Sunday, November 18, 2007

it is a feeling of an impending doom
a feeling of one's luck running out

and at the same time
washing away any remnant of hope
night falls in
swallowing sinners and saints alike

night falls in
with its soldiers in formation
with their bloody knives hidden
under their finger nails
ready to brandish at moment's notice
with the eagerness of the unstoppable
erection of my teenage-self
i remember from the pictures

from where i lay
i see
an unpenetrable wall of forgetfullness
and that thick forests of bloody knives
bearing their fruits of bloody damnation:
the big mistakes and the big regrets

the impending doom
my luck
my time
my space running out

breath...
air...

Sunday, November 11, 2007

a train was hiding in my dreams
right beneath the surface
in the wrinkles of a
detective story
i was carrying
in my pocket
unaware
with dissonant and brutal chords
from a very unhappy viola

it is a cold day in a city
i do not know well
and hiding stories here
is treason punishable by
the most heinous act imaginable:
death by being erased
from the memory of
the living

i am still listening to those
dissonant chords and
i am melting
melting
melt

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

the return of a methodical madness
is all i can afford at the moment
going through
lifeless pages of my old words
one after another
with a conscientious silence
of the sort henry miller would have liked
all the while
listening to sounds that ended
a thousand year of drought

meanwhile
winter died on the footsteps of my discontent
(did it? really?)
on a perfect day

Flashback: February 11, 2000

bleak,
bleak,
it is a bleak day
and i am tired

my words used to weigh
millions of tons of
warm blood,
genuine tear
sincere sweat, once
now
i
am
too
sick and tired
of my own sarcasm

and, and, and,
i saw my people happy, with their
wives,
husbands,
signi-fucking-ficant-others,
children,
and their nine-to-five regular jobs

everything i've dreaded to have

happy
bruised here and there,
broken a little,
tarnished a bit,
but genuinely happy

which forces me to believe
may be it was bread-and-butter
i should have worried about
not `why's
or `how's
`meaning's or `truth's
all the useless junk i wasted my cheap words on

may be all was the surface and
superficial was the deepest i could get

i am sad that
i have grown to be an hollow shell
a shell cracking under its own weight
because, i've lost my faith in
the trancendent,
the beautiful and
the just;
for thy kingdom has never come
thy will came un-done

Sunday, November 4, 2007 (1)

wind plows
when the season draws to a close
remembering and
fingering the grooves
shooting the dark skies with old wounds
(oh, stop!)

time, after all, is the bearer of
all fucked up things old and new

but
i have seen runaway trains
sugar high
stark naked and raving mad
acting at a distance entangled
with things clever and sad
(not, again!)

my generation has yet to
produce its best and brightest
and might i suggest also
the most fucked up

not that we needed any more of
those
(amen!)

Sunday, November 4, 2007 (2)

clear your plate
my ears are ringing
and night twists and howls around my voice
doused with madness
impersonating a grotesque monster
from a japanese horror flick

neither here nor there
not even rage can be this satisfying

as my sleep fleets
electric sheep shave off
numbers hung in the air
running

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, ...

Saturday, November 3, 2007 (1)

my excitement is wasting
as if a fuse is lit right in my bedroom.

i am soaked.

the old poems i read are at my throat
and nothing is resolved
all dead
all dead
hear ye, hear ye
all dead.

i know not the streets of my youth,
of my senility.
but here and now resides no hope
and someone said
through me you pass
into eternal pain.

lies, i tell ya! all lies!

Saturday, November 3, 2007 (2)

what happens when life disappoints you?
do you close your eyes, lay down and
pray the god you hate so much that
things could and should have been different?
what do you do when
your head starts spinning as
you look at that abyss of reality from where you are
because what is and what ought to be so far apart?
oh god! stop being so sophomoric!