Keeping track III:  These are for me

i.
 
the romance of the word "Ennui"
 
it never left my diaphragm with the  
satisfying consonance of "apathy"
 
preferring to sit on a padded tongue  
before imminent escape from the mind  
of a true romantic  
 
rests in the chest
 
 
ii.
 
I'll take another day, Honey
another excuse to say "I love you" in another hundred ways
I'll find another card
that says it better than my hand-scrawled poetry
but realistically, the chocolate will be demolished
by the time you get in
 
I'll take another drink, for you, Honey
and leave the bloody bird's heart on the kitchen sink
so you see
what happens
when your pretty songs are sung to anyone but me
 
And you'll know I love you more than anything
when I pin all our smiles to the walls we built
and buy another ring to
remember
we were happy.
 
we're happy.  
 
 
iii.
 
"momentum"
 
the motel room sweats thick
walls wet with breath, condensation, abandon[meant].
 
she swallowed me down
unholy maw wide, only 5 minutes ago
 
a farewell fuck to stake her claims through my hyaline chest:
"don't say I never cared."
 
she shut off the red ceiling fan 30 seconds ago
walking out the door.
 
didn't make much difference, did it?  
 
 
iv.
 
"never fear"
said the magpie
"never fear, never fear
there are monsters here
but you're not in their sight"
 
"never fear"
said the bird
"if your face is of flint  
and your heart is of rock
never fear, never fear
 
but if you are bright  
and the mirrors are whole
and the sight of your flight  
is a sight to behold
then fear them you may  
for they feed on the bold
the night is not fearsome,  
your light is the toll"
 
then the bird flew away
with a flick of his wing
and I pondered the magpie
what made his words ring
 
never fear, never fear
though the monsters are here
they are not after you;
never fear, never fear
 
 
v.
 
they wait for us to wake
caught between planes & dimensional osmosis  
chained to their garden stake, but
somehow  
still lost
 
maybe they're just playing for us  
on black & white negatives
memorised  
by the place they lived
or died
or killed
or worse
webbed in the consciousness of trees
the characters of old wood
 
or they could be jokes from  
another planet
sent to shake our perceptions of rea
                                                                    li
                                                                           ty
but with all the uncertainties
make it easy on the rest
(and unrested in kind)
let's hear the common chorus
"i don't believe in ghosts"
 
 
vi.
 
save the world, he says
one face
one voice
one hug at a time and I wonder
where we're meant to get all this
love
that grows our bonding maturity  
evolving humanity
when our fathers are slaves to their better days
and our mothers
wish they could do it over
without us
 
how are we to conjure this
affection
for an earth we dig, raze, and don't water
an ocean we won't respect until
she serves a little c'est la vie
when our faces are mirrors for the TV
our voices
repeats of the old men
that send our able young to their graves
with no empathy
no disgrace
so we won't rise to take their place
our arms don't reach far
but they can hold fast
a great pair of Wal-Mart designer shoes
made by a preteen in Cambodia for 2 pence a day
 
he can say
"save the world"
 
we are children
and we are very busy
doing something else.
 
 
vii.
 
i'm sure Springsteen sang it first
but i only heard it in your head
only, only, only
 
would've had it branded
into the back of my neck
so they'd all know
'i told you so;
she was always gonna flake away' --
always was  
a flighty fucker out of character
donning rope and rock  
[such noble convention]
to prove  
that girl don't have to run
 
but you were the best thing
that nearly never happened
the story i unwrote
and redressed
the beat i can [still] amp to, sway to
even in my sleep
 
and for reason none could tell
it was reflection of orange streetlights
off nighttime raindrops on the black pub door
that brought churning sea  
right back to the core of me
 
it dawned, then, and set the same
a rev and rumble in my head humming
only, only, only
 
 
viii.
 
thought this time i'd pull a big gun
leave out all those little ones:
 
i got you once
maybe twice
but waves are tricky to keep on display
in the trophy case
and i've had my heart on you for too long to let you  
completely go to boredom, so  
first
i'll tell you what you already know:
 
yeah, you're a runner and a hypocrite
just like the rest of us.
you'll never be finished  
even when you reach your goals, that
your dark places are only  
quite so dark  
'cause you haven't built the lights to fit
yet.
wrong colours so far, i guess.
 
and i'll tell you truly  
Elizabeth has always been my envy
to have had her spirit, her intellect
her incredible frame that swallowed you whole
the lava  
that was never enough, and  
i'll always miss the waking up  
to your appetite for everything
your vision  
of earth and sky and sea and love
for past and now and then and here
because i've been more lost in us
than anywhere else in the world.
 
and maybe you didn't know
that you showed me how to live again
made life HD, accidentally
so i scaled the detail from every grain of sand
took more  
from every situation
just to bring it back to you -
i could flip a coin to tell
who gave me back my joy
gave me back myself.
 
not sure where i put her, though.
you should hold the gun.
 
 
ix.
 
Sunshine fire sign Sags, we flash, bang, boom, and fade away.  
Happens all the time.  
I mean, my phases of personal feelings of greatness always flare up then kind of just... fizzle.
 
We're good pals to have; nice people, funny, analytical, honest, like to protect the ones we trust.  
Fine parents sometimes, though, better at loving a grown-up:
Yeah, better at that than giving children the elements they need to be balanced.  
Because, we are not always very balanced.
But we have the capacity to be superiorly loyal when we've got the real thing;
need space and give it freely, we're peacekeepers, but prone to flare,  
then accept, move on, and sometimes grow.
The experts do say 'whatever facade [we] adopt', we're utter romantics at heart.
We prefer to maintain this is bullshit.
 
We like doing stuff.  
We like fun, sex, adventure, work... Well, work that we enjoy -- not too much routine.
We're youthful in general, but travel, philosophy, abstract, metaphysical, outrageous concepts keep us occupied;
I mean, we're witty, mischievous, expressive, opinionated...
No wonder our egos bruise when we're brushed off.
We tend to value energy and intellect, some sort of spirituality, another level,  
always want to know, but only truth
though our deep downs tell us no one will ever really get to the bottom of it all.
Curious bastards we may be.  
 
My time and day is crazy for freedom and independence  
and pretty sure it's Venus says I'm happiest abroad.  
I'm not a dominator but won't be crushed; 'first mate' is my forte.
Compassion, sensitivity to suffering, true... animals make me happy.
They say I might misrepresent myself but I see past your paint; it's nature for me to get to core.  
They couldn't know naivety's likely compromised my particular size-up radar for wanting to see better.      
Apparently, I spend a lot of time mastering my emotions.
I prefer to maintain this is bullshit.
Maybe it's all bullshit.
 
But it would be nice to think the stars we're made of  
might have more to do in the universe  
than be.  
 
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These are some older poems that have been hiding away, half-done and revamped, or tucked up in forums since the last 'Keeping track' bunch. i've taken most of the titles away for the sake of the pretty numerals and basic theme. [:  
Critique is still welcome all over this, so have at it, if anything catches your eye. Thanks, all. [: