Showing posts with label angels. Show all posts
Showing posts with label angels. Show all posts

Spirit Waltz

It was the way
your moaning bones
waltzed themselves into a room
that snagged me first,
a spirit not so snug
in its body
thus still had a chance
to spicy sway to the music
on the stereo.
I saw her spirit
from across the vapor room,
dancing round inside you free
and couldn’t help
but to crave a chance
to swing her around that starlit space and
love every moment.

Was that ravenous raging dragon
still there in the morning?
I opened up
the closet door
to grab my lace-up boots
after I had kissed your neck
and down your back
through the night and you’d finally drifted
to speak to the angels in your dreams,
and there he was,
lighting cigarettes
with his fury breath,
laughing so hard
he snorted loud
and filled the room
with a cloud of smoke
and heavy chortle
whilst I slipped out the back door

into the dawn.

Year of the Minotaur


A vampire’s rage
was throwing a party
amidst my insides,
and light seemed to
wreak a ferocious havoc
on my brain cells,
just as much as the dark,
in the year of the
Minotaur.

A huge sigh
of fucking relief
hit her chest
when the hungry haunted
fed forced her poison,
oh to finally
end this freak’s
suffering,
grabbing her
by the teeth,
and dragging her,
sputtering blood
and tinsel,
through
Jack the Ripper’s
streets of
grisly London.

She sat on the frostbite floor and
prayed,
to no one in particular,
bled oil and ink,
drank far too much
so that the room spun
like a pinwheel,
tried to throw up
the emotions so intense
they overcame her sight,
she shook
from the venom,
stapled her mouth
shut
as to not
wake the neighborhood
with her screeching howls.

I met her doing
balancing acts
down abandoned
railroad tracks on
the outskirts of
Flint, Michigan.
She was humming
a somewhat familiar tune
which took my
sensory glands
back to the night
a few months after
my dad was dead and burned,
and I cut all
my hair off,
at 4 in the morning,
with a pair of old rusty scissors,
in the upstairs bathroom,
with the lights off,
and the panic of
being human
quelled for a brief moment,
and I went back to sleep,
dreaming of sex and angels.

Undertow Angels


Cathedral candelabras
strutted through my
ever-widening
periphery
in pinstripe suits
with spats and
winged tipped laughs,
to hide the fear
of the wrathful undertaker
with whom we played
peek-a-boo
until she grew
bored and yawning
in the twilight and
ended our games
of breathing.

Sighs at the back of the neck
made me want
to spill out all
the dirty things
I craved to do to you,
but I held my moan
inside my burning lungs
and let out a giggle
instead of
the lightning
sizzling in the ravenous space
between my heart beats.

In hiding winking mirrors
the electric steam boils,
we vibrate and twitch
with the aftershock,
death's undertow angel
hummed and swirled around my head,
and though I fought her,
straining my bleeding fingers upward,
grasping desperately for a hand to hold,
mixing molten energy and cosmic chemistry,
I could not
silence her scream
that cast us down,
drugged and dragged us underground,
never to sing again.

Candlelight and Asphalt


My nightmares
woke themselves up sick
with sticky alarm clock noises,
windows taken out
of their frameworks,
tiptoe tapping out
their despair
on the hardwood floor,
glass shards stripping
whilst I watched
their sharp edges twisting
in the moonlight streams.
I slumped over in my
queen size bed,
sheets
sweat sex soaked
by some brassy whispered man
who drank screwdrivers
and laughed,
to cover awkward moments and
my eyes staring
through his head
to the back wall of my room,
wondering when all this
silly business
would be over and
he could stumble out,
into the streets,
leave me alone
with my candlelight.

Whether you wanted
to watch or not,
I danced trauma
out the body,
flooding onto the asphalt,
the way music embarks
on a journey down
your insides,
in the heat of the
pulsing lights,
mirror and make-up masks,
ghosts in their taunting sanctuaries,
blood in vials,
singing out its sweet syrup requiem,
calling upon the angels,
wanting to again
tangle and twist
round bones,
thump in veins
that resurrected
ideas of hell of heaven,
depending on the worn out weather,
and the days and the way
waves of ether energy
circuited the brain.

I could feel myself
pushing new waltzing
people away,
putting up fronts
and barriers,
fences so fierce
and foreboding,
because deep under the earth inside me,
I wanted to trust you,
believe that I deserved
love like yours,
but still quivering
in my storms
that raged in me
and the learned path
of wicked brier,
death and abuse,
the past ripping
my pained flesh
away from my
tender skin,
couldn’t turn off the
mayhem and flashbacks,
harsh manipulations,
fucks that made
me nauseous,
rapes of my innocent self,
cascades of
gritty egos and
religious doctrines
forced on me
under the cruel guise
of love and helping me out,
away from my perceived dirty habits.

I didn’t want to be saved
by the nasty likes of you,
licking the wounds
on me,
that you yourself
had inflicted
and then laughed about.
I purged your toxins
out of my system,
all day,
every day,
with a frozen shudder
in hopes that
I can rise above you,
out of the murky marshes,
into the delicate arms of trees,
looking skyward. 

Drinking in Pleasure and Headaches


And through the
tethered and tattered
noise,
your voice cut
the mayhem
like a shark bite.
The raven wrestled
to the ground,
wings pinned behind
her tortured neck,
she calls the crows down
from the swaying rafters
to aid in the quest
for western reproduction of
old north magic,
witches stirring their icy hot cauldrons,
humming odes of Isis
and that poor and plagued Persephone,
speaking words in
ancient slippery tongues,
languages long forgotten
in the panic strangled path
to fame and fortune-
hunting down the saints
with steal arrows spitting fire.

Though I know you
fucking heard me
in my lonely prophecy,
it seemed once the
words spilled
thirst on the page,
you picked up your own spite and
silly stolen syntax,
playing marbles
with easy monsters,
chugging liquored journeys
down your tasty throat,
left me
empty cans with oily fingerprints,
selling garbage at garage sales,
scissors stings,
raped muses,
eloquent slurrings of
my passion,
yet,
just enough sneaky lust
to keep my syrup skin bleeding,
I envisioned angels,
perceiving tantric music and pleasure mixing with
open wounds,
in the astral realms,
blisters and bumped heads
on the tall buildings that
fell from that wicked heaven,
faked well but I could always tell,
skies of pies that
shone bright with
glossy finish,
tasted like
seizure meds and Drano.

Masquerade masks
even needed moments alone
to wipe their tears
and drowned sighs from acting happy
in front of crowds,
applauding in delight,
but spitting on our shoelaces
as we came down
the sparkling stairs,
illusion of glam and glitz,
we paid dearly,
Marilyn Monroe with her
sex appeal and sad honest eyes,
signs of the agony cross and
captivity wasn’t worth it
to those poor and pitiful
phoenix girls,
suffocated in their own ashes
with no hope of
re-birth and
speaking their minds,
sputtering truths
before giving up breathing
at young ages.

Oh the nightmares
as of late,
raining down on
my erotic zones,
waking me up in
the middle of twilights
with shrill screams,
sirens blazing,
drugs and dying,
my father lost before
the war on cancer
came to my house,
banging anger and
frothing mouths
on the back door
even with porch lighting
and twinkling stars.
And you dared to
come to me with
quick fixes,
tornado warnings
when you didn’t know
that time passed through
the camels stubborn eye and
needles pinch the
wrathful skin.
You never saw the
sick children,
throwing up in bright hallways
covered with murals
of the outside world
they never got the chance to see,
ponies prancing and
taking tea with tiaras
and disney princess cups full
of sugar and chemicals.
There was no easy answer,
how dare you insinuate
my lack of care
with smirks of condescension.
I saw it all,
too much tapped in
to voices in my skull,
for my own sanity
was lost in the river
that rode you safely
to the ocean,
drinking in your pleasure
without a word spoken
between us.