The Monster and I

There’s an open grave in my backyard,

From which monsters and zombies emerge,

Strolling past every wall I build and every guard,

To sleep in my home’s corners, in every dream, every urge,

Be it innocent, sweet, sour or wild,

I have no reasons to open my eyes when they

Come howling, I know their voices like a child

Knows his mother’s lullaby at the end of the day,

No more do I open my eyes to anything

Even when I know the room is flooding with light

Warm and divine, I know exactly what the birds will sing

About hope bringing traces of morning into my night,

But I know the colors will just burn my eyes

Shut again, so I listen for your steps solid

Walking into the room with unmistakable confidence fluid,

I will not make a sound; I will not make a move,

I’ll wait for you to carry me to the floor

And tighten every last chain after you remove

Every mechanism that ever kept you from my core,

I feel your breath spreading over my skin as cold

As death piercing its way to my hollowed heart,

As you stroke my hair with your fingers of gold,

And sing me a dirge that hurts from the very start,

‘’Hush, child of unheard passion and untold sin,

Hush your wretched soul and open your eyes never,

Hurt not from the metal’s pressure against your skin,

It’s dead nature will kill your soul’s quiver’’

Don’t I know you? I’ve listened to you before,

All your songs, your screams, the faith of your soul,

You’re my favorite monster that would spare no door

Unbroken just to watch me fall.

Have we never been safer here,

In my night that never ends?

Have we never burned a tear

In honor of being such loyal friends?

Have you not rejoiced in the twist

Of my waist and untrimmed mind,

And we tried for a million times to resist

The room where lightning bolts entwined?

Have I not drank poison from your palms

And begged you for some more

To bring the high waves when the calm

Is killing me slowly with its lazy roar?

Yes, it was always you, I recognize you,

The metal, the chill, your steady voice, the thrill

That fills in the corners of my blurring view

And saves me from the still night’s kill,

Now, though I can not see you with my eyes closed,

I know you’re sitting in the corner waiting

As my body in its chains so vulnerable and exposed

Twists relentlessly in the waves of pain I’m creating,

I can feel you deeply inhaling,

And taking in the smell of my burning,

Beating heart moaning in its cage and slowly failing,

As you sip on the pleasure of my yearning,

Isn’t this the dance we’re dancing now?

You walk in uninvited but surely knowing

That the moment you enter I will kneel down and bow,

Despair taking the wheel even though pride’s showing,

Shyly it peaks behind the clouds, a bird

That in a few short moments will fly away

Never again to be seen or heard

Of until the breaking of a new meeker day,

So here I am, eyes closed, limbs spread, skin bared,

And chains locked with their keys nowhere to be found,

Waiting for the mutilating exorcism, word by sharpened word,

That will finally drive away the obsession with your sound,

And if it should fail and you should keep

Lurking in corners where I can not reach

And haunting every dream waking and asleep,

Then I should accept my fate and then beseech

To the rotten effigy in the temples of lust

Where black-eyed nuns drinking from the lakes of oblivion,

Will pour tears in my eyes to unlock it, then thrust

A dagger through my heart to end your dominion,

I would shake vigorously in my shackles and make a sound,

Aimed to drown yours but you’ll never disappear,

For the grave that you came from in the ground

Is still open wide to grant the world my every fear,

And maybe be in time when you finally taste my blood sweet

On your curved lips, sliding down your throat,

You’ll walk around carrying my rigid body on the street,

And screaming at the top of your lungs the poems I wrote,

You’ll tell the world the story of you and I,

How we were always wrong and always right,

How our worlds collided but we never asked why

Our spark of light never took flight,

You’ll preach to the air how I was your friend

And how your finger prints are all over my soul

And like grey afternoon in a summer, up until the end

How our eyes mocked our existence with walls of coal.

Rhyming Rambling

There’s nothing my pen can do

For me tonight, there’s nothing to say,

That will be even remotely new,

Or that will help me to another day,

There’s nothing the world can

Give me when I don’t know

What I want or how to plan

The plot that will see me through.

The words are weak and without

Significant reason, the purpose is sound

Asleep beside a faith in doubt

Drenched, then buried in a muddy ground.

And nothing can help me

When there’s nothing to be helped,

Like nothing can ever stop the sea

From striking the seagulls as they yelped

With violent whips of water just because

They searched the surface for stray

Fish that chose to swim a little close

To the sun freely through the day

And then shake their fins away to the dark

When the sun’s rays gradually withdraw

And there’s no more silver spark

In themselves to pursue against the flow.

But does the fish know what it

Really is until it’s pierced by a bird’s claw?

Do they find how they’re perfectly fit,

For something entirely different from why they grow?

Why do we, like them, give our lives

To something we can never be sure of?

Why do we give strongly to our strives

When we can never know what we’ll be carrying off?

Just so the sea can strike at the seagull

As the gulls hunt their little silver fish

And then the fish, gulls and sea all in gowns dull,

Stained by life’s strive utter an empty death wish.

Who’s to say I can not give my life to,

Nothing and everything and flow like the rays

That spread generously all day through

And at night, in a memory of a flower stay,

Until in the next morning when they come

And witness the origins and decays of lands

They grow new flowers, and build a new home

In creatures too magical to understand.

Wondering, where does the phoenix sleep tonight?

Does she know me? Does she see me?

Is she weeping at my sight?

Am I where she wants me to be?

My oldest friend, my only friend,

The one that I’ve never seen,

Yet can feel you in every blow of wind,

Washing all the snow off my heart, clean

Like the soul of a child, a leave

Washed by the morning’s dew,

But now that it’s cold, my heart’s on my sleeve,

And I can’t even feel you.

So my heart is burning its empty walls

As you decide to sleep tonight

Whilst you know without you my pen falls

And the paper sleeps meaningless and white,

I’ve been giving myself to something,

Like the fish, only I called it honesty,

But it tumbled when faith came tumbling

Down and it started wars and animosity,

I ended it, but it did not come back after the war

And even when the faith grew back

And it healed itself, it healed me too but the scar

Of honesty is malignant and raging with black.

Then I gave my life to love, and only love,

But love is only despair when it’s trapped in fear,

And suppression and bitterness that drove

Me almost off the edge of insanity to my pier.

Then I only gave it to me but then

I realized that I needed love for that too,

And all the madness, hope, obsessions, sin,

Did not last and so old they quickly grew.

And I’m still waiting for the next

Obsession, passion, emotional suicide or

Purpose and peace to give me some context

Of which key to find and for which door.

Or even if I should just break them all

And scream and bleed my way down each door,

It will surely be easier to let myself free fall

Maybe I’ll know what I’m here for.

Pretty Mary is a Princess Sweet

Pretty Mary is a princess sweet

In her fluffy dress and her little feet,

Bouncing around in dances and twirls,

Flying around, her blonde perfect curls.

Pretty Mary is a princess sweet,

That loved to get all the candy she could eat

Her mommy made her all sorts of that,

But said ‘’Careful baby or you’ll get fat.’’

Pretty Mary is a princess as sweet

As honey in a glass jar kept safe and neat

With her little sisters playing a new role-play

In a pink castle for which daddy did pay.

Pretty Mary is a princess sweet

That’s why daddy built her this retreat

And she looked out the window to the front yard

Expecting a prince to appear when life gets hard.

And because pretty Mary is a princess sweet,

She kept her eyes focused on the street

All she did for days was to wait in her glittery pink

Keeping her songs and the birds’ in perfect sync.

Pretty Mary such a princess sweet

Who sheltered behind plastic walls from the heat,

But weary in time they turned to an ugly brown,

And like London Bridge they’re falling down.

Pretty Mary Rushed to her daddy’s seat

Where he always sat with books elite

Next to all the shelves and the old fireplace

She found the fire had eaten her daddy’s face.

Pretty Mary ran out on the concrete

On cold and wet paths with her bare little feet

Help, is there a prince out there

That could save a damsel young and fair.

Pretty Mary with her hands petite

Clinched to the coats of strangers on the street

Even though they pushed her, she bounced back

And men’s muddy coats turned her hands black.

Pretty Mary the princess sweet,

Did not understand how to take defeat,

For being kept in an blunt Ivory tower,

Can drain away all a girl’s power.

Pretty Princess Mary slept on the street

And sang her song for a million souls to repeat

From pink to black her dress had changed

From self to soul her heart was chained.

Pretty Mary no more answers to sweet

Or princess, those terms are obsolete,

Pretty Mary fell, neck down, on a stick,

Just to realize she’s not made of plastic.

Unlaced

Warm arms in the cold of winter

Snuck from the heart of darkness to surround me,

The pen dies in the moment you enter

To make way for all the poems to be,

They say all warmness comes surely with a smile,

Well, it’s not untrue, but it has been a while

Since the devil had felt warm and smiled not kindly,

But cunningly as the fire wraps me gently,

And then your heart was pounding against mine

As you said ‘’let me take you beyond that line

Of sanity and care

and consequences unfair’’

Love, your logic is flawed but not your heart,

No, your heart is well set to play its part

In the theatre of my willful submission,

This is not the time for curtseys and permissions,

Unlace me, cut every cord and every wire

That has kept me away from your desire,

Tonight I am not a poet, there will be no rhyme,

No schemes or sighs, there’ll be no death and no time

Tonight I’m just a girl looking upon the cold dawn

Of womanhood from the warmth of a man drawn,

Say no more prayers, plea on your knees no more,

The air can hear you, and I want to be the only one

To hear your passion, love, riding high with the sun,

After all, isn’t that what we’re here for?