April 21, 2009 at 06:47 (Poetry)
Tags: the Day the Music Died
You don’t like to talk, you say
And I like to listen
Silences will be deep, you chuckle
Intoxicated slights of imagination
Unfold your stories anyway
Time falls
Summer, comforter, proximity
No longer enough
To control
Traffic in my timbers
You caress my heels
Unhooking anklets
No one needs to be cold, you say
Bells sing in my ears
The shape of things
This is when I knew
I’d stay
Farwell Iqbal Bano…Music Died With You
March 10, 2009 at 02:28 (Poetry)
Tags: Perhaps About Love, Something Old
Bitter are the words we use
When we admit
That we love someone
Ashamed accents
Thought of surrender
In these times
Such a sin
We prefer our pickled existence
Swimming in vinegar
So much more focused a job
(Energetic, complicated)
Than lying in a beloved’s arms
Engrossed in therapeutic naked confessionals
For if we all healed ourselves
What would the shrinks of the Upper East Side do?
Who would fill up office spaces with pleather?
Why would anyone care about anybody else’s business?
When the only juice that matters
Is the one between you and me
Religion, tenets, isms, hyperbole
Would be flushed down the toilet bowl
In God’s master bathroom
Where would the world be then
As we know it today?
Corridors we rushed through
Would bear silent homage
To unheard footsteps
Elevators which shot us up
To our corporate images
Saturated with cast-off pin-stripes
Sophistication we lived by
Blown away
In the smoke you & I create
There may occur
Oneness
Would I then
Care about the muscular strength of your ideas?
When the whole world has gone
Hare Rama Hare Krishna
And would you love
My vulnerability?
When it can be bought in tepid bucket-loads
At your nearest, friendly, drug store
Would anyone be tranquil?
If that was the way the world swayed?
Necessary becomes chaos
To have pockets of peace
Even if lined with lint
And overwhelmed
By the mothballed odor of preservation
Seldom used
Unless in
Nervousness
Or
Betrayal
Et tu Brutus?
Then…
Caesar ceases to think
Only lives on as a legend
Manifested through hardcore marketing
And a parasitic estate
Which refuses to go hungry
By letting a dead man die
But I am still alive
Feel me
Still breathing
I am not the 10
Contrived out of myth
Just a catastrophe
Molded so
By other accidents
Often forgetting
There is more to me
Until you remind me
And I get lost
In the nutrasweet of your liquid voice
To wake-up again
Translucent stains
The only proof that you were here…
Stumbling through a somnambulist’s haze
I enter His bathroom
To purge
Rationalize
My life force
Drains away
In a weightless sound
Which only You can hear
But refuse to
For We both know
I am a compulsive screamer
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