Asked For It.

Americana Injustica

You wanted it…
you just had to get,
you begged for it:
a piece of me…
and then, that was it –
I did accept,
the invitation sent,
maybe ungraciously…
I showed up one day,
remember?
when the skies were grey,
guess you hadn’t been,
expecting me…
but there I was,
plenty of space
to smash in your face…
and put an end,
to the pretend,
of any friendship,
between us…
I am a lover,
but I am also,
a quick drawn shot,
one or the other,
and that is all I’ve got,
You asked for it…
you had to push the ticket,
couldn’t let it be,
had to poke and prod at it…
the red tape around the lips,
the sign that restricts,
exactly this type of,
unnecessary bullshit,
you ignored the gates,
the locks,
the razor-wire fence,
went on past the sirens,
blazing loudly out against…
disregarded everything,

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Gone.

Americana Injustica

Would you be,
any fonder of me,
if I suddenly chose,
to start listening?

Would you decide,
to more deeply confide,
the darkness behind,
your odd eccentricities?

Shall I unbind,
this heart of mine,
lay it down on your table,
where the other parts lie?

I suppose you’d prefer,
if I acted just like her:
if I loved co-dependently,
full-time, live-in “fluffer”;

If I leaned on you, heavily,
with intentions only pure?
a dead weight weighing down,
the coat-tails in your future;

Would you choose to diffuse again?
if I checked my levels of estrogen,
had my words been better chosen,
would I have someday been forgiven?

What if, instead of,
this twisted notion of “love”,
I recognized one evening,
the ill fit of your glove;

and the day soon arrives,
with my wide open eyes,
seeing things the way that I,
should’ve seen them, by and by;

all you’ll…

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Heavy.

Americana Injustica

Now I lay me down to sleep again,

in the grips of a dread that I slumber within,

the same unforgiving and cramped position,

wound up mentally and the ratcheting begins,

the memories and tragedies flood fatally in,

my body won’t sink and my mind only swims,

things I regret never saying to him,

the betrayal and shattered belief systems,

the battered and tattered fragments of oblivion,

the daughter I lost to the very darkest of demons…

now here I lay me down to sleep again,

in the coldest of places that I’ve ever been,

no loving faces haunt the dreams I’m given,

through the hours I can’t keep the terror from slipping in.

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Charlatanical.

Americana Injustica

Shitty tattoos,
Absent front tooth,
Alcohol infused,
Jaw flapping,
Knuckles rapping,
Air leaking through,
Big brown eyes,
Telling nonstop lies,
You’re fucking high,
Unclean,
Unforeseen,
Not enough miles between,
That stinky lifestyle,
The steaming shitpile,
Rusted turnstiles,
Nothing worthwhile,
I lost too,
Much to you,
It’s all bled through,
The truth,
Fire country,
Attention hungry,
Back full of monkeys,
There’s no saving you,
You’re too far beyond,
Slithering, And talking long,
There’s no fixing you,
You built a filthy empire,
Of stolen shit like copper wire,
Look around you everywhere,
Noone is standing there,
Nobody wants to associate,
With your town’s smartest primate,
Give me what’s mine,
Cross back over that line,
Just one last time,
And hand it back at last,
You’ve showed your ass,
To a piece of your past,
That you let slip from your hand,
I hope you do understand,
I’m a lamb,
You’re no man,

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My Lady and Her Bear

ChainsawPenguin

My lady fair,
And her bear,
Set to sea last winter.
Cold wind blowing,
Neither of them knowing,
Whither the snow had sent her.
But their picnick at sea,
Gave them such glee
As they cared not to question.
They said “Let it blow!
We care not for snow!
Our boat shall be our bastion!”
Everyday watching ocean I,
Gaze upon the horizon wishing to spy,
My lost love, her bear, my lady so fair.
But remembering her joy in departing,
I cannot help imparting,
My joy to you,
Of our love so true,
That she’d never be truly departing.

Note on the artwork:
I do not have written permission to use this piece, as I do not know who the artist is. If you know and/or are able to give me the artists name please let me know in the comments that I may obtain the aforementioned permissions. In…

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Unacceptable Stairs

ChainsawPenguin

image

The mountain, the ark
The ziggurat. Embark
Upon a path of oneness that time forgot.
The head that floats there,
Those that lead into the air,
An end not unlike a brain and a blood-clot.
My ego death and following joy,
The Infinite stairs that you employ,
Provide the motivation to persue another one.
An imbalance in your being,
Those of the oneness now seeing.
With the guardian of the mountain struck down, I’m done.

This poem was inspired by Lemongrabs part in the Adventure Time episode “The Mountain”. As I’ve had no permission to use any of the trademarked names mentioned, I politely ask that the owners of said names do not “C and D” me. 🙂 please? Okay thanks.

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8.20 Train

Mocking Bird Down

Summer nights all sounds the same;
the rattle of the heat, against the
humidity and the thick of the shame
that settles on the city
eleven floors below.

My skin is sticky with cigarette smoke,
and the wretched weariness
that feels more like dehydration of the mind;
each thought, each movement – an effort
not unlike a dying animal at the end.

The 8.20 train squeals past, reminding
me that I am not dying. I just hate the heat,
and the people that lurk in it –
the sweaty half baked passive happy people.
It’s just me, who needs less white noise.

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In a Different Life

ChainsawPenguin

In a different life
This pain she feels isn’t hers alone.
On this path there’s more than one shadow,
In a different life.
And in that different life, of which she often dreams.
There are hands to help her,
There are arms to hold her,
There is good and joyful news that’s told her.
There is a day without strife.
In that different life.
She stands and stirs from her daydream
Not seeing the faces in between.
The faces of those who wait.
Those who would help, that she does not contemplate.
Then she falls and cries out, to the void she thinks.
And crys again when she opens her eyes,
Surrounded by the faces and the hands of those who try,
And they who love and assist,
Thinking she was alone and not missed,
She never realized that her different life was this.

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What the Water Gave Her

ChainsawPenguin

“So lay me down in the flowing cold,
Sweeping away, I am but a soul.
All that’s left, the beauty around me
It’s its own beholder; it surrounds me.”
So what is given her but fear and lonely dread?
All hope abandoned here, once immersed, one is dead.
But to rise above the waves, one can dream,
And she surely does.
Though little more than that it seems,
Her safety she dearly loves,
Enough to stay on is this mainland,
But will she live with her head in the sand?
What she’s left with is what the water gave her.
Which is little more than enough to enslave her.
Floating by, amongst, beauty that draws in,
She rests her mind as she dreams within.

An elaborate take on my fear of water, and partially inspired by the Florence and the Machine song: “What the Water Gave Me”

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