Thursday, September 1, 2016

Sample Poems from my upcoming Poetry Collection

Today I post some sample poetry of a collection I am currently working on. Enjoy!

Happy Nadir

I am happy to have been scorched.
Happy to have my arms nailed
crying out to the empty blue sky.
I am happy that sunsets make me cry
and children playing,  nostalgic.

Happy to have secrets wrapped like Christmas presents
in   my   body.
Happy to have been blinded by lithium set alight.
Healed through darkness and
thrust out into the raw morning air.

Happy to have drained blood for you
to drink
and shared my limbs for your journey
into the valley of no shape,                     no form.
Happy to be weakened by happiness and
emboldened by sorrow.

The weeping feels like sex.
The first moment you entered me
my body stretched to welcome you,
Now it constricts to expel you.

The orgasm runs from my eyes,
I convulse, I contort,
expel expel expel
nothing will out.

The orgasm pools in my palms,
I begin to see something that looks a
little like me.

I gasp for joy
I gasp for pain
its all the same.
I am happy to have learnt how to love
scorched Earth and barren land.

What Adrienne taught me about the Wreck.

Why have you left me here
with the broken shells of our underwater house.

Where have you gone
with your glazed over eyes and sleeping body.

Take me with you
there is no place in this  no-place.

The world gave me a map
outlining the body but not the contents.

So with these broken shells I dived
into the wreckage, to save what I could.

The pieces didn’t fit.
They just cut deeper, lodged stubbornly in orifices.

Where have you gone?
Come back.

Call to me if you can  (if you want to)
yell, scream, throw something (anything) at me
(make me angry).
Broken words
strung together with stale bubblegum.

A bitter aftertaste,
too much gin seeping  into the pores.

All around this wreckage:
half smiles, torn fabric, shattered wine glasses, lost jewellery, splintered floorboards
blinded mice, rotten bread, dysfunctional cell phones, distorted mannequins, punctured condoms,
melted plastic, carcinogenic cutlery, stained linen, bleached walls, bloody underwear, crusty hands, decaying bodies…

I understand what you want to do.
in the wreck I search for the button to reset it all.
I understand what you want to do.

Run away.
Burn it all.

Our bodies involuntarily vomit at the sight.

We do not live in this wreckage

When an Author Dies

I have died and gone into limbo
Leaving words on a page for them to wonder:
Who was he?
What did he mean?
Can we ever really know?

They will lean over my page with a flashlight
And never find a trace of me, simply
That I was submersed in a place
Filled to the brim with liquid
And the sun shone through me
Filtered down and landed: Splat!

Taken out of context
There’s a gap between the train and the station.
The passengers get on and never leave, they don’t know where they’re going.

On the phone the voice calls
To an automated response system
“The number you have dialed is out of service”
And just like that years of communication
Kids commenting about “bitches”
Behind plastic masks and screens in the dark.
The plastics of the world reduced to a fine
Super fine art.
Pixelated and packaged
Through filters and angles
Removing blemishes with a click.

It begins to
Break down
And no one can see
I’m in limbo

Swinging from a tree.
In toilet stalls
Written in black marker:
Shy voices of the biological forces
Come out come out
Out of the vibrating cell.

The words become me
The spectacle the reductions
The overall summaries of a life
Too full to ever
Put                                to      ge ther.

Its haphazard and its chaotic
Its shouting and its whispers
Its holding up the mike
And praying for the electricity to kick in.

The factories keep calling my name
The factories of fame.
The factories spew us all out
We fashioned refashioned manufactured
For our unique faces in the mirror which hides
The little spiders in our minds.

I distrust the confident
Those we know which way is up
And those who tell me the sky is blue
How they have lied to me and you.

The show is on and the magician is at work
He will not let me behind the scenes to see.
I swing in limbo from a tree
Sending whispers on the wind
Confusing sunrises for meaningful things.

What breaks                                                                                            apart
What                                                                                holds?

L e t t e r s    wish to stand A       L      O      N     E    .


Mutely I swing eyes glazed over immortalized forever
 for the wrong thing

Dance Dance Dance

The rain keeps falling, canals of water run off every roof.
It’s a downpour of major proportions.
And those who choose to
Dance dance dance.

The thunder bellows from the clouds
Tearing eardrums and sending pups into kennels
And those who choose to
Dance dance dance.

The cats screech clawing at each other in fright,
The lighting cracks the sky and all of heaven
Is toppling down into hell.
And those who choose to
Dance dance dance.

Wet and mangled are the leaves of the trees
Which once hung joyfully.
Now brown and pressed down into mush
Unrecognizable from what they were,
Patterning the ground with sweet death
And decay.
There are those who dance upon them
Pressing death into the ground.
Dance dance dance

What is there in the gyrating of the flesh?
What joy in the twisting muscle and contracting heart.
How alive are we in the downpour of it all, when
Drenched to the skin and open to the sky
We let everything in:
Dance dance dance.

Nothing can tell us
How this storm will change
The landscape and wash the dirt in the streets away.
Flooding out and flooding in
No need to gasp for air
We were born to breath under water and
Dance dance dance..

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