Weblog
Monday, 28 September 2009
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per-cep-tion (n.). a poem
per-cep-tion (n.)
there is an infinite number of dimensions
parallel to our own
where we have made different decisions
and where we exist in a
completely different place
surrounded by
completely different people
and it goes on and on, as intricate and delicate
as a silky spider’s web.
but it’s all theoretical, and it all boils down
to perception.
we exist because we acknowledge the fact
that we are real. shit, I could be a giraffe if
I saw myself as a giraffe
and truly believed
that I was a giraffe.
or if you saw me as a giraffe
lo! I might stand tall
and eat leaves from the trees.
but we’ve hospitalized so many for
such madness of thought.
and tonight, a sad song hangs solemn and dismal
as the clock radio sends minutes
off to
the slaughter. but the grief is transcended
by bravado. and so I shift the lamp shade
and watch the shadows swing
and dance.
we are the real magicians of this world,
arranging words and deciphering meaning,
brushing artificial color and basking
in the radiance
unearthed.
and for my last trick, I’ll need a volunteer…
yes, you there, gaze now into the mirror
and tell everyone what comes to meet you.
ah, yes, and close your eyes, for today you live on,
but feel now underneath,
for as we speak, your reflection lay dead
on the satin of your coffin.
Thursday, 03 September 2009
-
three months. a poem
three months.
loneliness and
solitude
I differentiate between the two
so that I might
hang from the latter
with bleeding fingers clenched and
breathing winds too fragile to catch my fall
the autumn air is crisp and sweet
I pity the poor souls
who
fell
into the first ?
Tuesday, 01 September 2009
-
California girls. a poem
California girls.
I can’t leave the house anymore
without falling
in love.
short skirts and
long summers. those
lovely California
girls.
warm eyes, untamed
beauty. smiles shooting
the most glorious
venom.
those lovely
California girls
will be the death
of me.
blood rush and
face flushed with
color. the sunlight
of morning redefining
the artwork of
radiant eyelids.
what a glorious
masterpiece, the
immaculately painted
canvas
of such a lovely
California girl.
Friday, 21 August 2009
-
one day, and the next. a poem
one day, and the next.
October blew in with an audacity
seeking to shake the kids.
the winds and early darkness
took root and
took hold of the days
until everyone had lost themselves
somewhere between seasons
and promised to convene
once again on the
other side of the sun.
and as the masses fled, I watched
from a darkening window.
rummaged the hallway closet
for a jacket. dusk rushed in
as the door opened and I
faced a street as endless as
the planet’s rotation. and intention
as ambiguous as mine.
I walked and glanced upward
only periodically to stare on as the
evening hours extracted the colors
painted so meticulously
by the sun’s sweeping waves
on his slow rise
and descent.
half a mile and the flickering bulbs
of the streetlights struggled
to unwrap themselves from
the night’s veil. ahead, a couple
walking towards me. others, as
selfish as I and as disappointed as I
to find an inhabitant on this night,
walking towards me.
just shapes of the night
pressing on.
I slowed my cadence slightly
as to meet them under the glow
of the streetlight.
it seemed proper. and the night released
them from its tight grasp. a couple, together,
facing the wreckage. validating the remains.
my gaze latched onto the ambassadors
of night. his eyes sharp, cutting a path through twilight.
such anger in the subtleties
of his movement. and her,
eyes brimming with tears as the breeze whipped
at her collar. and they were carried on.
in the dying smolder of the lamplight I stopped.
only half a mile. and the morning still
had to make its rounds before
it fell upon
the western hemisphere. the steps
were numbered as were the hours
until the artist sat at easel
once again.
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
-
runner's feet. a poem
runner’s feet.
the office is always cold
even in the summer’s peak
a goddamn ice box
and a sign on the wall
“God does the healing, the doctor
takes the fee”
twenty dollars co-pay,
some other places it’s
only fifteen
maybe I’m paying for
a subscription to the
home and garden magazines
certainly not for the ambiance
I’m there because of my toe
it’s swollen and red
it hurts to run
and I want to run
“looks like an infection”
he says
“I had a patient
a couple weeks ago
that had a similar
infection, but on his
left buttock”
he says
“no shit”
he’s so happy. it’s all
smiles with
this guy.
“yes, and he’s
an accountant. he can’t sit
at his desk, it hurts
so bad”
“can he sit down
to take a shit?”
“no, but the funny
thing is, he
can run”
he says
a true comedian
after all, laughter
is the best
medicine
my insurance better cover
these antibiotics.
the side effects
include swelling of
the throat
heathreedy
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- Name: Heath
- Birthday: 1/6/1992
- Gender: Male
- Member Since: 7/20/2008
