You Can Touch, You Can Play

Reality?

My eyes, they seek reality
I'm standin in the rain
My tears fall softly
Does no one feel this pain?

But a new flame is born
it gives me shelter from this storm
and why cant you see
whats happened to me
I'm twisted and torn

my eyes seek reality
my hands dont feel the same
my heart was an open book
now tightly shut once again

and the watch fire is warm
you know it means us no harm
the problem with me
is i have to be free
but i want you more

my mind has glimpsed eternity
my voice is too numb to speak
my bones are frail and aching
my soul is much too weak

and the fire's gone cold
i know the night's grown too old
and i'm dying of fright
on this lonely night
i'm left on my own

It's 2012.

Well, the ants are out.
The gays are out.
Time is running out.
(It’s the end of the world.)

The ballots are in.
Fast food is in.
Sin is in.
(It’s the end of the world.)

Jesus is back,
All painted black
With his dick hanging out
Or maybe tits?
(It’s the end of the world.)

Satan’s a trip.
My mother’s a Crip.
The heirloom’s a gun
From World War One.
(It’s the end of the world
right now.)

We don’t even know how Abel died.
Could have had his brains fried.
Could have yelled and kicked and cried.
Could have found a place to hide
A bride, a ride, a house to divide—

A five-star rated stride.
(Your loan’s gonna be denied, I’ve heard.
It’s the end of the world, the end of the world.)

Well, that arrow’s got a bow.
And this bread is made of dough.
Takes a ho to know a ho.
Drop that pian-o,
Look out below,
Remember what you know.
Go.
Go.
Go!

This burning bible’s pages are curled!
My friends, can’t you see?
It’s the end of the world.

Ode to Hips

My god, woman!
Do you know what you do to me
with those hips,
those ample, alabaster hips?

As you walk, they sway,
entrancing me.
As you pass, they croon,
enthralling me: You
are effervescent and I
am enraptured.

You don’t have to speak—
your body speaks for itself—
to tell me to watch your hips, to memorize
their every motion, every curve,
because I do so willingly, wantonly,
without hesitation.

And while you wax on about poems and plays,
I will write this ode
and blush at your smile.

A Comic

Punch Me In the Face, then Kiss Me

copper coated

tongue

slips through

iron flavored

teeth

to rest

between

ruby red

lips

sopping with

sanguine

saliva.

Open the

flood gates

for the

maroon

monsoon.

Epiphany 1:2011

A few days ago,
As I thought of you
(Which I sometimes catch myself doing)
I realized that honestly…
I don’t remember very many of our conversations.
And it’s not that I don’t remember talking…
Or even that I don’t remember listening,
I simply cannot recall what was said.
At the time though,
Your words sustained me.
They filled my up like the Bread of Life,
But apparently man cannot live off of bread alone,
At least if that bread is baked with the leaven
Of broken promises and intentional deceit.
But I digress.
Where was I now?
Oh yeah.
I barely remember any of our conversations.
And now I wonder.
What does the fact that I can’t remember what you said,
Say about me?
Maybe my love for you was imagined.
Like multi-colored unicorns and healthy food from McDonald’s.
But I’m certain that’s not the case.
The unfortunate truth is that…
You probably tattoed your words
Somewhere across the parchment of my subconscious in invisible ink.
And when I least expect it
The sun will hit the sheet in such a way,
That the words will be revealed and remembered.
And I will be left by myself
to forget them all over again.
-Brittany Willis

Dendritic Days