I invincible

I was like a rock star
So full of my accomplishments
Rich with my youth
Believing in myself
I invincible
Watch my long beautiful blond hair
Hear my charming wit
Read my words by me
The writer
Buy me a drink
Laugh with me
Seduce me
You beautiful person
You've no idea what I am
You've latched on to
A raging bundle of neurosis
A tenuous psyche fragile and weak
But oh I can entertain
I can dazzle bedazzle
All my razzle all my personal pomp
(Such circumstance)
I bequeathed onto myself the mystic
Power of super self
And imbued it with psychosis
I invincible
Watch now
Watch me spin on the dance floor
Pretty cool stuff, eh?

Requiem

The days melted into wine colored rust that flowed through my veins like pouring rain down the gutter which was what I was and I felt in fibers of my being that I did not even know that I had and the pain in the form of mental anguish was too great to differentiate from the screaming bowels of hell so I dropped it all and caressed the moon

Then there was nothing but the hard hearted aching of my soul as I realized that death’s grip would truly be my release from the devastating reality of the horrible pain that awaited in a mind gone wild that angels feared and demons lusted for

I was pain

I was the holy endings of the wretched snaking willowy cauldron of vaporous hauntings that chill the bones of the insane in locked away places that dare not be revealed to simple minds

I existed only to suffer and seemed to want to feel the burning of an unkept mind was I not so blind that I could not not see the sadness in wrinkled foreskin and decaying nails and stretched elongated hairs twisting in hot winds of the inferno

Never meant to smile only being deluded enough to look at others and pretend that I was someone too and not the empty shell that wondered among them unable to make human contact I was the true waking walking even breathing death that serves as warning to unsettled minds

Blow me away and never let my like come your way again for I have nothing

The Forever Jealousy

I died so many times when I first knew you
And you were with other men and I
Had to imagine them touching you
Loving you
You danced with them and kissed them
And of course you….
It ate me alive swallowing me in great
Chunks
Did you think them handsome?
Smart and sexy?
Interesting and funny?
While I drank and simmered and moped
And stared at emptiness
My life a wreck
What secrets did you tell them?
How earnestly did you listen to them?
Did your tongue tickle their ears?
Did your hand hold their….?
And after
How long did you think of them after?
Could you still feel them inside you?
Did they call the next day and did you
Flirt some more?
The torture deep into my bowels
Swirling around my heavy heart
Down to my sphincter
I raged I cried I sunk into my sad self
Wailing angry impotence as I tried to talk to you
You just so polite and considerate
But me diffident and you bursting confidence
The ache eternal
Because still today with you here beside me
It comes back in great waves
Leaving me emotionally sick and pale
The forever jealousy

Commuting Misery

Oh damn you accursed fate
That makes me wait these six minutes
On the subway platform
Curses to you for promising only a six car train
So that I may have to squeeze on to a small standing space
Among the foul and fetid masses who soil our public conveyances
The horrible indignity of standing here
Queued behind others weary from the days labor
Desperate to return to home and hearth
And a hearty meal
Damnation ten fold for so sporadically sending trains
And then ones that are so small
Here my tax money is wasted
Give me this day my daily reprieve
From commuting misery
At last the train

Bartering With Angels

And the blood of love welled up in my heart with a slow pain. - Sylvia Path

Do you move between different worlds in your daily life? The interview asked Ingmar Bergman. His answer meandered a bit but you could tell the short version of it was: yes.

I live in the present
And the past
I live in my dreams
I live in my silence and the loud crash of the world bearing in on me
I live in conflict and serenity
I live with you and I live alone
I live
Yet my dying never stops
Nor does wrenching pain of reality and the inevitability of endings
The mad wonder of revelations and surprises and miracles

(I am constantly confused by the contented soul
Who accepts everything and challenges nothing and
Never stops to ask anything of life
Let alone to demand
Their metaphorical bellies protrude
As they bask in the warm glow of their televisions
And stare steely eyed at flickering images
And listen unquestioningly to repeated slogans
How resolute in their own ignorance)

Dancing with poets is the life for me
The deadly frightening awe inspiring gripping insanity
Of pure elation mixed with searing psychological torment
Tip toeing on knife edges
Bartering with angels
Careening over the abyss and rising above the clouds
Never caring which

I don’t remember yesterday as well as I do 200 years ago
I can better plan my afterlife than tomorrow
I suck on the marrow of metaphor
As I defy this very moment and live in between other times

Crowns of glory I wear
While wallowing in self pity and melancholia
And spitting at the celestial messengers
You and I are the same
Atoms
We are part of the stars
And they are part of us
And the universe lives within our blood flow
And we are god

The Weight of Living

The weight of living
Yet the freedom of feeling unmoored
Floating heavily
Sinking up towards angels
While ghosts promenade
Sorrowful nights and melancholy days
All words failing yet flailing
Buttressed by significance
And never caring that meaning is lost
Dustings of happiness
Made bleak by the overwhelming pain
And still I wonder as I wander
Through the maze of curiosity
That wrenches my soul
And calls asunder
Significance in all that lies ahead
Meaningless moments that tear away
Is the preponderance of cries
Echo through my heart
And I tumble into another deep dark void
Careless again
Such pain

Making Angels out of Houseflies

Awesome
Cool
Amazing
Over used adjectives
The world totters and teeters
And when everything is grand
Nothing is
I do not accept your hyperbole
Fantastic
Super
That was great
No
It was doing
It was being
It was life
Finding the incredible in the ordinary
Is living out of reality
Making angels out of houseflies
People come and people go
People do and people slow
There is beauty in the act
Not in the overblown description
It was a crazy week
No we were busy
That's all
This poem was not wonderful
It was just it