A thing to die for

What is a thing to die for?
Is it large or small?
Is it sturdy or delicate?
Can you sell it?

I can imagine the things I would die for.
They're multi-faceted.
Sometimes I like to think that they are small enough to hide beneath my thumb.
What I fail to realize is that they are hiding me.

What is a thing to die for?
Is it cheap or expensive?
Is it tangible or existential?
Can you taste it?

I sometimes imagine having the things I would die for.
They're massive.
Sometimes I write poems about them in order to carry them with me.
What I fail to realize is how they smear like ink that hasn't dried.

What is a thing to die for?
Is it sweet or bitter?
Is it trivial or important?
Can you justify it?

I sometimes imagine having the things I would die for. 

Skyline Borders

Skyline borders outline my horizon

They puncture the sun so that the light is distorted

My eyes grew acclimated to blindness. 

I was always able to see. 

But one time I went down to Chesapeake. 

To see my cousins. They're eyes seemed lighter

as if the sunlight kissed their irises. 

And while they walked the beachfront, I ambled 

Unsure of where the ground laid before me. 

I wondered if perhaps I was blind. 

But then when I turned west, I saw the mountainside

pierce the sun so that the light is distorted. 

I like to think West Virginia has no skyscrapers

because nature already provided them their skyline border. 

When I returned to my skyline border, my eyes panicked 

only for a second, until artificial light saved it from blindness. 

I was snug in my steely cage, waiting for a distorted sun to set.

Finally, I can see. 

Deliverance

Till now my child you've thought that might is right
And though you fight the tears of tainted youth
Please march, steadfast, and tread beyond that plight
To'a place where you might find a purer truth
Shout loud! Dear child do not forsake your past
Though demons gnawed your ankles as you walked
Shake free your legs as one shakes free their caste
Don't flinch or wince, give not a single balk
Fight back! Dear child, your time is growing near
Where truth will cede, while man disrupts nice dreams
Where heathens cry and angels dry their tears
Your job, dear child, is to go mend the seams
From devil's mouth and God's eternal might
Deliver child these men through day and night 

I want you to be, happy too, so I'll play the fool
For a time, perhaps a moment or two.
I know you're kind,  I was too
But we were too young to honestly choose.
And now I realize, One more time, I'd like to lose.

I'll lose this time, this time, I'll lose
I'll lose this time, this time, I'll lose.
And you know, it'll all be for you.

There were cute moments weren't there?
There were funny times we'd only share.
When you say you don't really care.
I just think you're trying to spare
Me of the what could have beens that were there.

I'll lose this time, this time, I'll lose
I'll lose this time, this time, I'll lose
And you know, it'll all be for you.

I remember cheese cake slices.
I can remember Italian ices.
Even before we were in crisis.
As we dealt with mounting gas prices
Living on a diet of honey and mixed rices
Waking to your smile was always the nicest
Thing that filled my writing with poetic license

I'll lose this time, this time, I'll lose
I'll lose time, this time, I'll lose
And you know, it'll all be for you

I regret nothing I ever gave
And even though these words just serve to stave
the dying light of your love that I hope will rave
But alas, I was stubborn, impossible to save.
A poor young fool, a broken naive.
Who only wanted to just pave.
The new world with you, the growing wave.
That'll sweep all our sadness away.

I lose this time, this time, I lose.
I lose this time. This time I lose
And you it is all because of you.

Getting up from bed

I know that somewhere there's the fingerlings waiting for my parched pores
They are shriveled and irritated with each attempt I make at using my own oils to moisturize them
Sometimes you need to dip your naked body in the remnants of a lake
Wait in them as nature dwindles their elevated state
I get more air, but my skin becomes arid with each foot shaved off.
By the time you find my body, I'm scabby and drowned.
Eyes closed as if heaven were merely constant replays of my dreams
My limbs are laid strewn on the silt, imprinting my figure into the basin.
Sometimes my lover sleeps in the imprint so that she may cuddle with me once more
Who is my lover?
Crustaceans who have feasted upon my flesh.
Vegetation that is preparing my particular finger for a valley.
And my first threesome, the sun and the moon who take turns illuminating my presence.
I do not hold a silent smile at death
No one has the muscle memory to smile at death.
Instead bugs canvas my insides and create subtle fascics that fool even the most cunning of mountain lions
Even animals do not eat the possessed
I remain there till finally a Lazarus like state strikes me like a misappropriated whimsy
I get up only to find myself fall apart with each step.
The bugs scurry out of my two entrances
And from there on I took three more steps
On the third step my delicate legs burst into debris.
The upper half of my body is dragged by first my fingers
Then my wrists
Finally my chin and chest.
A whimsical breeze blows away my face, completing the latest artistic installment I had to complete.

Transfiguration

Break the form for a minute. I think you'll find that the images will come to you in fragmentation
You ain't looking at this shit in a pixelated view. This shit is in 4-d to the point that if you tried touching the lyrics, they'd burn your skin and leave you branded. There'd only be initials of the specter who watches over me as I chirp. I'm one of the naive animals singing along with Snow White. Too bad she's singing an ode to every single man who has turned this earth into a perpetual hearse. Drowned in small bits of branches that are still lying astray from the ravage of winter. Spring flowers embroider around them in an effort to get them to conform. The worms slowly biodegrade the refuse of winter. I eat those worms. A second degree murderer in every sense of the term. People hold me in high regard for absolutely no reason. All of this is a regurgitated process but I'm not giving any of it to my children. Instead I keep them close to my breast, afraid that the stench is going to keep anyone from ever getting it. I suppose this has gone on long enough, I'm not a bird, I'm a bear. Sauntering around the hunting grounds with a serene frame of mind. Ragged mug and bearing teeth whenever I get the chance to do so. Hunting grounds are like zoos with an internal exhibit. In a few minutes I'll have a different attitude concerning the nature of hunting grounds. Buckshot shouldn't be used to shoot bears, so why I am bleeding from multiple entry points? I roar. I roar. I roar. I bleed. I bleed. bleed... Birds watch as I run in a frenzy, wondering how I might rid myself of this pain. "Be merciful," I can hear a young lad of 8 yell out to his pa. The man's man father spat out some phlegm and loaded up his rifle, hoping to put me out of my misery. The specter who watches over me is not satisfied so she turned me into wolf. Wolves hunt in packs, but love individually. The others can tell I'm not normal. They treat me like I'm Balto, a fucking coon who can't do anything but help their murderer. But you gotta understand in a past life, I was a bear and they nearly murdered me! Or perhaps they did. I chose fear over revenge. Foolish cub, listen up. I'm the specter who keeps you working./ I'm the one who keeps you going./ A god of sorts, but I'm not loving./ Instead I want to see you keep on tugging/ on the edges of the form, but don't rhyme like me. Instead you need to find us some peace.

Well fuck it. Destiny confirmed. I guess I'll go back to being a bird. 

Supernova

Supernova, burning bright

There is no end to your great light 

In sight, your might, illuminates night 

And though I look away, it's hard to fight

The plight, it smites, my wrongs and rights 

so that I may indulge in sacred flight

from sights of every width and height 

Please do not loosen, hold on tight

Your warmth, as loose as an errant kite 

Yet I feel before you reach my sight

Your thermal presence fills me with fright 

Behold, you free fungi from their blight

And yet people try to emulate your state

Their blunders and scorched earth, all mistakes 

I fear they will think you can be replaced 

To recreate god's mysteries is a fool's fate. 

And I guess I am the fool tonight

for your majestic presence did beknight 

upon me, an oath, perhaps a sacred right 

With you, I am golden, alone, a mite 

Supernova, burning bright 

I know an end to your light 

With might, through night, remain in my sight

I won't look away during your final fight.