Monday, February 1, 2016




Broken splendor writhes
in agonized forfeitures
of all hints of an idyllic
compromise against the grain
of your insurgent campaigns
against my bravery
Insolvent decrees against your brevity
If I have the sliest quip
nipping at my showman's disposal
it will curtsy in the guise
of a sheepish candidate
for a cower under your
unperturbed wordsmith's profundity
of intellectual retrieval
Take the remnants of my revelry
for storage in a shelter
of misplaced dedications
You deserve ballads at this stage
and all I have for you
are the abstruse skinnings
of a sated body's incorrigible skin
Technicalities equip chemistry
to their invincibility of logic
and here I am with flaccid either/ors
that enlighten neither side
of my decision
I am doomed to an incursion of indifference
amplifying how little this
imagination has to say compared
to your compendium of knowledge
in your bottomless philosophy
where intuition bottoms out
and I remain to rub my wounds
of frazzled confidence
in once-informative
poetic observations



He works an avid zig-zag
around the checkerboard of his
encased conundrum

Cross-winds of machinations
sprout silhouettes
obliterating like paintball bullets
on his fleeting abstract face

He is dizzy from the gravity
of off-key orchestras of whims
serenading his decision-making process

(Disposition-making process)

Not an old or new world man
he's a black hole brimming over
with an atmosphere of sympathy consumption

He's his own rumor
coated in congealed tongues
and garbed in salivating fingers

(Garbled in a language of malingers)



My waking is a walk into
a destitute daydream
blindfolded by the sun's embroidery
of Scarlett redundancy
Another day of self-fulfilling fiction
siphoned through decisive shutters
swallowing deflated social bait
with arid straws of filtered daylight
mocking optimistic fabrications of
a rippled audience
with the benign transcendent
therapy of your angelic quintessence
A woman lurks in your impression
of a knighting manifestation
on my shoulders sulking under
solitude's weight
yet the sword of your anointing revelation
isn't flat and flush with the descending
contours of my collarbones
On my shoulders I collect
the clammy pools of blood culled
from a reality's severing duet
From my body falls all aptitude
for sensitivity to apathy
and between decapitation and the day
acceptance is adopted with a sigh
of relativity
You saved me from a death
by disregarded hours
and released me to another day
alone but alive



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