Monthly Archives: March 2017

Smoke and Love

She looks like a famous model, wild and outre.

With the same dark eyes and sharp edged face.

With the same smoke and mad, devouring love.

 

She works here now, having come from The Plateau.

Her voice is high and honeyed, with that proud accent.

Southern girl, a child of the wilderness and the forest.

 

She is loving and warm, a bright yellow sun in the sky.

Not like The Model who is cold and red and so distant.

Not like the hunger in that flesh, to devour any feeling.

 

And I love her, seeing her laugh, and the smiles she gives.

The love that pours out of her like saturated honeycomb.

The sweet angel in a demon’s skin, all the worlds I want.

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Garden of Gethsemane

The Garden of Gethsemane, on a sleepless night,

Feeling as all light has fled, even starlight has turned

It’s back, the moon fucked off too, just the glow of

A phone as I try to distract myself from how I feel.

 

In the garden, no disciples or companions stay awake,

No one to help soothe The Devil whispering, picking,

Trying to push me to something drastic, foolish, irreversible.

Take revenge on a world of fools, or just put yourself in the ground.

 

A video, a wholesome young woman modestly dressed, sings

Of Jesus and his love, but I don’t feel him near, he won’t stay

Up even one single hour himself, but I listen to her sing, her joy

And her adoration, wondering if it’s joy or a betrayer’s kiss.

 

In the morning, if I make it, if The Devil doesn’t win this night,

And I’ll try to hold onto the light of this young woman singing,

Her heart pure and so sure of the light that fell dim on my eyes,

As all around me the world burns and His Children stoke the flames.

Patience With Soothsayers

“Back home is a shithole, but it’s my shithole!” Gabby says.

“This place isn’t kind to me, I’ll go back to the winter I know”

 

A rainy Tuesday, not sure if winter or spring or nothing at all.

Where can you go? Where can you live? Where dreams grow?

 

Gabby smiles and I tell her a joke, make her smile for a moment.

I like to make her laugh, to chase away some shadows, sorrows.

 

Keep hoping the sky will open, and either God or a comet will come.

Either we put the brokenness behind us, or no more false hope tomorrows.

 

Gabby is a star, and I am star, but we’re suns once eclipsed by the moon.

Light casts shadows across home, unearthly light that lingers in prayers.

 

I drink my beer, I watch a game on one of the TVs, and enjoy her company.

Passing as she heads north, I south, having lost all patience with soothsayers.

“On Earth As It Is In Heaven”

She thought of the verse: “On Earth as it is in Heaven”.

               Passing over the world, looking down through glass,

               At the lands of snow, the lands of sand, of eternal green.

               At the endless blue of the oceans and seas, one with the sky.

              

It seemed so peaceful, so beautiful, so radiant in the darkness.

              

               “On Earth as it is in Heaven”. She thought again, space station

               Slowly turning over the world, into the sky and the horizon, the sun.

               Like God she could see all the world, but she could not hear thoughts

               Or touch dreams or reach out to them, as they went about lives and deaths.

 

               Lives and deaths in one small island, in the black sea, the washing void.

 

               “On Earth as it is in Heaven.”. Up in the sky, but it wasn’t Heaven at all.

               It was human, all too human. Order wasn’t maintaining. The mission was failing.

               She could see all the world, but she couldn’t touch souls or dreams or hearts.

               Not in all those on the world below, and not in all the others up here in the sky.

 

               The island in the black sea was dying, because people couldn’t be any better than they were.

The Tower By The Sea

There is only a tower, standing now by the sea.

               Grey and washed out, forlorn against blue sky.

              

               On the clear mornings, on the cold, bitter nights

               You can hear the howl and cry in the dark calling.

 

               The fishermen captured the mermaid, butchered

               Her and made her a meal, hoping to catch her magic.

 

               Her merman husband howled into the sky above

               And called down the storms and the rains and waves.

 

               The people cried and wept and were washed away,

               Leaving nothing but the tower behind when sun arose.

 

               And the men in ships, and the people from other towns,

               See the tower ruined and alone, and remember what came.

 

               They remember and respect the life and magic of the sea.

               They remember and fear the anger and wrath of the waves.

 

               And where the tower stands, in the morning, in the endless nights,

               The merman howls and cries for his love who can never return his call.

 

               His love that is forever lost.

A Burnt Sacrifice of Leaves

Sit alone on a sunny afternoon, in a rusting swing,

               Trying to find that soft voice, that one sweet thing.

 

               This playground’s seen better days, made closed off.

               A burnt sacrifice of leaves refused, God is still wroth.

 

               Kristen is coming on her motorbike; we’ll get a beer.

               Want she wants, what I need, is never at all been clear.

 

               Kristen may go to Paris; can Skype with Thai boyfriend.

               I cannot touch her face with her close, screen’s no end.

 

               God is silent, but I feel his displeasure, his impatient vice.

               The nagging itch in long shed skin his rhetorical device.

 

               I hear Kristen coming, howling motors, fear and dread.

               To be happy and pure all affection must be left unsaid.

 

              

The Best Thing About This Town Is That You Can Leave It

For the first time in ages I’m craving a cigarette,

               Something to occupy my mind, my hands,

               As my hoodie becomes wet and heavy from

               A morning rain, waiting for the train to come.

 

               In North Carolina to catch the Amtrak away

               From a place that never felt like home, or

               Made sense to me, or had much use for me

               And yet so many will wonder where I’ve gone.

 

               The people I used to adore and defend

               Have not been a part of my life since graduation,

               And I don’t want to see them anymore, ashes only,

               A reminder of loneliness and my arrogant sins.

 

               I want to make friends, find a girlfriend, a wife,

               But everyone is just passing through, don’t have time,

               Can’t get the shit out of their ears to actually understand

               What I’m trying to tell them.

 

               One way ticket to city up north, another world, beautiful strangers.

               Maybe I’ll find someone there who’ll understand or won’t have the

               Weight of the past on their smiles, or demand I be who I was at 17.

               Maybe I’ll find someone who’ll stay, have time, actually fucking hear.

The Sweetness There Was In The Stars!

The rain is the only soothing thing in the night.

               Maybe I’ll turn on the radio to the classical music

               Or the sappy love songs that let me dream of

               A sweeter, more beautiful world.

 

               These nights when I cannot sleep, full of dread,

               And regret but not the tears that could wash it

               Away and let me begin again.

 

               Way back in sophomore year, before I pulled

               A Lucifer and fell from grace, pulled and Eve and

               Took that forbidden knowledge, I dreamed of

               Her, and my heart was full of wonders.

 

               I stayed up all night, playing that song on repeat,

               That made me feel the warmth of her, the light of her

               On my heart even when though she wasn’t there,

               Just conjuring the life I wanted to live with her.

 

               What wonders the world and love held then!

               What sweetness was there in the stars!

 

               All these years later, the night is bitter as almonds,

               And it’s hard to find sweetness in the life I’ve come to.

               Scraps of the otherworld that use to come so easily.

 

               I turn on the sappy love songs, trying to call that girl back,

               To call back my own innocence, and sweetness of youth.

              

               I hear that song that I made a hymn to her.

               Finally I find some peace, and some sleep.

 

              

 

The Angel Who Came And Stayed With Me

It’s the middle of the night, awake in the dark,

               Staring out the window and the sleeping world.

 

               I heard the whisper of something, something good,

               Long ago, and I can’t seem to hear it now, in the dark.

 

               Exhausted, tears don’t come, and the fear strangles

               All the light, all the hope, all the better dreams to come.

 

               You reach out to me, pull me back into bed, kiss me,

               “There is love still. There is us still. There is light still.”

 

               I fall into your arms, listening to your heart, wild, free.

               Because you love me, because you are love, I go on.

 

               Holding onto hope and the cleansing tenderness,

               The dream that it can all be beautiful and light again.

 

               I dream your dream my love, I dream your dream.

               I dream of the angel who came, and stayed with me.