Our Sanctuary

As the houses burn around us, we try to save our own. We build defenses of formidable measure to withstand the most perilous of onslaughts. We fortify our roofs with unbreakable ethics and stay true to our shelter. We stay away from our windows because they show us what we must do without; the pain and misery outside those doors deal great damage to our exposed exteriors. We craft our success to persevere through the fact of eventual failure.

We’ve pointed out spades of errors in the integrity of our fellowmen’s houses…we pledge not to make those same mistakes. I have one other, one other person in this bout of foul play, I stare my darling in her eyes as she set flames to our drapes boding slow death to our sanctuary, she was freezing and needed a heat my body could not provide. The chandeliers fall to the ground and burst into glass cutting chunks of fresh meet from my sensitive legs. I stare my darling in her eyes, I stare my darling in her eyes, I stare my darling…in her eyes as she promises forever…confounding reason with flames. I beg my beloved, who which has the power to remove, these flames from our haven, to not mimic the shortcomings of her friends, I beg my beloved to make eternal peace with her heart and not temporary splendors with her actions. I beg my beloved to think about her honor and truth, for these virtues can rebuild our home. I fear the weight of a vexing plight and allure of a false tomorrow may fill her lungs with that cinnamon smoke, and that is when…I will lose her.

Advertisements

A Laugh

I am surrounded by tickled people,

And on my best day,

I cannot remember to laugh at the joke,

It’s something I can’t say,

Something about womenfolk that onsets the chuckles.

I am surrounded by gentlemen,

Upstanding and true-

That are arrested by the prospects of romanticism and chivalry,

It is ostensibly present in everything that they do,

This ensues a respect for women that some would call extinct,

But while these attributes lay closely with nobility,

The different hearts of their companions crush their potential,

The ship sinks for those men upholding civility,

They are no longer deemed essential and collapse under the desires of their lady,

Their hearts are second because nobility exclaims it.

I see this men giggling over their corrosion as they begin to lose themselves,

With her feet on his chest he rests in chaos and wakes in pain,

Everyday,

For this, I cannot laugh.

 

 

 

On Bloody Floor

Bobby could not understand the beat of her heart, for it was weak,
Jessie could not mutter a word through her oafishly gapped teeth,
It was Bobbies job to keep-
Jessie’s heart jumping,
But he could not hear anything but a light thumping,
Bobby dived into her chest with jagged tips,
Grabs her heart and held good grip,
Mimicry, he helps it beat,
Faster impressing the tissue deep,
Jessie screamed from pain,
Bobby did not let go,
Jessie screams from pain,
Bobby did not let go,
Because death is scary,
Obviously silent, yet emotionally loud,
Three months pass, Bobby two hands in, Bobby cannot eat,
Three months and three weeks weak,
Jessie cannot hear Bobby’s beating heart,
Grip goes,
His hips bow,
His hands fall out,
Quick slips, No!-
She screams low,
She now beating slow,
Beating no-
More,
Two bonds severed on bloody floor.

Outside

I am afraid,

There is fear,

This told finally,

Outside of me,

Thoughts more gently,

There is fear,

There is shaking,

Me, nigh, near,

Brinks of concession,

I wield bodes of my collapse,

Some from heaven,

Some from hell,

None of now.

I fear empty rooms,

One mile into fading road,

Silver trees with block woods,

Black leaves,

Black would…engulf the waning light,

In eyes of me,

I fear axes held by powered me,

Beating grounds below,

With concrete cracks,

There is much much fear.

Mornings…within long days,

After merging nights,

That seem to bleed into mornings,

I fear the presence of no one,

When ends the ways of happiness,

Then goes compulsion into prosperity,

I am inert in active days,

I am work-shy within potential affluence,

I am the weight to my sailing ship, holes,

Isolation, the flooding waters,

Solitude killing healthy solidarity,

Quiet killing the noise of laughs,

Whole, broken halfs-

Forced…forced to make me,

Dragging my weakened body-

Through jagged split sticks,

Oozing veins, swollen arms,

I am afraid to be…

Outside of intimacy.

Red Rose

Imaginary whites paint tactile floors,

Red roses in sin, the river pours,

Toting red petals like sands of shores,

Uncountable quantities of red scores.

The broken bodies of dried roses chip in rush,

The stench of sin, unholy musk,

I picked from stems of bushes unjust,

Poke and prod, stab and cut,

Stain the white consume by touch,

I kiss the blood, my open fingers,

I miss her love…my broken thinker.

I pick…because of her absence,

I pull…to honor my memories,

I poke…to actuate feeling,

I can see the red in the clear,

The happiness, the fear,

To my enemies,

The killing,

Of fragmented fixtures of lovely thought,

I use both hands to recreate a dying image,

Color coding with black and red,

Sort the well from dead,

I fight and fought,

A red rose in still water,

Under the shade tree outside the library in East Mecklenburg,

The clamor of wilding children to kill the quiet,

Innocent genesis mutate into perverse ends,

My guided hands, flapping jaws, illusive sins,

Stab the victim with saw-like knives and grin,

In dark brown eyes is where I chose to begin,

The rest of my life…

The rest of my wife,

Swept away in still waters,

Wading women wishing worse…

Of a growing marriage,

Screaming society in fragile ears,

They broke like glass into grounds to which I stepped,

I lost my balance and wept,

At the feet of my beloved,

At the feet of my beloved,

At the feet of my beloved,

She drove her nails across my bleeding back,

I grabbed her shins, I’m bleeding black,

By shards of women’s wicked words,

Going deaf to my cries, oh unheard,

…oh red rose in clear water,

Washed away by winds of them,

No sun’s gaze, no nature’s hymn,

What We

Oh whoa we,

We as a whole,

The conviction of interests and closely knit goals,

The reach of something more beyond stained silver and blemished gold.

Oh whoa we,

We as a group,

The affliction of what combined drive could offer to truth,

The essence of time, presence and involvement in youth.

Oh whoa we,

We together,

In harmony, a gift for forever,

To make shortcomings no longer an endeavor.

Oh whoa us,

We, built on trust,

We grabbed winds and tug gusts,

Of passing prosperity,

We knowingly joined the popularity,

To be warned of the dangers of clarity,

In times of other’s clouded judgement,

We became, created, when others could make nothing of it,

We saw a forecast of rainy days and rewrote,

When silence chilled clouded chapped rooms, we spoke,

We made possible of from which those joked,

We removed the generational cloak-

That presented us as a selfish folk that choked,

On the words of our ancestors and old,

We know that success was not a product to be sold,

We lovingly adopted what we were told,

And put it flames,

We know that we are only to blame,

For our inability to change,

The very foundations that left our demons free and untamed,

That we are to blame,

For our chains,

We will, by our eternal domain,

Be glorified,

Oh whoa we.

Whore

She rejoices,
3, 218 choices,
By combinations from articles of clothing she reads with her eyes,
She dresses, scurries, to the 6 foot mirror, she agrees with the way the fabric traces her thighs,
She grabs her makeup for beauty creation,
First, the foundation of expectations,
Second, the blush of vanity,
Third, blackening eyebrows with artistic adeptness,
Fourth, gray lipstick for instilling mystery,
The toil of the illusionist!

To town, with whorish friends, all different in attractiveness, all different masks,
1,2,3 a fourth glass–
Stings the throat,
Jabs and pokes at her fragile structure, no coat —
Both cold,
Thankfully some devious guy came to give gold by fabric jacket,
Grab it, sip it, tag it, snap it,
Snatch it, rip it, tag her, attack it,
A pill in cup, up in throat,
Shhh, keep still and hope,
Ew goody it worked,
She excuses a silly quickly dizzy burp,
Where are her whores?
He grabs her shaking wrist,
To dance and twist about the floor,
She’s weary…

Guidance to apartment,
Close the door,
Flimsy, clumsy, modest whore,
Lift the dress, remove the panties,
Impale by fingers quite handy,
Latex hug, a dive inside,
His voice guides, confirmation with weak head shakes,
His second head hat breaks,
Fun and mistakes,
He came and went,
She woke…a night believed unspent,
2 months later and a bump.

She 1,055 choices,
From combinations of affordable activities she read in articles,
But her childish preferences lied in drink,
Particles of dust from disgust sleep on her heavy tongue,
The night she turned 21 years young.