Eponym

20120229-102941.jpg
Are we the embodiment–conflicted fictive eponym
Of amorism, tainted–like a monolith for martyrdom
Scandalizing passion with our profligated fashion
Disassociating servitude from actual attraction

Are we the antithesis–the artificial flavoring
Of catalogue compliance–like iconoclastic bravery
Subterfuge for living with superfluous misgivings
In redundant disapproval our dissident divisions

(forgive me for being away so long. I have been quite sick lately and I promise to make time to visit my blogs more now that I am in recovery mode)

Drinking Arsenic Like Medicine

20111105-234721.jpg
Ladies and gentlemen
Let me present you with a
Perfect new precedent
For acting like an idiot
Here in this very room
Over in the corner sits
The hero of our story, or
Should I say the idiot

Some people simply have
No shred of common sense in them
Would you believe that he is
Something like an idiom
A metaphor or simile
For oblivious naivety
A character for study if
You can stand the scenery

Let us have a toast to his
Odious achievements. He
Had the best of health before
Showing up this evening
Staggering in agony
Begging for the Tylenol
Was poured a glass of arsenic
And presently imbibed it all

The moral of the story
Oh, ever-present audience
Is: when you have an ailment
Never look for medicine
It’s safer on your own and
You are better off with loneliness
Than asking for assistance
And ending up with arsenic

Well-Behaved But Faintly Desperate

20111008-182923.jpg
Sensory like Armageddon
Bended nerves and thin expressions
Thrown across this weary canvas
Lent to give a false impression
Spent to keep the censors guessing

Biding time for convalescence
Hidden lines and long confessions
Packed within these casual glances
Locked behind our fragile essence
Well-behaved but faintly desperate

The Tedious Business of Conforming

20111008-025459.jpg
These kids today require far too much attention
They want to think all on their own
These stranger shapes will call for radical dimensions
It seems that something should be done

What will they do if we allow them to continue
What kind of chaos will they cause
We’ve got these molds that they just are not fitting into
They ought to look a bit like us

These kids today create a tedious disruption
So many wrinkles we must iron
We’ve not approved the parts they use in their construction
We have some diagrams to burn

What will we do if they continue alterations
How will the future world survive
We have the clues and all the blueprints for perfection
We just can’t seem to stay alive…

Shards

20110921-043753.jpg
It’s not right is it?
A train wreck, rain check face with half-paid smiles and fever red lips
Pasted over a last chance resolve that never made it out of bed when the digits dropped
It’s days like this
When badly photocopied eyes
Which couldn’t afford the full color prints
Take up space on that billboard
Days like this
When angel laced asphalt screams obscenities from wheel-worn poverty and the collective reply of the masses is “suck it up
Everybody hurts”
And I ask myself
How it is that we manage such mayhem
Tucked in pinstripes and patted down with disposable lint rollers
To fill a world so desperate for everything else with the one thing we have in abundance
Rejection
Percentage-wise, we’ve never been a willing lot of responsible users
For all our talk, we salvage less and suffer more than skin can show through tight black fishnets on distant side streets
Only to look ourselves in the mirror
With badly photocopied eyes
Lie
And return again
But underneath our ink and recycled paper
We are dying for some color
Just a life less ordinary
In a disposable population
With reusable souls
That do not need to be told
“you look good today”
We need to be held
We need to be picked up off the sidewalk
And, with the shards of our broken mirrors
Shred these simple sub-standard pie charts
And drive the razor edge into our veins until we bleed the deepest shade of candy apple red onto this monotone mess
All the dreams
All the dreams flowing out into a Pollock mind blaze of a stain big enough to wash away days like today
Until eyes speak like Pluto in exile, saying “we will not go quietly”
And the shards of our broken mirrors become tools of redemption
Cutting through hollow point media masquerades and idealistic beauty
Slicing these badly photocopied eyes off rain-washed billboards
Until shards of our broken mirrors become weapons
Our Constantine sign of rebel beauty
Our anthem of being more than a mass of flesh and social statistics
Rebirthed carving out a new generation
Unwilling to dwindle quietly behind conventional wisdom cooked up by cultural bias
And the shards of our broken mirrors
Will become the passkey to a new beauty
A new breed that bleeds bright eyed dreams into our empty streets
With shards sharpened like knives against the skin of what we have been
To shed those faded yesterdays
And set us free
To be tomorrow

Zombies Among You

20110920-091931.jpg

Swing to the creak of the hinges
You people are sick in your succulent tombs
Stagger the slope from the ditches
Awake to moribund glow of the moon
Menacing only in figure
But lifeless expressions betray who we were
Balefully drifting disfigured
A ghost of the passions that struggle to stir
Some bear the marks of the broken
Poor shattered hearts all awry in our chest
Others wear feelings unspoken
Sentiments drowned and for all unconfessed
Stalking our “innocent” victims
All pressed and nicely tucked into their beds
Clambering free of our coffins
We are the shadows that trouble your heads
Stake us or break us with sleeping
But we will arise on the darkest of nights
Coming like zombies among you
Here to remind you of things you let die

Dancer Down

Oh there she goes
We’ve seen this song and dance before
Too many rounds
And now she’s bleeding on the ballroom floor
Pay her no mind
Pay her no mind
She does this all the time
Try not to stare
But don’t feel bad
She does this all the time

And when the crowd closes in
The music–oh the sweat and angst
She lost her footing yet again
Trying to move at a different pace
Dancer down dancer down
Dear mr. DJ keep the beat
The pandemonium resumes
Don’t stop the band just play on

You tore your dress
Silk has a tendency to catch
On sharper edges
Chiffon and lace don’t ever last
Pay her no mind
Pay her no mind
She only wants attention
Just step around
And keep in line
She only wants attention

The floor is cold on the face
The angle much more riveting
What people hide up their dress
Adds a sense of danger to the scene
Dancer down dancer down
Let the doorman lend assistance
The pandemonium resumes
Don’t stop the dance just play on

Dear, did you shatter
Your last glass slipper
Did the clock strike
The end of the day
Did you think they
Would want another diva
Nobody hears you crying
When the music playing