Stop Me If You Think You’ve Heard This One Before (Capacity Pt. 17)


Stop Me If You Think You’ve Heard This One Before (Capacity Pt. 17)

I can’t tell you the last time I had a good day. Furthermore it’s hard to recall the last time I even woke up with a pleasant dream still lingering in my head from those last moments of sleep. Sometimes even my daydreams are depressing. Nostalgia is more like a horror story for me. To be sentimental is to bring on the supernatural beings of the past  bent on further destroying me from the inside out. The past is a poltergeist. Everything that goes has a way of coming back. Today is hanging in the suspense of when. Tomorrow is already a bad memory.

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New Work at Unlikely Stories


who here remains who never rose wild

from captive sleep
which traps
hope in dreams?

whose vision is anything less than a weed?

*

to make the fairytale complete,
there must be a sacrifice. . . ”

http://www.unlikelystories.org/content/its-babies-from-afro-nowism-aint-over-and-future-primitive

Tongues for Days


purling this timidity into

cities translated by clouds

as forever rests

on gossipers’ tongues.

*

gulls been fending for

and fending off

longer than this shyness

ever existed.

 

electricity’s been static

fingertips

discovered nothing

but an experience.

*

didn’t go / didn’t get

mad

but took in a tear

on receiving news.

 

sheltered sadness

fostered it

for sake of something.

 

parrots had nothing to repeat.

mockingbirds eased of mimicry.

 

quieted, calmed –

reflecting on the essentiality

of being

another animal.

*

instinctively,

descent comes closer to home

to find the core –

bypass wounds, scars, sore spots

to dismay of symptoms

distracting the cure

*

in fear, death rises again

within

 

breaking out

heaven from hell

fury from fate

injustice amused

*

with a distaste being mutual between

needle and cloth

thread – the only common friend –

binds both until

the job is through.

*

aloof

crammed into the corners of the mind –

holding up the walls of theories never to be

a fly holding back the boulder

telling Sisyphus

give up the task

 

what worse could possibly come?

*

rain hungers for a face

tongues for a drop

 

Overcast


“… can never forget

Once every wall was water…”

Mary Oliver

Goals were never stated

for tears

set free

for overcast

brought about

by and for

some unknown

bend of shame,

regret.

 

Dampened consequences

bringing to rot

an idea

someone else

would

die for.

New Work at Anti-Heroin Chic


New Work in Anti-Heroin Chic

“heaven’s gate whines out opening up for all the tears of boys who were told not to cry. for all the girls abducted from their potential. for all the others forever denied. for zombies whiter than snow. for ghosts much the same. for corpses blackening in decay. for limbs much the same as gangrene sets in. for sun unable to melt the cities back to the bone of streets. for long winds sweeping out the corners of the neighborhoods. for the hillsides with a view of the comings and goings of paradise.”

Read the whole piece at: Anti-Heroin Chic

New Work in Inferior Planets


New Work in Inferior Planets

“when I say we sometimes I mean I and the voices I’ve heard or the voices I’m searching for. and sometimes when I say us, you can join in. and sometimes when I say you, I can’t imagine who I’m thinking of. and sometimes when I say they, it’s about me. and sometimes when they don’t like it, I revert back to I and start again.”

Read the rest here: http://inferiorplanets.com/issue1/2016/02/10/garcia/

Planning


As so on a by-passed day

when the self

so willed

to find a sharp

and 90 degree meeting

and rest there

a bit

facing away

from the room

it also created

when action

overpowered

planning

(inspired by Luis Cernuda)