Archive for poetry

Poem: DISENGAGE

Posted in Original Writing with tags , , , , , on September 12, 2017 by smuckyproductions

A poem from college, trying to make sense of the alienation that arises in unusual social situations. 

DISENGAGE

They speak a different language.
Try to catch patterns, but
the syllables grind
and the inflections clash –
bad lip fashion?

This happens
when I disengage
click a switch in my spine
let my brain escape while
my body does its best to sit still

It won’t intrude on them –
atoms extracted, not split
a minute hollow
no rupture for me, no blast
to get their attention

I could announce my ruin
whisper or scream the news
and they wouldn’t understand
even our intention
floats in polar spheres

So I melt into the couch
with an off-pitch sigh
and days later the smell
will alert them

Advertisements

Poem: LEGACY

Posted in Original Writing with tags , , , , , , , , on August 31, 2017 by smuckyproductions

I wrote a version of this poem a long time ago, and it felt like the time to put it out there. Not all history, not all legacies, are something to be proud of. 

LEGACY

Dimming, grandfather requests
“Have kids while I can still
speak their name.”
I tell him I’ll try.

My constitution does not permit
ruining his notion with my prophecy
That our name dies in my loins
made to seek peace in
things he would wither to think of

For some grandfather, exponential greats
took arms to smear his seed in this soil
sprinkled on the bones of children
snapped to pieces by invader teeth that
gnash in ecstasy at their righteous carnage
drag their white worms to claim this
stolen ground as they have committed
an act worth celebrating –

This is my legacy.
This is what dies with me.

And what if it withers?
What is pride when boiled in that blood
of children who never got to choose
between silence and gloating?
This scaffold of corpses around a rotting cross
who refuse to really die –
whisper from dirt at beating hearts
grandfather’s, father’s, and mine
but my ears are stopped, jaw soldered
against harmonizing with them
but against rebellion, too.

In my way I lie in the plot beside him
and sew my silence in kind.

A Poem out of Darkness

Posted in Original Writing with tags , , , , , , on November 10, 2016 by smuckyproductions

They mean to break down your body
They mean to flay it into little pieces
that are easier to pack away
and poke holes in

They do not realize
your body cannot be parceled
It was made whole
Through the fire of their stares, their hisses
it continues to move
Rent perhaps, torn at and patched,
but inseparable.

What they cannot understand
they seek to destroy
but our bodies, patches and all, prove
Erasure is out of their power.

Poem: EULOGY FOR THE YOUTH

Posted in Original Writing with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 6, 2016 by smuckyproductions

As graduation is almost upon us, I feel the need to share this – one of the first poems I wrote, while still in college.

EULOGY FOR THE YOUTHIMG_2833

Lying tangled on the bedroom floor
Medicinal poison ravage our veins
They won’t hear us in the sober dark
We, the gutted ones, trapped silent

Til the smell gets loose
And tells them for us:
Your brethren are dead.

They will weep, and grey-shroud snow
Will cover our graves, our stories untold
Effigies for children to see and to know

Blue corpse in black dirt, chose not to rise
The midnight call deaf on sodden ears
The bottle too thick, the liquid too dry
To allow us to keep our unchristened eyes.

Poem: NOSEBLEED

Posted in Original Writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , on March 3, 2016 by smuckyproductions

 

Based on a true story, folks.

NOSEBLEED

IMG_1922

The first drip drops across my lips
As I stare at the sun, blinded
To the metal taste – perhaps
I can swallow it and forget; but what starts
As a pinprick becomes a stream, rivulets
Of my body flung bright as gems
On the grass, and I run
Corking the flood
With a weak finger until –

Over the sink I release it
A shower of red spatters on ivory
Run howling from a rift in my skin
And I watch in awe
As it tumbles and shatters
Almost forget to plug the hole,
Soiling virgin tissue, soon overwhelmed
By the force of this rebellion –

Who knew it was so eager?
The tissues pile, war dressings dead
But the march does not slow
Splick splick in the basin, filling
Profane shapes as I drain
And imagine the fate –

What happens if it doesn’t stop
No congealing or swelling
But only mutiny – these beasts
I’m not meant to see, escaping
Jump ship!
And my vision blurs, breath hazards
In the face of the scourge –
Perhaps on me there will be no mercy

Bandages swarm, sink a paean
To gore and still growing
I wonder what my parents will think
Coming home to a dry-husk son
Clinging to the drain, betrayed
By his own blood

Trembling and powerless
To undo this carnage, alone
In the bathroom where I will die
Unable to utter a last word, and no one
To hear it regardless
Just a shell of a boy who cries
What makes me so horrible
That my own blood needs
To escape me –

But the clot comes out
From my head’s recess, ripe as a fresh
Umbilical cord unwinding
From mother’s cavity – following
The burst of old blood grown tired
The patters in the sink
Slow

And halt.

Wash out the basin,
A killer’s final act, erase
The evidence of my body’s traitors
And laugh at how easily
The blood wipes off.

Poem – SATURDAY SOLSTICE

Posted in Original Writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , on February 23, 2016 by smuckyproductions

 

A new poem for you ghouls, continuing on our cosmic theme, and recalling the lost loneliness of Saturdays past. 

SATURDAY SOLSTICE

IMG_0143

Bodies wade down streets
Manic solar systems
In orbit with themselves,
Their sun
Scouring elsewhere
Unseen

I forget
That an eon ago
I too orbited
But my sun went dark
And I am no longer
A planet

Poem: SICK DAY

Posted in Original Writing with tags , , , , , , , , , on February 6, 2016 by smuckyproductions

A little poem to commiserate the post-Sundance illness. 

SICK DAY

IMG_0748

They forgot to load the sky
Flat void, fatigued with itself

Prone flesh in mediocre light
Soft rebellion of fickle tissue
Atrophy in frames per second
Insignificant death – just needs fresh air

Yet hard to believe
In a functioning world,
Blank sky and useless limbs
Support the theory: perhaps the world
Was just last night’s dream
And I’ve always lain here
Inside fruitless pain – pity
Eternal