Go To Part Two - Shattered Poems
Desert. Gothic Beauty. I See People I See Stars. Sister Self. Squirrel. Electric Worm.
Desert, people walking Families sullen starving Soul’s fury escaping Evaporating with their sweat Going high into the blue sky Waves of heat ripple the air The ocean teasing up high reflecting As the people walking parched The feet have walked till souls bleed Soaking the heels of shoes that grip the sand Grasping leaving prints that fill forgotten A steady stream of death Not even the vultures fly to taste the salty sweet strips of dried flesh Shriveled bodies blow about like so many leaves on a fall day in the fantasy land They live asleep Here Wake up You are in the desert too As they die you die But death must have meaning And you must care Treasure the pain Happiness hurts more Makes me cry to be happy And I won’t cry Not here Not under this green sky The people march till dead March till their shoes wear off and skin away Each step a new familiar pain that keeps their thoughts trapped Not thinking beyond the next glass shard step They bleed water that can’t be replaced Oceans don’t exist here They become leaves for the wind to blow as it may Till the bodies crumble to dust To sand The desert It is the people here Their bodies are everything The sand Their bones Crumble To dust Death It is the end that we desire here We ran for a life time Here death makes us walk till nothing is left but sand Meaningless, empty feelings had in life haunt those that walk Regrets, and crippling sadness Yet the life that sustained them in the fantasyland drives their feet now Despite our lack Their lack My lack of faith in my feet to carry my weight a step more They care still conscious or not They carry us to slow painful oblivion There is a cost for awareness as there is a cost for ignorance I now know my path But it has lost it’s color Leaving only the yellow brown of desert The color I’ll see through my rotting eyes From my shallow grave In some forest With no coffin In this land The fantasy land I’m here now in this fantasy land Because I still care So I know it’s fantasy Because people can still talk to you And a hug can still make pain slip away Whispers can still make me shiver Salt still makes my mouth water I am still alive here Stubborn, but I know I’m dead I know I’m walking till I fall apart and am forgotten I know every step causes pain but I’m borrowing a bit of bliss But when I rest I can not forget and am back on path This is what I see… Mirage, people making nightmares, visions shared Misery spread A baby dead Crushed to powder by a tank’s tread A war had by the people here now walking It is so important to be right in this fantasy life All other things must fall away in the face of righteousness The dead can talk The pain can scream I hear their thoughts They haunt my dreams I can’t even escape wearing another’s personality The knowledge is inescapable Unless I surrender my dream and think only of the pain of each step Taking me slowly to nothing. I remember a perspective I had A natural thing A survival thing that I can still long for That social need To feel with each other And make value Things that happened between people that created a need for the making of words Like love But it is too slow The gaps are impossible not to notice The fantasy flawed I make it perfect only by changing myself Becoming a lie out of a longing I was born with We were all born with, upon assumption as humans, the social animal I’m a social beast Can you guess what fur coat I’ll wear Or maybe some other kind of leather How selfish are all of you To think that this is what you view it to be Look at it through each other’s eyes and what do you see Differences, changes What does a blind person see So realize that you live a fantasy Because you decide to ignore the death path you all walk upon with me And I see the endless ahead and behind me Don’t whisper heaven in my ears Such a word and place is a bastard of creation like me To be happy for all of eternity I can think of no less literal torture It is a pain that pierces the most aware of my selves I am so happy now I have never wanted oblivion more To escape this happiness The trap, and the lie of fantasy as life To forget what I have become in righteousness The intentness of my being lost if I slip even once So my shadow escapes to become a snake Making an early exit To join the writhing mass of others A darkness that slithers across the desert Happy enough with simple oblivion My shadow is simply My own desire to be happy in another way It is wickedness in the guise of fairness and remembrance It is a seductive mistress that promises that the pain will be remembered forever That nothing will be forgotten Not me Or anything I loved In the life I’ve lived She is my shadow snake And I have to love the epic saga she orchestrates The lives she’s tweaked to join her in a pain weary ballet I can trust her though She covers me as I sleep and gives me the nightmares I cherish The thoughts, and people that live inside me The ones that breathe a bit of life in this mockery of what I am Escape while you can The dark wolves won’t mind chasing you down when your time comes to wake in death Nothing to be afraid of They just keep you going in the same direction As sheep dogs with sheep Nothing to fear for us We will lose our color as the land does Becoming nothing but the memories of emotions Fear has nothing to grasp upon except the basic instinct which is almost pleasure True fear lives in our minds This fear will leave with our emotion And as we don’t care we become immortal till just dust Ground under the feet of our children Your escapes will give you hints of possible never never lands A forest land where we live with creatures of Fae A better fantasy then this life Better still if reality But I’m already trapped With the simple knowing of the history, the present and future Of the people with me Around me Of the world Of all the things I thought I loved in this fantasy life I had once This life I can find bliss and ignore But I hate it And wish I had a way to end it To make it all exist forever So I will One day And you are all invited
Is only gothic beauty worthy of respect and dignity? It is a question I ask only after finding the dead end Of a path of thought Seeking things at the same time We are only what we are as we struggle or not Our guilt stays with us and defines us We can only walk away from it As we become comfortable with our shadows Can ignorance be lost then brought back to enjoy the simple without regret? Must talk of love always involve death? Can a happy ending occur without the dark twist that makes it fair? The simple happy seems worthy of desire My eyes seeing the beauty without my mind self conscious It’s all right to not feel all things too tidy Not worthy of respect or dignity So the gothic beauty is sought The truth in it The gray misery and depression real and felt by all The shared disease of the mind binding us to the reality of our world A reality played with in our heads Sometimes searching sometimes running Caught by our own pride we get less from life Not denying the beauty of the dark light I must keep it in its place So that my balance is never beyond reach When the happy rules from an awakened then the days are glory And only out of respect for memory will we see the gothic beauty I’m defining the walls of the trap at the end of the thought The thought taps me on the shoulder from above Having watched my life It knows It remembers how comfortable the shadows became The love I had for shades of gray And how compatible it is to the world The power of truth and history The misery that is tapped Aiding my pride with the righteousness of borrowed cause Seeing the limits of the people around And lonely What happens when you never wake up? Is it death? Can I exist somewhere in the center of my dreams? Can I plead for comfort? Can I still find keys to what is what was and what will be? The dreams are attractive It is a part of that gothic meaning The beauty people come to listen to The dark fairy woman in bondage leather saving the rabbit before the slaughter The dance of a queen as she tumbles off a high cliff laughing into the sea The foam soaking in the blood as the storm churns the water green The hunters dazzled by fairy dust shooting each other instead of rabbits The dark fairy finding the queen’s broken body washed ashore Decides to make a Frankenstein whore for her new rabbit slave That she kissed to turn into a prince A man ten times her size that she pulls along with a leash The dead queen walking to join them All having an orgy of ghoulish proportions The hunters scattered still dazed those living Dancing drunk on the pleasure bleeding from the fairy With practiced hands the living skin their dead brothers Tanning the leather by the fire as the fairy sends her pet whore to frolic the hunters dead Her pet rabbit prince she pulls along Passing by the queen having fun with sex via strangulation The castle not far A dragon is attacking A brave knight defending Until the dragon notices and sets his wooden shield aflame The fairy laughs at such a spectacle And sits comfortable a top the rabbit prince’s head Her wings flapping gently The fairy is a modern mistress She pokes fun at our desires Makes them come true The ones she chooses It would be easier to say she really existed But she just borrows existence Doesn’t need any more sustenance from such myriad consciousnesses as our own She comes to us as us Is us And tames our desires Defining our beauty Something that can be reached easy But never kept An addiction The tweeker’s world This world defines its wants by a tweeker’s vision of a paradise Desperation to have fun Paranoid of loneliness Paradox of needs Cycles of violence and addiction that continue for generations Truth mixed in with so much contradiction and hypocrisy that it is hollow Time lies about the future We are never free of the past Should never believe completely that the present is free to be reborn without regret The regret should be remembered The dark fairy should be caressed Her desire should be maintained The gothic beauty of her world should spread And we should surrender to what the past has made for us Give up to the life we have Live it full of the love of pain The violence that grows The validation in such words The listening to depression Tricks The worms of depression eat at our hearts Ignoring in fear In desperation Brings nothing Facing the mistress Brings pleasure with pain A righteousness is born as the nightmares become pleasant And a transformation occurs An evolutionary necessity As we who tricked ourselves try to trick the past by becoming darker Willing to see Thinking faster and faster Jamming the knowledge into moments instead of mere seconds Truth in pain can come at any time Truth in love is harder to sustain with the burden of the past defining this world Loving the pain is a tricking Is seeing the beauty that may come from the dark fairy’s fantasy If complex enough the truth cannot be spoken in one direction But must be spoken from all facets heading to the point of intention If my future held hope then my impatience would drive away my life I prefer to wallow in the muck of the present angry at all that isn’t Trying not to think of specifics Baring the burden of depression By seeing the pain as kinda pretty And enjoying the company of women in leather
I see people I see stars I see mystic lights Full moon and fire circle Round rocks with runes Icicles hanging from cavern mouths Forests with frozen moss Dead and waiting for spring I see people dancing Mimicking endless cycles Frolicking in the mist Fucking in the grass I see city lights intruding with its smoke and glass Blood shot eye droppers Slow slough footed drones parading the gray walks My eyes catch sight of a hawk as the morning rises Wings sharp like its beak it thrills in the chill clouds low and hanging The people watch too with me The hawk flying straight towards the city Special pigeon with delivery From the ladies and lords of the forest lands A dead rat clutched tight in claws Fleas and things hopping around joyously More then ready to spread the dance of cycles The plague on their greedy blood sucking mouths Hawk of death flying to the city of drones As the people watching, pausing in their frolicking glance at me The hawk gone about its duty Shaking my head I motion them on Turning my back I walk away My bare feet crunching the ice crystals covering the grass Numb toes even as the sun forces my eyes down. And I can scream here I do I scream I feel cold here I am alone here But at least I know everyone is fucked one way or another.
Carefully the angel girl tip toes across the clouds Towards the gray storm growing Curiosity for the rumbles and flashes Her long white baby hair standing on end Static lighting up her bare toes As she hops from cotton cloud to the first gray wool In awe she watches the darkness come The others Her brothers and sisters call Desperate and frightened Darkness A storm Something they can not understand But fear they now understand and let the new fierce wind blow them away Their wings open like leaves on a fall day White angel girl was Blue angel woman is She feels warmth in the cold rain Beauty in the gray With the blue flashes of electric The base rumble makes her tingle Letting out giggles of pleasure But a new voice calls her name Authority Archangel Demanding with the glory He has his wings spread and the mighty storm parts for his feet to glide on holy light simple calm air White yellow glow Like the sun the morning after a storm the blue angel smiles and holds open her arms crying at the beauty of everything again he calls with a voice beyond the music of birds all she can do is weep and will with her new soul for the glowing man to understand the beauty that she saw to make him understand so that maybe he’ll let the storm come back it has gone away or maybe he has just drawn her away he speaks of seduction and evil things the dangers of the gray wool keep it pure he says keep it white she hears him and stops the tears turns her back to the man and sees the storm before her again this time she opens her arms for the only thing that can understand blue lighting flashes striking her setting her wings afire a fire that matches her new eyes red eyes of the red angel she has become demonous with blazing wings swooping down from the sky of fire, rumblings and light leaving behind the family that were only leaves in the wind leaving behind the authority and the things she could have never done or been but the fire is a new family a new storm a fire storm of understanding and acceptance a purity of openness and unquestioning let it burn till it is gone then let my hunger search until it can burn again and when it is all gone and there is nothing left to burn then my last blaze will be my self lighting up the sky like a comet or shooting star or maybe just a fallen angel trying to get back up into heaven but the fires do go out eventually the angel wakes up on the ground the earth scorched around her her wings gone alone naked and cold a girl again with white white skin a single tear forms as she looks up at the evening sky and the storm going its on way away from her and her need to understand to feel that pure thing again the whole reason for her choice to turn her back it leaves her to thoughts twisted and mortal but the stars come out to show they still care and then she sees the moon beautiful sight in the night so perfect that it is full as happy to see her as she is to see that it is a blue moon in her eyes the mother she never really had on an earth she never really new with feet she can now appreciate while dancing naked in a forest of the moon on a night for druids so now she finally has a home in the dark green druidic night with robes of wisdom and lightning still flickering just behind her eye and a smile for the blue she can always see in the moon a blue angel she still is on nights of the storm if only with the wings of fantasy and dreams
A squirrel on a log Sinking in muck Slowly Back and forth he runs Almost almost Jumping Land is far But maybe not too far Slowly the log sinks Faster the squirrel runs Back and forth Back and forth Finally No more time He jumps He is flying A flying squirrel He lands in the muck Just short of land Slowly So slowly he sinks So weak now So tired So afraid But still he fights Harder he fights Faster he sinks Just a nose now, twitching Sticking out of the muck Now nothing I wonder how long he has Probably not long Because He will try to breathe
There is an electric worm that lives in my fingers I let it out sometimes Let it go deep inside me Gives me pleasure It’s all right You can pretend to understand I’m use to the faceless figures of my imagining So I’m use to all of you The worm is a figure too Only one of my imaginings An analogy of fiction Repression of emotions Exploration only of sensation It crawls It wiggles Have you ever wiggled like a worm? I’m sure you’ve at least squirmed A little maybe A fidget Does a worm have a face? Then why should you? Are you better then any old worm Let alone an electric worm Let alone my electric worm The one that lives in my fingers It is better then all of you It has a face sometimes Doesn’t have a mouth So it speaks by making my fingers dance Which I think is cool enough for me Which is what it is all about Being cool I mean And I practice with my fingers so I can be cool too