Dark poetic surrealism for beautiful brooding eyes
I love contemplation, curiosity, self awareness, imagination and strange things. I write about the human condition, and often write about love lost. Tragic, haunting, graphic, strange, heart-wrecking sorrow calls to me, and so; I write. I believe there is beauty in sorrow. I’ve lived it, seen it, felt it, know it. I hope that my words create a Universe of their own for you, full of visuals and contemplation.
I hope that you enjoy.
I owe this decimated mind a sabbath
Its lush landscape drenched in fire, scorched to the ground, nothing left but shocked shadows –
Wandering among the bones of ash that once were loves’ anatomy
Corpse flower pupils, dilated with unfinished memories… Breathe in… breathe out…
I have gone away, into a galaxy unfamiliar, this –
Nocturnal feast where stiffened-spine beasts gnash the stars between their teeth
Pop them open, so that they shoot sparks like firefly tentacles across that endless, velveteen sky
Where gothic, wing-ed creatures fly, and funnels swirl that swoop you and I to ill-seasoned tombs…
Ambivalent umbra
Silent, gyrating, unfamiliar repose between this world and the next
I close my eyes and inhale the stagnant air, longing for just one bittersweet scent of you
Even in this darkest hour
Hope is an artistry that thankfully, fertilely slips through combustible fractures
Unfurling, prowling the shadows, hellbent that there might be the smallest chance of alchemy
– At the discretion of angels and demons, of course –
Which births, at the very least, our own private language, between this damnable here…
And the cold, steely, unfathomable blue of there…
Your apparition
A visitation –
A dark, velvety thing, which swallows up the diaphanous moon
Skeletal remains of us – the bones of romance
Littering the sun-baked fields where crimson-petaled malice was sometimes in full bloom…
You were a vision I first saw in a sloshed wonderland –
Jackal with a raven’s wings, libation in an anointing cup
Drink it down until you spin, until the walls melt and it comes back up
Pulpit philosophizer with bent eyes, warrior’s armor fastened with 1,000 growling wounds
Morrison voice
In your own personal church, preaching a poet’s dictionary definitions
Tangled around warped, cement memories…
That burn is angry, boy –
Romanticizes dead relationships and dead dreams
And how deliverance demands a sacred sacrifice –
The reflection of love a myth in your starless eyes…
Temerarious deeds mangling each kiss
Charisma and apologies on your lips, along with the perverse
Your breath hot as you murmured against my mouth
– I’ll take your body and your mind, and make them worse… –
Blurry “accidents” that you were used to gathering –
Gravebound, to be buried beneath your prized angel trumpets, wrapped in omissions
Still, you penned a masterpiece; Intimate, lyrical memories painted in convenient, pretty poetics –
And, I’m in devil territory, dedicated to my own madness
Celestial fetish
Let me pretend that some desperate incantation is more than just an apparatus
Let me have just one divine intervention, one mellifluous, seraphic afterglow…
Your breath slithering along my flesh, as I lean into this tamarind womb –
A honeycomb; Part of it holding 13 East side cells filled with remorse, could-haves and should-haves…
I wouldn’t beg when you were here, but I’ll beg now if it will wake me from this cold, florescent fate
Unravel this surreal terrain that even Remedios couldn’t have foreseen –
Give me just one more second with you…
I’ll search in unexpected places –
Black witch moth hovers among discarded things; Your sign to me of resurrection?
Have you finally come to give me my goodbye?
Spoiler. I like readers of my work to choose their own meaning. But from time to time, I share my own meaning of a work. This poem is about… having someone love you in such a way, that he/she truly sees you. They see your wounds, your desires, road blocks, madness, and so on, and they silently, instinctively tend to you. They witness and honor all of who you are, in a loving way, until your distractions, your ghosts, your pain are finally quiet, and your fire, your authentic self, your joy come home – you return to yourself.
In the rabbit hole
Your deft, ferocious fingers contort my mangled spirit
Slicing with appendages, sinuous and toothy; Trimming
Slivers falling away
Gluttonous lunacy deposing
You paste onto my eggshell bones
Your menagerie of lovely brooding
Tender strokes in corners and crevices
Where pasting is futile –
Needle and thread are married with bone
As I lounge in your sultry, libidinous cocoon
My demons loan their wailing to stillness
When your eyes become a bridge reckoning passage through my smoky, sooty debris
The wet earth rubs my skin, coats my scars with clay motifs of warriors that move –
Each time my ashen flesh furrows
You lift my bones to wrap my spirit beneath
Pluck at a corner snagged on a splintered fracture –
Then line it up against nettled ribs
Your breath lilac sweet against my face
You bend your head, pasting and suturing –
Dabbing at blood, woe and darkness lovingly
A silent seer of the obscure
Your innate knowing –
Epochs in the making, formed from the cohesion of brutal and divine…
A chosen one, witness, ancient synergy of all and none
Your ministrations to my desolation like a warm, numbing prayer and I
Weary, heavy in my bones
Gaze at you with loving, revering eyes –
As the last stitch is gathered, the last remnant pasted and your beautiful lips lure me
You are the need in my want –
Your petting warming my cursed, barren spirit
Your blood washing away the foul damages of my dusty bones
Your eyes flashing, provoking spark to fire –
Incinerating my achromatic existence
Your breath against my skin an homage to dismembered desire
In the rabbit hole
You tend to my savage needs
Scour my ravages
Assuage the rampage –
Before my wretched spirit canonizes this devastation
I feel my wild (long ago dissected crudely)
Climbing through my bones
Spirit and bones in a lovely mess of carnal wonder…
And my demons digress
In awe, I am finally quiet
The bleeding cools
And my bones kiss the sun…
Alchemist
Alembic eyes that saw through wounds, truths that few would comprehend
You came to me from the shadows, arms full of specters that you unpacked haphazardly
Tossing them around my sanctuary
Without warning, you led me into the valley of the damned
Stripped me of my church, my cloth, my order, persuasions and devotions
Until I was like a newborn egg; parchment smooth
Shaped me with calloused hands, into a pyre
Then lit me on fire
And I, I flew –
Crow soaring toward raven
Scars stitched to scars with inky thread in an atemporal coupling
Cosmic kiss with you, my beloved Mio
Cerulean cathedral continuum, pendulum of, and between, two souls
Incantatory equinox of moonstone and moonflower
Your tears my water
Your breath my heartbeat
Your words my psychomancy
Your death punching, puncturing my addictions, my afflictions, my dreams, my Eden…
Metamorphopsia
I’m looking through an hourglass of insidious pain
Black feathers arched, wings trying to grip these thorny, roiling clouds
Cigarette smoke a pungent elephantine talisman in this empty house, during this unflinching blue hour
Firewitch am I, full of rage and holy listening for any sign that you are still near
I am languishing among all of this gristle –
And the brutality of all of these damned, festering, lacerating, excruciating poems…
I cannot smudge this vile, writhing wretchedness away
Shrieking at the silence, tearing at my hair, my wounds of madness wailing against this intolerable hell…
I chastise the angels, though they too are suffering the abruptness of your departure
I curse your demons, curse the lies, spit on my love –
Then take it back again
I am choking on remorse and more haggard than any ancient crone
I search for you among the birds, the rivers, fire, air and stones
I bleed my pain, write it down and read it to you like I did when you were home…
And I know that you would understand, that I curse you for leaving me alone
So fierce, so brilliant, so beautifully savage
And now you’ve left me stuck in Wonderland
Trying to make sense of up is down and down is twisted
And fuck the platitudes, and Book of Condolence, and most of all – fuck my wishes
And… all the time in the world won’t. fix. this.
Sticks and stones, tears and bones; I’ll keep my promise – keep your words close
Can you come to me in a dream? Let me know that you’ve Finally. Found. Home?
Nighttime sucks the breath from me
Witchy, tumescent moon is bittersweet
Helps me feel close to you…
Plump, glowing, ripe with knowing
Loving witness to epochs of loss and mourning tears. Now? It’s my turn now to grieve
Send my love to you
Wrap you in its warm cocoon
Dedicated to Richard J. Balog
Brilliantly talented poet, warrior, loved, tormented soul. We all deserve to make our own personal choices. I just wish that you had had enough love and support to have chosen anything else in this world. Anything, anything else. I hope that you are finally at peace. Finally home.
XXO Siempre.
Theater of Sorrows