Saturday, December 25, 2010

to need self-destruction is human (a collection of 11 poems)

i. just a lil bit of respect

because you and i are living the same way
i become incensed when you walk out
the door banging open/closed as i struggle to put my clothes
you don't have much time to spend
but you're a miser who keeps everything locked up
just in case you'll need it in the future
like the thousands of cake mix boxes your grandmother had stocked
in her cupboard so if the russians came
she could stuff herself until they got her
and then she'd survive on her fat

but the russians never did come
and those cake mix boxes rotted off the shelves
just like all that time you don't spend will stagnate
(but it doesn't work that way)

but why am i complaining so much
you and i both know damn well that if we switched positions
i'd be the one running the marathon
timing my pace to see how fast i could get out the door
without having to talk about it and say


ii. there's no use in wondering

shut me up.

this would be where you come in with consoling
words that flow out like snakes ribbons or streams or rivers
or something flowy
this would be where you tell me how blue my eyes are
blue like the azure sky and the deep beautiful sea
(my eyes are brown)
this would be where you tell me that i'm your
sweetie honeypookums cream pie
(it's funny how you only tell me that after the searing pale sun
burns through the mottled flesh
and i'm exposed)
this would be where you fall down on your knees 
and apologize not with words but with actions
and moments of revelation
this would be where you

overpower me.


iii. a hard rains a-gonna fall

it's still cold in alaska
i remark leaning against your
1992 honda civic
as the wind whips around your brittle fingers
and your wiry blond hair as you try to
get the car started again

shut up
we'll get there if it kills me
i can't not go to my grandfather's funeral
i owe it to him 
just like i owe the fact that i'm here
to the fact that i told you about three years ago
i'd do anything for you
(but the fine print specified going to alaska in the dead
of winter in a stone age car on a wild goose chase
to a rotting corpse was definitely an exception)

you finally get the engine running
sputtering shooting out rasps of warning
and you curse at the hood and say
get in we have to get there before she dies
12 miles away from the cemetery &
50 miles away from the nearest gas station &
70 miles away from any living person
bessie collapsed on the ice not with a whisper
but with a bellow

so i guess it's a good thing we remembered our mittens


iv. the times they are a-changin'

said god

but the world still went on

what the hell
i said BOOM.

but everyone still kept doing their own thing

and that's when he realized

that life didn't depend on him anymore
and that the generations of those who had believed in him
had left seeds
of those who were too selfish to give up their piece of the sun &
their little piece of grass & their own sense of beauty
of those who did not have faith in him

but in themselves.

* title

v. delilah

it's all talk.

you're his girl and he has you
because he's your man and you love him
and as the affection scrapes against the wall 
(so sweetly o sweetly would you touch me?)
your legs bear the imprint of his hard kisses 
when you sit down on the dirty linoleum floor
you are so full of joy

laughing away the spirals that burst in your mind
that find you sprawled at the bottom of the stairs
that come tumbling down like a rainbow-
the forest greens and deep lilac purples
the crimsons, the midnight blues
all the vibrant colours 
that sprinkle down when you twirl around in your pale white dress
you are so full of life 

grazing your mottled skin 
holding you like shadows, his fingers 
leave purple marks (but gently so gently)
without the stroke of his hand against your cheek
you can't function one day

so full of love

*  title

vi. pauline

i guess that's the point of it all
my mama said when she found out i was pregnant
body against body, fluid intertwining with fluid
what else would you expect
than a tomato-red, dripping baby with the voice of a banshee

it's god's will, you know
my papa told me when i came home with bruises on my collarbones
and he came in with a bottle of jack and a pair of dirty diapers
what else would you expect
from a trash, goodfornothing girl like me

i always knew this would happen
my brother said under his voice when he was driving us home
on I-10 after he had just gotten out of state penitentiary
what else would you expect
than a few busted heads with pools of blood collecting near the gutters

why did you let him do this to me
my daughter asked me, her eyes bigger than our fake chinese plates
her teddy bear almost dismembered from how tightly he was being held
what else would you expect
from a man whose twisted, broken eyes could not focus on nothing else except innocence

now here we are, and here we are
on a rickety old bed
that hasn't seen the warmth of flesh for more than a year
what else would you expect
what else could you accept


vii. procrastination

the time is not right yet
i can feel it in my hollowed-out bones
i think i'll wait another year

the sun crawls through the mist that spreads like ink
while the clouds descend upon the city
the time is not right yet

the wind cuts skin, leaving dead cells floating
like plant seeds searching for warm, moist soil to grow
i think i'll wait another year

like a sculptor, the winter strips us down to our veins
and builds us up again into fresh, new humans
the time is not right yet

i sit on the frayed rug in my cheap apartment
staring at the different methods of felo de se
i think i'll wait another year

what if my cat ate my body?
she'd die from food poisoning

the time is not right yet
i think i'll wait another year

viii: pity, he looked just like my ex too

officer, forgive me please
i truly didn't know i was speeding

no, i'm not under the influence
you can see that my pupils aren't dilated
i can walk more or less in a straight line
i can't say the alphabet backwards
but i can count from 1 to 100

oh, sure you can check the car
but i don't think you're allowed to do that
as you can see, i don't have any alcohol
or illegal drugs in my glove compartment

that smell in the backseat is my carrion flower
carrion flower, yes, you know the flower
that smells like rotten meat
no, it's big and it's quite rare

it's in a body bag because it needs oxygen conservation
and that was the biggest thing i could find to fit it in
no, i swear, officer, i'm not pulling your leg
i don't think it would be wise to check

i really don't think it'd be wise for you to check
officer, because now i need to find another body bag.

ix: to need self-destruction is human

you can read the paper
when the war is over
when the industrial smog completely
blocks out the sun
when we will all be corralled in tall buildings
built of steel and concrete
and taller than the clouds
buildings built with barred windows
so no one can fall out and break a neck

everyone knows that the war is for
the public good
its purpose to erase racial cultural religious
differences gender discrimination and intolerance
to create world peace and a world only john lennon
could have imagined

the enemy is on the other face of the mirror
on the dark side of the moon
He has infiltrated the populace through the backdoors
of the mind, creeped and crawled, spread like ink
into our brains, so much that we do not know
our own thoughts from His

and we shall win out against Him
because we are brave and strong enough
with centuries of war in our books of history
that show how well we have fought against ourselves

and when we have won
we will build a new world
full of Beauty and Truth
devoid of all racial cultural religious
differences gender discrimination and intolerance
we will build a new world where the shrapnel of battle
will be buried deep under the brittle fragile earth
we will forget the horrors of the last war we fought
the war to end all wars

but just in case He comes back
we must protect ourselves from His might
we must build tall buildings, taller than the clouds
so He will be unable to climb up them
we must build tall buildings, built of steel and concrete
so He will be unable to drill through them
we must build tall buildings, with barred windows
so He will be unable to get through them

and we shall read the paper so it can tell us
just how well we won the war

x: curdled

it's pretty dirty business
working from 9 to 5
mopping up brain and blood
off the kitchen floors of the formerly rich

you'd think those wives would notice
the sums of money their husbands spent
on diamonds that they never saw a sparkle of
but it's hard to see anything through several bottles of 'scripts

and then five years later into their thirty year old broken marriage
they'll remember a moment that didn't seem quite right
milk it for all of its worth, then dramatically drink the night away
wake up, find that handgun, and send him to heaven's pearly gates

the deed would be messy, what with all the brain bits, hair, and crying
hysterically screaming at the police 'he cheated, do you understand, he cheated'
but they don't care, murder is murder, no matter what the cause
and they'd seal the house off with yellow tape and take the woman away

that's where we come in, with our buckets of lukewarm water
our detergents, our brittle brushes, and mops
checking the house for left-over money and food
while wiping off cops' prints and making the floors look presentable

the job doesn't pay much because after all, we are just maids
but the kicks we get are completely worth the lack of money
the gore, the furniture, and all the ballroom dresses you can put on
and sometimes, we find the killer in the closet, waiting for a chance to run

and then, some of us get offed too
while the rest of us rush back to our trucks
as we watch the murderer jump over hedges
and curse our luck, because we have to work an extra hour

xi: merry christmas

won't you hold me through the night
your hand fitting puzzle piece into mine
your other hand laying on my thigh
and our legs intertwined

won't you hold me 'til the morning
as i wake up to your steaming breath
making droplets of water on my neck
and our sweat overpouring

won't you hold me 'til you must go
and as i smile and kiss your hair
i open my eyes and find my teddy bear
enclosed in my arms instead of you

won't you hold me anyway
though you are probably in your own bed
making love to your new girlfriend
i'll just pretend you're mine yet another day


  1. veronica grey? what is your real name btw?

    i have never been able to write poetry, you have a talent!

    happy new year to you to. i got a new xanga, but im not sure i added you... let me know!

  2. my real name's theo. you can find me on fb (i don't remember if i already asked you this. prolly have.) xero ankharad morningstar.

    thank you. ^w^ you should write more prose though *nodnod*

    i'm not sure if you added me or not...what's your username?