Cheerleaders Are Happy

Cheerleaders are happy, or so it seems,

On the sidelines, bright, the object of dreams.

Voices high and eyes starlit, such joy in autumn.

They own the world from the top to the bottom.

So it seems.

 

Angels to me, as I sit in the stands, close and huddled.

Thinking of their kisses and all the boys they’ve cuddled.

Just to watch them on a night so cool and crystal clear.

I can’t believe the end is coming, that this is my senior year.

Life moves on.

 

And where will we go, when we’ve been sent on into life?

Will I be happy, will I be chosen? Will they be a beloved wife?

Do they know the darkness that I’ve known, that in the night grows,

the sorrows of loneliness, the weight of air wrapped through their clothes?

Do they know?

 

Those uniforms blue and white, so beautiful and so clean under lights.

The long sleeves that cover scars and the enchanting white of their tights.

I crafted angels wings for their backs in hopes that I might fly with them.

I crafted diadems for their heads that they might chose me on some whim.

But all are flesh, and broken.

Cheerleaders

It’s October and the cheerleaders are wearing long sleeves

and white tights under their tops and skirts, breath a vapor

as the cheer and smile and shine bright for the team on the field.

 

I watch them beneath the bright lights, awash in the roar of the crowd

and the crackle of the the announcer over the loud speaker.

They are so beautiful and young and sweet, so full of fire and light.

 

Another world, as if angels on satin wings or fey shining with glamour.

Sports cars and big houses and the promis of a bright future

and summers by the big blue ocean in their rich daddy’s beach house.

 

How I wish I could smile and shimmer like earthbound stars, like they do.

See the wonders of life and float on air and be so thoughtless and free.

Without a care or a tear or the bony fingers of this town closing around them.

 

After the game, after they go to sleep overs or out to party with their boyfriends,

after they are asleep and full of sweet dreams and warm and safe and at peace,

I will lay awake, full of shadows and grief, and wish for a world other than my own.

I Strip Away The Day

The rage goes unsaid and unexpressed,

even as I strip away the day, get undressed.

A hot shower quickly loses light, turns cold,

and I have words of kindness forever untold.

I lay in bed, still wet, shivering, wrapped up tight.

I might dream of her, that bright angel, again tonight.

Chelsi

I look at you, and see all those good things life can give.

Happiness and love and a place to belong, people to belong to.

So sure of where you’re at and who you are.

 

Just a few words, in passing, that’s all we ever share.

My world is somewhere else, with the demons and dream girls

in my head.

 

I want you to love me, for you to choose me, to welcome me

into that paradise in which you dwell. I want to be yours forever.

It will never be.

 

So I go back to the demons, dream girls and bitter disillusionment.

I hope your world is as shiny and warm as it looks like from here.

I hope that peace is real.

Cardboard and Dice

Won’t you hang around?
I have fun games to play,
cardboard and dice,
fresh laminated cards
and all that useless trivia!

I’d let you win,
just so you’ll stay
and have a good time,
here with me.

We could laugh
and talk about girls
and stay up way late
and become soulmates.

It’d be like were kids.

We’d be cuddled
under blankets, eating cereal,
pure sugar and chocolate
and whole milk poured in!

Cartoons on TV,
and we’d laugh and laugh
and it’d be perfect
and I’d have a friend.

I’ve always wanted a frined like you!

Galilee

Israeli woman from a past year, me and her sharing wine.

Lost all hope for a resurrection, a saving grace, from Galilee.

Just drink our wine, and hold close, as the sea eats up the sun.

There’s no comfort left in the stars, no kisses sent by the moon.

 

No rocks or bread, no devil to tempt us, just the foolishness of hope.

We lay together, look at night sky, the one and only miracle of light.

We make love in the depths of the darkness, to sweeten our death.

One flesh, but no spirit is kindled, the seed falls onto the hard ground.

 

And morning come, will come when all is barren from man’s infernal fire.

The sun mocks us, offers a cruel hope, a santimonious reason for living.

We are naked in the last shred of soft darkness, of cool and empty delight.

The sun on our skins is warm, but touch leaves no traces, only ugly scars.

 

For Neon Light

A cold afternoon, after school.

The sky gray as an untended tombstone.

Smoking Marlboro Reds, talking.

On the closeness of paradise, we’d hone.

 

Your long golden hair danced

in the bitter wind, flecks of hoped sunlight.

There was talk of New York,

of leaving this town forever, for neon light.

 

The hangout, that sad café,

was across the street; we did not go.

We walked hand in hand,

to where death like peace does blow.

 

Cigarette smoke, your breath,

mingled together, hoped for kisses soon.

Gloved hands aren’t touched,

like the tide rising and the sad mermaid’s croon.

 

At the park, you sit in the swing,

and I gently push you, cold is a tender place.

Your back is soft and still strong.

You let me kiss you, but never ever touch your face.

Flesh Is A Demon

What do you do, realizing all the years wasted, chasing what was never meant for you?

The quiet thoughts could have called angels down, innocent and guileless, instead of the

demons of lust and despair.

 

I reach for something that isn’t there, either in the world or in my dreams, place of peace,

place of no bitterness, place where I can fly among the stars and know the names of a

sacred kin, unknown to flesh.

 

The night is cold, and a young woman with blonde bon and headband, smokes a

cigarette, the plume of exhaled smoke less caustic than a wedding veil. She will

never be free, because flesh is a demon.

 

The Strip is empty this night of the coming plague, and I know I am now a taget

for the knights of authority, but I’ll be back in my empty house soon, and all will

be will, when I am out of my skin and out in the light.

Cartwheels

She turns cartwheels after the show, opening night,

in the alleyway behind the high school theatre.

 

Dark hair fanning and falling, the stars above shining,

and we are one flicker among them.

 

Weightless, she spins and rolls, we are one tonight,

we are one, we are one.

The Veins of Golden Lights That Are The Cities

I stand at the glass paned doors that lead onto my back deck, on a misty and foggy morning.

I have hidden away here for so long, making songs and stories I share with no one, as I saw the end coming.

In the fog and mist, in the quiet of the just breaking dawn, the forest beyond seems primal and invincible.

The TV babbles on and on, the plagues and collapses of our own doing, the gold that weighted the rope around our necks.

 

In my basement bedroom, on my Yamaha keyboard, I pick out a melody, something I heard an angel absentmindedly hum.

I record the tune, growing more sure, and more clear minded, as I play the keys, as I play the fool.

My fat and unaffectionate cate sleeps contentedly, never minding me, never minding the music, not knowing the end was coming, therefore, the end of his comfort.

The tune is finished, and I file the recording away, wondering if I’ll share it, and it’s prophecies, or if I’ll just look the other way.

 

I do laundry, mindlessly folding and sorting, as my mind wanders and I feel my soul float away from my body, held only by a silver cord.

Up in the heavens and the clouds, I look down on the world, pitying it and hating it and loving it, and wanting it all to bleed out forever.

The veins of golden lights that are the cities, the veins of power in the dark, are all beautiful from the sky, it’s all the same on the ground.

I look down up the world in the night. I’ve closed away and pulled away, rich enough to live alone in my home, but their fate is my fate, as it all slips away.