Thursday, April 17, 2014

Young Frankenstein

“Watch Over” by: Lucy Rose

“It’s a long time, heard it all before
It’s a long time, tell me is this what you’re looking for?
I know just how it feels to be there
One step too far and it’s on your mind
Your heart it falls like you do
You say that it hurts, say that it hurts
I’ll walk away if you follow me
Can you feel, it now it’s gone?
Is it what you thought it was?
Can you really stop it now?”

it’s alive

lightning strikes
a hilltop laboratory
called womb
a new thing emerges
copyrighted by the creators
who watch over

these two scientists have created life and are horrified
by what they made
they own the rights to an
aberrant collection of members
which are discolored but have lumbering life

disease effects all these members which are
the poet’s highest compliment
the mother’s mouth speaking raw honesty, cutting
the father’s stubbornness, impassivity
the brute strength
quilted on the body
held together by thin red thread

the monster only repeats what you taught it
as it grows
these gods grow into fear
the first experiment gone bad
stand back and look through the tinted window at his tainted flesh
see yourself
hung up

on the     fuck     ing truth

oh Victor, “you taught me language;
and my profit on’t is, I know how to curse”
the deficit on’t is that you know how to hurt
you ought not to have given the monster a human heart

Solomon asks
“Can we love the monsters?
Can we forgive them?”
Can we beat all the fight out of them?

beat yourself out of the monster
smother your reflection
forget that you raised your own hand to create
Cain raised his hand to kill

and now

the deviant devil will be
defeated but self-aware
it will turn manipulation on its head
push back against the matrix

look into the mirror
into one pair of red eyes and see yourselves
in your white lab coats
see from a distance
pieced together flesh
that did not ask you for life
before you generously gave

you ought not to have given a monster a human heart
frozen blooms don’t recover
even after the thaw
flesh is fallible

shoot to kill this thing
shaking a fist in the face of the creators
scientists in white lab coats
taking notes in the final moments
for their next two experiments
in making devils

shoot to kill
shut the door to evil
devil under your feet
save your home before this


takes its life
its autonomy
into its own two mangled hands and

with the same tools you built him with
the umbilical chain that binds you together

Monday, March 17, 2014

Three Dreams and Their Summary

"The Woods" by Daughter

trees not green
twilight and a car with a big backseat
officer realized as justice
a dove
ride on
on the peace of the mountain
and maybe we will hike

wicked summer
wacky wednesday
red shirt blue shirt
short pants long skirt
paint sweat and screams
scraped knees
water wings
a mirage induced by heat
to cheers and carousels
to childhood
to playing games
to pretending in the summer heat
society takes over
euthanizing the kid
in the name of Mammon
bowing always to green things

moving portraits
trees not green
scrolling through the past horizontally
I’ve seen before
father in a suit
mother in a white dress
brother young
I’m young
standing close together
slight smiles
we are missing one
look left
I’m in a long dress full grown
and spinning spinning spinning rooted
head on a swivel
arms up
palms up
to receive
looking back
as if
as a dervish
I will connect with the divine
a tree, not green
laughing in a moment of unconscious joy
but prone to weeping
at daybreak
not for any reason

I + II + III = IV

check the heart box
find that a piece is missing
secrets are written on the walls in permanent ink
the trees are not green
the organic takes over the human
it is the artist’s spirit that


creates destroys
without permission
won’t give a thought
to anything but doing and making
speak its words
as it fills your mouth
and watch for when
it wants to take your body
for its purposes
the spirit
reminds remembers knows
that something crucial is dormant
let it wake you up
look back look back look back
on the morning after a happy day
it is a guarantee
that your face
will be turned to a pillar of salt

the spirit
must have his way
tongue flickering
as you utter spells

Wednesday, January 29, 2014


a mug pressing into the palm
pleasant weight
honey and lemon
copious amounts of tea
time demands
that I pay with another hour
by hour
drop by drop I fill up my own
finite mug with memories malleable
until the day that it
overflows falls breaks on the rocks
I can’t refuse to turn another page of the flexible book
I became at birth
pages thin
spine straight
eyes brown
gold gilt
and guilt
a heart on the sleeve
read it with me while I lie here
and dream of a beautiful place
pink sunset
of a beautiful peace
I have been peace
in a place
dream with me of this place
that I have been
with someone I miss
but who I haven’t met yet

Tuesday, January 21, 2014


I am running out of words to describe this habitual sleeplessness
Like the slow drip of a faucet that won’t turn off in this
Barrage of thoughts held captive it is too real

Body and brain, let me know when you’re ready to shut off and shut down because this is some shit
I wasn’t prepared for
Didn’t have time to get ready to prep primp pimp
my mind out to the wee hours of the night
Prostitute my thoughts
To all the bearers of bad news
sleep cowers in the corner

I hold opposing thoughts in mind
To hold in memory or to rewind, fret, forget, regret
Decisions there are no revisions
Regression back over 3 years
Taking the things I was most afraid of and doing them
To prove to myself that I could

So when I cut my hair from below shoulder length to the scalp
And I saw what was underneath I was ready
white you never felt my strange stigma until you held my hand in public black
mark this though and mark me

Scratch the surface

I am small and I am strong
And I am not at all nice
I am blunt
And I can force trauma
My cracks are starting to show
On my face in the morning
Don’t tell me I look tired when you really mean tense
And I won’t tell you I’ve been crying but I’m convinced

sadness lives in my room
So that I might steep in it when I sleep and wake up numb
Because I can’t shake the feeling that

I would love to be anyone other than myself

And have the freedom to choose a new identity
That does not have a negative history
I stare nights into the black eyes of the thing I cannot name
it bruises me easily like an apple
but my skin is black too so it doesn’t show it

I know everyone and yet know no one
Feeling acutely the sting of loneliness
But I never let anyone in
This is letting my guard down because if I don’t get this down
I will never sleep again
I was never good at making friends

But I always remember names faces places
where the past happened
and it haunts me
Mistakes outtakes
because there is something unreliable about finality and the courage it takes
saying the word “goodbye” to people or things or parts of yourself that were not spare
but that you threw out as if they were
is like eating 100 hot peppers at once and it makes you cry

I mean
It makes me cry
I was never good at goodbye
And I don’t like peppers
But I’ve found that saying certain things makes my tongue burn too

I wanted to keep the things I left behind out of all this
But they make their way into all my art and live in it
The past makes its way into my art and lives in it
You make your way into all my art and live in it
The present sits idly by
waiting for its turn to grow old and be immortalized

I want to be loved

But instead I’m exotic
Everyone I meet only remembers my hair
The bigger the fro
The harder they stare
And please don’t touch me without asking

That’s the tragedy of trademark my hallmark
Is that this wears on me
I take men and I unmake them
I take your rules and then I break them

Bow down

To this Queen of hearts
And get drunk on Cabernet sauvignon
I woke up like this
I woke up like this
Not flawless but
A brown cork under pressure
I am more physical wrecking weekends to take the edge off
Somebody told me Thursday was thirsty
And not just for alcohol
Because it seems like everyone is turnt up and twerking
When I’m just hung up on the fucking
That life often feels incredibly empty
I have hands which clutch involuntarily
Grip tight like fists when I lie awake on nights like this

I don’t want to live in a community that makes me feel like the only way out is up
And that the only way up is through dollar bills
And whitewashing kills
In a bubble that’s unstable a false sense of security which enables
serves as a warning that mourning
And there are two types
Morning comes too soon
The load is heavy
The burden is life
And those who drown in tears will never thirst again

This is musing that
the roots of a tree stump still run deep
there is no point in resisting what you were made to be conformity
isn’t my thing but I do know about doubt
Right now I am in the future I always thought about
Standing in the sun solar panel
Recharging in natural light                                                   
channeling spirit and noise
creating energy
heat straight from my Source

a few poems in, I am finally breaking the fourth wall
There is no boundary between this purely “fictional” work myself and you
We are all the same
Living together in sleepless nights
Imagining with the mind’s eye
Musing during the mental meditation induced by insomnia

Saturday, January 4, 2014

LoveHate Thing

from the city that made me
love you forever for it
hope you celebrate every moment
forever ignore it
you made me what I am
you made me what I'm not
they gone love you a little different when you at the top

give me love baby
not enough not enough
just a touch baby
what the fuck baby?
it's just us baby
this ain't right
this is life
this is a love hate thing
in the end of it

hold me tight
let me go
heal my heart
hurt my soul
build me up
break me down
make me smile
make me frown
give me love
take it all away again

I lost a lot of friends
and they ain't even dead
when I was on my way up

why you ain't see the stairs?

Lord, Father if I opted to follow them
my heart would tear from my dreams
let me know that you here

Friday, January 3, 2014

Self Portrait & Audre Lorde



It has rained for five days 
the world is 
a round puddle 
of sunless water 
where small islands 
are only beginning 
to cope 
a young boy 
in my garden 
is bailing out water 
from his flower patch 
when I ask him why 
he tells me 
young seeds that have not seen sun 
and drown easily.

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Chance (repost from a year ago)

*italics are not my words

I feel like if a cardiologist were to examine my heart he would find a hole.

I make it and break it
I am more physical
to take the edge
and this is simply my brain speaking intensely
how I don’t know how
God and myself could relate

I feel the hole in my heart and it is to the very left of my heart. It’s on the right if you are looking at my face on. It’s not a big hole, but it causes so much dysfunction.

the heart is a spherical self
the circular veins
the circular pupils
where the soul peeps out
a hole
in the internal night

mark it       make it                     break it shake it
                  make me mind         your guiding member

I especially want the person who hurt me to lay me down on an operating table, fill me with anesthesia until I lose all consciousness, open me up slowly and carefully, locate my heart, and just hold it.

I have hands
which clutch
tissue with my lungs to
reflex while I look on the moving
yet unmoved organ
moves the magnet


I am aware
cupping the bright red warm
I am aware of the fact that
I have never lost anything I took to hold
in my bright fists
beating with it