It’s a book of tradition, a tale of sorrow,
like the snake on the mighty apple tree,
like a river of time, cutting through
generations of living flesh and mind.
By the Book
Tag: my writing
What’s a heart for?
*
What’s a heart between beats?
Useless pieces of wind-up mechanics
a still lump of faulty desire,
shaped by struggle, Continue reading “What’s a heart for?”
bad blood
One cold night the full moon’s blaze burns
The children tremble and pray, taking turns
The sky bursts its heartbeat into buzz’n thunder
Black turning into whistling metal, going under
My sweet baby, there’s only blood for your baptize
ready for bed, after the noise and havoc slowly dies
Stay in your cellars, a howling beast is out tonight
It’s something beautiful, deadly and cruelly bright
The night shivers with autumn stars
Highways packed with abandoned cars
Dark and deep silence solidifies into absence
shifting days and nights back into balance
Wishful thinking, being covered in leafs and mud
Meat and saliva, sweet baby, this is bad blood
Money and Media
Money is one sinister god I used to pray to
Me, the kid with the broken heart and faulty hue
Struck by the currency of freedom and power,
It’s not my conscience, but my hands I scour Continue reading “Money and Media”
Poem by my weird grandma
WHERE
(this is a part of an ongoing project, inspired by the dementia of my grandma)
Where were you, when I turned to stone?
when I froze, white and empty to the bone
No angel led me on my path to the throne
Now I’m queen of pain, so leave me alone
Where were you, when I burned to ash?
I couldn’t stop, bleeding out in a flash
An angel led me to my bed in the trash
I called it home, my never healing gash
Where were you when I changed my hiccuping heart?
scavenging for happy memories, tearing time apart
A word led my blackened wings to an unwanted start
And the angel turned his back, fearing this part
Where were you, when I had nowhere to turn?
when I survived those I trusted, happy to burn
to light the way into the blue, dashed and stern
how to drown in midnights, I’m about to learn
poems by my weird grandma
VIOLETS
Violets, violets in the shadows /
let’s tell truth / if you must
violets, violets beneath the gallows /
Upon my hazel stick / I trust Continue reading “poems by my weird grandma”
poems by my weird grandma
THE LITTLE THIS
a little this / a little that /my sweet parsley hat
big and bright/ red and full of dread/
blood from a river / made into a muddy mushroom
come here lavender guest/ life always has room
