Wives tales

[timelinezero]

Open hands, palms red, and wet
bleeding eyes, wide shut, the grueling details
hopeless, in a loveless eudaimonia
so many blanks drawn, without pen, paper, or ink
I do it for you, because you're lost in a fog of thought
I want to crack the world open and eat what's inside
and cut into your cornea to bleed out the white
run my fingers through the calcium of your bones
as brittle as may be, as hollow as bamboo chutes
I'll fill them for you, if you'd just beg me to
regardez la lune, with the frailty of our causality
causticus as battery acid in the dura mater
please forgive my arrhythmic infarction, and gritty gout
the gravity can't pull me down, any further than the Kant convulsing to dig out
dig, dig, taste the dirt from my pale fingernails, dig, just dig!
Lazarus, dig!

How long can you cradle your dead
before they wilt away, into the lay lines of your hands?
should have bought some stock in the lion, before he choked on the lamb
and I found the larger part, of a wishbone, my heart, in a fleeing glance
as I fell carelessly far, over the spun glass in my head
a rogue wave, and we're on our way, caught suspended in attention stance
this dream will never leave, every night's another chance
we're just the ghosts in our shells in this internal hell
pulled apart by wanton hearts, and bellowing swells of circumstance

let it brood from your false flesh, watch your insides dissolve into my own
as we bathe in the placid stench, of becoming, something we've never dreamt
mouth the words, underneath your breath, as many times as you'd like
either you've stopped listening, or I'm not saying it right

wearing your names on my brain, tonguing the cysts on my ribs
blackbird singing nothings from your perch on my shoulder
staring blindly into the corona of the sun
what will you find in the platelets of my blood?
do you taste the sugar, or the sulfur of my love?

and over top the pale blue sky, reminds me of my lovers eyes
and every leaf is green, but so aren't we
a coughing fit, the smell of sweat, beading on her naked neck
I catch it in a paper cup, I see the words, building up
against the walls, the dam has broke, and underneath their weight I choke
and spit, and spin, and grin, with grimaced lips...
but now we beckon up the sails, searching for illusive gales
to take us far away, from all the pain
coin op people, and prescription pills, make me feel oh so ill
who's brain is this that I have spilled, all across these Elysian fields
well what is sane, and what is paint, but ways to color everything
in shades of gray, impossible to ascertain
what you see, hear, touch or feel, false realities, and what is real
are blending in, your savage skin, are dewing on your liquid lips
and now I know that you were right, that each star I see on these starry nights
everyone, the day's begun, but each gloaming point's a setting sun...
and here I stand with bloody hands, standing on this rotting land
of majesty, of liberty, of irony, and idiocracy
mediocrity...ha.

[Hawkman]

It sounds like you needed to get that out! What a wonderful rant! I can't help wondering whether you meant to make the reader smile though ;)

Live and be well - H

[Jack of Hearts]

Things findable in here:

A reference to Kantian philosophy
A reference to Aristotelian teleology
A French phrase in the formal imperative
A reference to possibly two rock bands, one British, one American
An allusion to the insulin response
A reference to empirical philosophy
A line from an Anne Murray song
A reference to a Japanese cartoon
and a little bit of love

So it's a veritable shotgunning of themes and imagery- if you shoot at everything, you're bound to hit something?

And maybe you did. But mostly this reader is confused.






J

[everyadventure]

This is an overwhelming poem. Many of your lines are excellent and pack a wallop by themselves... but they're lost in this rambling poem. There's so much here that the individual lines lose their power. But some really astounding stuff, taken in small doses!