poetry – Page 11 – Poétique

Dust

I’m different in relationships
She said without warning
Maybe we shouldn’t then?
I asked myself not knowing
What it meant for us

Once lovers once friends
Twice lovers again
Buy a record to forget
To care what it means
Wait to open it to listen
With someone who cares
Lingering in the background

No trumpet on a hill
No horn echoed from a
Mountain to shake the ravines
Could answer for what’s left
Kissing the grass with
Dust from the moon
Peeled fleck by fleck
Landing on my face
At half mast I swear
It was full yesterday
What is time anyway

If giving up a friendship
Is what was meant for
Us to trade I would’ve
Kept you as a friend
Instead of giving it away

Soak

It’s a deep soak or a
Casual underlining of
Nuance euphemistically speaking
All of us forgetting each other
I live as if I could die tomorrow
How do you live?

Baby grains and wheat stains
Rolled out into a papyrus
To record the memories
Unforgettable dreamscapes
That feel like reality
Questionably so

Trying our best at a cakeless walk
But still seeking the sweet
Holding out to be glued to
Temporary existence
In an eternity

What time is it anyway
It won’t matter who
After they forget you

Miséricorde

To be a participant in life
Not always driving
Sit back and take it in
Be not contained
By the desires of others
Fight for your exit

Red lines drawn down
Electric eyes up
Irascible prone to
Temperamental outbursts
Like a burning fire
Sadness always on the horizon
Little did I know that genuine
Happiness was always
Around the corner

Like a wet towel you
Can’t get out from under
Breathing in wet
Breathing out wet
With what we have left
How much more
Can the body take
What is resilience
If nothing exists
To feel love?

Just to stretch our legs
Walking the distance to
Get onto the other side of
Emotions we were never aware
That we were suppressing

Solve the mystery and mercy
Embrace the light that was
Once blanketed by those who
Needed to put it out

Point Manquer

Well you missed one, he said
You let some people down
So what
Won’t be the first
Can’t be the last
If you’re living

Alright I will carry on
Seek the distance, more thoughts
From a bird’s eye view
I helicopter over myself
Manifest a picturesque
Moment in feeling
Being perfect and
Acceptable no matter
What happens are we
Meeting in the mind
With the self?

We’re supposed to take care
Of each other what’s so distracting?

I have tons of energy for
The things I want to do
And zero energy for the
Things I don’t

See
See yourself
Blind to the outside view
Mirror, mirror show me the truth
I’m no mortician but the grief
Is real

Fortuit

My whole life I have been
Chasing after my history
Some shred of evidence that
This is where I come from
That this is me anchored

But to forget myself in you
Would satisfy every hankering
I do not like catching yellow
Looking indivisibly somehow
I gave many less shits about
How my actions were taken
Some of this is fantasy

But when we fought I felt
Like I was fighting for myself
Even the airport could hear
Us shake the walls with fever

Foreign countries sleeping
On my side away but never
Giving up we never gave up
But we moved differently
And on

Water is flowing under the bridge
And into the garden that I
Have learned to claim for
Myself even though so much
Of the verdant I planted for her

What to do for another
Vibrating expanding
Swelling heartbeats
Clever words misbehaving

On his way to unraveling the
Cocoon and exiting the nerves
On a slide to recover the parts
If who he was for her but
Now for himself

Make up the truth
Show up don’t show up
Existing for one next
With an invitation
For two

Agrémenter

Overcommitted to the paths
We create to get into the garden
Blanket and embellish all my wants
Comfort me with your words
Turbid brain what is your anthem?
For all the things he couldn’t do
For all the things he didn’t do
Saddened by the things he missed
That he also never knew about
An organ plays a dark procession
Like a church bell in his head
Making love in the background
It’s the only thing he ever wanted
To hear the sounds of birds flying
In the outside and a chapel wind
Dancing through the window
Gushing across his face as the ringing
Ecstasy of not knowing or
Ever caring about the things
He never arrived at for too were the
Gifts that the morning sun
Burned into his back like
A memory for recording
His time on earth light years
From a place that was once called today

Bavardage

I’m not your lamppost
Spurious at most when
We have to care so much about
What is the waste of time
But to just be happy for the cause
If we had something beautiful
To distract us couldn’t we
Care less about the world
That is impeding upon our
Inability to perfect or
Follow through with the plan
Knives in my neck
Piercing my back the physical
Figurative torture is enough
To sell it all and move to
A far away place where
We could fall in love
With life again in a different way
And forget about the things
We wished we had done better
Perhaps it’s crass or even crude
To say the words but to be a
Cunt to ourselves is the most
Outrageous ploy to fulfill
And destroy the inner sanctum
The harmonious fuzz that was
Always there to wrap ourselves
Up in, it’s just the expectation
To discourage the most vulnerable
Parts of ourselves to exist
Impossibility

Brain be quiet
Brain shut up
Look at the flowers
So unique the foliage
I wanted to protect it
Everything had changed
My youth graduated within us
Went away and
Still somehow it lives
In me like a memory
That I keep dusting off

Pellucid

If all the light in the room
Could pass through me
Would I find you there?

Less questions
More answers

A grand scale
In the difference between
What weighs enough
And what doesn’t weigh
Anything at all

Which knows which me
When is it the other one?

Depending on if you ever want to
You can never not to
So I dug deeper
Asked for the check
My pocket held a piece
Of what was there
From before and what I
Thought for sure could only be
Pellucidly felt compelled and still
Removed to unveil the mask
That held back everything against
A sympathy and meaning to
Manipulate the lines I found
We drew on paper or otherwise
All just so you could love me with
One hand on the wheel

Flickering

Maybe we shouldn’t
Disturb the bones of what
Once was or what were?
That’s it! Get on your
Hands and knees and scrub

Hot tea with rum and little cakes
If only to fulfill a tragic destiny
I don’t think I’d be afraid without you
I’m not so boring after all
Surprisingly pleasant

Do any of us deserve happiness
Questionably a table has been set
For just an event like this
Salt at the tongue
Sugar on my lips
What would it be to repair
A scorched bridge
How do we forget ourselves
I’ll not soon erase you
Nor my dreams

Waking up first thing
Gnawing at the brain
Hush hush
Every happiness can
Find its way through
Though love is something
We can’t command like a
A lambent neighbor

Fanfaronnade

Unrequited feelings that
Couldn’t love me the way
I hoped to feel grasping
At my ears I’m a little dizzy

Cramoisi in a rush to my lips
Giving everything with no
Expectation for return
I would tell them all about
How incredible you are
Overly boasting even

A seance of emotion
Calling all the forces in
Mumbling everything there is
To say about the world you
Left me with to protect
Myself from the things that
Couldn’t possibly move me
And love me the way one can
Read about from the texts of
Ninth century poetry like the
Sequence of Saint Eulalia
Early medieval dreams
Lest one should plot to
Chop off my head and
Throw me into a fire
I would not stitch my mouth
Shut to own all of heaven
For the truth of a fantasy love
I could prove only to my own heart
That you meant to love me
What’s all the fanfare about anyway?

Gathering the twigs underneath
Twilight he had remembered how
Impossible it was to erase the
Memory of wanting to do better
And the impeding thoughts that
Came crashing in when he opened
His eyes; my eyes peering out only
From thin slits each morning
To keep the power of a serene still
Distance that could also be a lie

But shouting to my mind
Was a gorgeous hope for
What could never be and
Perhaps what he saved
Hisself from closing the
Cellar door a manifesto to
Paint in words what only
Few will understand why
He still begat a procession
Of choked up themes
Including tears that wet the
Soil of a tender distress