anticipation

purple bridge
hazy twilight
blue night
waiting to come
hiding stars
giggling in anticipation
of the show
the rising curtain
of moonlight
splash of fuschia
the last warmth
fading, fading
looming dark
quiver in the chest
almost imperceptible
slice of dread
fleeting second
of fear
intensity of hatred

Crumbling

Fall away like mortar
cracked with age
chalky residue
still trying to summon strength

supports sagging
crackling
each shift producing fear
fear it will give way to the stress
fear of collapse
of what will be in the rubble
of what will be destroyed
beauty obliterated

Life permanently damaged
An invalid
mongoloid
cripple
Like a burn victim
Paper-thin snake-skin
too ugly to ignore
stare
whisper
giggle

I was once whole

Unpunished

Best of luck unburning the flesh
undoing the injuries
reviving the rotting corpse
un-fucking the child
All the best as you penetrate the flesh of the innocent
and ask forgiveness
penance beyond words
irreparable
You who wound pay with guilt
"un" does not exist
It is done.
No sucking back the carbon dioxide that allowed the words to be created
No Superman to spin the earth & undo the events
The fucked child rarely is whole again
The fucked child NEVER forgets.

Stand Up, O Cowards

Rise up, you who would hide
behind the less fortunate
with the pretense of bureaucracy
and justification of business sense

Stand up and fight
the pretend fight of the apathetic
for Lexus and Deloitte,
luxury and pretense

Get up, you cowards
from behind that desk so large
and tell me why
with military guts and bravery

Guts untested against true terror
your silence crushing me
pinning me against the cold rough concrete
faces blank

I am The Crazy
the blabbering lunatic
words spilling
carefully chosen
ignored

Illusion of integrity
thinly veiled with blank stares
invalidation
you murder me

Cowards, O cowards
jesters for each other
bleeding BMW SUV GPS
bleed bleed bleed

decay

Charcoal heart
burnt & crumbling
hollow ashy flesh
organ tissue
turned to grey dust
organic to organic
life turned dead
full of night inside
compost for lips
trash & rubble
spewing, spewing
poison
green fog hovering
following
eating life
toxins laughing
as they kill
destroy
all from what once was pure
pink
alive
strong
now corrupt
diseased
decomposed
not quite dead enough to rest
spreading pestilence instead

Dad's Lessons

Notes wafting
depositing joy
like a breeze
from a bakery
cool smooth ivory
making magic
seemingly of their own accord
muscle memory
leading youthful hands
cold metal on bare feet
urging the echo
prolonging the pleasure
enriching the experience
protected
safe
below the surface
only judged by the one who loves most
no fear
free to play
free to create
safe & free

Fire

orange yellow smoke
hot fuel burns
source unknown
unquenchable
damage done
powerless
attempts futile
silent wails
lost in wind & plumes
forever drifting
to the wrong places
no proper direction
falling on ignorant ears
immoral & selfish
letting all turn to ash
oblivious

Rescue

From the horror
the rotting piles of dripping matter
molting
turning
becoming nothing
but a heap
more of the same
no longer a thing
now part of the stench
the blackened sludge
I pull myself
rescue
my sensibilities
ego
persona
before decay begins
its task
intercept
on behalf of the good
the light of the universe
that which was given
I pluck the discarded item
from the thrift store shelf
the rummage sale box
one step from
trash
permanent nothingness
to be recycled
made anew
washed
refreshed
hung in the sun
soaking up scents of spring
washing away
the memory
the edge of the landfill

Utopia

Satin like cream
poured from a pitcher
quenching lips & eyes
fresh ribbons of white
soft & so new
shining, shining
pearls & marbles
gems so brilliant
blinding reflections of ecstacy
faint smells of future gardens
in soft focus
rosy lips open in joy
daring the sun
not to shower the world with
infectious rays
diamond rooms
silver
white
a billion stars
maximum power
beams to light blue eyes
the bluest of blue
climactic youth
commanding the light
wielding it
perfection

Speed

The wind delivers it
like a needle
like a syringe, it injects the toxin
the faster the air
the stonger the dose
anxiety
the black tar rubber
mocking physics
visibility limited
only green lace & shadows whizz by
the feeling mixed
frightened yet safe
trusting but sorrowful
emotions too fragile
senses too sensitive
tissues can't absorb it all
freedom too intense
whips of ice on skin too soft
no barrier
no layers
plastic
steel
vinyl
leather
rubber
foam
missing
no illusion of safety
just a whisper of fabric & leather
like sanity
shielding
from images too horrible
holding in organs
keeping out worldly weapons
that intend to wound
maim
sting
kill
teetering on the edge
between insanity & normalcy
just a feather
a breath of wind
can push it either way
too much
too fast
dry eyes cringe closed
leather-gloved hands grasp tight
rubber wheels stop slowly
the rush of insanity disappears
speed gone for now
relief of stillness in the dark
warm rush of blood through the body
reminder of life

Filomena

Her hands large
calloused
like those of a construction worker
strong
from snapping chicken necks
gentle
from holding babies
so many babies
dry from the long journeys
from far-away lands

Her apron soiled
from work
and work
more work
than we will know
than my hands can manage

her smile wide
for me
one of the babies
so many babies
some lost
gone
but she smiles
for the ones
here now

hands
wrinkled with time
from carrying loads
of bricks
of wash
of vegetables from the garden
pots and pans
babies
so many of them

born of her womb
her children's wombs
kids
grandkids
great-grandkids
some gone so soon

still strong hands continue
to toil
to build
to feed
to clothe

me
one of the babies
come late
the first
of the youngest
of the oldest
first-born girl
little strong one

but my hands are not hers
they are so soft
too soft for her world
her time
but her blood
it flows in me
and that comforts
makes me proud
makes me stronger
stronger than I believe I am

The difference between what you think your life is going to be like & how it ends up

love
normalcy
strong & joyous
greatness
success
result of brain power
education

but most of all
love
marriage
solid
romantic
intense

vague possibility of motherhood
in a bubble of cotton
fuzzy
a mirage

no self-imposed limitations
only choices
options
no hardships that cannot be overcome
difficulties
not impossibilities
no permanent fears
a dark bedroom
an imagination
the only threats

naivete
precious innocence

reality of life
brutal
brings with it
more to fear than
horror films
far more terrifying
than boogeyman
or vampire
or poltergeist

More painful
than melodrama
painted-on sorrow
crocodile tears
for acting's sake
attention
ackowledgment
validation

Searing
deep
unrelenting
sorrow
wounds
gaping
mourning
life unlived
watching it go by
while the pain prevents
the success
the love
the normalcy

the secret
they forgot to teach me
didn't want me to know
if I dare whisper it...
there is no such thing as
normalcy
success

but the love
now that is real
sometimes part of the fear
but does not have to be
the only part of the dream
that heals
soothes
eases fears
lights dark rooms
scares away boogeymen
ghosts
werewolves

and lets the dream live again

Jolt

A jolt of crimson
so out of place
a bolt of light
forcing out smoky clouds
opening the dust grey blinds
giving way to bright cold illumination
strong
new
definite
unlimited
no longer filtered to blue
the spectrum intact
infrared
ultraviolet
all in between
bursting
not creeping with timidity
pry open the warped wood of the frame
unabashed
welcome
invite
soak
bask
embrace
the breeze warm
sky alive again
feel the electrons
brain now charging with atmospheric electricity
absorbing
pulsing
changing
in a breath
the world open again
remembering how
like a coma victim
a cyborg
coming to
grey pasty hands
shading shocked eyes
but just for a moment
pupils adjust quickly
excitedly
not wanting to miss the light

OCD 2.0

refresh refresh refresh
no change
a millisecond gone by
refresh again
click another tab
do it again
cyber addiction
obsession
poisonous radiant glow in the dark
guilt & lethargy
socialization fading into a silent tweet
self-justifying & defensive
chat blog text skype
muscle-memory
guiding hands over keys
pressing buttons until
nerves numb
escape into the pixels of infinity
meld into the hot plastic
the processor and cables
metal and polymer
a signal from another place
an alien cloud
waves and particles
unseen
create worlds unreal
ideas
emotions
overflowing
overwhelming
anonymous words
flesh of the fingers calloused
eyes unquenched and raw
compulsion takes over
needing
the validation
recognition
a comment on a blog
a "like" on a status
social acceptance
via anti-social medium
a paradox

Prelude

Fluorescent lights
show the faces
bright & real
a blur of life
whizzes by
her brain in
Saturday night slow motion
not able to take it all in
unable to process
what the senses send
to the nerve center
the brain atrophies
so quickly
with non-use

The errands are invented
the reasons fictitious
she just had to leave
for a brief reprieve
from the chaos
the nothingness
a chance to do
even if the doing
is so trivial
contrived

It was a prelude
to the dreaded day
a glimpse of things to come
foreshadowing of anxiety
a dull ache in the head
involuntary clench in the stomach
the brightness mocks her
the lights that were meant to aid
now make her shade her eyes
turn her face
to the dark
the cold wind
then back to the soft warm glow
of the chaos
of home.

Amy

Absence of grief
no evidence of pain
causes me unease
sorrow missing where expected
a gap
no longing
not a whisper of a crack in the voice
the word "husband" not even slightly hushed
no avoidance
the words "her dad" create a wince in my heart
but not her face
steady
not a mask
she should cry
for him
for her
for us
her laughter taboo
making me sad
for the girl, the dead man
for her
we should be glad
that she should be healing
healing so grandly
but I wonder
I doubt
I assume
is it wrong
or simply an instinct
an instinct to be followed
trusted
should she grieve for me?
me, who she does not know
except for work
what business is it
she should be who she is
and be that without shame
despite my instinct
in defiance of it.

light therapy

the box flickers with doubt
light tentative & unsure
white heat soft & brief
the promise of healing
fleeting & tenuous
electrons run
nowhere else to go
to the retinas
to the hypocampus
to the disease-center
warding off the evil
voodoo, trickery
biology

the light now steady & strong
streaming to the face
sure of itself
knowing its purpose
smiling & healing
its destiny fulfilled
the mouth is upturned
as it soaks in the waves
fighting the grey
winning

praying

gold & cream fabric
miles & miles of fabric
covering the secrets
no one sees underneath
only the few

imposed life
rules for the mentally inept
for harsher times
square into round
guilt creeps

judging, judging
black & red eyes
from the pews
from the aisles
but no one knows

god is mine
i try not to surrender
those who would steal
worshipping
warped images
of a world gone
of a book from another place

their god is dead
mine might be alive
let him breathe
contradiction breeds guilt
each day
intellect vs faith
science vs belief
sense vs fantasy
religion vs reality

let it go
set it free
my god longs for me
for me to be free
of pain
of doubt
of fake faith
of forced ideals

longs for me
to accept
to celebrate
to embrace
to help
to reach

to live

resentment breeds hate
hate is the opposite of love
the negative of the spirit
religion is misery
misery is unnecessary
god hates misery
my god hates religion

whitegreyblack

colors gone
no fuschia
puce
seafoam
cadmium
mustard

brighter & brighter
brightest
just a dream

reality looms
pale
transparent
colorless

a photograph
2 dimensional
lacking depth
a movie
images going by
a screen
a filter

greyscale
absence of everything
lacking
negative
opposing
contrasting only itself
fading
all but gone

Next Time

paper white skin & fragile bones,
she tried desperately to stand.
the satin of her white slippers fraying,
loose strands of hair tickling her face.
balance eluded her each time.
memory of the basic skill gone,
like a handicap.
like an amnesiac,
she simply lost the ability to recall
not just the basics of the skill itself,
but that the balancing act was even possible.
that she would ever be able to stand,
let alone walk on the rope.
that the combination of her anatomy
and the rope
had the innate capability of performing this act together.
she tried so hard to remember.
after each time, she tried to remind herself.
as if this knowledge would somehow comfort her during her time of suffering.
as if it would ease her mind,
the knowing that it would come back.
knowing that she would find the rope again.
that her fraying shoes would somehow hold her,
that she did not need the net below.
that all she needed was faith.
if only she could somehow remember next time...

protein

Calcium on dust
painted white bones
brittle strands of glucose
held together with a whisper
faint as a memory
fragile non-matter
almost not there
gone with a breath
icicles from the wood
hit the earth and shatter
no one notices
gone into water
part of the eco
no longer its own
part of the whole
no choice

DissonAnt StrinGs

guts tight
cringeing eyes
lips pursed
falling grey matter
into the abyss
tired
an ache in the nether regions
the unreachable place in the mind
sunDay
the non-day
the night of night
mysterious chords
enforce the dread
move the bile
clench the fibers
pray for relief
pray pray pray

itch

an itch
the protein of the fingernail
is not enough
alleviates
and
aggravates
bitter
and
sweet
pleasure
and
pain
organic on organic
like moves toward like
cells & electrons
plasma & protons
serum & cilia
yin
yang

Night-Cottage

Playing
like an African child in the red clay
Lilac fields
fill me up
it is not real
but it helps
and they are there
in the cottage
down the road
it's un-real
only in the grey folds
in the electro-stimuli
but they are there
i feel
it helps
angels
i sleep

Anger

Knocking, banging, clanging...
it comes when it wants
like a socially-awkward dinner guest
with a bouquet of wilting posies, a bottle of rancid cider
uninvited, nowhere to sit
with the rudeness of senility
it makes me laugh
inept, embarassing
inevitable
it bursts forth
there is no reason
there is no place
it has no place in this world

Un-nature

What to do when insides turn out 
When blood skin reaches air
When the burn is too shocking
When even the still air makes it too hard to be
When the flesh no longer performs its function
When the organ is pulled away by force
Exposing the red - the fresh, the tender
That which was not made to be in contact with the air, the world
That which cannot survive but with the protection of what is now gone
What to do?
When wounds should be fatal but are not
Some call it "miraculous"
It feels wrong
It cannot be
It is unnatural
An anti-miracle
Should not be allowed
Nature should not be fragile
But fragility... well, that is the nature of things
It is unnatural