Long Decomposing Poems
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Where was I?
unusual.
behind
the dizzying looking glass,
cement block,
panelled windows,
noonish saloons
sipping my loathing
like mosquitoes
milking stone veins
constipated.
contemplating pretty suspects
and their banditry of spotlight and shadows;
cute fashions with their dreamboat accessories.
Snatched away!
Who was I?
a deserted
quotient.
All of me, crumbs
sucking thumbs,
snorting baby powder, perfumed by heaven's hope,
resisting hunger
and decomposing
inside career mascot attire -
long-sleeves and layered layers
buttoning down body shame.
Where were we?
Ten-and-less aisle,
bargain corner debates.
Okay, maybe unquestioned.
Neither taken,
nor given as a suggestion,
no soft eyes
pursuing my pepper coarse afro edges,
rising bust, diffusive thighs
and stooped shoulders.
Hominim deflated,
experiencing overqualified non-affection
as a ruminant beast,
between ungovernable lioness
and resigned kitten.
I was left holding a pen,
multiplying stereotypes
around fatherless girls
without an agreeable image
of self
who fell for blank pages
to redraw the stages
that had
failed
hearts.
Flesh.
The world a stage,
Shakespeare noted.
And we the imposter,
in our final call.
A few catch our last show.
Unwitting, they s on cue,
our fatal prelude,
our convulsive caricature,
our final self-deprecation.
A clown milking our last mockery,
our closing burlesque pratfall,
our irrevocable tremor,
our departure in floodlights.
The guffaws intend no harm.
No one knows our real name.
We are just the familiar disguise
of impulsive chuckles.
Yes, the stage is our world,
where we regale in our farcical regalia,
where we playact the death we die,
defined abruptly only by the privation of others,
their season of grieving like elephants.
Perhaps it’s better this way,
decomposing, never to be recovered,
just the sound of laughter lost,
or the fading fragment in someone’s
sleepless night.
Published The Magnolia Review 03/2020
Am I god's breath
Dawn's first breath caresses dew-wet glade,
yellow catkins quiver in spring's tender breeze,
eastern sunrise fuels passerine serenade.
Sulphur-yellow butterflies, black and golden bees
time for birth, new life, our earthly sphere decrees
of Erebus and Nyx
Impish flames dance in noontime light
morph to ghastly pirouetting demons leaping
everywhere, undisciplined they grave alight
red-hot searing daggers all-consuming.
Summer's purifying salamander breathing.
or earthly shibboleth?
Jewel blue; no longer skipping over rocks
the river, now near the end, is older, wiser,
gently drifting west towards the busy docks.
Autumn leaves of gold, like gentle boats, stir,
floating towards sunset's end of chapter.
Caught between the twixt;
The winter forest seems to our eyes dead.
Midnights new moon; the mother of the sky
mystic dewgleam-silver lights the seedbed
of decomposing earth, where fresh shoots testify
new life once more this land will occupy.
I'm Aether, or maybe six sixty-six.
A turn and tilt from earth to sun
Your hot desire for summer fun
Eases into autumn’s tempering mood
A mellow scene of colorful cool
Restful, contemplative soothe.
Dangling leaves restless to descend
With bright flare, a path to transcend
In metamorphosis from living to dying
Needing a break from ever striving
Decomposing after its release
Life’s dizzy cycle, thus to repeat
Idle summer gives way to fall
Now ancient pulse of season’s call
Gathers its own to its beckoning bosom.
Daze of heat wanes within the valleys
O’re the hillsides rich crops rally
Waking harvests to reap in peak prime
Nearing nirvana with abundance sublime.
Written on 9/27/2020
Breaking down the barriers
That propped us up this whole time
Decomposing our identity down to the studs
As contemplating our next mountain to climb
Shattering our version of self
Loosening what was tightly wound
Refreshing to start seeing the whole picture
Discovering what we thought could never be found
Rightly reshuffling the deck
Rebuilding today better than before
Purposefully putting the puzzle back together
Realizing that some of the pieces don't fit anymore
But the story doesn't end there
While certain parts no longer align
It clears the space for fresh beginnings
Unlimited options ahead to mold our new design
“How-do-you-do?” the seminal leaves of Autumn wave.
“When would you like to fly away?” prickles the gust.
Maternal-oak holds on tight as one birdy takes flight.
The gust will have none of this ballyhoo, knowing
what he must do, calls for fingernails-on-chalkboard rain,
for the bad-wolf-wind, for lightning, insane.
“Toodle-loo,” says each spiderling-leaf, parachuting to earth.
They make such a scene; whirligig and wandering,
each drenched in colloquial colors, memorable, forsaken.
Each one in turn catches a potential eye even as it lands
in puddles, whirling and twirling, a final splash. They mourn
as blends of orange, yellow and red bleed into the stream.
Undignified, decomposing, going under, all poetry spent,
dwarfing and drifting; washed away down the drain.
Spring regeneration haphazardly avoids loose-leaf goosebumps.
*On The Run*
Hunted by my past, trailed by my shadow,
Intoxicated by elixir of youth,
I climb the ìrókò beyond the leaves.
Wail of woes, dehydrated dreams
Crushed in the battlefield of the deep;
Love lost, hoarse voice, greying hairs.
The wind slaps me cold,
Drunk with evil pleasure,
Sweet sorrow envelopes me;
Then it dawns on me,
I’d frittered the forest and harried the sea
With eyes larger than my stomach
While lost in the jungle of ambition.
I have impregnated the sand
and birthed blood;
Now,
Buried in the remnant of the night,
Fame
Is a remote treacherous valley
of thorny roses.
Wandering in the wilderness of civilization,
The stench of my decomposing sins has found me out.
A prisoner in my own skin,
I must hide and run,
And run and hide.
Solace in firewater and ghettos,
Like the hourglass,
I must hit the highway
And journey to nowhere.
In the end,
I can't outrun my shadow.
Whatever happened to Jansports and Tevas
-By the fire side and courage the cowardly dog
The unending episodes of the famous five
-And ice pellets we used to pick In the rains .
Whatever happened to good deeds,
and where did all the good people go ?
A minute for the woman who sighed for a jiffy,
-died within negligence on a solemn night
Whatever happened to the garden city and the verdant greens ..
Whatever happened to humanity and empathy ..
Whatever happened to Plantas and Refresh ..
Whatever happened to High morals and modesty..
Whatever happened to equal opportunities ,
and all the square pegs that didn’t fit the round holes?
What happens to the misfits and odd souls ?
-Their dreams ,ideas and innuendos .
What happens to the ones low on self esteem and self worth?
Or there’s not enough second chances .
Or maybe they weren’t good enough in recovering from their mishaps .
Or perhaps people don’t really care that much .
Or perhaps we embraced narcissism in the name of self love .
Whatever happened to tolerance and equality , and everything good we preached?
What happens to all the junk and the tears when they reach the sea ?
How about ghosts hovering around on the Mediterranean and the decomposing bodies on the Sahara ?
What happens to the faces that were murdered even before they took suicide ?
What happens to the pleas from Aleppo and the fading unheard echoes from Nubia
Whatever happened to love for all hatred for none
Whatever happened to freedom and justice
Whatever happened to achieving unity and solidarity
Whatsoever happened maintaining world peace and fostering cooperation
So when will your sympathy and empathy finally merge and lend a helping hand to ones on the verge ?
So when will the tides turn
And the boundaries finally fortified
From imposters and self serving narcissist ?
When will the lending ears hear our solemn withering plight ?
-And the blind pundits “waste no time in sterile litanies and nauseating mimicry.”
I guess they never have
I guess they never will
Damn!
I walk along the shores of dead daffodils and daisies,
tangled in cursed roses and beach bones, in your absence~
reminiscing redolent sparks of skeletal silence,
while my heart aches to be within the arms of your midnight phrases.
But our love has stolen the moonbeams from the air,
only to be cast amongst the demons that fare,
fragmented fangs ready to inflict unearthly pain,
dancing in ritualistic reveries under the suffocating rain.
I still weave sequins of serenity into the tortured twilight,
to illuminate blazing bruises between blushing starlight.
For in this island of desolated shores,
I dream of spider veins,
screaming for a release from the tides of toxic refrains,
mirroring the voodoo iris~
within the somber soul of Medusa.
So let crimson remnants of our romance
carpet seething shells grieving~
in the bioluminescent haven of fallen angels,
where whispers of woes and abandoned ink,
translate the aroma of decomposing pleasures.
Remember I am thunder, singing the songs of the storm,
dressed in skin of sea and sorrow.
I wear the ocean like armor;
maybe one day, from the eerie sandcastles,
left along the corpse corals and plankton,
you’ll find my bleeding pendulum ~
buried in ivory stillness.
All around us
It’s an epidemic
Man-induced plague
It’s a conspiracy
To hook people
To non food foods
Eats that should be
Technically inedible
Anything to grease the wheel
Of factories and consumerism
Nothing grown naturally
Nothing from a farm
Heavens no
Promoting foods whipped up
From powders and chemicals
None of those
Vegetables or fruits
Or other live stuff
Let the population thrive
On plastic derivatives
Deceitfully charming
Taste buds everywhere
Inducing dependency
Decomposing corpses wandering
Like loose time bombs
Waiting to explode
AP: Honorable Mention 2023