June 8, 2012

  • Maybe Some Magik

    i want to make something magik

     

    i want to sparkle, shiny and new 

    the minute my red eyes react & reject

    streaming specks of pollen & 

    star dust

     

    but then can i disappear? 

     

    when particles fall and touch my outstretched hand

    i fall down some ridiculous rabbit hole

    and its pitfall is unveiled

    i delicately carve manuscripts of biblical proportions

    into the remains of my fleshy pulp

    each letter a chain reaction

    each thought another post modern casualty

    of nonsensical futuristic hysteria

     

    i crave simple answers . . .

    this is not only central, it is key

    to being in the midst of the magik of the metaphysical

     

    Oh, GOD, damn this piece of poetry, please 

    allow my brain to consider all and accept that reality

     

    is an open sea

     

    where the human consciousness dwells and drifts

    i can see that i am incapable of allowing dreams

    to walk up next to me and grab my hand

    feel her whisper, "you're beautiful"

    and ride me into oblivion

     

    making love to ghosts seems to me very orgasmic

    where i can both laugh and cum at the same time

    akin to some vagrant maniac's silhouette

    sweating & thrusting her lustfulness

    in the dark shadows in the corner of an alley

    her hips a blur

    her breath frozen and rising into the street lights

    the quiet slapping in sync with thunder bolts

    stretched out on the horizon

    met with my lashing

    outstretched tongue

    tasting its electricity

    my forehead is a glowstick

    my stick is glowing too

    and the protoplasm goo

    evaporates from my skin

     

    we see each other for the last time

    and i grab the keys

    and i type

    and i create

    a new type of religion

    a new type of painting to strip to its bare bones

    and lick it's marrow acid burning cold callous

    cripples begging for more limbs

    octopi on high

    lizards with 10 arms

    amoeba with 10 heads

    tigers with no heads only teeth

    biting into the apple

    closing the gates of hell to the doors of eden

    memories like cobwebs spread across my mind

     

    maybe i am magic 

    maybe it's all there

    maybe it's true

    but maybe i am the illusion

    a dichotomy of blasphemy

    joyously mind fucking every illogical premise

    against a red sky

    i am a black shadow cast over my history

     

    all i can do is create

    and give that away

    endlessly