There will come a day

These words are long overdue Yet they lack the ability to depict The odd dichotomy stirred inside of me The sincerity and contempt felt in absolutes Tonight, there is pain in the pen Then, dare I say, never again Because there will come a day When your beautifully terrible mind Will realize its crimes Despite […]

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Tomorrow is Another Day

Suffice it to sayTomorrow will resurrect itselfFrom the slow choke of yesterdayThe dawn will reveal its artificeFrom the remnants leftAnd once born—Poems will form on the pages tornAnd music will be madeFrom the former’s heavy maladyI will dance on the graves it laidI will pirouette on the stages it setFor this is a form of […]

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Henious Jade

she was a scorched earth birth a woman born in a fire storm in blinding white and heinous jade a glance, a taste, before the blaze torn but not from what she’s made napalm lip balm, female fusillade an incendiary legacy awakened in her mother’s veins all it takes is a list, a kiss a […]

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Why’d you go?

Silencio…. No hay banda…. No hay orquesta…. Tell me what you would doIf things had got so complicatedThat the lies become trueAnd the things that made usNow just tear us apartThe feeling you once hadNow rips out your heartIt’s all recordedOur fate is predeterminedThere’s no orchestra….The world keeps turningEvery day I’m learning That my lifeIs […]

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Mechanical Borealis

His presence always reminded me Of a derelict casino Somewhere between Vegas and Reno It’s cocktail napkin insignia the silhouette Of a vainglorious flamingo He was a place no one ever intends to go Rather ending up in, like trouble Or confusion, or love West of the never ending desert A transient fix of the […]

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Like Milk Only Not Milk

It isn’t as if I’m not already fully aware of the fact It flatters you to see that I hate you enough To weave that hostility into my poetry You get a cheap kind of thrill Watching my heart spill Into those words It’s like milk Only It’s not milk Severed arteries pour Onto the […]

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The Hand that Feeds

If you feed a stray dog, he will happily follow you. That is, until you cease feeding him. (or) If someone else comes along who feeds him more frequently. And just like that. Your best friend is off to the races with his new master. What does this teach us about the crude instincts inherent […]

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I remember you | Imagine that

      The truth is that I remember you I remember you in spite of facts In spite of benefit or sanity Or fate Or clarity I remember you In moments of uncharacteristic weakness In dreams after which I wake up furious Apparently subconscious consent is ambiguous And the truth is that I hate […]

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in which I defer

It is once bitten and twice shy  The arrival of the counter-intuitive blues It is professed in the duping delight The ire of another November It is the manic transference of Mother Nature The keeper of each season’s most tyrannical secrets It is the quiet sociopathy of snow The isolation oft confused for respite It is […]

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Divinity

On the first day God created paper airplanes And with a disinterested flick of the divine wrist An immense sky became, brimming with twinkling lights For use of which he considered the gift of flight But only on the condition of wings And those would only be for bird-like things Of which he hadn’t yet […]

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Hymn of the Flowers

She sings to the beebalm A hymn that rightfully upends The heathens in the heliotrope She bends the milk thistle with song A migratory melody that subdues The naysayers in the nightshade With lyrical alchemy An adagio of psalms She calms the devils in the delphinium A refrain that reconciles the roses With the tyranny […]

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Death to Lust

Elegy to fantasies, proven false— Awoken in the clemency of dawn A jagged horizon doused with vagrant elegance The sun pours itself without a hint of contempt For the repetition of cosmic chore Fragmenting through umber drapes A muddied hypnosis, box fan billowing Coquettish, butterfly kissing The splinters of a sagging windowsill Oriel crop dusted […]

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everything’s roses

The Rose Tree by William Butler Yeats — ‘O words are lightly spoken,’  Said Pearse to Connolly,  ‘Maybe a breath of politic words  Has withered our Rose Tree;  Or maybe but a wind that blows  Across the bitter sea.’  ‘It needs to be but watered,’  James Connolly replied,  ‘To make the green come out again  […]

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