Choking Titles

Those are not your bones

And the moon gestures to the horseman

Who rides again

Tonight, Tonight he rides

Reaped your regret, collecting debt

Your horror is your own,

All joy is lost on you, my friend

Cause tonight

The white horseman rides again.

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Drank the dusty bottles

You were saving for celebration

Oh, baby

You could have been a king

So now I drink

Toasting to the failure

We’ve turned into art

In honor of your god awful

Talent of fucking shit up.

Have you ever cried because it’s all so beautiful?

Everything.

From the sorrow you once had to the smiles you’ll always have.

From the confusion to the knowledge.

From nostalgia to the presence of everything, everyone.

Have you ever cried because the beauty has overwhelmed you?

You’re speechless and full.

You’re timeless and now.

You’re careless and hopeful.

You just are.

There’s always an answer

But we aren’t satisfied

There will never be new.

Dreams repeat.

Skies collapse.

You can brush the dirt

from your bruised knees

but your heart

will always be too heavy.

I picture this as a punk/grunge/ or spoken word/slam. I need to find a guitarist! 

Nine lives like a cat

Claws out; attack

Hiss. Hiss.

Bloody embryonic kiss

Gutless; Faceless

Scrape. Scrape.

My baby’s veins are black

My baby’s lips are dry

My baby finally died.

Shakes his dick at the feminist

She says ‘my baby met his fate’

My baby’s veins are black

My baby’s face is cracked

I shake my tits at the misogynist

He says ‘My baby is misplaced’

I want my baby. Who took my baby?

She shakes the blood from her thighs

She says ‘my baby finally died’

My womb is poisoned

My womb is liberated.

Murder. Murder.

They ignore the quarter sized clots

bits of hope; Pieces of hearts

The whore says ‘you could never be me’

His shame is silent.

My baby climbed my leg

My baby was stomped again

My baby finally died.

Nine lives like a cat.

My baby will come back

Attack. Attack.

A few years ago a lover wrote me (one of many) a poem. The last one he wrote me before we ended. Just a few days ago I finally wrote a response. Sometimes you need time.

Movement I

“Mine” you promised with a smirk
Twisted and bound by white rope.
You claimed my innocence your’s to abolish
You promised to give me solace.
Carved your intentions in my thighs,
Your bed temporary territory to cry.
But her blood was fresh on the sheets
You the Lord of Cheats.
Snow and ripped jeans; refusing to wear your coat.
Undecided if I should stay.


Movement II

Her swollen stomach full of promise
Your blue eyes searching for compromise
locked your secrets in a black trunk
Ignoring all of your madness.
A greyhound and baffled infant son,
You refusing to admit she won.
The back burner lover called to the scene
Free to openly love me.
But you kept your love quiet
Expecting me to understand your language.


Movement III

You can blame me for our detour,
I’ll accept it.
Convict me for betrayal
I’ll accept the truth.
His eyes were green and knuckles bloody
You too proud to admit you loved me.
I Discovered your heart while he started a war,
My womb became gory and sore
And like a Savior you offered me more,
Recused me from damnation.

Movement IV

How my words contradicted
We became twisted lies of love
Who couldn’t let go of hope.
Our hearts resting from wars,
Cleansed our wounds;etched new scars.
My violence no longer silence
and you opened the door
To escort me out
Found a different reprise.

Movement V

You brought me back to the start
Watching me piece together my heart,
All the while making love to your reprieve
Told me she was too shaky
How you missed me.
Ambulance and turkey dinner
The realization we weren’t bitter.
And you escaped without a noise.
Headed south leaving me without a choice.