Nothing, not even people, Feel real When they come and go Popping in and out of life Like fireflys in the night And going dark After they leave the room It kills me inside To watch them say goodbye But I need them to know How badly I know Our brief time together Was so precious It's alarming It all fades away Nothing sacred in the face Of the money machine Replacing all of us endlessly So even pleasant meetings Between innocent strangers Feel disturbing Sometimes I pretend It isn't hollowing my soul To repeat the same trends Making ends meet the ends With this face or that voice Crashing in to tear away Some of me Words and actions Break illusions, build dreams Being lost human beings We collide where we feed Broken hearted, purely broken Dead in the head crazy Danger, precious things
Tag: poems
Screens In Her Eyes
She reminds me of a girl That I once held Through a shivering gale Who smiled and didn't know As we were snuggled up Our hearts would break In ways we never imagined Blue light in her eyes It's the media that we loved Bleeding out of dark screens On dark nights Without awareness Dreaming separate dreams And falling in love with our visions Her ghost stained the bed I slept in for centuries Without hope or forgiveness For any one or thing But to feel something sweet One day, for a while Again before the ghost I leave behind rots away
Heresy
Jesus Christ was killed again Before the bible was ever written When Rome adopted the faith of slaves And made it a tool of oppression Religious freedom died as well Before they made the Liberty Bell When Capital became supreme Our spirits bound to earth and hell Salvation may as well exist In dollar bills and banquets Where we pretend we still hear God As we suck its bloody wrists Apacalypses come and go We haven't gone to heaven though Maybe if we just keep pushing We'll finally break the world enough Or rather than pursue our death We might stumble on some path That reawakens something deep Enough to bury our troubled past If there's any light to see Outside our Christianity The source is unbenownst But somehow tangible to me Jesus Christ can rest in peace All God's children take a piece To share without the threat of force Or Hell when we're deceased.
This House Was Always Haunted
If you can find it,
I dare you to look inside
The black house on a hill
Where three suicides were survived,
The remnants of their pain
Reach vapourously for a light
To expose their nakedness,
And the hollowness of their eyes.
If you're nearby,
Why not chance a look?
The forgotten undead
Would be glad to have known you.
There are fantastic stories
Hidden under the splintered floors,
Romances and tragedies
That you could be part of.
Why not have tea
With a dysfunctional malevolence?
The eyes that inspect
Every movement, chill, and hush,
Have a hunger for your love,
You devotion, your affection
And a hatred for pain,
And the gentleness of touch.
She's wrapped up in sheets,
In the bedroom, where she lived
Still hungry, still aching,
Still decaying from inside.
This Halloween, you should go,
She'll be delighted
To find the Haunted House
Is where she has always resided.
A Lovely Little Death
This is Death, my infinite pastime,
My plaything, my dalience.
It fucks me breathlessly into the great unknown,
And spits me out, and leaves me there.
God help us, goddamnit!
It wasn’t enough to make us feel alive?
To make us suffer so we want to feel alive?
We inherit a lust for beauty and are demanded to close our eyes?
What depth there is in darkness could never be enough.
Is it ever sweet enough to sleep? Well,…
Yes.
It is, sometimes,…
When I go to bed exhausted, my sleep screams with delight.
And the more I romaticise, the more attractive it seems.
So at the end of the day, I only hope that I’m weary,
Not from toil, or troubles, but from the ecstasy of a brilliant party.
We Talk Too Much
It was never over like I thought it was
Looking for myself and finding more of us
I don’t want to be that girl who can’t forget you
But I’m ready for you if you ever wanted to
We never really kissed as far as I recall
Somehow I’ve felt your lips and seen it all
I hate admitting that I think about you every day
There’s just too much I never got to put away
We talk so much, I’m thinking that I’m not alright
You haven’t heard me yet because you haven’t been in sight
I’m in a bed like always when you’re on my mind
I needed sleep, but it’s always you I seem to find
It’s over, past the date, so many years by now
Evidently I still need to feel about you somehow
I need to scream, I need to fuck, I need to fill a whole
If not with you then I don’t want to feel you anymore
I guess you should’ve never left me any hope
I’m going to cry about you now and hope to be alone
Mary
I Want To See Your Shining Face
There will always be
A rain cloud sheltering us from the burning sea,
A wave of trembling gray sky
Separating the sunlight from you and I.
In these days of windy shade we shimmer,
Starlight, moonlight, refractions twinkling in time,
Sharing and searching for truths in each other,
Where faces imbue our spirits with its shine.
Transfeminine Spring
Waking up with a patient hunger,
Taking my sweet time to think, body heavy from a long sleep,
I put myself together, slowly, silently in the rising sun.
Becoming aware of myself brings a strange new comfort,
A focus without sharpness, and silent sublimities.
Peace, in its few moments, is shockingly sweet.
Pleasure is simpler and easier to accept,
As are my pains, fears, and many other familiar happenings.
I care more for the thought of existing than the person I was ever could,
As though a portion of my emptiness was washed away,
Cleansing away a brutal year into my first transfeminine spring.
We Could Grow Our Own Life Together
We could have a tiny world, a modest one, all to us,
To paint our ideals, our passions, and secret wishes onto.
Caring for each other and nurturing the land
Our children, a family of colors, scents, atmosphere and earth.
We’d till and sow all our own way,
And grow a living dream, transcendent from every angle.
We’ll compose a landscape tuned to the mood of our time together,
Like living music to the moment we’ve adopted.
Seasons and years renew the youth of our creation,
So every day we enjoy new spaces of imagination to occupy together.
This is the world we birth with our own hands and thoughts,
Held together indefinitely, in reverie and splendor.