Category Archives: #melancholy

PITTED MUREX

if i am to be vacant of companionship and communion with you

then all has been my own dream.  

i have dreamed of a field

spread-loved by graceful golden wheat and you, the wind

which caressed a life-war torn spirit; trembling hands.

my own as-had as dreams as worn as ancient book bindings

~ lost within the smolders of everywhere.

was youth easy when anchors were drawn upon the bow

and all waves were frolicked star crests upon our arms?

picking up the discarded shells of the battle front-life

a patch of beach-white untouched by strife;  i picked up

a pitted murex and placed it next to my heart.

:: 04-08-2017 ::

PLASTIC CHOCOLATE CLOUDS

Oh Mary is a little lamb
she bled where she lay
and the dead cried “me!”
On a wondrous sea,
saline sailing,
silently Ho! Pilot,ho!
I never knew plastic
chocolate clouds
could ever taste
this — so good
riddance my lamb
She bleats me badly
a blue-yellow bruise
crushed my heart
and we sang,
“Oh, Mary is a little
bitch and bled where
she lay — they shout,
“Me!”
And the silent Southern
moss-grown streets
like a New Orleans
sweet drinking all of me

:: 11-30-2014 ::


NEUROSURGICAL EVENT

manipulate my brain damage my connection

i’m your lonely patient like burning liars in

a blanket of ash

so perturbed by my mind you remove

parts of my heart-brain and the voices stop

and i’m so comforted by my loss, of mind;

and i’m so relieved

by the loss of my life;

it creates a circular lesion within my brain

:: — 08-05-2016 — Rev: 11-01-2016 ::


FULL OF HEAVEN

TODAY she walked pass me:my soul
she did and the song of my heart
within her hair
A pearl of dreams full of heaven
upon two stems too swiftly
to allow life, my own:me to know

Today beyond the steel towers and
of glass I wept

but upon my feet
kicking sorrow shard-lit hopeless
bits and pieces of my dying dreams

death says, “come with me”

:: 07-01-2015 ::


KISS

A melancholy-lust
bursting kiss!

:: ~ ::


ANATOMY OF MELANCHOLY

AND with no curiosity
nor enjoyment for life
each knock upon my
chamber heart ignored!
THAT door once built
upon intoxicating power;
a wilted stem o’ flower
is how I see my soul!
A ceaseless disregard
for popular accord
I wish to spread
the seeds of prose
and watch the flowers grow!
and before you ever thought
of Spring did you ever see
the bluejay sing?

:: 04-10-2015 ::