Virgin suicide

I was on that 144,000 fantasy
believing that the right woman would be saving it for me
but between 8th grade and 22,
I doubt if I met ONE female I was attracted to
who was also a virgin, my soul mate to be
they were all broken in, and sexually free
In my eyes, the best had already been messed with...
and I ended up thinking the virgin bride was a myth.

My faith shattered, what mattered was a carnal desire
that consumed and moved me to love playing with fire
I don't know why but I always had sex on my mind
every other second, like hiccups, my lust made me blind
I couldn’t see clothes or character
I was focused on the aesthetics of her shape and her form

I felt like a wolf with that look in his eye
making all the food nervous, even when I smiled
I couldn’t help myself, it was as if my stomach was growling
attuned to the prey on the streets I was prowling

And when I found a promising morsel to eat
I played with it first, felt its heart beat
and drunk off the rush of temptation I dared
I gave in and slipped in, and enjoyed it, teeth bared

But the magic I expected never showed up
there were no fireworks or explosions, nothing blew up
ts much as I took, I took nothing away
there was still something missing, for all that she gave

I was confused. She was pretty, her body fit mine
but when we weren’t having sex, she was a waste of my time
and the ones that came later, it was the same thing with them
it got boring and I realized I needed a friend

But finding a flower in the weeds of that phase of my life
was like looking for that perfect match to take as my wife
the interviews and trials were depressing at best
while I looked for a girlfriend, revising my tests

It got to the point that if it took me too long
to figure out if the girl was the right one for me or wrong
my interest would wear out, like a record with a groove
I’d keep playing the song, but it wouldn’t make me move

I learned the hard way all that glitters ain’t gold
some of those relationships took no time to get old
and some failed for reasons I cannot explain
they'd look different, sound different, or become a pain

I considered I was looking for something that didn’t exist
and projecting it on any pretty face with nice tits
I played mind and heart games to keep myself entertained
until karma caught up with me and my conscience complained

Still, happiness eluded me, though I was self-reformed
no store had my size, making me feel deformed
and when I got tired of walking around
barefoot on the uncomfortably cold, rocky ground
I stuffed my feet in some shoes made too small
gave me bunions, arch problems, and cramped both my soles

I still haven’t found that perfect love yet
but my vision’s not great, so there’s that, and that’s it.

©12.22.16 ebn

The sunshine's in my eyes

the sunshine's in my eyes
and i am colored in by love
a warm song bubbling up
from my depths
stretching the corners of my mouth
ever so gently
into a smile
jewels of thought glistening like morning dew
each sparkle, something of you
the effervescence of my entire life
stinging my nose
watering my eyes
as I laugh, crying
remembering and grateful
for having had the gift of sharing
the blessing of being, with you

e.12.22.16

Some pictures are worth a thousand words

Some pictures are worth a thousand words
While others leave us perplexed
And for the blind, music will do
The deaf who cannot see are vexed
Or blessed perhaps to know a thing
By how it feels, quite literally
Whose eyelashes and fine hairs sense life
Along with fingertips and toes and chi

And here I’m moved by words received
That the deaf cannot hear or believe
And provoked by looks the blind can’t see
Sometimes misled by how I feel

And focus on these foolish things
Rather than vistas and sunsets
And symphonies and words of love
As if I prefer to be upset

So from here on out, I’ll close my eyes
Except to see the beauty around me
And close my ears except to hear
The wondrous sounds that sing to me

Though what beauty can be appreciated
Without being exposed to some contrast
And what song can be heard as divine
Without listening to the wine of the past

Perhaps the pure heart needs nothing else
To enjoy each moment it lives
Discerning in everything the best
That graciously life gives

So whether blind, deaf, or both
I’ll cultivate my heart
To see and hear what makes worth while
The blessings of life’s art

©12.22.16 ebn

Nana

Like a busted balloon
I yelled every last tear of joy
Into God

The sunshine of my soul
Raked the sides of my face
And spilled out of my eyes
As I begged for her smile

Pulling at her dress
I knew where I came from
My whole world in her eyes
My purpose in her will
My life in her hands

e.12.17.2016

Iscariot

The day was still, the leaves didn't move
and the world gave me the cold shoulder
as we rode quietly in the back of a cab
to the clinic to cure love's hangover

With a stone in my stomach I opened the door
a gentleman, a madman, a fool
and delivered my lie with a heartbroken smile
to the white coats, the butchers, the tools

the glances, the silence, the clock in the hall
the moaning and groaning and scraping of walls
the trauma, the blanket, alone in a chair
the blood stain and steel; the thought left somewhere

the walk, and the hate, and the one I betrayed
the cold, and the loss, of a promise we named
on the cab ride back home, we arrived far apart
her loss, unfathomable; while I lost my heart

e.12.17.2016

Beneath the awkward rags

Beneath the awkward rags
That hang off the inner child
Like chains of convention
Fashionably disguised with labels
Magic spells
That not only fool the feeble minded
But us, too

Is a congested beauty
A soul with bloody fingernails
And a swollen heart
A child in a cave
Who only remembers the sun

And when they break
Through that cracked mask
Like the sweet song of a chick
Desperate to ruin their shell
Desperate to breathe

Their ugliness endears us
And our ugliness makes them beautiful

e.12.17.2016

Who cares about the dead

Who cares about the dead
Except for what they’ve left
A stain on the mind of the grieving

A sentimental color
That fades with time and weather
Hardly noticeable as we continue living

The phone is disconnected
No forwarding address
And their closet goes to goodwill or the trash

Their laughter gets forgotten
Their stories become rotten
And their memories are like faded photographs

Their faces lose their names
Their lives become the same
As the billions of others who passed away before

A droplet in the ocean
A grain upon a beach
A letter in a book not read anymore

Who cares about the dead but death
The living are preoccupied
With finding heaven here on earth
Before it’s their turn to die

e.12.17.2016

What we call love

What we call love
Is an angry, selfish thing
Drowned in alcohol and
Bloodshot eyes
And clumsy, callous hands
With dirty fingernails
That want to tear open
Something sweet, smooth, and soft
And a mouth, drooling
Of stinking breath

What we call love
Hates itself because of you
Because of mirrors
And toilet paper
And bathroom secrets
Which get flushed
Or wrapped and tossed away
Behind a closed door

What we call love
Doesn’t smell like television or magazines
Though something of them
Is sprayed and scrawled onto us
Like some vulgar graffiti
We think makes us look pretty

What we call love
Commits a little bit of suicide
Everyday afraid of dying
Without a piece of you

What we call love
Is afraid of being alone

e.12.15.2016

A blind man cannot tell you

A blind man cannot tell you
The color of sunsets or flowers
Skin or eyes
Though he can point you to the sun
Bring you to a flower
Hold your hand
And tell you where to go

e.12.15.2016

Watching a baby die

Watching a baby die
Puts a part of you to bed
Forever
With no supper
In a room with no windows
Behind a door that will never unlock

e.12.15.2016

When my account dips below freezing

When my account
Dips below freezing
I turn on the heat
And they fire
No questions asked

e.12.15.2016

Beneath the things that make us smile

Beneath the things that make us smile
Patience paces back and forth
Lurking behind a mask of entertainment
Watching with hungry eyes
While we
Perched in front of an imaginary screen
Oblivious and free
Sing

e.12.15.2016

With a tiny pair

With a tiny pair
Of precision crafted
Stainless steel
Tweezers
She plucked out
Each strand of her youth

In the mirror

A painful
Self-inflicted process
She repeated
Every morning
Until she finally
Looked like a drag queen

e.12.15.2016

It wasn’t the rain

It wasn’t the rain
But that one drop
Repeating itself
Over and over again
Driving me insane

e.12.15.2016

In the midst of the busyness

In the midst of the busyness
I planted my feet
Took a deep breath
Retrieved a pair of scissors from my pocket
And proceeded to carefully
And deliberately
Cut out a doorway in the air before me

At the last snip
It collapsed before me
Like some heavy sheet of paper
And I stepped through
And exhaled

e.12.15.2016

The spider in the rain

That spider had a hard time in the rain
Her masterpiece nearly destroyed
Under the weight of beautiful jewels
Strung like diamond beads
On her finest silk

Doing her best to hold her place
She shrunk into a corner
Waiting for the worst to pass

And when the sun finally came out again
She knew there was no use
That it was better to begin again
And spin a new masterpiece
Somewhere else

e.12.14.2016

They don’t make them like this anymore

They don’t make them like this anymore
And if you were born yesterday, you wouldn’t care
But someone’s strong, warm, arthritic hands
Took their time with this
Carved this patiently
Attended to it like a newborn baby
And stained it with love
And particular care

You don’t find that anymore
And if you were born yesterday, you wouldn’t know
But I can tell that the person who made this
Appreciated every color in a sunrise
Enjoyed the sound of the rain
Smiled and laughed at butterflies and flowers
Prepared simple meals
And read good books

e.12.14.2016

Sun shafts leaned easily through the door

Sun shafts leaned easily through the door
Cracked open to relieve you of the sauna
Falling against the dark wood of the bannister
The top of the stairs, and the landing
Pushing out of their way
The scent of the warm fog from the bathroom
Mixed with the scent of some light spray
Of vanilla and honey

Relaxed
I curled myself, comfortably wrapped
In my warm blankets
My bed just made with clean sheets
And a fresh pillow case
Eyes heavy and half opened
Waiting to say goodnight one more time
Before you left for work

e.12.14.2016

Death waits kindly

Death waits kindly
Like a sneeze that stops your heart
While everyone’s downstairs laughing
Waiting for you to come back from the bathroom

Your last breath
Didn’t even have a name or number
It left, turned around
And realized no one was there

The warmth which was you
Disappeared like a vapor
On the tail of your spirit
No one heard leave

And when we realized you were gone
Something stopped
And we got stuck in it
Backed up without you

e.12.14.2016

She cried

She cried
Beating her hands red
Against the stone beneath the snow
While snowflakes took their time
Falling a hundred miles
To cover the evidence
Of her pain

e.12.14.2016

There’s something outside my door

There’s something outside my door
Some whispering snow outside my window
And its cold
The furnace working like some tired slave
While ghosts stand patiently in the hallway
With nothing in particular to wait for

As I sit in front of my computer
Restlessly trapped in my boredom
Eyes falling out of my head
And sleep
Shaken into a thousand harvestmen
Climbing over me

And when I finally succumb
Under the weight of dream’s insistence
The door and window open
The furnace goes silent
And the ghosts come in
To carry me away

e.12.14.2016

You can carve yourself

You can carve yourself
to give out to the world
you can bring up all the suffering
to justify your love

but the hunger will not go away
they can never get enough
just when you think they're satisfied
they'll go and break your heart

in time you know they will return
that's what beggars do
and show you both their empty hands
needing all of you

and when you're naked in the world
having given everything
they'll curse you for being useless
the pauper once a king

they'll catch a scent and be on their way
that's what beggars do
full of all you've given them
to find another fool

e.12.7.2016

She came like morning snow

She came like morning snow
Cold and silent
While I stood there
Hating that I hated her
Because I loved to love her
And even then wanted to wipe away this frost between us
Melt away her freezing reign
With a warm and forgiving embrace
But my wish was interrupted
By the clacking of hangers stripped bare
The skeletons of what we had laughing
As she drug a garbage bag of her things
Through our room and down the stairs
And when she closed the door behind her
I listened to her footsteps on the walkway fade
Pulled the covers over me
A chill settling into my bones
And closed my eyes, resolved to stay there
Until she came back to me

e.12.9.2016

Night was never as sweet

night was never as sweet
as when the moon was warmed on your skin
the stars giggled over in a corner of the sky
and the evening silhouettes whispered jealously
of your comeliness...

all because I happened to notice
a fresh, dark flower
brooding in the glow of candlelight
whose lips glistened like water in moonlight
some sliver of sun still burning upon their
secret smile...

and I was drawn in toward the scent of
plum flavored thoughts of
the deepest color
something exciting the fireflies
and my imagination...
of who you might be

e.12.5.2016