The Silver Casino

So cautious is that soul – it’s been going through the same substance every dawn

There is no ultimatum.

So, uh, that soul pretends to fit in the target’s aim…

But this body, left in the coldest banks, only travels astray.

 

Through passed nickels and hay -

Fore, day after marked day, that flesh climbs a calendar’s wretched wall.

His wall.

Of paint – even of pain.

 

And through the disdain, a new picture within the frame.

 

iT’sAlLiNyOuRmInD

How am I supposed to know what’s right or wrong?

I’m living life just as everyone else

But everyone else – you – you’re all as nothing

And everything being nothing makes energy as everything

Thus, since everything is energy, everything is nothing

 

Without motion

Without emotion

We cannot move

 

It’s my turn and I cannot go

Because I am parked in the parking-lot by the park

I’ll be taking aim shorty

At the pork, but please, you’ll have to be patient

 

Surgery is….

 

Illogical

Contradictory

History

It’s illiteracy

It’s all in your mind.

 

Curiousity Killed “The”

This was a piece I wrote a few months ago in my English class when I fell in love with my ex. Although I knew the relationship would fail, I didn’t want to let go because of the feelings I had for her….

 

This right here is a recuperation test

This piece is intended to see if my work really ran dry

But, instead of a poem, I chose to rant in poetic format

 

Today was a better day

Yesterday, mental stress was imposed upon me

Today, it is more physical

 

My stomach stings

Nausea tempts the nearby trashcan

I don’t know where it is, however

It’s probably by Ms. Walker’s desk

Or by the homework trays

 

Well, now, it seems to be a pressure in my chest

Is it the lack of rest or the mucus accounting for the cough?

Either way, it is uncomfortable and annoying

 

On the other hand, I plan to tell her that I’m in love

Again, I am in love… but I’m more than prepared to tell

Fully prepared

I really do mean it

 

It seems like a win or lose situation, still

My aim is to win her heart

If I am to lose, than forever we’ll be apart

I most certainly don’t want things to come to this

Maybe this purple-bat ring will verify the marriage

 

That is, if I even get to see her

 

I’ll be waiting in the spot…

Waiting for you to come…

 

Lunge Through Lunar

By radiating sun, may the masses extinguish their feeble desire, will or woe

But for me, I seek the glows of guidance underneath a razor’s eclipse

The patchwork horizon is as untouched as your flesh, which is my flesh

And which is my test is also your test

The sky is foreign

The moon is frozen

 

Bushes of Garble

The kisses on the pavement are noted with faint blackness

Because I warn of these speckles as they begin to bare color

A, um, application of lids is summoned under lids, the eyes

They are grotesque monstrosities, these visible marks of concern

The blackness is coming and it will consume existence

However, perception is deception – I await here, without consciousness

I’m pondering in a pond of fiber as the night grows thick

The ash coat is even tickled by luminous reflections

Society will be swallowed by roaches

These roaches are only visible to the lifeless lenses of positioned cameras

Not media

No media

No mind

Not mine

About, mmm, two or four or three or more scores

I’m torn by the hangers, by the anger from a stranger

My life is danger and my brain is unstable

Keep your distance, darkness

 

 

 

I L-L-L…

This is my saddest attempt to try something new

The line before really was written in cursive

I was simply trying to spice up my day; to try something new

But it didn’t really help – it even hurt a little bit

Nothing is new, and my poetry runs dry

It was destiny for me to be insane, I can see it in the sky

No time to rhyme, nor reason to express; zero consent

I wonder how many feel this

Rather, how many care?

You may read, but can you hear?

I go… nowhere

Just like that, my mood flips and turns

And upon my return, muy mind rejects concern

My mistake is, where, where

Who’s there?

You, there

Truth-slayer

Tooth-decayer

Why did you bring me to you lair?

I’ve always given you my all – my robe, even my hair

This is, is so, so unfair

Lost in word

Infrastructure in smile, congruent to tile

Thought is vile, but only for a little while

So smile; so sorry, I’m running out of room on the page

Which means an idea will too, give birth

I guess this is my finale for the night

I L-L-Love you and that’s that to say

Your name, your aim is to burn by the flame

Your game, is to be played until the end of days

I’m out of words

Thank you

 

Scarred Brow

Reunited with unscripted worry, at last

But, my noose-obligated friend, you await your punishment like I and I

Patience are virtuous as can be

To be, or not – to await, or not

Or perhaps to even rot

Here – glance, the eyes, away from the surest fiend

But, but – my objections account for forgetfulness

As lost as mindless reminders – to those of which I am faulted -

Because of the eagerness to escape the wretchedness which soon awaits

“It’s okay.” It is not.

For every muscle torn: sarcastic foolishness equates to humble scorn

Disappointment from thee

And from me – to myself – with or without any help

Please return what isn’t mine

I didn’t mean it at all…

But, BUT – “I” am the one who suffers the consequence

My eyebrows tell the same tale

Guilt and…

 

Ten Minutes

I need about… ten minutes

Ten minutes to complete what I’ve been ill-fated to do

To write my right-est wrongs from soul-less souls beyond

 

nINE is on the screen, but the screen itself is not before me

It’s in places marked by X’s, by tens

By the tenants of treasured mud; dirt which is dried by rain

 

If the clarity of adhesive droplets reveal the boxes,

Then the X’s crafted by time will be disposed of – in ten minutes

Only four minutes to go.

 

 

 

 

My Dearest Florist

My dearest, dearest florist,

You already know that I want nothing less for you than to flourish in your forest.

You are as sweet as those soothing petals which you have laid by my bedside.

Their gentle aromas, they continue to keep me at ease.

I must admit, I was angry before you plucked the limbs from that dreaded flower…

Now…

Now that it is no more…

I can safely drift into your enchanted gardens with the insurance of tranquil sanctity.

No pressure, there is.

Not for you, for these black petals which you have picked just for me, or for me.

My sweet, sweet florist…

My words… they cannot gratify what you’ve done.

What you’ve done for me is something that I couldn’t have even dreamed about.

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

 

M% Ten-Percent

This sleek glass, oh how it slices through my flesh with ease

The painted salvation, it calms my mind

It leaves my body at peace

 

I dig canals all around just to designate

A worthless pizza-purpose

Which is baked with hate

 

Red, red hats are red in my head

My head is red.