All posts in verse

Fire fire, burning bright
Windy windy, lost my light
Sequins sequins, she tucks it in
Sprays her scent and does a spin
Water water, quench my thirst
Love me back, make me first
Comet vomit into space
I want to kiss you on your face
Loving loving, why’s it hard?
I rehearsed my lines and know my parts
These shoes behoove though second-hand
Not good enough, more reprimand
Steady steady, start again
I’m sure I’ll get this in the end
Ponder wander, her face I see
And my mind goes again, just up and leaves…

Ahh… to be her pillow.

No, I don’t want to be slow moving and white (cue laugh track) but I DO want to be as full of life and laughter as these three dudes aged 72, 77, and 81. It takes them a while to get started but once they get into the crotch grabbing homage to Michael Jackson, they do it with such vigor that you can’t help but LOL.

Anathemas and shadows and veins coursing lead
He’s looming and lurking and nigh-inspiring dread
Duplicitous and suspicious, I wish that he were dead
He’s like some matured fictional monster come from under my bed

Mondays find me restless and these days ask for peace
Wednesdays leave me torn while next days find my knees
And Saturdays ramblings to God and His returned calls to me
Despite my incapacity of articulating barring eloquence of speech

Mirrors are mere reflections while perspective is above par
I am my only devil, I am my only scar.
Cast him down in the hole and cover him in tar
Still wherever I go, there also is my bête noire.
….

*bête noire is referring to one that is particularly disliked or that is to be avoided.

“A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.” – Tenneva Jordan*

* Unfortunately, I was not able to confirm who Tenneva Jordan is when I discovered this amazing quote.

He slides his tongue along the inside of his bloodied bottom lip as his mouth fills with the salty realization that the truth was there before him all the while, in soft focus on the periphery of his vision.

I’m living in the here and now that is today,
While the hope of tomorrow urges me forward.
Yesterday is SO… yesterday.

What is this prickly, cold to the touch
That rejects my beloved and protesteth too much?
The all that I am or was or would be
Is cast out with ashes by the buoy out to sea
Is it me that is crackling and barren to seed?
Or is it her that is starving, refusing to feed?
Reckless abandon towards horizons I ran
Now crippled and depleted, unable to stand.

Once proud of the cactus in deserts before
Who needed no one, alone forever he swore
Yet a flower so stray and soon this cactus would swell
To water said flower as the archives do tell
And flower soon flourished and vines she evoked
To embrace and caress then for no reason to choke
But the Sun was too much and the flower was effaced
And heartbroken cactus lived to water another day.

Some have walls while others have moats
Manned by alligators and cannonball boats
Mermaids and snowmen, if destined to court,
How would they thrive and how doth love twixt report?
Out of water she suffocates and freezes to peril
While of ice and of snow, he is as loving as feral
This never-ending heartbreak won’t relinquish or cease
Flower’s vines are constricting and won’t give release.

But… what is this melting? My ice loses mass
That my mermaid may swim in me and together at last.

kenn.

I’m repulsed at the chimera* and how it all was mend
Scoffing at the scoffers and how they got the bends
Eggshells are so fragile, can’t depend on king’s own men
Solomon lived about it and Chinua wrote it in

Glory to my God and glory to the nighest
Can my life give praises even though I’m not my finest?
Grace sufficient covers me but what about the pious?
Acting as hypocrites and sold-out shows despite this.

This chimera stitched and sewn, my reflection much afraid
Do I believe the prose that claims that I’m wonderfully made?
Faithless to walk on water but for religion I’ll safely wade
My cloak and crown has disappeared, can’t remember where it’s laid

“Let not your heart be troubled, believe in God, also in me,”
Jesus said as John recorded and for czars a King’s heart bleeds
Both presidents and paupers will soon day all give a knee
And the revulsion of my being will yield beauty for all to see.

*In Greek mythology, the Chimera is a monstrous creature made of the parts of multiple animals. The term chimera is often used to describe things that have combined attributes from different sources. I use it as an allegory to how God forms us from our different tragedies and experiences.

This passenger-side driving
Alludes that I’m not so in control
The floorboards won’t slow my descent
And the dashboard won’t steer my fold

While my sanity is bleeding
And injustice is on the walk
I try hard not to feel
I try hard not to talk

This passenger-side driving
Has me impatient to make my mark
But it’s all about the journey I hear
Not where you stop or start

So stops and yields and showoff peels
And drive thru meals and an influx of steel
To the tune of white noise and legislative frills
Remind me to be still. Just be still. Be still. Still.

Said body and senses and instinct and suspense prepare for the violent outbreak of a sneeze.
All that mattered previous to this spasm is as insignificant as a comb to a dying man.
Even breathing would hinder this fixation with readiness of what is inevitable.
I raise my hands in surrender or perhaps simply to coordinate with
The expulsion of air from my lungs and the base of me.
My nasal mucosa and whatever supposed to
Has been irritated and this release
This inevitable exoneration is
On the verge but soon
God will bless me
And I… I…
Ah… ahh…

I choose my words carefully as I narrate accounts and anecdotes of my happenings as of late.
Unlike the fumbling of a programmer who garbles through blurred code and languages,
I paint imagery with sentences as colorful ribbons would blow in the wind at a parade.
And then… suddenly, like some silent, violent sneeze and the void it leaves behind
What was once there is no longer before my memory or the eye of my mind.
A cord has been severed between my brain and my motor skills.
Words not yet said are on the tip of my tongue
As the sneeze was at the base of my lung
Or a familiar tune heard not quite sung.
Something is amiss and near
Will you be there?
Or here?

kenn.