Category Archives: Poetry

Kiss from a Rose: Seal

her kiss is a toxic hurricane

that lifts me into the clouds

and knocks the wind out of me and me into the wind.

i slide down the rainbow tasting

her bubble bubble bubblegum pop pop popping

a circus of clowns on wheels

frantically circling around

a pile of out-of-tune violins. jungle birds

dance in a feathered kaleidoscope

orange triangles and green corners stretch into

flying circles and

sideways eights.

 

her tongue snakes around mine

a rose pressing its sweet scent into my mouth

along with its thorns that pierce

my skin, blood-red blood raining dripping oozing

down the lively round lollipops from that

candy shop down the street run by witches and hyenas that

cackle when they find me sinking

in quicksand, yelling and grabbing

for the chandelier that sings children’s lullabies

and teases me by swinging

inches away from

my desperate

fingertips.

 

liquid poison injected into my lips

bruises me blue and black

a motorcycle’s headlights

fling me into a koi pond

where the fish glare upside down at me and

the water boils around misplaced kelp and

violet frogs bloat into balloons

and croak in my ear. dragonflies

whiz around jesters whose hats

ring the city bells in the morning and at night

scare us to sleep with hollow chiming of

the gong.

 

my teeth clinging to her lower lip

begging for more more more of that

addictingbittersweethallucinationinducingcyan-cyanide

but she flicks me over the edge

with one painted nail longer than the rainbow i rode

that ends with drenched cement where the hurricane

pulls away and whirlwinds into the horizon

with a cheshire smile, and i

sit on that confused gritty stone

beaten to the brink

by citrus red lipstick

and a single piece of

gum.

it’s raining cats and dogs: ch. iv

god look at that cat isn’t she cute? you’re goddamn right she is. look at the way she perks her ears up at nothing and just – where is she running off too? what was that sound? i dunno it sounded like a bead hitting the ground – hey holdon now whatare you eati – stop chewing, STOPCHEWINGheyhey heyhelp meoutheremanhelp memanwhatthehellissheeating,godEWwhatisthat,holyshitisthatabeetle?!,iss hetryingtoeatabeetlewhatthefuckgetthatthingouttahermouththatisdisgust ing!,holymotherfuckingsh

Girl on Fire: Alicia Keys

she has the ability to paint the air around her,
leaving a trail of flimsy neon green that curls into the wisps of pink left behind from the lipstick in her smile.
today she paints heavily with red, angry stomps staining the ground with smears of blood and fists punching a neat row of sizzling holes dripping with lava.
i admire the smoke tailing her blazing hair and wonder sadly why her eyes have burned themselves blind,
leaving vast empty caves except the waterfall that cascades over
the edge into a howling puddle of
orange agony in her
sleeves.

i cry into the void, grabbing at the faceless figures,
but shadows cannot hear: fuzzy,
grey outlines scampering
back and
forth in a muddle
of voices, muffled
by radioactive muzzles.

i sense a friendly song
a woman, ethereal
glowing spastic, jovial liberty bounding across the streets,
radiating glory and knowledge.
i beg her to wrap
her blueness around my uncontrollable wildfire, to blanket
her calm, gentle wings around the flames, to extinguish
the screaming that pierces fingers with needles and shatters glass with swords, to sing
her melodies until the thousand suns she bears on her back are lullabied to sleep.

i drink
from the river of her long, flowing dress, nectar that tastes like
hope, and a bittersweet longing i follow upstream until i see
the mouth of the river
is just an old recorder on repeat playing century long patriotic marches,
eyes mechanic nodes distracted by blaring, defiant flags saluting in the distance
legs crawling past, center in a web of chains where electric signals slither into the collars of the faceless figures
song echoing off the walls of the cage, trapped
with the figures and my fire in the void.

i watch my wildfire burn herself down – no one
to cover the red blotches on the floor, to
fan away the murky maroon swallowing her whole, to
clean up the polluted ocean she struggles to wade through, to
keep her from pushing deeper in desperate hope
that her orange tears will suffocate the flames,
every step drowning
in her own despair.

it’s raining cats and dogs: ch. ii

sometimes her eyes get glassy and you can see the moon reflected in her eyes.
my sister describes them as moonstone but it doesn’t make sense because she’s feline. they should be cat’s eye.

sometimes her eyes get large and dark and round and i call them obsidian.
my sister disagrees; they’re too soft to be obsidian.

sometimes her eyes are just yellow.
when she steps into the light, they’re just yellow. she likes to watch us with yellow eyes. they’re evil.
we adore her anyway.

(she probably wants to kill us.)