Half(a)Life

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Me arrancaste el alma…

and there, in the palm of my hand,
the bloody trace of
who I am, who I
might have been

…corazón destruido por latir…

the words come like a bolt
from the black,
will not be taken back
when the past strikes it hits like
a gunshot,
memory shrapnel to the back of the head
and leaves you for dead

…latiendo por destruir…

we die every moment
and live every death, a breath’s hesitation
a lifetime’s regret, until forgetfulness
comes and erases the line
between real pain and play
a world swept away in an instant of
always

…un espejo hecho añicos.

Personals

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Lonely Guy seeks lonely girl
all alone in a drowned-out world
too many swine, not enough pearls
for a heart set on roses and curls

Lonely Girl seeks lonely guy
a little action in a world of try
too hard to live, too soon to die
she can’t remember how to fly

lonely guys in lists and tiles
lonely girls with lonely smiles
lonely roads, lonely miles
to end up beached upon the piles

Spoils of War

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You put me in my place
in the ground
where the sound of my voice
won’t disturb
won’t curb your appetite
for this fight you’re bound to win
because no one else is in it

I didn’t fit the bill
so you gave me the boot
please don’t shoot the messenger
I’m just a fellow passenger on this red eye flight
this may seem trite
but brighter than bright only works
if no one shirks the labor
of making neighbor out of foe
and on we row
row row our boat gently down the stream
this dream was but a fancy
it would seem

Take the victor
and evict her
it’s time to ring the curtain
though you may be certain
the show is far from spoiled
a well-oiled machine are we
you’ll see me
when the ghost light’s lit
and from the pit the orchestra
will play
on

A Hymn before Dying

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Dig down deep in the well of your soul
till you find that the well’s run dry
Stretch your wings, cut the strings,
and hope dead birds can fly
We’ve all tapped out of an empty ring
at the height of an ongoing battle
and we can’t even choke; the only sound in our throats
a hollow and meaningless rattle

Nobody’s right until everybody’s wrong
You can’t write these lyrics if you already know the song
When those who believe don’t really belong
It won’t be long till we’re gone.

They say they want our words, our voices,
these referees of our silence
In the name of peace they command that we cease
with threats of respectable violence
Lest we speak, lest we compromise all,
they offer up stairs to the top of the wall
only to pull out the rug from our feet,
handing out blame as we fall

Nobody’s right until everybody’s wrong
You can’t write these lyrics if you already know the song
When those who believe don’t really belong
It won’t be long till we’re gone.

Whatever ghosts we fear the most,
they pale next to the shadow
of freedom offered by those who have it
to those whose fields lie fallow

‘Cause nobody’s right until everybody’s wrong
You can’t write these lyrics if you already know the song
When those who believe don’t really belong
It won’t be long till we’re gone.

This Post Is Anonymous

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Never free
Never me
So I dub thee Unforgiven

– Metallica

It is not I who writes these words; we write in my place.
I am Locutus of Earth.
Resistance is futile.

I speak with violence,
for violence;
with peace, for peace.
I speak as one for all
and all speak through me.

I am the sound of bullets;
I am the echoes of screams.
I am silence in place of speech
when speech is not enough.
I am the planet; I am the stars;
I am faces laced with scars
of battles fought and yet unfought.

More than words, I am
a Thought:

smile amidst ashes,
rainbow in storm.
I am the cold keeping you warm.

Open hand in place of a fist,
touching the faces of you who exist
apart and within
once and again…

I am the hope at the heart of despair.

No one and everyone–
that is my name.
A world’s worth of hearbeats
in one living flame

One ray of starlight
pierces the Night
One drop of saltwater,
silent, takes flight

Wish what we may
wish what we might–
humanity strapped to the string of a kite
caught in the wind, embracing the breeze–
We are the blossom born of the freeze

and the future holds whatever we please

 

Candles

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What happens when a candle goes out?
Was it blown,
snuffed, simply
forgotten?
Did anyone see the guttering,
stuttering in flame?
Who’s to blame when a blaze,
extinguished (perhaps
in anguish),
disappears?

Couldn’t you hear the loneliness
dancing in outline upon your wall?
Cries that fall in silent wails,
heard askance…

Or were you busy
just then?

Did the light ever shine
if all are blind?
Tree to forest; the poorest eyesight
lives in mirrors warped and twisted…

we all missed it

Refugee

SYRIA-CONFLICT

(Photo from BULENT KILIC/AFP/Getty Images)

Rationalize me; patronize me;
pat me on the head–here’s a cookie go to bed–
proffer a tent from someone’s garage. I
am not a mirage: this tide never ebbs,
infinite spider, intricate web.

Security councils peddling dreams
become nightmares, garnering blank stares,
raising the hairs on the back of God’s neck.
I am the dreck, the flotsam and jetsam of
a race overrun.

Are you quite done?
Have you even begun?

Stateless, displaced, limbic, replaced–
not a trace of a life vetoed by men
and women of peace after a piece of mine.
Peel the onion; perhaps you will find that
your peace of mind is sight that’s gone blind
to itself. United you stand, dividing us all
into those who may live and those who must crawl:

I am the tired; I am the poor; I
am the huddled mass cast up on your shore.
Before dimming the light and bolting the door,
take just one more moment–an arduous chore–
to look in my face and witness a war
that rages time without end:
the war between neighbors, family, and friends

this globe is never
quite what it pretends