FLAW – a poem

I have challenged myself to write something new for the blog every week. Some small slice of something to keep the machinery greased. This would be an attempt at a poem, poetry not being a strong suit. It’s a first draft, like most things I post on here, and so it will reflect that. 

From darkest dream we came to seem, we things of blood and dirt.

From desperate days of pain and hurt.

We come to whisper, harm, and haunt.

We come to watch, and laugh, and taunt.

We are the blackest part of night, the gloom before the dawn.

We are the rush of joy that leads the blade,

We are the nodding head as grim minds are made.

We choked in you the nursery and push you towards the grave.

We are the monsters that made you and to unmaking are we slaves.

We push the button, and pull the knife, and load the heavy gun.

We drop the dirt and pull the switch when doing is all done.

We are your shadow self, my friend, there’s no escaping us.

Just close your eyes and put out your throat and please don’t make a fuss.

We’re here to set you free again, your soul to take its flight.

We’re here to set you free again, into forever night.

Damned to watch us from above as we watch from below.

Damned to never stop our hands and damned to always know.

I wish I could tell you something sweet and made of cake,

Alas the words would die on birth and be nothing but fake.

You’re doomed you know, to walk this earth, a living-dying fraud,

Born to pull in all the dirt through which in life you clawed.

You rise in shit, you die in shit, in shit you build your grave,

And it’s we who are the ones that laugh from safe within our cave.

We are your brethren, can’t you see, day unto your dark,

We are the beast, oh can’t you see, and from us you got the mark.

Oh we, oh we, oh we I say when really, it’s just me.

It’s I that set you free.

There was no apple, no man and wife, and you see there was no tree.

No one above, no one below, no one hidden from sight.

I was right there in your mirrored stare, forever holding tight.

Together are we wed to death, you monsters and your da’.

For when the spool of time runs out and all you are is ka,

It’s only then that you’ll hear of wonders filled with awe.

It’s only then I’ll say your names and wipe you of your flaw.

The flaw of every one of you that stalks this little ball, the flaw innate within all things that has a human paw.

…c…

We Burn – fiction

This is my story in 199 words. I rarely write anything resembling poetry but this is a rare attempt. It is inspired by something, for what it’s worth. I haven’t really written and finished anything in a bit so this felt good. And I like it, so there’s that.

We Burn

We burn.

The candle snuffed too early.

The light brought under too soon.

Rough hands on smooth skin.

Yellow turned to red.

A doll buried in dirt.

We burn.

A hundred candles against a crowding darkness.

A thousand cameras and a million eyes and pleading, pleading, pleading…

Bring her back.

Never knowing how close we were and how far away she was.

We burn.

Ten thousand fliers.

Ten million social network shares.

News.

Radio.

Pleading.
Begging.

Waiting.

Nothing.

We burn.

Days into weeks into months.

Searching and searching and…

They find you.

Our fallen angel.

Buried in mud.

Buried in dirt.

Destroyed.

Discarded.

Gone.

And we burn.

Our heartache.
Our pain.

Our sorrow.

Our rage.

It burns.

A napalm vengeance crawling across the world until we find you.

Sick.

Weak.

Crying.

Cowering.

Pathetic.

We burn.

Body.

Clothes.

Car.

House.

Memory.

Everything you were and are.

We burn.

To bone.

To cinder.

To ash.

To nothing.

We burn.

And slowly, so slowly the fire dims until it is nothing.

The cold emptiness filled like a grave.

Buried like a body.

In the mud.

In the dirt.

Planting your memory like so many seeds and praying.

Praying for rain.

– c

My books –

www.meepsheep.com

Analog Heart – a poem

I haven’t tried to write a poem in YEARS but was inspired to try my hand at one. I post this without editing, straight from the cooker. Not sure what I feel but I DO feel this so that’s a start. 

Analog Heart

Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Goes my analog heart as the world moves digitally on.
My days are diagnosed, my colors categorized, and my feelings filed away.
My photos are in folders, my music in machines, and my memories are kept
in my emails.
I fell in love online and broke up over text.
We dated via video and talked on the phone and once I took two pictures of our hands and made it look as if they were holding one another.

I feel the cold embrace of a wireless world and recoil.
I miss the blurred image of a hasty picture.
I miss the crackle of a record or the side change of a cassette.
I miss getting letters in the mail that remind me I exist.
I miss seeing the scars and cracks of the analog world.

But…

Maybe it’s me.
Maybe I changed.
Maybe I let the world get cold, become mechanical, and lose its meaning.

Because…

The same people are in the photos – printed or digital.
The same feelings can be expressed in person or via technology.
The same music and films that bring me to tears and make my heart soar are
stll there, are still alive, just in a different form.
The forms have changed but it’s the heart that drives all of it and makes it real.
Or unreal.

Or…

Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
It’s still there.
Beating out the rhythm of my soul, filling my life with the music of terminal velocity – falling forever into the grave.
And I need the analog because it reflects what I am but am pulled towards the new digital age because it’s what I am becoming.
We are in the middle of a birthing process and unsure what is to come next.
So we cling.
We clamber.
We claw.
And we mourn.
When this is really a celebration.
A transcendence into tomorrow.
We just need…
We just need…
We just need to remember who we were, who we are, and what it is that makes us…

Human.

 

http://www.meepsheep.com

Watching – poem

This was written for a friend, who will likely never know this was written for them, but it was just the same, and it says all it needs to say.

PS – it is a rare occasion that I write poetry. Consider this a blue moon.

Watching

Watching

as the light fades from your eyes

day

by

day

by

day

makes every moment precious to me.

Like wine to a savior

or

conception in a barren womb.

Your touch is cold but it’s the memory of fire

that keeps me warm.

And as your ferry slips slowly from my sight

day

by

day

by

day

I cherish these lost moments, these stolen kisses, these shared war stories.

I remember –

a night spent in the dark where the only light

was the friction from our bodies as they moved in unison beneath a falling sky.

I remember –

holding your hand when your sister died, and holding it until you fell asleep and finally let me go.

I remember –

how we were going to grow old together, never knowing how young old really was to you.

And I know.

I know about them.

I know it is before another hearth you warm yourself, and that I only have rest to offer in the bed we share.

I know you are lost to me.

And I know you were found by another.

But I have the memory of fire to keep me warm at night.

I have the phantom of your kiss to remind me of the years.

And I have the cold certainty that it is better to let you leave than to force you to go.

Watching as you float away, to shores I’ll never know.

Without – a poem

This is part two of the duo, the dark side of the mirror, if you will. To every light there is a shadow. Something to keep in mind.

Without

There is no sense in siphoning water from an empty well.
There is no light in an empty cave.
A desert knows no hope.
I laugh.
She’s gone and all I have is this angst and an ugly broken
red thing that used to be a heart.
I bathe in my bitterness and love it like a pig in its mud.
I think I’ll get a tattoo.
Her face maybe.
Maybe her name.
Maybe both with a curse beneath.
I laugh.
Maybe I’ll just write a song about her.
A song about how much I –
love her
need her
miss her
adore her.
A song about how ours was the lasting love.
The great love of all time.
How she’ll never be loved like I loved her.
I laugh.
Maybe I’ll just egg her car.
Sneak up on her place at midnight with a carton of eggs
and open fire on that goddamned car of hers.
I laugh, but now with bitterness.
I sit in the cool, dark night of my bedroom and wonder if
she has someone else.
It kills a part of me to think that.
That’s what hurts most.
The without.
Without her.
Without us.
Without love.
Knowing that when the armor falls,
when my bitterness burns away.
there is only…
Without.
And it’s here, and now that the idea of Forever scares me. Once it had been a dream, this Forever.
Now it’s a nightmare.
Forever…
Without.
Without.
Without…
No word has felt so lonely in my mouth.
I look within and see my tiny, angry self, hating even as I
Love.
I laugh.
Maybe I’ll just write a suicide note.

…c…

With – a poem

This is part of a duo, the companion piece to come later.

I wrote essentially from two sides of the mirror, and this is one of the sides.

With

With you I am complete.
I am –
whole
strong
beautiful.
In your eyes I see the glimmer of a secret heart I barely even
know.
Memory is a phantom.
Future is a blur.
All that exists is this
Here
this
Now.
This
You.
You are my savior in this living Hell.
My preserver in this sea of me.
So many have shown their lights in me and seen only
echoes of who I never was.
Ghosts of who I could never be.
You are the only-
my only –
to see me as I am.
With you
With me.
With us.
We are.
No matter what questions I have as I stand here looking
into myself I know –
This mirror cannot lie.
I am –
With me.
I am whole.
I am pure.
I am free.
With me
I am.

Like it?

Let me know it.

Or if you really dig it, check out my book Back From Nothing.

Info on the book elsewhere on the page.