Life As a Parable

Life is a Parable
destined for myth
an ancienct manuscript,
inside of which
rests only brevity of wit.

Life is a parable
brought on by hopeless majesty
pointing her scepter at us:

A wave of sleep descends,
in a trance, burried as we learn
the name for colors.

Rude voices wash over us,
we remember what we never knew
and learn, as well, to tie a shoe[,]
a noose for the unicorn we sometimes saw.

Take comfort in this Parable--
rest your eyes upon this page
close, gently to the poem,
with the realization it unfolds.

Birth

She opened her eyes first,
Saw only what was there:
Gauze; a haze of shadows,
A blur only she could make real.

Watch him form out of the mist,
Come to her (with good intent),
She resolves him; he holds close to her,
In the end it comes to dust.

She grows: tomorrow she will be old,
Tonight she begins her trip--
Packing light, she squelches the candle,
And invites his lips to hers.

So the story goes; so the virgins
Grow old, and so death does again
Walk towards each woman and man:
The end is in the beginning.

Drunken, I Suspect

I am
life's murderer,
come to revenge
life upon you.
You deserve
to die
By this hand (I know you not),
I know all of you,
There is a tic
above your eye.

I have come
to show you redemption--
My hands
are steeped in blood
(of salvation).
You have lost
your way.
I am here
to show you;
You're far away.

I am
your lover,
come to climax
my body
inside yours.
Mindless, You deserve...
better, I know
you will concede.

I have
brought
a game,
I wish to teach you
to play.
I love you
Not as a lover should,
But as a lover does.

You see
when you look away,
I show you
what you have lost
and what
might you gain
if only you can forget
that Tomorrow is
Yet another day.

Still. You are
a dog, dying in a ditch,
mangled by a car,
forgotten suffering
understanding,
At last
wimpering sweet bliss.

I take
all you posses
You are rich,
and so you will remain.
There will be a day,
when you
and I
will die,
and together,
We will have all--
The nothingness
we desire.

I am
broken (tomorrow, already)
you are
Alive
tonight, yet, tonight
You sleep.
You are not,
yourself
But I,
inside myself see
who are you not,
and who might I be?

This Time

sift through sandboxes
time to dig out the past,
we missed it once, didn't we?
perhaps it's buried here,
stepped on by the many feet
of laughing children.

opiate gardens

sweat flowing rhythm blowing
mind knowing what's coming next,
i move with her music she
dances she copulates she
dreams in my state i couldn't
stop her, dance, sun in
my eyes i squinted sweated
her heart pounded against
my emotions a wall erected
quickly inside of us, we
beat to the music as snakes
moving charmed we opened
gates swam in opiate gardens
lived with gods and fell
away.

i bleed

i bleed as she spears me
with her flowing eyes.
my insides cracked outside
by the whips of her hair
as it whispers across my face.

sweat collects on my forhead
as i push my mind to speak
in eloquence, in the presence
of a dream.

beauty

walk through stale streets sipping
painted wine in search of
slowly burning time,
pavement blurs and smells of tar
and roadkill this evening everywhere,
dripping painted blood,
never burning in vain again.

only once in a while born again
so take it
easy, do not blaze through flowerbeds
and football games,
waste only desire.

and then i saw
the beauty fleeing from my eyes.

it happens in silence

the state turned me out
they said, none of your blood type here
i turned off my pants
and the lights,
before i jumped into the pool
of insanity.

the beer was full of bottles
and the table was in the cave,
but we drank to our health,
anyways. in the dark
it was easier to see
the silence
in the winter trees.

the clouds didn't shine tonight
because we whispered
too loudly to be heard,
and a man came before us
and cursed our every word.

we drank to a piece (of the pie),
but the police turned us down
in spite of our suits and our ties.
they threw away our travellers checks,
screening for plutonians
arriving late, without a visa.

hated it, i told them so, we didn't
enjoy being held in the trauma ward,
but we were contageous,
and there wasn't a doctor to put in
a good word.

then, they laughed (again), because
we had been there before,
or so they said. it might have been true
but my hand showed no stamp,
even after a careful examination.

when i turned on the light
i missed the curve
in the road
that would have told me
where to go.

even my blood was opened.