8/17/18

Angelic Upstarts on the stereo
Steel toe boots all laced up and ready to go
Thirty-seven years old standing in the shadow
Of the last twenty-odd years
Stomping to the beat
Of leveling monuments built to misery
With the songs that taught us to spit blood
In the face of defeat
Ringing like thunder in our skulls

Watch your tears fall like rain
I swear I have lived this moment before
Raised the dawn through so many nights like this one
Wrapped up warm and safe with the sound
Breathing in the solace of the stereo
Bound as we are, always
“By six strings to this world”
Next to every single person
I ever loved

The stories we tell matched in their horror
Similar in scope
Touched as we are by the darkness
The people who raised us named love
We learned well to wear our scars

Rebel sounds on the stereo
Soundtrack to the world crashing down
Songs for all the inferno hearts
Caught in the conflagration
Buried in wreckage wrought by industry

I have learned the painful truth
There are vicious constants in this life
Cycles of history, repeating motifs, old ghosts
Wash, rinse, repeat, but never quite feel clean
Clean, like the breaks we always wanted

From the poisoned hands that
Shaped years weighed down by ruins
Are you angry?
Let’s get fucking angry
Just like we were when you
Were 14, 22, 37
The anger that comes with losing years
Locked away in dark rooms
Losing the battle with getting out of bed
Mourning every lost future
You never got to live

I want it all:
Unrepentant and violent
As I have ever been

I want to give myself
To fugitive time
I want to lose myself
To blood spilt nights
And a knife slipped
Between the ribs
Of every enemy
A boot stomping on the face
of every bad memory

I want the crashing noise
Distortion drenched and damaged
Freaks dancing in the night
Hanging on to one another
For life

Screaming out the sorrow
Rage bellowing forth
Life a river of ash
Coughed back up from
Lungs that breathe once again
Bodies rejecting the poison
Mended wings taking flight
From every house fire
We could never fight

(Sometimes you just gotta watch it burn)

I want you to heal
Like you mean it
Like your life depends on it
(Because it fucking does)
I want to watch you walk tall
So tall
Twelve feet tall
And drunk on the blood
Of everyone who ever meant you harm
Staggering through streets
Like they are yours to walk upon

I want to watch you thrive
I want to watch you grow
Old, sturdy, and wise
Stronger for every
Single scar you were
Ever made to wear

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8/17/18

Apocalypse Summer

A burning yellow sky summer settles into place
Like a toxic haze across a bone-dry Rain City
I wear Leather like armor for skin too thin
A wet bandanna over the face
To walk the late night streets of an apocalypse maze

The sound of my best friend’s paws on pavement
Make for the surest, sweetest company
Against the hushed highway hum rending
The burning world to the bone

The air smells of smoke and ruin
As we walk the path of ash
Empty streets paint portraits of dead time
Old photographs, too late at night, one more backward glance

Come four AM, we give in to rest
Windows shut tight, and the curtains drawn closed
Electric air filter running on overdrive
Filtering out the filth, working as hard as the night is long

Lie in bed and wish to want nothing
Here in this stuffy and darkened room
The sepia toned cinema of memory
Spins off of the reels in the golden gloom

I remember you.

You were always so gentle, my love
Or at least as gentle as your scars allowed
Before we grew to love one another
You were just another face in the crowd

Could have been anyone or anywhere
Lining the haunted avenues and alleys of this town
Living hard and cold in the land of
“I got no friends, only people I know”

Ash falls like snow, there is no way home
No reason to look over my shoulder on the way out the door
The past is a dead country
Sinking to the east, burning down to the west

In solitude
I long to set sail
Away from a burning empire in its dying days
Away from bruised hearts and industrial haze
Untouched by loneliness, longing or sorrow
Into the beauty of the possible and futures unknown

Apocalypse Summer

A dedication

I am always writing about warriors
Underdogs rising up to greet hard times
Just like I am always writing about love
I wrote this clumsy poem for you
Because you and I are the kind of warriors
Who never got our stories told
In the storybooks they write for little boys
To teach them that the world
Just owes them everything
You and I know something about love
Clawing its way back up from shallow graves
Meant to be a soul’s final resting place

We were born from the darkness
That the people who raised
Us and named us called love
We were brought up battered
But never as broken as you believed once

Out here where the horizon stretches into infinity
The road ahead fills the sky with possibility
Breathing in and out steadily
As mileposts pass by in the night
Push the pedal to the floor
To drive you fast enough and far enough
To outrun the ghosts that come for you when the sun drops low

Breathe in breathe out
Push your panic through gritted teeth
Long enough to pull off the highway
In the middle of the desert to see
The majesty of a sky full of stars
Towering in its enormity above us
The moon rises ancient and yellow
I want you to fold up this moment
Hold it to replay on
Days when life knocks you down

Polish my boots oxblood red
In a dingy New Mexico hotel room
After you finally surrender to rest
With Hope standing guard
Dream of grinding the face
Of every single person who ever hurt you
Into the 115 degree asphalt outside

Hate comes easy
Violence follows just as unrepentantly
Witnessing a pain as pure as this
I want to hunt down each
And every last maggot
That feasted the flesh from the bones
Of your youth and snap their
Fingers from their hands like brittle twigs

Breathe in.  Breathe out.
The warm waves of the Atlantic
Rush ceaselessly over the sand
Wade in the water
Give thanks to the tiny victories
Every battle, hard fought and won
Every hell pushed through
That led you to this shore

I maybe never felt as proud
As I felt watching you
Standing tall in the sun
Stretching out into your soul
Strong as bones
Brave against the memory
Of every nightmare never enough
To break you into pieces
Breathing slow
While the waves crash
Let the bad dreams pass
As they always do.

A dedication

Taking Leave At The Buncombe County Line

All the roads to the land of sky are steep:
Sheer as Beaucatcher Mountain Road,
All the way to Helen’s Bridge in spring
Black mold in blooms in an exile’s lungs
Thunderheads rumble over the hills
Raise a halo to the sky and it returns a crown of rust
Sending bicycle-bones crashing to a standstill

Weeds line the vacant lot
Where they knocked the projects down
So many years ago
Their roots burst through crumbling concrete
Beautiful in their pavement breaking bloom
And the cicadas sing beneath electric starlight
Breaking wide open the stillness of summer nights
In the midst of the homes we knew

Fate is cold and indifferent like that
Rising up to make wreckage of carefully laid plans

When it comes
You cannot hesitate
Or look back

(except you always, always do)

Because:
It hurts to outgrow
Just like it will break your heart to leave home
And break you apart to build anew
To become.

IMG_5509

Taking Leave At The Buncombe County Line

Proximities.

This is a blessing
For the bliss of
Breaking down
Breaking out
Letting go
Of love
(or closest proximities of)

Fond affections
Now disfigured
And distorted
Embers burn
Down to ashes scattered
Into the howling wind

What is a little bit of
Betrayal between friends anyway?
A glance over the shoulder, lamenting
How the worst enemies
Are always the ones
We know the most intimately

I propose a toast tonight
With a heart closed
And a raised fist clenched
Drink to your health
And the wealth
Of lessons learned
In blood sex
Promises half spoken
Unremembered and never meant

Viva love
(or closest proximities of)
And long live its death

Proximities.

Dream of apocalypse sex with apocalypse ex

A dream of you this morning
Three years on
Pressed against the wall
All filthy and tender
Open

We were never
Going to be anything like
The love of one another’s lives
Or grow old together
And that’s just fine

Because we both have known
That kind of love
Shakes you to your core
Pulls you out of your skin
To dance in your bones
The kind of love that
Will not let you settle for anything
Gets you fucking moving
And this, this just is.

An exercise in anything goes
An exercise in escaping emptiness
From one moment to the next
Running circular furrows in
All the same well tread paths
Until boots burn holes in our maps

In the afterglow
Beneath the flickering lights
Whisper your secret fears
Of the fire next time
Written into your genetic code
Whatever horror this world holds
You feel it coming for us
In your root of your soul

So here we are
All fucked up
Yet unbroken
Against the wall
In love and war
All at once now
For war
But never in love.

Dream of apocalypse sex with apocalypse ex

I fell in love and it scrambled my brain.

So I haven’t been writing as much. Still grinding away at this novel, but aside from that I mostly try and sit calmly with the present. For whatever reason, writing about the present has always proven difficult for me. It’s like I have a hard time articulating the significance of an event until after it’s time as has passed and I’ve had time to reflect. Maybe that’s why my first book is about a life lived two decades ago. I can tell you with absolute clarity what it was all for, and what it all meant.

The present… The Present feels jittery and electric, like I want to do a million things at once. Maybe that’s the strong cup of green tea and chronic lack of sleep talking though. Or maybe too much time researching bullshit on the internet is making me foggy before my years. I don’t know. I can’t think clearly right now. Maybe I should just be outside with my dog (The real love of my life.)

What I’m trying to articulate here, is what a joy it is to fall in love. I haven’t been in love in some years. Opening my heart to another has never been something I’ve done lightly, and rarely something I’ve given myself to fully. If we’re being real, I’ll one part blame on being socialized in a culture of toxic masculinity, one part mental illness and trauma, and the last part just kind of feeling like a whole lot of the people I encounter aren’t worth my vulnerability and authenticity anyway. People can be disingenuous and dishonorable shitbags. I see it on most of them, and keep my distance. People are also flawed and wounded and wonderful and most of us are doing the best we can. It’s the ones that use their hardships as an excuse to never grow or change that I can’t abide to share my time with.

Or people can’t handle my authenticity or vulnerability. That’s possible too. I think I encounter that one a lot. I don’t know. It’s difficult to be objective about yourself sometimes. I am more than aware of myself as a “difficult person”. I am painfully aware that I’m unlucky enough to experience the terrifying and joyous journey of life through a certain lens, and the world I see through that lens doesn’t always match with the world the people I love are seeing.

That is to say, trauma and mental illness done fucked up my perception of reality. I won’t make any apologies for how I experience the world, not like I wanna experience it in this way either. I’m real sorry for the vital connections it’s caused me to break over the years, most of them anyway.

Anyway… Love poem in progress. I think we’ll title it Janky Love Poem #1 because I’m feeling real sweet and vulnerable and clumsy right now. I don’t know if I’ve ever written something about a relationship while I was still in it.

Falling in
Falling away
From an idea of love cheapened
With plastic sentiment
Filled with impossible promises
Of a saccharine soaked forever
And sepia toned happily ever after
Accepting each imperfect
And impermanent moment

Making monuments from ruins
An idea of love
Falling like walls
Cracked open
Like precious stones
Once hidden in rubble

Falling in love like
Tearing lonely cynicism to shreds
For gentle whispers of
How the world is still worth fighting for
Four simple words to sink in
“Nihilism is so stupid”
It’s true.

That’s all. I’m going outside. Maybe I’ll work on this more later. Maybe I’ll leave it as it is, a clumsily sweet monument to the first tenuous steps of falling in love. Only time will tell. For now, I will enjoy this moment.

Thank you for reading. ❤

I fell in love and it scrambled my brain.