Wednesday, September 23, 2009

A poem within a poem - layers, baby!

invasion/Evasion (9/18-21/09)

drilling through
this tiny shield
of mitochondria and hair
my thickened skin
proves utterly defenseless
when blood and bone
are finally laid bare


tentacles spread
and form a dense web
of tangled conversations
and throw away glances
probe and prod
searching inside
until a tiny sucker
finds the perfect spot

I hold tight

wrapping around
and squeezing small
splitting the marrow
and my fabric of being
sucking my life
and slithering inside
the hollow tubes
of my very bones
lying in wait

Just run away

stretching and tearing
I fight this invasion
fleeing this nothing
that’s deep down inside
buried below
in a watery pit
but roiling and turning
catching the light

Drowning within myself

just a deep dark impression
of worlds lit with actions
that collide and splinter
leaving a trail
of chaos and pleasure
painted with pain

My beautiful hidden canvas

this alien presence
devours, consumes,
and concocts worlds
from this dark palette
a delicate faerie land
spun from the sugar
of sweet words
and gentle actions
cracking dry tunnels
with shafts of pure white

Enticed to this light

I watch as my eyes
(blind in this sun)
send out tentative
search parties of their own
tender tentacles
slipping through
paper armor
in a dance as primal
and ancient as stone

I remember

some animals regenerate
if a limb is cut off
it will grow back
with time
as my gaze trails down
to my bloody stumps
with their
stillborn tentacles
dangling limply

Previous assaults

pulsing and throbbing
I still feel the itch
of the amputation blade
severing the ties
between might and is
while this phantom limb
grows heavy in the light

Habitual denial ebbs and flows

as a new tendril sprouts
from a place deep inside
and follows this tenuous
bridge pouring forth
from my eyes
as my bones ache
where the tunnels of other
curious tentacles bore
long forgotten channels
through which emptiness

Into this ill forged fortress

I love to hate
this familiar rampart
trembles with cracks
and just when
my body succumbs
and steps to the rhythm
of twining and touching
I wake screaming
all covered in sweat
only to find
that no one’s there
my bones are still hollow
and my stumps
are still dangling
their aborted attempts
mocking this prison
I’ve built for myself

I don’t understand
How to be what you need

Monday, September 14, 2009

The steps of fear...

Booga, booga, BOO!

I noticed when I found this image that my breathing got shallower and my heart rate increased. This is one scary-ass clown! Me no likey... This image will inspire me to create many more blog entries just so I don't have to look at the damn thing any more! *shiver*