Wednesday, October 17, 2007

the torture of confession

facing your telepathy
i can scream your silent desire
sacred will these tones contradict
vulnerable to this arid consent
sanctioned only opened spirits
to kill this urge that has always been at the edge of your list
blissful, or so it may seem to cover your virginity

i was once pure
i was once religious

maturity lacks transfigurations
tying these gifts of fruitful tepidness
i now feel weakness, powerless
consumed by our puree of decadence
we have each other, we have no will
surroundings are taboo, a plea to erase
these memoirs of fatality and pain in your uterus
to extract all nothingness

i was once innocent
you were once religious

possibilities of sweetness on technicolor beaches
let's run without fire, let's fly without wings
be true to yourself and these memoirs of chair et sang
puncture holes in my hands to remind me of pain
that sorrow i taste in your uterus
when i peer into your telepathy

i have now the sun
as saturn ascends

one more breath to cheat death
crafted and molded into stone
as a result of my chemical error
and we wipe our tears with pageless silk tyranny

Monday, October 1, 2007

flaccid life of a dark cloud

quantum flashes of existence
as if a sign, as passageway
doors close of gleaming velvet and gold lining
shapes and symbols of Roma
one step closer to reason
to befit taraf de haïdouks

will this become the end?
and how should i adapt...
the taboo of vicissitude
and silent screams of the avant garde
of malene rhythm and charleston
choking grey social classes
of metro fever, domain and value

some will brand us vagabond, nomadic, marauder
seclude your senses, become safe and ignorant
speak not but of needless and roguish transfiguration
for we are shameless, and nameless

we are not one to live symbiotic
immune to the pendulum of blood soaked meat hooks
we are not one to stand in line
while your soldiers take aim
the quantum flashes will blind your reason
and in a sally of synapses
we become a abstracted memory, a fabled tale

send your pounds, and deutschmarks and dollars
buy our threads of velvet and gold lining
our tools of self sufficiency, of self sacrifice
as we linger with the malene of rhythm and dance
still you long for dreams and visions of Roma
to fill and formulate denials
the poetic life you can never have...