Friday, May 24, 2013

Nothing Gives

When you realize the danger 
of being in love with a ghost
A white smoky being
You fall through the black cracks
and you tumble till you can't stand anymore
And those damned crutches can't even hold me up
I wish I had even the slightest strength
to hold on, but nothing
nothing gives

I want to be able to rise or become
a glass statue possibly inside you
so that even if my body is moved
I wouldn't shatter because your organs would
protect me... and I will become a spy one day
with one eye on you and one eye on me
and I hope one day I get the courage to
leave you, and nothing
nothing gives

And so I live with shadow puppets
screaming in my head
And so I live with strings
Coming from my head
When I look up
I see you holding me up, I have become
a marionette, and made out of paper
A dangling decor that with the rain disappears
I see my time with you, a memory
so distant
because I can't lie
I can't be there, I'm made of nothing

I turn to so many things to have you love me
and I am writing about you, and nothing
nothing gives.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Purple Rain

I purpled myself in your eyes
and you used to save me
you made sure
My eyes
had clarity
and now they lie
lie to you like they lie to me
like purple rain

I am like you
we play with each other's strings
like an old shoe hanging from a post
I hang
Hinged by some mystery promise
a phantom has me down on my knees
and sometimes I feel the tip of your heel
on my cheeks
my face painted to the ground
like purple rain I lie

And I let you hold me
I let you hold me just enough
for me to believe
that I am sure I know what I want
and I know what you want
a bell to ring
that's it, like a porter or a host
to carry your deceits
to carry your unborn children
into a desolate place and then
I get bored with you and
I don't care but when I see you
I am blinded once more
And I refuse to leave
and like a spoiled child
I scream, and I tear up
Oh purple rain

Your colors give me hope
but what need I hope for?
I see you. Lying to me, you
lie to your mother
I see you take my papers and burning them
You think I don't see you, I see
you... with scissors too and that brush
I keep wetting to paint my face
has to dry one day
How can I cry old tears
and be bare to some ghost?
Be that cup amidst the dessert
hoping for rain
and now I look up and I see
you falling into my eyes
becoming purple to me
my eyes have turned into cups
and oh! I purpled myself
...your eyes are not here.
Oh purple rain I lie.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

You Are Like The End Of Me.

We don't occupy the same space
and so you are here and I am there
it must be
Because I sometimes find myself
swirling through the shadows of your mind
I see that you think of me
I know that you feel for me
what I feel for you, for you I feel

And since I don't occupy the same space
as you
I so want to be with you
I want to want you
to climb inside me
and surely then I'd occupy some part of you
like you now occupy some part of me

And since you don't occupy
the same space as me
I want you to know me
like a stranger
you live in a cold place
while I live in hell (which is sometimes hot)
and sometimes I'm in the clouds about you
only to find that you don't exist
you're like a ghost in the night
you come and take my soul and play tricks
with me, with your twirly finger
you intoxicate me with your love
as they say, you exist only in the desert
oh how love is thirsty
like a virgin
like an untouched thing, touched
and we don't occupy the same

You are like the end of me.

Thursday, February 14, 2013


I thought I'd be a wild flower to you
And like paper I am,
yes a paper flower
And so you tried to suffocate me
to drown me in your water
Your sweat were pearls to my dreams
and now what?

What can water mean to me- paper
Among the living
on the ground untouched
untouched by the language
the words of love
Oh if only you knew
How much I've dreamt of life
how much I too feel
it's so unreal.

I thought I'd be a rose even
with long thick petals
and colorful too
like deep red or lilac
And although I was born with thorns
I am paper you know, I couldn't survive a storm
That storm that swept all the good with the bad
And thunder ripped right through me
right before I became nothing
Now what?

What can love mean to me?
What can learning that language you speak so well
clear for me?

I thought I'd even be some kind of weed
yes, like the kind that infests backyards
and front yards swarmed by these
At least I'd learn to breathe
learn to enjoy the few moments of life
But paper I am... I used to dream even
of being written on, of being needed
of being wanted and of being
I'd let the ink on me
sink into me...
but now what?

Nobody knows how to write anymore
no one cares for words on paper...
a letter even - yes
it was only, wait, I can't remember.

So I was invented by some grace
I was folded and made to look real
but I feel, I assure I feel!
And now what?

Saturday, January 19, 2013

A Poet Fights in Frozen Times

"I wish I hadn't been on ice for twenty years"
She says, with a superficial smile
And proclaiming with few words "I thought I did good"

When there are words
In a cabinet, letters of how the moon was close like a friend-  this was before Facebook or twitter or whatever... I vowed to take your place in the war but only because I thought you'd stop yourself from going - And I'd be able to say: "oh, he is my brother... he cares for me, I care for him" but I now see your intentions weren't my intentions just anything but interventions.

I wrote to you, with eyes closed, I wrote to you because I knew I didn't need to see to know how much I love you. You said "Go, you said go and don't look back" And oh, what a sister you were. What a friend!

My cabinet is filled with letters, with words. And mostly covered in coffee stains and in dirt
You in the heat, with your sweat dripping on this paper I read, and I get it. Yes I get it, filled with memories I have yet to live
You love I see you love
You need and like all else that caries life -I need
We're all in need

And so yes you're frozen
And I too perhaps am frozen with guilt
Frozen with fear
That I have yet to thaw all my emotions
Write them - no dammit no! Not on a paper... Nobody does that anymore
Poets write on machines these days
She says "when will the time come again? When will you sit and write a letter to me?" Yes I chose to fight the war! Yes I chose to live my life in storybooks
In someone's head
But I still need you. Like you- I still need you!

So maybe the time will never come
When you will sit again and write a letter
You are perhaps dead even
Dead like the sea, yes the Dead Sea
Dead while I wonder
How I became me

You are still frozen, like me frozen
And I can't even begin to bring you to life
Because my sister you are somewhere in my head
My brother you are real...
But maybe frozen still like me

We came from the same womb.
How different can I be from you?
How different, tell me!?

I wish I could write like you did. And although I don't wish the war on you like you wished it on you.... I love you.
What petty those three words can be
I love you
However you may be, I love you.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

A Story Out Of Me

The bomb blew pieces of my heart
I see the slivers of it lying by your feet
And you believe you have done nothing
I too believe you have
You have taken some poison
For me
You have taken those knives you call hands
And made a story out of me
Out of my heart
And now it aches
And more it aches
And so it aches

The bomb called love
Has also left me without legs
Left me without
You, without hands
And it's made the ounce [of heart] that's left
That's in my body cry
You've made a story out of me
And now it aches
What's left, it aches

I don't feel pain
Ok that is a lie
I lie for you
I lie to have you lie to me
And tell me
Please tell me
Dear heart I need you
Dear heart I miss you
- But I have only this one ounce to give
To give
To give to you.

It must feel good
Feel so damned good
I've left you
All alone with-
All alone to smile that smile
And alone to laugh those laughters
And you have tears
That tear ME
That tore me

My heart is light- what happens when an ounce of something is left of a pound?

A story is left.

A fucking story!

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

I Was This Close

I was this close to forgetting you
This close to letting you go
And because I once held you
I knew what "being held" was
and really, I know

I was this close
The heat of your breath
had left me
And now I feel you
Like the trees outside
These shadows on my bedroom door
So close to forgetting I was
I know

Our world is full of shadows
They are everywhere
Even below my bed since
I woke with fear
I screamed and that is why I'm here
These fucking shadows
I know

I was so close to leaving
Maybe too close
Oh shadow, oh cold shadows
Why'd you make food out of me-
Why'd you bring this wretched question to me-  to my knees
To my clasped hands
I look, I see, I was this close
I know