Ran in the dark
dragging the heart of the park
on my stiff ankles.
I leave traces of it all along,
an alive artery, the art of living
a dead weight I'm carrying around.
I hadn't been brave enough
to sweat poetry in a while:
It reminded me of my
rebellious days
When I thought I could
Ride on a bike, run and
Swim while playing the poet...
And boy, I could!
I could have a spark of innocence back then...
An idea of it wrapped in
muscles burning,
A verse rushing through blood
Pierces and begs to be built,
One more verse in exhaustion
The pleasure of friction
against the ground
makes the hair in my forearm shake
and my legs quiver and I pant
and gasp and throb and
Don't give up,
for God's sake,
keep looking straight ahead, squint the
eyes of your mind and I promise,
I promise,
You will see the finishing line.
Because everything ends.
The breathing of the trees
and flowers rushed
into my nostrils and
landed on my tongue:
It tasted like an omen
to an early summer.
The darkness of shadows casting
and my own shaped a sense
of why I was still alive and
running like me and the
park were one.
In the dark I ran,
like the devil chased me around,
I ran in white, in the
heart of the park,
to be brave enough
to sweat poetry.
Strangeness & Charm
.documentary.on.being.pop.
A miracle
when I opened
the bags of chips:
they cracked
barbecue remorse
in my metallic mouth.
I ate them with repulse
as the skinny bitch
across from me sang
some idiotic pop song.
I thought if I could make
her eat her own stupid hair
she'd come to realize
it's hard being fucking pop
and it's easy to have
a cool hair.
So I skipped my stop,
went to the MoMa instead,
pretended Andy Warhol's
Exhibition was still on.
I commented with Andy
about this guy's photography,
some Boris Mikhailov, probably
very pop because he's
from Ukraine and man,
nobody's more pop than
those people who come
from nothing and feel
like
nothing.
Right? So I ditched Andy,
because he was a fake pop,
he spent too much time
with his hair and he knew
nothing about pop,
this is why he was crowned
the father of Pop Art.
It's always like this.
But Boris, Boris understood
pop to the core... What it
really meant to be pop.
So I went home and listened
to Manson
and designed a seamless
pattern
all'Andy
just to be pop.
The Unlist
I made a list of my worst
romantic combinations.
She was number one
My best friend was number two
You came third
I hope neither of you get offended
by the order that I chose
you can fight over who's
the real winner later
or who's the most jealous one,
who's best in bed but worst in dialogue,
who cooks worse and who drinks the most,
who exercises less,
who fantasizes the most,
who ultimately would drop all of this the first
for any other hot designer like myself
over a heartbeat that pounded
slightly faster
After this list, I felt no need
to write one about my very best.
Not because it is filled 1st, 2nd and 3rd
place by the same heart but
because a list you make when
things just don't mean anything.
.paint.
[breathtaking work by here ]
Words
drowning in paint:
there goes
"I".
there goes
"thought".
there goes
"much"
and "chance"
and "over" and
"less".
they are better off
in acrylics
than in my lips,
at least for now.
You see,
I'm unfortunate
enough to be a poet
not a painter.
rather than combining
pigments
to create meaning,
vague meaning,
the modern-art type of
meaning,
I am forced to invite
each and every of you
into the nakedness
of my monocromatic
straight-to-the-point skin,
just like that.
Wouldn't it be great
if my poems
were just splatters
which you'd all be
staring at right now?
Big splatters and
a tiny purple dot on a
porcelain white canvas.
You would be coming up
with absurd ideas
of what I meant.
"she must have been
pissed when she did that",
"I think she meant to
talk about love"
"I don't think she's the kind
that speaks of love"
Instead, I have to stay
here, before all of you,
and be brave enough
to put these words
together that mean
chest.
they mean
dream.
they mean I am so
tired.
they mean a stranger made me
smile
the other day.
They mean
it is ok,
it is ok??!
to let you all
in.
and it's ok if tired
means not giving up
of being
so helplessly strong
all the time.
they mean I won't be
judged
if I mispronounce something,
they mean I don't really
care
if I mispronounce because
I know you will find it
lovely
anyways,
they mean I am so
giving
I better
stop
giving,
before there's nothing left.
Lady of Justice, Unfolded
R: I just had a whole brow and I'm almost at Webster and for some tingling reason I wanted to text you while I giggle and jiggle with the trance in my earplugs.
It's so funny... I'm having these narcissistic moments as I'm walking lol everyone is looking at me with passion and desire... like this woman just now looked at me, up and down and slowly bit her bottom lip. I felt it in the bottom too. Very bottom. Even knowing I'm clearly a top who enjoys variety and being put into place.
Censure me if I'm getting too sexual.
C: Whole brow? You know I was typing as you wrote that, and now... Well, I just don't know what to say, lol. Did you read your horoscope?
R: This Chinese man on his bike just grabbed his bars. His little rice and shrimp boxes swinging around: the pendulum of my life. The repetition and endless patterns of shyness before the new. Where's that woman who can handle who I am in my purest essence, a woman who doesn't find in my perfectionism the perfect excuse not to give back, to abuse the generosity in my hands, to exploit the depths of my emotions, to enslave me to an eternal unbreakable pattern...? HA, I'm feeling so Shakespearean! [I think she asked me if I had read my horoscope?] Wonder if she'll be all about Derrida and will deconstruct me in every line and touch, she'll read my chapters as if every single time was the first time... TO HELL with running. I know she's a marathoner, she's got warrior legs and a mind control that goes beyond the finishing line. But she'd rather walk by my side. She's not a libra but she's got that poise that not even I can hold so well...
C: Hey, my mom just looked at me and said: "I don't have a whole other world here. No one's contacting me!"
R: I swear C, hope is a fucking curse and a blessing. Nietzsche strongly advised me not to lose hope. If he didn't why would I? My horoscope. Yeah. It says: "LIBRA - Considering all the changes you've been through lately, it's fitting that the new moon on the 7th falls in your sign. Since a relationship abruptly evaporated in May, you've been quite a rollercoaster - and it's time to not only get off, but to also walk the heck out of the entire amusement park. Your ticket to a healthier, happier life? It's not unattainable and it's not being held by some grumpy ol'gatekeeper. It's free and right inside you.".
second chance
[ pic by http://browse.deviantart.com/?qh=§ion=&global=1&q=mud#/djggfo ]
On muddy
bed I think
how to change myself
with hands of charcoal,
your face on my walls
with lungs of smoke
puffing the call.
Shadows creep up the roof
into pulsing veins,
the streams with moss
across my arms
follow spiderweb tongue
hanging from your branches,
and I watch,
I watch close
the fangs upon my skin
breaking rib cage free
to dust only
and soft
and nails
piercing
perfection across my eyes,
eyes drowned in powder
and suffocated by tears
of constant lingering
in the house of absurdity
where I was beheaded,
where I rescued my own.
I, and no one else.
Reincarnation Sucks
Rotten_____________ The Catholic Bishop
eyes made___________The land owner,
of petroleum_________ one of those
dirty spilled__________ royalty wannabe
oil. ------------------------------------------------- over blood on battlefield.
___________________pigs.
Garbage teeth,
the smile of a
traitor,_____________ Bless me
a quick stab__________ for being
from behind. ------------------------------------- aim for the kidney.
__________________A SKEPTICAL
__________________vegetarian.
Breath of poison,
touch of leprosy,
you sure stink of
Black Plague. ------------------------------------- corpses eater.
You Do but You Don't
My days
the stops
uptown
downtown
going express...!
I repeat,
express going
downtown.
Hey, I have
an unlimited
ride,
that means
all I can do
is just ride
and ride...
How many transfers
do I have to keep
making?
But if I get off
I'm going to have
to walk...
(the purpose of
the ride:
lost)
I must have gone
through the whole
&
numbers
I'm left