Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Divinity of Stained Bliss- My Poetry Portfolio

My Worst Enemy

My left side mirror is my worst enemy.
It plays trick after trick on me
I don't think where I am parked helps the situation
because I generally wake up really, wholesomely restless
and try to back up next to some thick bushes.

which I don't even look at because anything that is still dark
in the morning will make me remember closing my eyes
and then I'll blink and not be in the same moment
but while I back up, my side mirror likes to touch the bushes.
Remember when the teachers told you not to stick your hand outside the window?
Well it did it anyway and the mirror was loosened.
So I take it, fine enough not much damage and aesthetics were never my goal
because I need something that can be used.

So I keep going, hardly awake and as soon as I forget that I need to make sure
I can clear the bushes, I hear a loud crash.
My mirror got ripped out of its plastic casing.  I know not a damn thing about tools so I can leave it
dangling while I floor it 50 to work.

My dad fixed it by drilling some nails into it.  It's not useable but the vanity of a mirror
is still there.  Whatever, it was a great gesture but this mirror is teeter tottering between my
love and hate side.  I keep watch that I clear the side mirror every time from those
carnivorous bushes but one day that I think I got it, I hear another crash.  The nails were still holding it
together but now the car just looked goofy.  Nails sprouting off in every direction, a side mirror dangling.

I don't even look at it anymore but a friend decides to fix it and I say
okay but I want no part in it.  So he gets his drills and nails and does what my dad did
but really gets that motherfucker stuck in there.  It holds up for a few weeks
but backing up, knowing I will not make it from
these bushes I hear a loud breaking noise, but the drill job held up
so I was surprised but when the first rays of sunrise hit that mirror
I noticed the bush fragmented the shattered mirror into tiny pieces and now I can't
bear myself to look at it.







Words are turning to Shit.

It feels like every word is just
an acronym and we have
to state when we are absolutely
honest (tbh) and even laughing (lol.)

Communication is at an all time high,
I hear,
but we are losing the send of
ground lately
and we are starting
to think we can creating
anything virally.

Our intuition tells us
to do things correctly but
we characterize our own rules.
We want to be heard, be known,
at any price it
takes.

We spend our values trying
to establish ourselves.
We give ourselves away
just to be felt.
We have a difference between
Virtualeality and Reality
and our language is being
torn just to supplement our
lack of dignity and comprehension.

If what I say is funny, does a stranger
need to tell me it is (haha?) Who
am I even talking to anymore (asl?)
Is this person who they say they are or
are they just some figment of their
own personification.

Do I know you (atm?)




Half a Pack

Had my first cigarette today,
thought about how Democracy is a monopoly.

Had my second cigarette,
I wished Dakota Happy Birthday and confirmed
my appearance to his party.

Had my third cigarette,
walked to 7-11 with Zack, he bought the same pack as mine
and the specialist was changing the billboard
from Victoria's Secret to some romantic comedy.

Had my fourth cigarette
and I tried to flick it into the ash tray that is about 15 feet away,
I missed, as usual.

Had my fifth cigarette,
with Sam and Zack and we contemplated philosophies,
I like to believe that knowledge is useless and Sam thinks
the meaning to life is to know.  Zack just listens.

Had my sixth cigarette,
kept glancing at the wall while listening to "Bad Luck" because
I think I got some.

Had my seventh cigarette,
I was getting a little tired and realized this was my good night
cigarette.
Not even half a pack, maybe someone will reward me with a
blue ribbon.












Where we are

Leaves pass through with elusive temper
winds give up all that is predisposed
I wonder even when the air will be breathable
when the atmosphere is so cold

filling bottles to be sold
clocks tick like a horse's clomp
these walls barely can hold us anymore
I haven't seen a normal face in weeks

once upon a time
things were really complex
with societies and organizations
but history isn't relevant

I try to talk but I am ignored
even when humanity has almost fallen through
why should I be viewed as a stranger
in a land where everyone sees everything

only a select few now
trying to live onto memories that never existed
fictionalize my experiences to form a new life
and live onto infinity.

These moments have to be repaired
because someone lost the connection
through the energy waves our bodies possess
people that were once ghosts now long lost.













An Intruder Alert

I never knew it would end so abruptly
the words were like a madman set free
ridiculing me with questions
as if I was age three
while it succumbed to my motionless lips
and the eternity of thought without the divinity of stained bliss

these scars held to strong
and your bar, set too high, left me dry for far too long
where did my patience go?
was I a patient, left waiting, in this radio's stupid song?
I still dream of you but it's not the same
Every word running from your tongue is just as corrupted as the next
like I was the one to blame
and could this end the same as all the lasts?
Could you end up as a doll if I am steadfast
all this free time and loneliness
leads me to believe that fear is hopeless shit
and reality isn't there, because my mind made it up, I sit staring at a blank wall
like it could possibly tell me the answers to life's faithless stall
because how could I possibly believe
when all these moments are in a dream catcher's weave
and my ultimate dream
would be if someone taught me the way of art to conscious reprieve.


















Broken Silence

Even after my life crumbles
and deteriorates from this constant weight of gravity
I'll known, always being preserved
cemented to perfection
underneath the future's generations's feet
at all times of day
watching the ripples through molecules
staring at those sunken faces
that describe our very own like
a bottleneck nose drooping
or the stringy hair that resembles seaweed but,

Life might cease tomorrow
I'll never know
but my face will always be seen
next to the next
surrounded by the breathless others
sunken, part of another ecosystem
speechless but always surrounded

After I die
after we die
when living is hardly being alive
some one
some thing
will be striving off our being
which is what I helped to preserve

And finally, mankind
when we are stuck in our own motions
trying to leap boundaries
our progressively move laterally
we will finally be giving before we take
every thing for granted
and nature will reap from us
what we have always absorbed from it.
And this balance, that we all are a part of
from the fungus, to the plants,
to the herbivores and carnivores,
even a virus like us,
replicating all over the world,
will finally be equal
and we can die
nuetral

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