Saturday, October 31, 2009

Sugar High

I'm so sick of this stupid sweet sugar
Syrup sticking soft on our lips. I hate
The half-hour high and your perfect purr
As the rush lets us pretend we relate.
Climbing up up up up up as if we
Don't realize each meter we ascend
Will contribute to the velocity
Of our catastrophic collapse. Pretend
That come-down isn't inevitable.
Pretend we can fly on these weary wings.
I don't want a sugar high, unstable
And without nourishment. Bring me the things
     That will stick to my ribs. I will sink my
     Teeth into the meat and tell you goodbye.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Like The Sun Loves The Moon

There is a road marked by your footprints, sole
Stitches running up its length, binding past
And future together, making them whole.
Flowers blooming where your shadow was cast.
There is a place where only you have been
A secret spot that let you be reborn
Soul glowing like a luminescent skin
Giving you the smile that you still adorn,
A constant reminder that you've been blessed.
Oh god I want you. I hear your tales and
Feel them pierce my heart. I'm a man possessed
By a desire too great to understand.
     But I cannot follow where you have been
     I can only pray that you will come again.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

What I Am

I am a blind man with a burning urge
To paint the sunset I have never seen.
Fumbling with these brushes, trying to purge
This image from my mind, to make it clean
With the unknown things I think that I mix
On my palette. Making a royal mess.
I'm a boxer, throwing punches at bricks.
Striking hard blows and moving with finesse
Against an opponent I'll never knock
Down. Bleeding through my gloves, my knuckles swell
And burst. Hands stay up, remember to block.
Keep fighting, no one's there to ring the bell.
     I cannot be what I am and have what
     I want. Truth so sharp I can't feel it cut.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

She Moves

Trying to capture her beauty in a
Photograph is like trying to hold the
Morning breeze in your hands, or putting a
Crashing wave in a paper cup. Boldly
She manifests magnificent motion
Existing entirely between the frames,
A cacophony of calm commotion
She shows us joy with a million names
Spelled by the small cyclones left in her wake
Winding air weaves wonders from fingertips
That will give as much pleasure as they take,
And then these words will echo from her lips...
     "Don't just stand there and talk about beauty,
     I want to know what you'll do to move me."

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Spark Me

Find me a spark that will set me on fire.
I want that deep down immolating lust
Like living light bursting from our desire
Until we spontaneously combust.
I know that you're ready. I see you're soaked
Through with accelerants, prepared to burn.
Your meticulous architecture choked
With anticipation of all you yearn
For being unleashed, causing your collapse.
What will it feel like to be so consumed?
Agony? Ecstasy? Or both, perhaps?
So let's light a match and call ourselves doomed.
     We'll create something we cannot contain.
     And when we're done, only embers remain.