stored,
and drinks it all up. 


The caked kohl at the corner of her eyes, 
hides the lost twinkle they held. 
She thinks not about this when she lies back on the cot,
She does not care, this is her God, her Work. 


'I shall be on my way now", says the grimy man. 
She smiles. He smiles. 
Gently closing the door behind him, 
he squares his shoulders and walks on. 


He could almost hear them, maybe just a whisper.
But he knew what they said, 
each time, every time. 
"Yonder lives the whore".

Sep 20, 2009

Self

Dark mother,
take me back into your abyss.
Wombs
Forged in the altar of death
Born out the crimson
Show me death so I can
Celebrate life.


For glory is misplaced in everything material.
In your eyes I see my universe
I see.
In my pitiful existence
I see the vastness of creation.
Its extensiveness on the throes of flames
Its tender loins burning,
with the flames of forgetfulness
Of murdering fellow men
Of submissiveness.
Freedom from its knowledge would be liberation from myself. My self.


As my toes curl in anticipation,
I wait for thee.
Mother.
I do not want to fear your darkness.
Because the darkest hour is just before dawn.
Where I wish to awaken
Reborn.


Hurtling into the light,
I just see you, welcoming me
I feel your smile through every pore on my skin.
I reach and find the missing piece
I close my eyes and find the light still percolating through them.
Indeed my world is filled with light so engulfing, so potent that I do not fear.
I only embrace myself. My self.