My body is an ear.
Absorbing whispers meant for others' mouths that only close to wait to shove out more sound.
In other directions.
Towards another mouth.
Mouths who vomit sounds for the sake of sound.
Mouths that speak without a plan for other mouths.
Earless mouths.
Blathering on until they forget why they opened.
Holes from which echoed flatulence reverberates.
Unmeant for perception.
Meant only for sensation.
To be and for others' not to be.
As if,
As if another,
As if others would dare.
They; the non-playable characters would dare,
To perceive your sensation and respond.
Deaf to the tones you cannot even sing,
Despite the fact that you think you're a Lyrebird.
The only joy you provide is the thought that you think yourself other than a birdless liar; thinking it can think.
Your soul will rot in the brine you drown it in; nothing with a hint of you.
Categories:
brendan, abuse, age, anger, anxiety,
Form: Free verse
Your eyes are knives.
Your way of skinning rabbits,
Is quicker than mine.
Piercing daggers,
Across photonic records.
The visions take their toll.
Echoed sudo chambers across a viking floor of snow.
The wrong side of walls,
Surrounded by enemies.
The blue of my eye smaller each year.
Until I climb with teeth and heel:
Unafraid with you along the long way up.
We'll see our lives from up down here.
Trembling like a leaf,
A proper lover.
Categories:
brendan, abuse, america, angst, beautiful,
Form: Free verse
Off-beat pulse, echoed heart to part,
Separate slime of sweating art.
Body but a corpus, corporal careless muck,
Limbed flubber army legs lashing ‘gainst the yuck.
Mind but memory in meld with melted vision pours,
Trickles of tickled tactile tethers; ancient sores.
A Gelphling gathers Skexy exorcism,
Against a wizard’s litany of prism.
“Some directions,” says I to me,
“Not much to work with, to be.”
An auger delves in mystic vision,
Against the self or whole of catechism.
Trapped inside a poem’s angle,
Body brakes in bend to show it,
Web of woven thoughtless tangle,
Haunted minds in a wanton poet.
Categories:
brendan, absence, anxiety, life, nature,
Form: Rhyme
The last time I heard your voice
Was when you were on the S.S. Charlotte
You said I was ornery
For breaking your computer
I haven't heard from you since
No letters, e-mails, or phone calls
I'm worried sick
But I shouldn't be
Because you're worried about me
And my well-being
That's why you left for the Navy
To protect all of US
Literally the United States
And I am grateful
Godspeed to you, cousin
We're with you all the way
Categories:
brendan, caregiving, dedication, devotion, family,
Form: Free verse