Sunday, July 31, 2011

Untitled Affection


You wanted it all
But I broke your fall

Since squire spotted curve
All energy within
Defines this nerve

Neon, in design
Yet she chooses wrong
When her face is lured
By stone of Rhine
Upon beds broken in
Atop beds broken through

You wanted it all
Again I broke your fall

Tears bore erosion across your mask
Bitter spasms you despise
Yet I pretend in sorrow
Empathizing for your lack

Yet so soon,
 The paints just dried
You descend
In flowered form
Jagged and bent
Erasing the seasons you’ve just spent
Into a chasm you have fell
Upon rock and ledge
Your canvas spills

You wanted it all
I could not breathe
Yet I let your fall be saved
Only to rearrange the words I say
Placing blame upon my table
When all I ever desired
Was to give it all to you
Every piece enabled
Every line and every cable
Perfecting your fantasy into songs of fable

Never enough it is with you
Each time closer you come to death
Each lock you lose
Every box you skin on through
A shock reacts the same
As it had, as it will
Yet break your fall again I will

Saturday, July 30, 2011

Curtain Call


Steady is the valance
Wrinkled are the drapes
The blind abstracts focus
As the outside retracts its call

Enclosed 
Until curtains draw
 A stated shade
Reflects it all

Beyond the tint of shadows
Between the aged frame
There lays a pane
Tempered and alone

Steady is the valance
Glue above a fabric
Aching for repeal

Only as the light reenters vision
Will the settled dust reveal

Friday, July 29, 2011

THE SPIDER’S WEB



Arise, as cock screams long
Early morning, break of dawn
Peruse the remnants through
Of last nights fateful muse

Drain the toxins from their storage keep
Forage cupboards, sustenance to seek
Fiber, protein, points before
White paste chalk taste scored
Away from tongue
In a daze the day’s begun

Zombie feet take you there
Atrophy still unaware
Of things still the way they were last eve
Silken chambers swaddled sleeves
Oh, what a wicked web we weave

Son of a Hit


Auspicious beginnings rear auspicious breeds

Mine began at inception
Genetically infected
By a predilection towards deception
And so a hit man I became

The first hit took place upon conception
Where I died during delivery
As cord bound noose about my throat
Yet I was revived
Blue eyes clouded by a touch of grey

I wasn’t supposed to survive,
This was never the intention of the seed that sparked my life
Therefore fostered I became

As days would follow
Knowledge I soaked
Detailing the plots and the plans
To which this intelligence would unveil

They were a simple lot
The ones who called me son
They were not my blood
But this did not stop them
From loving me as their own
The son they could never have
And so a fondness within me grew
An attachment bonded me to these two
Yet even they could see it early
In my eyes something was not correct
They wished the world for my life
However, I had another path in mind

Investigations taught me well
How I was the weapon used
I was the means to an end
For a man betraying vows
For a man who cared not for morality

My birthing was a masquerade
In fact I was the centerpiece behind a frame
That would live to become both cause and cover up
Yet truth was told, the truth I knew
The planning was ingenious
The paternal forethought was clever
The execution of his plan was careful and resolute.
He pricked holes in his lambskin coats, knowing mother had a tunnel that couldn’t cope.  He understood her greatest flaw was her passion for life that all things happen, for a reason.
Her devotion to religion, her belief system, taught her to behave predictable.  He knew this and more.   

When she found out first, that I was alive inside, she swelled up; I became the blessing she had always sought.  The doctors and professionals explained her life would very likely be lost, if she continued forward down this path.  She wouldn’t stray; it was not her way, even when they said it was an unlikely scenario that either of us would ever breathe after delivery took its toll.  Even then she clung to the faint hope, that a family we would be, as she returned from her recovery. 

As days grew close, the woman saw, a glimmering wonder within her husbands’ eye.  She knew a deception had been played, yet she couldn’t prove the matter.  There would be no basis for any claim.  Yet, the paranoia did not matter much, she was grateful for the wonder in her womb.  She was in love with the idea, a mother she would be.

The day then came.
Blood was everywhere.
Flooding stainless steel
She had no chance- in so much pain
We both knew it couldn’t last
Out of mercy I pushed forth
Ending her journey
Beginning mine
To the much chagrin of the paternoster my father would never see in me.

Feigned grief he shed
Tears trickled down
Method acting at its best
A smile only peaked upon his cheeks
The day he received the return on policy
The next afternoon
He pretended his grief had grown
That I was too much a chore,
Too delicate and fragile for his type to bear

The plot was impossible to prove
Yet the figures added perfect
To the master plot he spun

If it weren’t for me
Vengeful justice would have never swam
For her, she deserved better
So retribution was left to me
I had to become
The hit man I was birthed to be

Many hours
Plotting, learning, watching, waiting
Late nights documenting routine
Swallowing the vomit he induced in me

Then one day he stopped and stared
Approached the car, unaware of who I was
Intently, behind the wheel, I heard the tapping on the glass
Neck I turned as glass beside dipped down,
Between steel and air
He asked who I was and why I was there
 I wanted to scream, “Remember me”
I’ve got his eyes
Perhaps jawline too
“Tired, needed a break” was all my lips could stir
He walked away and stared back again
Shook his head and left my stay

The next day, an anniversary of birth,
And as a gift to myself, an accident I had
For all the years I’ve buried down,
Each vision of impulse
Every plotted point I’ve had

The collision was severe
Crashing metal driving steel
Eclipsed a budding metropolis
At the intersection of Main and 1st
Our cars met head on
Accidental but mentally rehearsed

The police examined me as I recovered.  They took careful notice, of the stitches on both head and hand.  They thought it was too coincidental to be a coincidence at all.  What were the odds, that on my birthday, I should collide, with the man who provided me life?  Too Oedipal to go unnoticed.  Too impossible to believe, but a case like this they’d never before seen.  A man like me they wished well.  For not only did a car betray my lane, the driver happed be the man who had birthed my seed.  Like a crocodile, tears thickly made their way.  Slow and methodically, I didn’t bite; it was all they had. 

And prove they could not
And with one act of will
I made things right, I took away his life,
Inheriting his everything

This was hit number two
But the cogs kept spinning, severe and fierce
I realized that every trace of him must be wiped clear

I searched for others and more there were
Many seeds of his, alive out there
Abandoned sons and daughters
Estranged lovers and displaced kin

Espoused in anonymity
Each year a gift I endow
Simply noting
They’re not alone
That people do care for you
And thus the third hit was done

I’ve since stopped count
Yet continue on I do
Until another figures this all out
The traces and the history
Of a family steeped in infamy
And if that child should concoct
A vengeful plot, in their father’s name
For disallowing them the possibility
 To ask the questions they keep. 
 To which I would tell that child, I know exactly how you feel, where you’ve been.
Completing the cycle, where the last hit, will again be me.