The Tear

The tear that broke out
of your right eye
left a stain,
marking and lodging, itself,
in a hollow, above your cheek.

Exodus-bound for the valleys and round peaks
of your facial geology.
Flowing through shrubbery of eyelashes,
and staining moistness along your pores

A wink, lost on the rain puddles that line this street,
fed along by a tear that burnt a stain
on the wake of it’s delivery.

The curl, spiralling
on trails drawn by your finger,
wrenching electricity from auburn wires
drowned art of our sorrows
lead that pulls at your desire.

Sweat, conducting salt from the vagina of your thoughts,
synapses screeching reddened blow
powdering your shoulders, sprouting from your scalp.

As you spin your battered arms,
gypsy stonewashed in albinism,
weave us a disk, reflection of the sun
of the days yet born.

Yolanda, forgotten regent
of the stained eye,
threading hair
amidst the fold of her fingers.
Cautious Icarus
veiled in stars,
gingerly tempts the sun.

Yolanda, of the lost tear,
who cradled our friendship on her wounded lap.
Who warmed the cold of our losses, with the fire in her locks.
Nesting and loving us,
from the corner of her tainted eye.

My braided girl,
this is the love we’re feeling for ye.
This is all there is and could be.

Smeared

In regards to what I’m feeling right now,
anyone could fit their way into my shoes.

And if we were to take rearguard action,
we’d soon tally the dust that we’ve accrued.

Within these halls of contemplations,
lies a secret so clear.

And without the snap of the strings of annihilation,
we’d walk a road so cleaner.

As a token of verbosity, I’ll leave you hanging from my promises.
The devil’s in the details, and my word’s already rotten.

If you ever again believe me
You’ll find that my formulate has been broken.

But if you ever dare break me,
I’ll annihilate your memory from those who you’d begotten.

Wouldn’t and couldn’t we, make these verses simpler?
Or did we give up, before we were even near.

Once upon a time, I’d light candles with a whisper
And disallow my brethren from their fear.

It is what it was, but now it’s so much complex, isn’t it?.
How we long for transparency, when all we took were empty jars of
words that to us were dear, how we miss it all, how we scream,
how we toast and cheer, the price was paid, the end was bought

How we laugh at our creditors in this hour , ticking away from the heart
of a glass house, throwing liquids on the floor, manning the handle of whips that
spark and writhe.

This is all I want, in my hour of shame. Electricity, water, your attention
and the dirt that has become my name,

smeared.

de compen sation

If when I look you in the eye... you just see through me

as I stroke your back... I see you clutching at dreams

if all these moments I treasure... you lose them,

let them fade away...

Who's left holding the pain?

If I’m the only one... bleeding from this wound.

If my knuckles break... on a punching bag that’s fallen

and my words... slide in one ear to shoot out the other,

Do I have the right to bare my shame?

If I’m longing for you... as I fade from your remembrance,

If I can’t love you no more... bent with my nails digging on the pavement.

If every kiss I laid atop your lips... just splashed

across your throat.

Didn’t you expect that I’d let go?

If you’re allowing, old love of my life,

all those feelings

that I treasured on your behalf

for the years that won’t come...

to slide down the stream and off the rails,

Who’ll be surprised when I’m insane?

And didn’t you see it loom?

the note that pulls the lid on this minor blues

and the ink that wounds the score

scalded,

running, like blackened tears

drop after drop

into the sea?

Like the tears of those

who misplaced their one dream?

purple trilogy: deviations/electrocution/of kisses

I

Deviations of the flesh, iron cast on skin.
Me: strung-a-stowaway of despicable bliss,
meddling with Orpheus,
crying charm at the wind.

Scratch and sniff
and slide me another.
Pass me a card
and through that door.
Let go of your hand
and drag it;
drag it and leave it,
leave it be till the dawn.

II

When sunrise consumes the fish that crowd your veins
my bleeding eels pale alloys
rich in solar vita-men.

Calcium costume of refracted lives
augurs a destiny of impalpability.

Now

At last

I know I am my beginning.

-Because I’m deflowering
the locked drawers hidden away by my brain,
because I’m inciting
every brush stroke my portrait has ever yearned

A thousand trumpets flank my buttocks of hemp,
signalling the arrival of the end to dreams.

I know that you’re my finale.

That’s why I’m starting with you.

To finish.

I’ll assassinate the boredom stamped
into the ghettos of my heart.
I amputate and endure for I transfigure and digest
the animal that lurks, evil on the prowl, making the rounds,

that kills for pleasure.

I’ll be my being,
being by me…

To start.
Though you, my fragmentation and reconstruction
I must begun.

Overload my being
Electrify my harm


Down…
Amidst charcoal and blood there’s rumours
of rhyme and movement, acted upon impertinently,
echoing secret protocols of the flesh.

Bareback in dance,
riderless stallions,
and dark heartbeats, strewn in the seabed.

...carving poetry into your naked skin...

...you, reflected on the waters,
reading my transparent hieroglyphy


Deviations of the flesh, spurted on skin,
orbit my moon,
Let me drink on your mead.

Me: vagabond of anti-fate,
body dripping machine-oil,
wrung out on gears of indulgence,
feedbacking in phase.

Penetrating Aphrodite,
licking your name.

Today my pores erupt in blue,
plummeting angels, dyed into a better life,
ascending demons, set upon thrones of phallic delight.

Deviations of the Flesh, scratched on my skin...

...hangover, well hung-on, scratch, bleeding your love;
Cherish, slice, spread and crater my velocity,
talk to me of non vertebrosity,
stop
and open your petals with me,

Electrify my being.

Tell me if I’m the one.

III

If your body is darkened by fear
I’ll wash it with kisses.

With kisses, I’ll tuck myself into
your paleness bared.

With kisses, I’ll feed the hearth
to make your heart burn.

For you are my queen,
and I your joker.

For you are my chalice
as I am your spring.

Deviation, wrought along my flesh.
Tell me I’m the one.
Electrify my death.
Combust away my heart.

Make our love a cry that lasts

My-Bowl-O-Salt

Hemisphere:

Makes me live, makes me die,

feeds bullets to the priest’s gun, who silently mourns

mourns for the twin souls,

for intangible spheres

and the immortality of love.

Hemisphere:

of blind cyclops, of one-eyed wrecks,

of silicon and plastic in the horizon.

Process:

rat’s trial,

pigeons,

assassins on the stand

from the blinking that will kill us.

Sphere:

of gullible illusions

and vague allusion,

with no trace or lack of lime

nor salt from the seas,

or water so sweet,

or shit on the headlights,

blinding the beam.

Compendium:

vessel I can’t control,

storm I ain’t aware of,

flood that overlaps the raw-raw

wound that nests in my chest,

but I haven’t borne.

Eyes that jump out,

bulging and lonely,

trains lost,

and gulls sunk at sea

take some pity in my journey.

Salt:

and holy water.

blessed be the smile that makes me look forward.

Sweet:

and constant anachronism,

that wasting my days,

that’s sugah coatin’ my evil.

And sin,

that languishes on the spine,

on the edges of mine,

and the shouts and the lies.

And well,

well enough that she’s watching,

me finish my eye on the canvas

edging away from the bowl...

…and nothing,

won’t stop you from sinking in nothing,

as it keeps growing

and grabbing wave

that chokes in the straights.

And the sea,

that lost my attention,

and forced me into vigil,

during the hours of love.

Hemisphere, of waters strayed,

and the love that won’t stay

on your eyes fixed in rain

and my bowl-o-salt.

CIRCLES

Were there ever hints of fresh initiative

spotted from these grotesque hilltops?

Whether settling our eyes over dying-earth dusk

or shying from the clarity of resolute youth.

Weaving aching humours in fake rhetoric

and hypocritical grins

If I could leave behind, so behind, these ramparts fraught

in evergreen stone with wrath wronged over

words lost.

I yearn for crystallization of the limbs

as I bow before your hush and

drowned in the tumours of minor gods I profane

your name through whorehouses turned to necrophilia.

That day, I should have tattoed on your belly

the transcendence of wind over tear.

I’ve left these crumbs floating on water

so you’ll trace a map atop my grin,

a smirk detached from all the blows and gashes thrown atop inverted helter-skelter’s

in so many daily tragedies.

And you, now that I’m the sperm of innocence again,

all waters spilt in a waltz of in substance,

-try to wrongly follow the marine droppings I laid behind in that other forgotten highway.

And I, in this circle of melodic aliments, wait that you’re already here.

On top and below you.

Right and left of me.

We are binary stars,

we are the intangible

fluxus

spherick

all.

DRY LIPS, DEAD KISSES

Look at us and the sins we’ve saved to get here.

Blood-brethren borne out of desperation, while we ridicule our ancestors

we parachute bales of saccharine sympathy, smashing them under cardboard bridges.

The day I manage to sever myself from you, I´ll know what it feels like to be shoved against sand,

to hear the sirens wailing,

the kiss of the hammer that folds.

Look at you:

Biting nails off to kill the hunger,

exploiting arpeggios gut-strung in beasts.

Praise, praised the wisdom framed in your steely smile.

For yours is the body that towers over my pantheons;

and mine, is the silent heat you left behind in the winter named lust.

How I see you toppling, scratching the skies of forgotten conquest on your way to the ground.

Look at you: can’t you see the wrinkles you’ve carved through your coarseness?

Thousands of tears sailed forth to warn you of the screams of the schools of the Crimson Sea,

and the pillows who weep,

and the sin of Love,

and the idle crescendo and the knot in my throat,

and the sustained pleasures,

and the pain in my skin.

Whilst you keep forcing your eyes, perchance you may see, the other side of the mirror that’s Me.

Don’t look at me then, you won’t be able to tell smirk from smack burnt into my plastic face,

you wont see the herpes, won’t see the hostile alchemy distilled through my eyes.

I am:

Tracing circles punctured by dots on the sand.

I’ll squeeze the neck of your conditions, knee deep in the rivers bled by the wounds of our Lord.

Ill beat the rhythms outta you, bent in abhorring our swan song.

Love yourself, but only once you’ve loved me

Bind it well, from this sham of a ritual there’s nothing to keep

Huff and growl, your breath is so foul and you need to squeeze flesh into juice so you can

kiss, kiss and baptise…

…goodbye.

_____________________________________________

Fields of black vinyl, we were drunk on black tar whilst you whipped lost civilizations on the back.

You, who saw us grown down.

Concrete coloured toads gave depth to your words while dying on your morning palate.

Oppressed in repetition,

you never were able to camouflage your own frontiers.

You drowned you in thirst.

Your spikes tried to rape us through colossal orifices

As the earth wouldn’t surrender its obsession with swallowing our feet.

With three iceboxes sewn along your spine, you, love of my life, murdered our home,

while I drooled, nodding to your ancestral lies,

I signed on the line for your version of life.

_______________________________

Joined at the shoulder, we twist our eyes towards our decomposing lips

DRY LIPS!

DRY LIPS!

Don’t you get what I’m saying???

DRY LIPS!

DRY LIPS!

Care to guess how this ends?

Yeah, let’s look at ourselves:

not even a pale reflection of all that we’ve lost.

Yeah, dry lips and dead kisses.

________________________________________

Don’t look at me now, cause I’m sinking.

Soon enough I’ll be cloaked in a vulture robe.

With fingers bared I’ll cook you a meal your guilt won’t forget

and Ill beg, grinding my flesh on the rack, for you to lick it all.

Because I am weak

Because without you I am not.

I’ve been infatuated with silence for too long.

Yeah, dry lips, dead kisses