Poisoned With Rational

There was a moment, I was a wave
rolling straight towards you,
but I waited, hesitated, like I always do
I over thought it, let too much out
I lose myself between dreams and reality
I stop myself, passion pushed back with walls
built over a lifetime of agony.

Imagine a moment of pure bliss
a lost night allowed.
Liquid, smoky edges, soul soft eyes
gentle hand in the dark
laid out, perfectly selected
put the needle on the record
play me like a new tune.

The change always come too soon
before I am ready I slip straight back,
if you are looking, you will find me
once again in the dark, tossing my mind
my body slipping on the floor
hands trembling, reaching for the door
locks rusted, smell of blood
leaving imprints along my fingerprints.
I pull back, poisoned with rational.

Disciples of Eve II

My body is my temple until man wants to step inside
then I, like all women, am left screaming
while all the suits decide
if I am human enough to choose for myself -
where to place my own hide -
if I am decent enough to preen by your side,
heaven help the child of man if I were to
rise up with my sisters, destroy humanity -
take down all your ivory towers
fallacies to your phalluses, all tucked inside.

Listen while I tell you a story of womankind -
if you didn’t chain us down, burn our bodies to the ground
strap our feet while you rape our fate, keep us late
burden our minds while turning us out
shout - teach us we know little,
shove your ideas down our throat like spittle
hung above us off the end of your tongue,
while we grow life inside us -
you who try to break our spirit and bind us
to your rules that never applied to us.
We would rise above this, we already do.

Let me take you back to the garden of delight
tell you about the first fight -
our goddess Eve came down from the sky
looked around this pitiful dive
decided she could improve this life
offered Adam to take a bite of the universe
told him to take a turn at this,
holding life in your body, transcend.

All he did was pretend
he was more than some chimpanzee
held her to the earth until his truth came to be
pretending he created,
acted as if his cock was elated
took away our power, our belief in ourselves
protection from things that go bump in the night.

Eve split - atom by atom
until all that was left was silicone and thigh gap
eating disorders and baby momma traps
but her disciples regrouped – formed a secret troop,
complete with handshakes and eye signals
nods of the head to identify disciples.
Created our homes into temples.

We are not trapped in the game -
leaving the loves of life estranged
everybody acting insane, attacking in vain
using up one another until we feel no pain
cannot even speak peace, verbiage lacking.
I see your heart, it’s my gift to open up
see life – it doesn’t have to be this way.

Replace the Letdown

It is not enough to stoke the fires with spite and tries,
while the mind is on a job working overtime
to understand how to reject
with a slight of hand
a man with a crown who can sell you lies,
when all I want to do is step into over-drive.
Going down to up-town, try to find the fix
that replaces the letdown
look for the mother’s milk from the tit
of the underground, feed the soul with the fuel,
the real make-believe floats in between
an image of a girl on the dance floor
and a picture in a magazine.
Scrub out your filters find what you truly need,
pitch back and forth until you finally cleave
to the truth that you carve into your soul
like knife to meat.

 

Doesn't Matter Anymore

As I discovered life beginning for you
my heart released,
snapping
as strings tuned too tight
no longer able to suspend the tension
unraveled, unusable
finished.

Growing Sages

My momma taught me a great many things
from silences still and unbroken
from golden talents unused
she’d rather be token and smoking
than revering in a lineage of women,
that never could and then didn’t.
It is enough to make me cringe
but I won’t, because I am part of the scrimmage
and if I scoff, I am no better off
than the ones who came before me.

Am I a clown for writing it down,
where the entire world can see me,
as I sit and think, my heart begins to sink
what if fear is all I live for,
what if at the end it is not just a blur but a bore?
Words on pages do not make sages
of any drunk poet or me.
Don’t look away, own it
let brew what you know to be true,
on this plane the words can drive me to more than insane.

I may find myself on the ledge
walking the fine line along the delicate razors edge
slicing and dicing through all that is enticing
looking for the right scene to lay my head
or build my beds, planting rows deep
keeping away the crows as I leap
away from cuts and bruises too deep to heal.
Cog or machine in this scene,
is it my job to raise your consciousness
is it even possible for you to learn from this?

If I tell you my poison,
let you touch my dark resin,
will you learn some kind of lesson
in feminism or how to raise a son
or will it become more chatter
in the airwaves, creating more matter
to sort and distort to fit your own need
adding to the creed of greed,
as I recede from relevance, stuck
in my own tenuous dance of existence?

Modern Man

It didn’t take long before he realized
the failures found in the allure of modern life
drawn into a web of more, better, anything is permissible –
he was left hollow
a sheath filled with dirt,
nothing remaining to hold him to the land.
His heart a rusty nail upon parchment,
a composite sketch
drawn to reveal the smell of fresh blood,
barely scratching the surface, he blurred the lines.

Hoping to run to lackadaisical liberty in the land of no regrets,
he shuffles along the gangway knowing he can never go back,
once settled, he opens his suitcase and it brims with scents,
inside is home.
Time machine windows reveal desire,
regrets so fresh he could reach in and take a crisp bite,
if the universe would only let him.

Isolation chamber familiar comfort,
there is safety in self-induced solitary confinement,
a wandering journey where nothing is what he hopes to find,
the ship has sailed one last time.
The darkened curve of his spirit lovers hair,
the place he knows is home, he longs to be there -
to hold his heart in suspension on long quiet nights,
keeps his toes tapping for fear that if they stop
he just might run into the streets,
his eyes and hair all asunder
tears no longer hid behind walls.

When all is said and done
the journey did nothing but chew him up through the machine of industry
and deposit him in the thick smoke stacks of the future
billowing high into the sky like any modern man,
suspended, alone in his individual balloon,
surrounded by an invisible aura keeping all others at bay.

Thought bubbles whisking in the air,
empty, void of answers, lacking prayers
the other side is no different than before,
it makes no reservations for soul searching
pulling down the dark corners, working to reveal,
it is the all, it is nothing
and still he sits alone, hoping to find home.

false prophet

Shove it false prophet
tell your dream where to go
fall down the rabbit hole,
some graphite shaded lens
to tip backward off the rooftop fence,
alternate endings might appear
the minute your face kisses cement.
When no world will play pretend
and you stand with a dead reign and a mirror
drown in silent lunacy,
shine on in maligned magnificence
with it false hope proceeds as cautionary tape
that won't cover your ass in the wind
not a diamond, rough nor cut
remember, just a jewel thief bared.