Like games kids play
taking pains towards the insane
to be the victor who remains
with mountains of candy and brandy
and insecure caddies
to carry the broken pieces
of our egos and dreams
downstream
to where an old man
patches the holes in souls
to make them whole
again, like
dames and doctors do
for boxers and bones.
.
There is only rise or falter,
no compromises for the daughters of fathers,
whose stern concern can earn
them the churn of a stomach
or return of a spurn.
No spins or whirls,
for splintered hearts mourning words,
and the dull aches of ‘what could have beens’
and past mistakes,
and the haunting thought
of when there were no breaks
at all.
.
But life hinges on a desperation to avoid
the legacies and dreams
of hopeless ancestors’ memories,
and midnight moonlight will light
sea-shine diamonds
on the edges of distant horizons,
and hearts pounding in crisis,
shivering lips,
dilated irises,
palms sweating, minds silent;
We’ll experience timelessness!
The righteousness of idleness,
the power of absentmindedness…
.
Sure, the trees will muffle screams
of those oppressed by extreme regimes,
or extreme machines,
or extreme teens in blue jeans
desperately pursuing
a method and a means
to a happy scene for humanity;
one that died with nature and nations and queens,
and entire continents blasted to smithereens.
.
In the end, we’ll find quiet,
quit our polluted diets,
full-time jobs and part-time riots.
Drift back to cloudless sky,
to you and I
double-dying our reddened noosed ties,
and letting the war cries of life die
in the blood soaked air
of broken swears
from forgotten people
in forlorn years.
I said, “I’ll always know you best.”
I don’t care,
if when the cosmos open up
and read out the list of sinners
to the attentive hairs
cemented in place
by your holy fucking ear-wax
I don’t care
if that day comes
and the only company I have
is my own name
echoing off the omniverse
in one long shrill shriek
Because nostalgia will rush in like high tide,
remembering our high times,
and the smoke from the sandle-wood incense
burning away your sweat
from the bottom of my tummy,
or the mounds of my breasts.
And just your breath on my neck,
willing me not to tremble,
or breathe,
or sleep,
or ever be anywhere but there.
I’d turn my back on the cosmos,
and feel the heat rip the skin from my spine,
so I could look you in the eye again
and say,
I will always know you best.
I’ve actually been making a whole lot of shit lately but I keep giving ‘em away before I can post them up on tumblr….
