Friday, April 27, 2012

Ayelet Raziel: The Passenger II

I know the way
You all see darkness
It fits a fairy tale
A world you all imagine
By turning off lights
And sitting under covers
But darkness is not a place
It's not an act of violence
It's not blood on your hands
Or despicable deeds
Your torture is make believe
Your monsters are fake like your gods
You wouldn't know darkness
If the sun died in your arms
Stop speaking of evil doers
And murderous villains
And insanity
Especially insanity
Darkness is not insane
It's clarity
Like deep water
With no reflection
You can see straight
To the bottom
Welcome home

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Ayelet Raziel: The Passenger

We all have secrets
Personal monuments
Of contextual demons
Pacts of brumal facts
Some are moments
Faces or lives
Past selves of our shadows
We are a race
That judges angels and gods
So the best secret
Is a kept secret
Because kept secrets go

II Erametin Nacirema

Everyone seems depressed
by their limitations and repressed
insinuations with digressed
deliberation. Our leaders are
guilty of perpetration
steadily obsessed with the
fascination of the perfection
of a nation. But they neglect
those patient patients who
patiently wait in cold radiation
dealing with humiliation,
fighting their aggravations
and pacification in hopes that
one day they trade in their hate when
desperation and innovation
form a congregation of elation
and gratification. Intimidation lies
within this nation's reputation
of regulation and infatuation with
manifestations. There's a certain
desecration without provocation
of integration here and I don't mean
the Emancipation Proclamation.
Let me be clear. I mean graduations.
Because the whole American dream
is just a fat hallucination.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Rambling Man Pt. VI

Weak under masochism.
Weak like prayers. Weak
like wet paper. Weak
as the October leaf.
Ashes fall into the bottles
of low cost prodigies
seeping from nowhere calling
shadows to flirt with me.
Dim the trees glow, dim as
old neon signs embellished
with a crawling skin. Dim
as the jealous traded winds.
Dim like death. I breathe
in the lowest canopy;
the strain threatens me
and the cold buries me alive.

Rambling Man Pt. V

Sharp like my shadowself,
I hit the Beam
with my face every time
the sun begins it's high dive
flushing everything with rust.
The moon's been peaking down
waiting for it's time to dominate
the ground with an incandescent fist
of silver shaded blues and brown glass.
And I'll change for it, under smokey
bourbon lights and chain links.

Rambling Man Pt. IV

Adjusted sights don't change
the monolithic shortcomings
of men who play escapees
with dirt rum escapades
and muddy cocktail manuscripts.
Makers of fate meet makers
of hate and everyone fights
over the flames by their plates.
The wires burn and dare
you to let go, to give in.
And each time you slip, you
begin to abandon everything
and everyone you've ever loved.
So say the souls that suffer here.

Friday, April 20, 2012

Rambling Man Pt. III

Most people can't grasp
the idea of a desert
being forged of wires
and clouded glass
but it's real. The concept
of living becomes
an impossible balance,
constantly falling, gripping
the coiled steel
with every last measurement
of energy. Melancholy
masterpieces of brown liquor
and borrowed time make distance
an accepting paradise. My
feelings fall flat and therefore
I need another beer.

Rambling Man Pt. II

Even angels hit the dirt
sometimes. Grounded firm beneath
neon conventries, my drive falls
short of a championship;
of a midnight cruise. Futures don't
finish anything they start
and I'm a roadblock statue of laws.
Laws that inceptually
distinguish life and death.
The first and most prominent
being to never beg for the moon.
A moon means darkness
and darkness brings wanton fascination
with demons of lesser codes.
I don't deserve any different
than living with the shoes.

Rambling Man Pt. I

With lessons whittled
into the ground
of brown bag requests,
my aim flourishes
under faded lights.
Stealth tones make absence
an accent women throw
wishes at like dead metal
into a pond. There's time
to dream here
but no time for faith.
Faith makes a weak man
powerless. This sand saps
gods and fate from the souls
of men.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Stammering Remembrance II - The Day That Never Ended

On the day that never ended,
Hungover I loathed the sun
Of the morning
Of my mourning.
What death ever had glorious
Placement and didn't stain
The glass hearts surrounding
In still fractures?
I made a wish
To wake up to your cries
Sleepwalking alone again;
Though not alone,
I shared the preceding night
With Admirals and Cowboys
And woke up before them
Judged by the faults
Of derelict scars. Yet
Here I barely stand
In a field of justice-less death
In black with only a priest,
An indifferent grave keeper,
And a tear hungry breeze
Chasing her last breath.
Prayers cited lazily
Passing the junctions
Of care and composition.
So empty they floated
Away and I couldn't hear
Anything except
Another bagpipe aria
Following my ears forever.
As the gears and flowers
Chimed into the dirt
My wishes to follow
Bounced of the armor
Of your casket,
setting in realizations;
I'm really the only one here.

Last Night's Blur

Sheets unwound
Unbound love
Covers out
Doubt unseen
Clean and cool
Rules broken
Open lights
Sights of her
Cure the need
Seeding suns
One alone
Phone silent
Tyrant of love

Souls Bloom in the Dirt of Memories [Sonnet]

Remember all the soul this family spilled
Through losses, love and challenges we shared
The sanctity of poetry is still
A pleasure we can carry anywhere

Remember all the soul this family spilled
Through portals built and mothered by the best
With grace, finese and overwhelming skill
This move is just another humble test

Remember all the soul this family spilled
Such iridescent memories will fade
No matter how against it we have willed
It's past and past stays where it's always stayed

Remember all the soul this family spilled
And bring that soul again as we rebuild

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

A Pre Determined Desperation

I've got a grudge against ghosts
now. I want to burn them
all down, myself and I, like
infected bridges full of work.
But even angels face a judgement
And demons get released
There's shade to fade
and I will crave a castle
made of dirt.

No Moon

There's no moon
To illuminate
My trespasses
No moon
To balance
My dark sides
No moon
To stalk down
In hopes that
You're stalking it too.


Why would you touch me
If you were playing the ghost
That only manifests
in lonely times?
If I ever had a need of you
I'm sure you'd have better
things to do.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Sorry Doesn't Say Enough

I know the way you say
It was just a mistake
But what mistakes are made
Every single day
Don't sing of bohemia
With a gilded tongue
Don't show your curves
To prove you exist
Stop saying my name
You might say it alone
Or worse, he might hear
And I'll be nothing more
Than a piles ashed mortar
And sooted stones
A bridge you wish
Would show off curves


What could death return
If passing weren't a drag
Besides unwanted burns

The brown that coats the bag
Conceals my favorite fear
Like an antiseptic gag

The truth and I are clear
I cannot shake my sight
Of truths I cling to dear

I've never won a fight
My wings are made of glass
I drown myself in spite

My wings are made of glass

The BÄKU [New Haiku Variant]

I've created a new poetic variant!


A metered variant of the haiku, the BÄKU consists of 3 lines. 

L1 - Trochaic Trimeter
L2 - Trochaic Pentameter
L3 - Trochaic Trimeter

It's name comes from the finest example of the form:

Bacon bacon bacon
Bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon
Bacon bacon bacon

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Stammering Remembrance

What grief would be exempt
to such luxurious pain. My
fingerprints on the sides of the bottle,
prove existence;
stuck to the wasted drops
of Tennessee honey
that ran with purpose from me.
A baby blanket at rest on my lap
cools me as sorrow floats.
I resign my grasp on southern comforts
and rub notes into the hospital hat
you were born into. I read
again the empty pulse that
devoured my faith and ran mad
around my thoughts. The final swig;
a swig of death. It kills the bottle
just as the sight of a tiny coffin
kills what's left of my tiny heart.

A Mental Meeting of Congressional Proportions in the Middle of Rag's Liquor Store

For 8 bucks
A fifth of Burnett's
Can quench thirst
For 2 bucks
A forty of O E
Can quench thirst
For 50 bucks
A fifth of Gents Jack
Can make pain regal

Something For The Pain

Tanqueray and wild dreams
Broken thoughts and wired seams
Effervescent medication
Stoned beneath such confrontation
Blacklit whores and dirty words
Absent cares and wingless birds
Malcontented gradients
Stoned beneath such radiance
Malicious and delicious
I alone; I alone

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Egnar Cheers The Night Away

Remember the fights
And swallow the rum
The sting feels like horror
The likes of a slasher
The more I drink
The thicker the mask
Of false feelings and ideals
Formed literally
of dried splashes
A button to stop
The pain of thinking
And strap to hold
The rum I'm drinking
Would be godsend for me
Perhaps one more bottle
Will float me to the heavens
Where saint Peter pokes me
And I deflate unto hell
In broken descent
Like a popped balloon
Of romantic tyranny

A Titanic Failure of Common Sense [Tanka]

A century passed
We've mourned and held memory
Remembrance voyage
Let's follow the maiden route
Shit! We're stranded just like them.

Yes, The Forest Knows

Everything burns to ash, this the forest knows
And ashes fall with fall, this the forest knows

Deadly distances and unmoving magic
Blood is heavy when cold, this the forest knows

Would maniacal compasses make hell
Of the minds of men? Yes. The forest knows

No progress without cannibalism 
And changes are no where this the forest knows

Livers make mausoleums of grief
Like every other grievance the forest knows

Monies are worthless paper cranes
That melt between the lips the forest knows

The only distinction of salvation
Is mixed with distractions; this the forest knows

Life is nothing new though staying alive is
And man is plague; this the forest knows

You will surely die inside it's depth
Alone an learn everything the forest knows

Friday, April 13, 2012

The Death of a Muse [Ghazal]

Kicked dust into the shallow shaded lights
Makes suns resemble such succeeding lights

I made a mess of things between our hearts
A mess unseen until a dawning light

My conscious brewed a sorrow full of tears 
And mixed them all with shady motel lights

I never had a thing to lose till you
But I knew soon you'd leave me for the light

My work became a frantic rush of pain
And I was victim, beaten by the light

Encased and drench in darkness like a fever
Overdosed new hopes to see the light

But prayers and mercy only beg for time
And time was more a shadow than a light

So with my voice I'll bury you again 
But this time under me; I'll be your light

Valid Valediction

Of drunken fights and sleepless nights
Veronika is least ashamed
Her body is an illness
Her body is a plague

Of deviled eyes and sexy lies
Veronika is never tame
Her body is an illness
Her body is a plague

Of battle scars and battered hearts
Veronika is worth the pain
Her body is an illness
Her body is a plague

Of lifeless touch I write as such
Veronika must die today
Her body is an illness
Her body is a plague

Collect Cause

I was fine on my own
Until you called
Making dial tones
I liked late winters
Before last winter
But like late winters
I died.
I had will to give up
All of my dreams
To be so brash
Like you.
I never knew why I cared
Until you called
Making dial tones

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Dry Vice Grips

I wallowed in whiskey blackouts
Fortifying melancholic melodies
No futures present to see
And still I never stopped

I got tangled in tequila nightfalls
Gratifying medicated memories
No sutures present to bleed
And still I never stopped

I gave in and drowned in dreaming gin
Rectifying serenaded enemies
Those vultures present to see
And still I never stopped

A Toast to Women of Past Episodes

I loved you all
At least a little.
Some a little more
Than I should have.
For hearts I broke
I'm not all that sorry
You would've done the same.
For strictly benefits
That just stopped calling
Or I stopped calling;
Much obliged.
For the ones who broke me
I'd hate to say I hate you
But I'm pretty sure you'd believe
Me to wish against your life.
And finally to every girl
who left me whether we
were in love or not,
you know you're cursed for it.
Everyone knows
The Johnnie Curse.
By the way, two kids
Is only the beginning

My Report on Dinosauruses

With me dinosaurs never really sparked
Just really big geckoes with skin rough as bark
They're now oil and coal.
But then all I know,
I learned watching Jurassic Park.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Autumn Contingency

Dropped from pedestals
Like leaflets and petals
From the shelter we sought
To stay with. But chance
Had a way of knocking
Down the bare heart barriers
Showing your eyes to mine.
These droplets of time
Lasted in still forever

I Bite My Thumb At You, The Heavens

Grains of dusted light request eyes as
Stones and suns of clockwork poise
Defy truly ancient truths
Like lovelorn deities 
With torn teen spirits
Making promises
Of which they

Gazing of Grazing the Void

The depth between the light of wild stars
can change the matter of a mind
and make ghosts of the living.
It's beauty is deadly,
a sight of which knows,
it's dark appeal
is man's one

The Day I Met Yoko

The cool of a Miami winter night
Lied underneath the streetlights
I followed trails of yard to a tent
And felt like meeting Mr. Kite

A galleria filled the walls inside
The art of Lennon's lasting mind
So simple yet so much to be said 
And then I heard a voice I liked

I turned and saw across the way
A unique woman I knew right away 
Her aura pulled me to her hips
The whole of me was weak as prey

I walked with her around the empty tent
Admiring her wisdom, voice and scent
We stopped and smiled to each other
For seconds that felt like minutes went

She stared in glow and grabbed my hand
And said she loved all of John's fans
I hugged her like a friend I love
And all I said was Thank You. 

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

For No One II

She said Love, I miss you
But don't you know the easy breeze that follows me
It helps me to forget you 

She walks by across my
Unsettled view of cuckold love without a trace 
And dares me to forget her

My hearts alive but feels nothing
A shallow pool of clouded tears
All for no one
And I'm the one who wasted years

She walked out, she chalked out
A place for me to rest my pain below the ground
Where it's level with me

She drove off for so long
Until the tears that soaked her collar dried away
And rained back upon me

My hearts alive but feels nothing
A shallow pool of clouded tears
All for no one
And I'm the one who wasted years

He walked out, she broke down
And called the only one who never went away
I no longer loved her

She said Love, I miss you
But I replied with an intrepid tone and said:
Well, love, I forgot you. 

My hearts alive but feels nothing
A shallow pool of clouded years
All for no one
I'm just the one who wasted tears


She stands in the English rain
with a smile still touched
by a velvet hand. More
and more it feels like years
since she's been here.
She gave a first time
love that never ends
and we knew it would last
forever, though it didn't.
And though it didn't
I knew to believe in how
and learned to believe in hell
but so did she. Now are we
this pathetic? We are now
this pathetic. Love made us
finally see it.

Sont Des Mots Qui Vont Tres Bien Ensemble

A man once sung of living
easy with eyes closed
and like him I asked before I
took you down. You followed
in brilliance and in that instance
you loved me more.
You made memory of moments.
The way I recall each is surreal
but vividly true and in that instance
I loved you more.
When I promise two forevers,
you know it's true and when
you promise the earth to me,
I believe you. In that instance,
we love once more.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Last Call with a Showgirl Concubine [Sonnet]

In shapeless lands of remedy and sin
A waiter pours a voluntary drink.
A ginger whiskey glass of ice and gin
And soon my lover pauses not to think.
She grips and stains the rim; a lovely kiss
And gently slides her wedding band away.
She smiles from the corner of her lips
With deviance that I could never say.
Our eyes collide a final time before
She claws me with her lightly tinted voice
“How would you like to walk me to my floor?”
I swooned her “Love, there is no better choice.”
She bit her lip, I wished to bite it to.
A concubine, a wife; my number two.

Reflections in Shallow Pools

I bear not the burdens
Of a lover's past. I know
Which way the rivers
Flow and yet I can't shake
The feathers of a better
Choice from underneath
Your weather. The crows
Shoulder up near my bed
And I signal sounds to halt
Until I am ready for my new
Extinction. Of everyone
I ever cared for, I made
A monster out of you. 

DC Anti-Hero Graveyard #0723

Beyond the confines of natural minds
Lives a devil undisguised
Over a millinium ago he was born of stone
Of stone the Gods used as prisons.
Darkness awoke him and gave him a name
Junkie Foreblood, a name that if said
Under your breath would make the Gods gasp.
Now with new freedom, he started a mission:
Kill every motherfucker who kept him imprisoned.
In this way he became an enemy of Gods but
Even they had to admire the power of blood.

TPS Challenge: Write an acrostic poem where you create a new super-hero, and the acrostic word should spell out the name of your creation!

Sunday, April 8, 2012

No Matter What

My demons have demons
My vices have vices
My sorrows are still sorry
But my heart still beats


In one day
the whole world
might leave you
on the edge
of forever
and progress
might feel like
a fabled ending; 
But in one day
the whole world
might find you
and foster 
your tomorrows
creating peace
wherever you
may walk like
you know you 

Rest for the Wicked

Every night the battle begins
A vicious cycled war from within.
It starts with a flood of wishful thoughts
And pills I wish I never bought.
I double the dosage feeling risky
And drown it all in a tenth of whiskey.
Dizzy I'm dizzy I'm spinning and grinning;
Eyes on the eyes on the walls on the walls.
My mind becomes an electric highway.
Assured, I'm not doing this the right way.
I might say I'm dying alone once more
Because all I can taste is the dust on the floor
I see the peering of morning sun
Sneak through the cracks of my shades, I'm done.
The battle is over with scars I can keep
From the great war within, the war against sleep.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Moments of a Derelict Poet

A calm crowd
Faces glare forward
At peach curtains
The lights burn holes
In thoughts like ghosts
Burn holes in thoughts
And my voice
Sounds burnt

A blank page
Faces glare upward
At my peach skin
The lines burn holes
In thoughts like ghosts
Burn holes in thoughts
And my pen
Drops ashes

A dead muse
Faceless glare backwards
At a peach tree gravestone
The branches burn holes
In thoughts like ghosts
Burn holes in thoughts
And my thoughts

Corsets & Horror [Corrigo]

As it rains a trickled mess
Projections crash against the windshield
creating caution in my breath
as I swig to end a fifth.
I flipped the bottle past my ear,
it grabbed sweat along the way
as the green glass
shattered in the bed. The rattle
in the bed met the rattle in the cab
and they both went down
on the rattle in my head.
There's a bounty on my life,
I may have set myself
to help me try to stay alive
against my lonely enemies,
most prominent: myself.
So I ride around the city
looking for tail I've never had.
And I speak with deadly ease;
Be my lady for the night
though I know you're just a soiled dove.
And take me as I am
a cold-blooded, lying little fucker.
Pretend you love me
or at least the things I do to you
and scream my name
and beg for more
and pull me down
every second I'm inside of you.
I'm not lonely now
but in an hour, I'll be back to Jack
and Jameson too.
So for now I'll just park my truck
on the side of this
filthy, sweaty, bourbon intersection
to let you work
and make me happy to stay alive again.

Casanova Rodeo

Unbound in love

          Thoughts simmer

A growl and hug

     Bodies quiver

A shouting match

          Not a winner

Unbound in love

     Like a sinner

Friday, April 6, 2012


I'll make a song for you 
and color it between the lines
Defining everything we find in anger.
We can go crazy on and on 
and on straightjacket sheets
Admiring the passive feats of danger.
I'll make a love so new
you'll struggle just to recognize
the scared and barely broken eyes you first loved
We can be anything and all
and all we have to do
is watch the world and how it moves around us.

Bends in the Truth

There's a truth to your touch and tongue
that bears weapons to destroy my guard
and if I never questioned your oddities
would your truths still hide behind your lips.
In vox you've never loved another
Inside it seems your voice would shift
perhaps to quell unstable men
or just to be an honest fool.
So much life lies between your lips
though mine I could care less about.
Will I ever regret this sink in time?
I hear a no, but sense a hidden lie.

The Floor is Lava

The floor is lava
and the only salvation I have
rests cool and green on fresh
cut blades in the sun. From
the bed I toss goose down
pillows that thud and sizzle
on top of the lava. I hop
quickly across them nearly
slipping making one last great
vault to heated wood of the
staircase railing. I shimmy
on my toes against the cold
wall at my back down the edge
of the wooden frame. It may
not hold my weight for long
and my calves are shaking,
my hands are slipping and
time is running out. I hit
the lower gap that leads
into the living chamber.
I swing myself over the rail
and crouch to jolt myself
desperately to the arm
of the nearby loveseat.
I smack into the arm
stomach first, clawing and
hanging on for dear life.
I'm sweating, struggling to
get up and onto the overhang.
My sweat falls into the burning
pit of lava, sizzle into smoke
an effervescent reminder
of the close call I'll never forget.
I make my way across coffee
tables, knocking over lampshades
until finally I'm at the front window.
I balance on the sill, the breeze
tickles my toes as I grip the
dusty silk curtains. I open the front
door with my right foot just enough
to swing myself onto the front porch.
With one last moment of courage,
I lick the sweat off of my upper lip
and hum the James Bond theme,
flying out on the peeling wood
porch. My mom sits like an evil
villian in her rocking chair and
stares at me puzzled.
"What? The floor is lava!"


TPS CHALLENGE: Without TV or costly toys, children are very imaginative in entertaining themselves. 
Curious about the world, they utilize all of their senses during inexpensive fun play, 
like “camping out” indoors, leaf-boat races or neighbourhood sports. 
We challenge you to write a very descriptive, sensory poem, to which 
readers can relate their childhood’s innocent experiences.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Dearborn Street

A minister, a playboy and a mercenary
of love ride the same trolley together,
awkwardly gazing and silently
     judging one another
with different definitions
     of missionary.
Cable car wheels roll with eyes past
The Everleigh Club. I feel a sinking smile
     crawling from my eyelids
to the guttered street. Pleasure winks
at me with silence- but it burns holes
in every pocket until there is nothing to take.
What would such love be like? Empty
     or a taste to form an appetite?
With nothing signaling to go
     I'd like to believe
In the clicks of heels and carnal faults
of freedom. I'd like to believe
     in Minna.