buy me a lullaby

we are never powerful enough to stop
[and/or start]
screaming.

a small girl in a small dress,
red with pale white skin.
clear blue eyes: innocence,
a disguise.

smiles, mask the horror-shows,
"hush little baby,
don't make a sound."

quiet for eleven years,
until she opens her mouth

and screams.

until she screams out,
"HUSH. HUSH. HUSH."
like the terror behind those
blue eyes, turned green with
emotion.

green like grass,
green like his tie on the day he
took her soul...

green.
blue.
and grey skies.

hush, hush.
don't stop screaming.

perpetually

Perpetually
Pulsing, peaking…then pausing
Perpetrating bliss

As

Your tongue, lips- precise
Skimming the surface-
Uncompromising

Create

Anticipation…
Rousing desire,
Prurient lusting

To

Touch, without restraint
Experience you fully
Irrevocably…

treetops

Treetops
The eyelet hem of a snow frock
sweeps the twig fingertips
that tickle the belly of the moon.
I tip-toe on the tight rope of the horizon,
trembling someplace
between hills of woods
and sherbet skies
balancing in the silent stratosphere.
Confiding in the wind
taking mouthfuls of clouds to hold
beneath my tongue like that pale sky circus confection.
I vacillate back
between heaven and earth;
nothingness and everything.
A satellite girl lost in orbit

i think

i like to think a lot.
i like to think, that sometimes, people i loved might think of me.
i think of them.
i think.
i believe, that the little parts of me
that i give away-
to those- sometimes undeserving, sometimes worthy of much more-
will never be retrieved, but perhaps i think
i'm happy to leave them where they are.

and sketches and poems that were inspired by such passion,
now dead and never to be kindled again, i think
are not a crime.
i think we have loved, and we love.
i think that mostly i forgive and am forgiven.
human nature is inclined to these sudden passions and predicaments.
we cannot control them, i think.
i think doing what feels good is a motto to start living by.
i think waking someone you adore and cuddling them in the sleepy shadows of night is the most beautiful gift.

and i think that the pain of losing someone you may have loved is just as beautiful.
i think they have a time for their final exeunt.
i think that i have been lucky.

and tonight,
as i walked the path
into the inky night,
i knew
it couldn't be more perfect...
i know this is only the beginning and there is so much more ahead...

bind this heart

I can't search for the meaning in all things.
Sometimes horrible things happen
and you can never satisfy yourself with a how or a why.
You know you'll not be the same from it
you can never love yourself the way that you did before.
You know that you can never love life;
the sweetness of a poem,
the ache of song,
the way you did before.
Somehow, those things were taken in the night.
I cannot honestly say that I am looking towards tomorrow
or for some deeper cosmic force
that will bind this heart
to an answer...
or a truth
that will satisfy my soul.
I am not.
I am still operating breath to breath
heartbeat to next.
My eyes shifty
looking over my shoulder--
but I had a dream last night that was not about it
or about him
or my own pain.
If that is hope,
then I am hopeful.

the kiss

The memories are always there
no matter how hard I try
to circumvent the past...
like watching a carousel
circling
round and round,
a child riding her steed,
yet going nowhere...
I'm teetering on the edge of sanity
seeking salvation from this madness
going round in my head

the cure comes
ice cold
piercing the vein
I pulled back a little
the liquid changed color
rust
plunging forward-
a vaccination
for my poisoned thoughts
immune
to all the voices...

the fire
is starting in my chest
radiating through my bloodstream
my body is growing heavy,
falling over in a stupor...
I'm
lost
turned
about
looking
over
my
shoulder
at those yesterdays,
the dancing colors, spinning round...so fast.
So fast.

And the memories tilt
around in my head-
a pinball on the loose...
no longer
distorted in the magic mirrors
singing a sing-songy round...
no more roller coasters,
no more whirling and twirling Gravitron
refrains holding me down...
no longer lost in
a carnival of thoughts
and blurred memories.
of the past

then
I'm
numb

I'm masquerading in and out of lucidity
as the intense nothingness fades...
all the while debating the consequences
of staying here, amiss the bliss
of heroin's kiss,
where the ugliness recedes...
I concede I'm better off in my carnival of thoughts
even if
I have faded...

Like once colorful city-graffiti,
now drab,

I was here.

burning

A phoenix won't rise from what we've become
But at least we can say we burned...

We burned trails through the sky
choked smoke
and swallowed our affections
our souls combusting into bits of flame
igniting a passion that consumed our selves
and left us in a cocoon of sorrow,
and regret

now that we have been extinguished
there is nothing left

the journey

Moon-soaked,
she emitted
a cold radiance
that made all
who loved her
leave her alone.

As well
they might-
hers was the single
silver track
upmountain
to the moon.

just a thought...

Just once I'd like to sit on the porch steps and have a long, slow joint- rolled tight and even, staring at the crickets and the neighborhood's prelude to night time activity; and feel a simple emptiness, an isolation from everyone and everything-- and for awhile, feel as if there wasn't a soul in the universe who knew of my existence or my pain...

inert

she's bringing it all down upon herself.
she winds her watch and feels the difference in hour.
but the difference is a season, it's a year.
then, she sees;
she's scoring years upon her thigh
where birds could dance along the raised skin.
where happiness graced her closed-mouth grin.
she chooses mellow music,
she chooses her,
she chooses you.

she thinks that, in films
when the unreliable lover rushes back
to proclaim everlasting, undying, irrevocable
unconditional
love.
how convenient for them
that their object is waiting,
instead of clipping their toenails.
or in bed with somebody else...

she often thinks that would happen to her.
they'd be pounding at the door,
and she'd be brushing her teeth.

they'd give up
and leave.

Constellation

I temporarily deviated
To the “I’m fine,” mask
Covertly rearing to chase
Those snap-dragon ideas
With a self-concocted tonic
Of misery and bliss.

the big empty...

Oh the big empty. Here it is to swallow me.

I want to sit in the sunlight on my porch, eating a mango, with its juice running past my chin, knees drawn to my chest. I want to notice that Stellas aren't like Daffodils and Asiatics and Days are different and stare at the Lantana and count the butterflies it attracts, and smell the dusty sweetness of the Deplidenia. But I hide, a little still, or stay too busy or escape someplace different so that nothing permeates this husk, this pod, I've zipped myself into. Maybe the sun's summer will coax something from me, some juju or magic that must be fulfilled before I can find another breath. In the meantime the day slips away like the sunset through a pink sky. I just stood on the horizon, watching it burn out...

Arcane

I sat
stoned
on your emerald couch,
And danced with the notes of your grace

You cupped my face with both hands
and I had never felt your voice
so clearly
resonating in my hips...

Later
I found myself
lying on my floor,
as you sat
in the empty room below

On top of a quiet stereo,
In a whispering wail to a lost love,
You lulled my eyelids to sleep...

This will be our secret.

Playdate

We’re eluding this
uneasy love
like children tagging along
in summers yawning nightfall.
Only two parents of nature
could end this careless sprint,
this reckless spell:
cupid and fate.