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.

 

Candle Finger

Social digits make no difference

The mark on my head controls the seasons

And the air

And the fire

And there is no denying.

 

No other, so who am I?

Like others, I listen to the wind weep on my window

On my shoulder, I observe

On my final nerve.

 

I wonder who’s knocking

Because there is no door.

I wonder who’s counting

Because my time here is no more.

 

 

Saved By Selfless Belt

It’s always in the back of my mind

In the stack of vines

Divine

SO kind…

But not of mine

 

It’s an artifice so wise…

SO wise that even the skies divide before you arrive

 

No mystery of whom – or what I speak of

Or reach above

Or teacup…

THAT piece is bugged

 

Forever stuck in a numb-minded ruck

Buffalo Grass, neatly tucked

 

But whose niche is but a glitch?

I..

Lay and twitch…

As I wait for your ways to switch

Not to mention that every stitch is your wish

 

And every dish is washed by blood and moss

Nature’s cross isn’t dried with a cloth

 

But, with a belt instead

I take the books and feed my head

With only a plan, plan, plan to be dead..

Then resurrected by the peoples’ voices

 

The frequencies summon my soul in another body

Therefore, when it gets cloudy…

You must not allow your mind to get rowdy.

 

Silent viper… wear your belt.

 

 

 

 

 

Dream of Cupcakes

Not equal.

It’s an uneven proportion

And iron is in these halls

Irony in the very same hallway…

 

Fore it was where we – I held on

And now it’s where you don’t lose track of my questionnaire

I divide into your sleep during a lighter midnight

 

I’ve taken the cupcakes you’ve baked

I’ve finally come over

It’s fair now

You’re a metal and are losing now…

 

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…

 

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

 

Banana Ants

What it it that you’re pretending?

A slap to the chest – the result of an angered grimace

Discomfort to the banana ants

I know your story

A “never-will-be” type of treatment

I see all corners of your glass.

 

Fool yourself with the foolishness of approach

Yellow like the bus of “young scholars;” like the disgust in my reflection -

To see what you DARED to do!

To take step in a direction of calming auras – my wooden and starved throne, before the wandering eyes.

 

Broken.

Shattered.

Mop away that…

That “for me…”

That lane of lies – those of which I do not care to partake in…

Make sure to send me that poison – as if – make sure to bake a newer batch.

 

A Potassium connoisseur

A sewer of relations

A devastation to relationship

The shallowness of a kiss.

 

Find my words

Dig beneath the putrid tiles on which you walk

I don’t need anything – not from you, not from I

But as the robotic response is delivered, mailed and such, I foretell what is told.

 

Behold – you hold the mold – my heart – NEVER MORE

But, my surest mail-woman, return to the offices of dual tribulation

Two of one kind…

 

Ants ate the will – so ask them if you will – if they too tingle from your tainted touch

Too much laughter..

From me…

Because I now know what it is that you are…..

You are as the banana ants.

 

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.