Java Verses

Shouting, Roaring, Ranting, Whispering, Singing . . . Verse

Thursday, May 12, 2005

Dress Up

I Play Dress Up
Sliding A Tight
Black Dress
Down My
Curves
Slipping
Soft Silk
Stocking
Up To My
Thighs
Where
They
Kiss
Satin
Garters
Guarding
G-string
Chastity

8/2001

this was a fun piece to write

Sunday, May 08, 2005

Used

Click here tohear me read this poem!
this is an audio post - click to play



Confusion consumes
A small figure sitting
Damp gold outlines
The fringes of her eyes
Staring out into the
Faint . . . nothing
Fear pours, hisses,
As it trips on pavement
Squeezes between cracks,
And fissures
Explodes on impact,
A thousand fragments
Provoke elusive scents
Of motor oil, grass,
And some addictive poisons
Fragrance

You smell . . . of toothpaste
And shaving cream
Of wet wilted sheets,
Creased by
Your bodies heat
Stains irons deep

Miring this Monday night
In emotions
Evoking thoughts
Too long suppressed
A clock’s ticking,
The windows open, again,
Wedged by my fingertips,
Stretched out trembling

Graveyard talons grasp
At elicit fumes
Half forgotten moments
Creep in our harbor
Dragging headstones,
Postcards, pillowcases
Minutes stink like mortuaries
Refusing to dissolve
As acid washes skin casing
Weathered . . . does not equal purity

Languishing,
I move to the den,
Disturbed,
I rock my false icons
Frosted, my lips are
Frigid, my body is,
Faltering, we are
Fading, I am faint,
And still your vital
Pulse insists,
Seeks to make me,
How you want me

I fall,
Fall,
Fall,
Off of
Pedestals

Cannot sustain the pose
The Pristine picture
Slides out of focus
Caught by the deceit
Reflect between our eyes
Fiction, this fiction
Is written my by weakness . . .
The façade is shines,
Glares, burns,
Destroys photosensitive skin
A self-inflicted punishment
For the naive

There are many details . . .
Unspoken . . .
Unheard . . .
In silent spaces
Between redundant words.

The conversation loops,
Varies only in tone,
Pitch, and volume

It imparts . . .
No more certainty
Contains . . .
No more conclusion.

I'm not sure . . .
How much more . . .
I can take. .
Before the reel snaps,
Slapping me

And it seems as though
Our neighbors know
Know us better
Than I do.

Speakers’ dangle,
Cling to plaster walls
Sends our confusion
Vibrating
Into the ears of
Strangers.

Do we keep them up
With us till dawn?

We lay in bed, late,
Reiterating . . . everything

Unattainable,
The Truth sticks
To our lips
Tongues move
Murmuring gray
Noise

We are not
A public thing . . .
To be used
And seen
And known

Like filthy bus station
Urinals
That carts disease,
We wash our hands
Clean,
To sanctify and sanitize
But flies
Still hover near
Like vultures,
Or buzzards
Mind maggots
Burrow
Deeper
Devouring
Us

I use to
Sing,
Wanted
To believe

Somewhere . . .
Over the rainbow,
Skies were blue . . .

Elusive,
Its still raining here
We have searched
And searched
This desert
For that invisible rainbow,

Knowing it had
Two different ends
We’ve stood near the axis,
For years . . .
Arguing . . .
At some point,
We will have to commit
To a path,
Chose our separate ways

I know my route will not be easy,
You’re still seeking short cuts,
Convinced it is the only way
That will lead to happiness

I cry out in a voice
I no longer recognize
From far away echoes,
Greet me,
Crooning
My fears
Foretelling demise

Quivering my lips
Catching my word
Vocal cords tremble
The echo wavers
Wavers, wavers
Stabbing my ears

Written 9-10-01