Archive | March, 2013

Bled Fourth Below

10 Mar

The rich jade of my pen
Bleeds unto the page lying dormant four below.
Bloodied ink stalking line and curve,
Scarring blank faces with staining bullets,
Evermore tattooed
With the burden of my words.

And my pen weeps with murdering immortality,
And my tears bleed with the ink that I cannot use.

Now I slip between each word,
And dodge each mistake,
And feel my way blindly
Through slaughtered legacies, cool ink blacking my fingertips
Until I reach the fourth below.

Faint mark of a letter here,
Transparent promise of a meaning there,
That is no longer a promise, but a cold truth
And no longer a cold truth, but a raped reality.
A forced meaning through tired hands
Unto white innocence.

Two more kills and three more pages
Until the fervent flame
Raging to be written
Is, too, murdered
By the truth she induced.


6 Mar

Impulse sheds from shaded eyes of excuse
Into excused actions by an impulsive hand.
Five fingers, palm, and wrist
Armored by transparent latex that peels
Only when caught dripping poisonous red,
And, with tears on paper,
Confesses dysfunctional restraint
And, with this,
Fulfills a crime done and uncommitted.

But there is residue between fingers
And fallacy in tears directly hitting the page
As if the mark mistakenly left, seemingly all too deliberate,
Is false.

See, silence is awaiting death
And truth is pulling the trigger
And staining the innocence you forced yourself to believe.
But deceit is simply stalling the inevitable,
A debt
That only gains interest over time.

Because one day,
Wide eyes will strike upon the hint of crimson on thumb
And, only then will you finally understand
The truth
In a

Only Meaning

5 Mar

Malicious teeth hook into the curve of my words
And drag my hollow value down the gilded page of my book.
Foreign pens and malevolent verses scrape upon the face of mine,
Inaudible whispers beat upon my ink’s ear,
Soundless and yet
Just barely understood.
The strike by the lip of the astonishing
Just barely felt.
Twelve, or four, six, or two
Scrutinizing eyes
Shred my meaning from my back,
Stripped the purpose coating my flesh
And deserted me bare
To penetrating, dilated eyes of unforeseen critics
From behind the glamorous veil of their likeability.
Amounting to what?