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Martin Graham Poem
Infamous girl
you sank to a grave dug with a silver spoon
infamous girl
you drag your dress across an ill fated field lit by the moon
Lure you, comfort you, f-ck you, toss you
put this cycle on repeat, spin in your own spit
This is a damning of the innocent hearts turned noir
Bang out of your intentions, or what’s left of them anyway
The music thumps in corridors made by the misfits who mishandle your direction
Your phoenix rose into this glorious infection
Infamous girl
you rang the bells at your own funeral
the parlor was set, the flowers arranged, but everyone showed up in white
They smiled at the tint of your skin
they reveled in the story of your sin
No one talks about the whore after she’s been buried underneath
six feet of earth and concrete
They remember the scabs and fancy footwork you used to get there
The past has been erased, the bobby pins and the pigtails in your hair
The past has been deleted for knee high boots slouched against a strangers chair
the blips of actions before you ceased are the talk of the town
of why you aren’t spreading your filth since you’re resting in the ground
Copyright © Martin Graham | Year Posted 2009
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Martin Graham Poem
I heard the radio say we won’t make it
the announcer was quite sure of it
I’m fearing the sound of sirens
Welcoming the sound of detachment
From inside out
Outside in
From last nights drink to tomorrow nights sin
Dead on time isn’t my usual agenda, but neither was any of this
Showing up fashionably late fashionable
Helped ease the conversationalist
The man in the corner
Dirty wine glasses stack to the brim with sedatives
Someone help me
I wasn’t supposed to see the criteria
Somebody get me out of this fog
I can see a shadow holding a rose with comfort
Someone get me out of this fog
Five seconds before the crash
I was illustrating my demise
Speaking of you
Speaking of me
I’ve suffered worse fates in your eyes
Five seconds before the garden
I was watching your mother crow
Speaking of her
Speaking of him
From the thumping down below
This is it, this is the rest of our lives
This is what happens when you blink
This is the rest of our lives
Copyright © Martin Graham | Year Posted 2009
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Martin Graham Poem
A cash store clerk bent on self
improvement brought a gun to
work today
His final solution to follicles and
dried up tear ducts
He didn’t know where to
conceal, what was really eating
him
A funny slogan brought a slight
grin, but was buried when he
choked on joy
The towns people saw him
shrug and the earth shuddered
They saw him strung up in the
square with a new hue to him
Lucky for them they wouldn’t
be here too long
His head hovers by his
shoulders, his hands hold his
fate
Questions nibble his mind...
Do the young deserve it more
than the ones who’ve seen
what he’s come to see?
Do the elders deserve a bitter
rose bleeding near a grave that
states “He lived a full life”?
Decisions, decisions
This bread can’t hold back the
pains from future regret and
this bottle hasn’t been curing
anything but dream
weaving
Something he doesn’t know
much about anymore
A crooked smile slits its own
throat across his face
Where did this come from?
A guttural reaction to the
thought of death?
Maybe just perfection embodied
from a cold steel grip
Kick up dust with the flick of his
wrist
Everything unsettled ends, this
will be his day of smiling
The towns people saw him
shrug his shoulders and the
earth shuddered
The towns people’s lives flash
The suns eclipsed by screams
The cash store clerk bent on
self improvement brought a
gun to work today
and the towns people helped
him live a little longer....
Copyright © Martin Graham | Year Posted 2009
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Martin Graham Poem
Drain the bad excuse I've made for my pupils
they know not what they see
Choices are made
villains are created in a workshop of walking hammers
cherished torture tools belong in the first drawer
the one near the floor
Same person, same face
same future, same race
the space between glowing follicles has reached maximum distance ratio's
computed near perfection by the drones whose job it is to oversee the confusion
Who loved the ones who loved who they knew loved them
battered crust extinction level event
airbrushed and heaven sent
Your God has a plan for every set of eyes
Not mine
He's alone in the workshop banging away at roadblocks
twists and turns
forks in the road and other whathaveyou's
A slow embrace
is better than none at all
A diluted disgrace
is sweeter after you've had to fall
Copyright © Martin Graham | Year Posted 2010
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Martin Graham Poem
No one looks both ways here
desolate grounds call for desolate hounds
Creatures of the night landscape
Wait, up in the trees
a hint of jealousy
is swinging from a limb
tempting but i’ll pass good sir
Thank you for the invitation
thank you for the noose
Thank you for the laceration
thank you for the truth
In from a morning jog is a bit of grief
a bitter leaf he is
a hiccup in the birth place of loss
everything is not about you
it’s about the dead
it’s about a souls extravaganza
a rush of blood to the neck
the head takes care of itself
Back from a vacation is relief
sweet relief
too smell like the Earth
and soothe like the sun
I remember you relief
in the end
you’re a proper shoulder
the only one
who is there for me
The only one that cares
until I inhale temptation once again
falling right back down the stairs
Copyright © Martin Graham | Year Posted 2010
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Martin Graham Poem
Here ye’ here ye’
Read the headlines and polish the abstract newsletters
There’s a new trend amongst the weak
Sales tags mark the price of this new found phenomenon at a bargain
A steal if you will
You can pick it up for free at your local hot spot
Dripping from the noses of heathens holding a cup
Sipping their sorrows from a mug made of skin
Bound by a leather tassel and reeking of misdirection
There’s a fitting irony, how the drunkards tell the most truth
While the sober ones spit lies
At least a lush has summed it up to bad taste by proxy
If this isn’t what was intended
Why has the scale been tipped?
It seems a great suit and on the right track to me
So why is this vehicle swerving, dragging me to that shady side of the city
I should not be here
People like me get swallowed whole by the gutters and the wicked
I heard there’s no rest for them so it’s proper that they’ve set their roots in this town
Dream me out of here
Storm the lighthouse and set the beacon somewhere I can see it
I should fix my gaze towards better things but spoils are just more fun
Natural progression, zero tolerance, primal instinct
All the ingredients that make this product such a hit
You’ve been forewarned and forsaken that the side effects may overjoy
May the pessimistic turn optimistic through dissection of the left and right hemisphere
Gasp!
The end is near but I feel like I’ve just begun to breath in this new aroma
Light the flares
A new addiction walks this way....
Copyright © Martin Graham | Year Posted 2009
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Martin Graham Poem
Enter the crowd
spawning shapes upon the dead
A skill honed by understanding the living
a task only desired by the dregs
Mind the sirens as they sing a call
A call that was called while calling for the end of the world
Saturation through destruction
so on and not so far forth passed an intellect drawn on a caveman’s wall
The breathing here will stall
It will become tough to take in
exactly what is seen
Deep under here beneath
Seeped earth unturned for a kernel of thought
Barely tapping the surface
here for a purpose
deemed utterly worthless
Those are that thing’s eyes that judge us
they called him God once before
No one said he’d be so bright
patternless and misinformed
There were good men
who drug their brothers to the sand
there were bad men
who taught us to take a stand
to be strong
to balance the planets on an axis of hatred
tipping towards the grand
No pity from a man free of inhibitions
no apologies from the cutthroat crowd
Take the hat as the captain of awkward situations
a soaring laughter erupts from the crowd
The crowd will always give chase
a duty bestowed
a beauty-less rose
a useless pose
The crowd had a head start
The crowd takes affect
This was written ingest
The crowd now infests
The crowd always infests
Copyright © Martin Graham | Year Posted 2010
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Martin Graham Poem
Down from the statue
and into the water
they will come for you
Out from the safety and into the womb
they will comfort you
The scanning of retinas stops now
though it’s not like I got complaints
It’s just the landlords of autumn have disclosed a lot
and they have tainted the sacred grace
For climax
add some fabric calamity and you got yourself a being
To detract anyone
add to the archetype of slings and arrows
only then will you be “seeing”
Rocks fall
humans crawl
Primordial urges
power surges
Planets shift
but trends stick
Drip dry those subliminal thoughts
they’re projecting more then you think
Sort me out
Anyone could sort me out
we’re all the same
The scanning of retinas
will never stop
The energy rattles the earth off it’s hinges
and the dirt from the grave
But I promise you it will never stop
until none of us are the same
Copyright © Martin Graham | Year Posted 2010
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Martin Graham Poem
Ridding the world of you came at a cost
now I float without color
without virtue
Why can’t I feel my arms?
what were once extensions to hold me up
don’t provide much when walls aren’t a factor
This place has an odd irony
I seem to be the butt of it’s joke
No violence, love, hate or demeanor is needed
I don’t even think the decorator had any idea what to do with the interior
Gave it to the serpent and the man with the hat who sits on the clouds
I should probably move
Saints come here for purification
I’m the elephant in the room that everyone's well aware of
but unsure of
Do-gooders snicker and point
wonder why I’m even here
So much for secrecy, so much for some well earned alone time
I wanted to rest by the white tree
have a drink
wax idiotic with Dante and Virgil
rather that than being cleansed by fire
it was just one and she deserved it
There I go opening my big mouth again
the flames lick my toes as the chubby servants poke with their sticks
God damn it I told you I have a thick coat
this may take a while so I hope you brought something to read
Drink the elixir, pardon the purpose, give me the light and rest
bring on Hades
make a decision cause I’ve always been torn between the two
Not all bad is good and vice versa
Book it for the door as the red guy extends his grip
I should have tried a different route
no turning back now
I will not be reprimanded by the mountain
on this wing I’m carried back where I belong
amongst the hysterical and crying souls of a nameless generation
I’m back.... did you miss me?
Copyright © Martin Graham | Year Posted 2010
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Martin Graham Poem
She's grown fond
of the void lulling around her exoskeleton
She's brought horror to
diligent obtuse slaves
The quiver in her giggle
heeds her cerebellum celebration for the rats that claw at the flesh walls
Jokes on the vermin, jokes on everyone
germ spreader dictates a varied vacation from the norm
the wicked only wither at the hint of a storm
It's in their genes
in between
and all part of "the scene"
a hellish landscape comprised of wooden dolls cradled by gelatin snakes
It's about to forsake the world
She's about to regurgitate the stars over absent bowel syndrome
She's loved and out
sprained by clout
itched severed love cloth
begging for a spout
Brave ones be near her
Sing the strings of cellos wrapped at her ankles
Bring the sins of her meta-skeleton
Drag her through the snow
freeze everything she knows
Copyright © Martin Graham | Year Posted 2010
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