Constructive Darkness

Constructive darkness
Under construction.
I need the absence
To work in my favor
Absence of light, A trampoline to
Sink deeper to fly higher.

So I try and sink harder into an abyss.
Every dream is an apparition,
Every ascension is a ghost.
You are not lost just misplaced.

Every dream, an apparition
Every scream, a repetition—
Every echo is a prayer, longing
To be heard to be

Echoing in moans I befriend fears in a
Bottomless rock bottom
An ocean more foreign than other galaxies
Also: mountains. Also: repercussions.

A zigzagging life pattern. Fun means full of surprises.
“An artist moves along a bumpy horizontal axis”
Who said anything about a horizontal, predictable,
Comforting axis, I am on another plane

Another planet working on some constructive darkness
To bear fruits to feed me to soothe my soul exhausted—

The night is leaking with needle stars softly blinding us by
Making us used to their diamond shine. How acquainted are you
With shining stars?

An artist moves along a bumpy horizontal axis. (Quote from the book Poor Artists by Gabrielle de la Puente and Zarina Muhammad)

Time is a God

Is a dimension is a god is a belief is a mental frame
Before the world fries and dies a little
We die every day revive a little
Can the world not move on fast and slow
When we die a little too? All at once
Like laughter in a funeral, tears the
Sky open to welcome chilling air
Like uninvited apparitions

How do you convince the sun to stay
Down longer, I am asking you,
Ticking time-bomb gods?
I would like the sands of my hourglass to congeal
And freeze so I can burn every memory into eternity
And make it meaningless in return.

Every second ticking is a reminder
That time is the real god.

Bending spoons and other dreams

This simulation is a complication
A compilation of disappointments appeased
By brief moments of hope and delusion.
Realization is a simulacrum
Insert some matrix quote to become the spoon
So you can bend yourself.

Does dancing count?
Practice war with yourself to practice peace and sink
Deep.

Put your body on the market, your soul on the market, your ideas on the market, your sweat on the market, your profusion of every cell, and ATP working for your body on the market. Put your heart on the market and keep on believing; don’t stop believing hold on to that.

Capitalistic mindset. Do you believe in me too?

Insert some Matrix quote to become the spoon so you can bend yourself, only to realize how broken you are. Don’t worry it will not hurt when you die.

Backdrop people

Being alive means being half-dead for your
Memento mori is the key to your life, or your lifelessness.

On winning

You only win when you can lose yourself
In something greater than yourself.
Does being lost in a black hole count?
Does being lost in a metaphorical black hole count too?
To a kid lost in a jungle,
Everything seems bigger,
Sweat profusion on the soul
If only we could see the souls and how soulless
You are like a backdrop like you
Dropped from the sky and survived
In an unexpected miracle…

No

Reasons I self-censor are hidden somewhere in my
Childhood, on a leather sofa in an overpriced therapy
Session, in the tremors of a locked up choked up
Throat of a highly trained mezzo vocalist
Where the silence and the lock-up period
A never ending interval cooking up in my body

Speechless: the answer, words make life more complicated
Words are labels words are words; word after word after word is
Only sometimes power sometimes powerless—

So I sat with those choked up feelings to absolve to resolve
To dissolve to revolve and swirl memories and alter all that is
Deep and pure within, hidden somewhere in my

A past apparition now gone only to be summoned
In a seance

(Title inspired by the book title When the Body Says No: The Cost of Hidden Stress by Gabor Maté, "A word after a word after a word is power." Margaret Atwood. )

Pulse of a heart

Dreams gleaming in their shadows
Mind is a well-oiled machine
Oil is hope is pollution;
Comforting can so line lines of lies
You repeat like Michael
“You are the greatest”
Incendiary bombs will carry &
Catapult you. Wink wink
& click & post & dip & bleep
You are your beliefs scrambled
Like galaxies of doubt swirling
You on until you explode dizzy
Into the newest version
Of yourself. Untangle
The cells and rewire the mind
Unlock to unlock the heart
Is to unlock a billion minds
To fall in love with you—

Note/disclaimer: this poem is an enigma
Circling like a hungry vulture above and below me;
Around my past apparitions mad and leaving
My body every second and I don’t need
My corpse to know how many times I have died.