Thursday, November 5, 2009

empty calorie -- lots of poetry, and no, i don't edit

The large and broken feeling of being leftover in my heart
Reminds me of the huge hunks of space in which life is left to be lived
And the foolish prayer that everything I have exposed will return to me, someday.
If I had something, it’s gone now. Everything flutters in goodbye, to me, to me.
I like to wait for the raw moments, though they are only raw in remembering,
What the prickle of discomfort must have felt like, back when the light danced on my forehead.
It is the sheen of art that has lifted you out of yourself, and now placed you back in,
Angrily you sit, realizing you don’t fit, unwilling to pretend any longer
Afraid to move in either direction, you calm yourself by taking long, humourless bites out of the present
But you forget how to taste anything, and the sound is like a drum, and your body is the meat being hit, over and over.
The unnaturalness fed to you by the crippling sun’s stare, drinks you dry and coughs your organs,
Back up, the sludge of your body slow and steep, upon which littler things fall, sliding down you,
You listen to the sound of objects ricocheting, only they are not objects, they are your own thoughts,
Which have taken over everything, representing how residual it is to be you.

Art is Broken

Don’t sing to me with that face
It is too often dancing, and I am too often crying
You’ve wrecked what it is like to be you
I have nothing else to wheel myself around in
So I imagine you and I to be lovers
Dancing somewhere where lovers do not exist
So I am let down.
I cannot bend over and kiss the earth
I am afraid I would forget about you.
And if I take you in, and love you
My eyes would go blank, my fingers numb
My heart would sing and sing but I would be deaf.

Loving Kills

I don’t know why.
But every time I feel love,
My body just wants to break apart.
It is like it knows
This is far too great for it to handle
And just gives up automatically
It is not fair.
I want to be given a chance
At love, like everyone else
I don’t want love to plague me
I want to absorb its colors
Dance to its music,
I want to roll around in it
A bad, hungry, playful dog.
Love jolts me awake at night
When the nightmare of my days
Reminds me to be patient,
but to wait for nothing.


I wait every day
For what? I am in love
I write, am written to
I have a job
I eat food I enjoy
I express myself
I have not found God
God propels me?
God is the emptiest name
So perhaps I wait for him/it
It is clear to me
That great things are always
Broken to the sender
I might wait
A little longer
I might wonder
How the pieces fit
If I might be a piece
Afterall.













The math of the heart,
Oh so simple
Like winding hearts
Like foot and face
I have no
Thought left for you
Come to me
I leave you
Empty handed
Empty thoughted
Empty nearsightedness
I pay attention to
Death, only death
To you the way
Night falls,
A mirror
Truckloading
Yourself off
To infinity.

Forget most
Attention: I am sympathy
Monster
And no one ever
Exposes this. the first
Lost guess
Was right; you won
Everything was
Terrible. The
Craziest earth day alive
Was this one
Where cousins
Lie spilling
Dreams over shores
Cough toothed
Ragged shoes
The factors of elegant corners
You have woven
A god into.

Oh heaven
Into me
What utmost
Shores of desire
Left for myself
To plunge off of
Into
The heart of madness
I stop relying
On temptation
I rely only on
Mathematical equations
Spilt over side of
Mouth to work
Dead ends into
Sentence fragments
Alive again
Conjuring and
Negative
A nude portrayal of
Empty grief
Alone and isolated
A word or two
Helps, a distant
Face appeased
And satisfaction flies
Through the roof
Of your mouth.

Alone and satisfied
Words fly
Through the corners of your mouth
Negatively pushing
You to your own deathly corners
Where you sit and wait
A child, crying
Lost and alone
Who wonders
What happened to you?
I don’t. I am
All alone. I take hurt
On the days, the days
Alone with me
I forever draw whipping
The face into ash
So I can draw it up
Again, a monster
Ruins, a leech
You will forget me
You will marry me

A tomb of silence
Exposes long-tooth days
A disease of blue ridden
Shoulders, and a fictional
Account of one’s life,
Shopping for disasters
Plucking the life
From a shelf, automatically
Given in to absurdity
The milk of day weans
You off, uncaring, you are
A monster, you forever
Uncaring, what you leave
Behind scarred and belligerant
The filth of your bloody tool
Exposed and reunited
The death-face pungent
And rotten beneath
Climbing turning shelving
Pigeons diving purposefully.



What joins up with you
Silence and words
Are trivial pursuits
Your tongue hot and fading
Fast, enamored of sweet
Tooth, a shore of glistening
Surprises, ending in one long
Battle, a victor, unpopular,
Appeals to the audience
He sings of pain.

Why the foreign
Music must make
You itch, must make
Blood petrifyingly
Soft alone within you
A mirror held up
You want to jump in it
You want to play in color
And laugh in music
You want exist
Naturally, forget me
Pathetically under light
Washes my true
Aloneness out
The door, into
Riot spelled night.

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