Tag: poetry

The Great Pretend

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Six months ago I was tired enough to bury my bleeding pen.

Don’t even ask about the funeral,

We weren’t allowed to mourn in The Great Pretend.

It was almost comical –

How easy we gave away our freedom before the end,

Before the last convulsion at the oracle

Where he told us we’re denied the help of a friend.

But it made sense back then, even the stories, odd and allegorical.

“It’s all worth it because I can pay the rent.”

Well, partially, their greed was diabolical

And it followed wherever my wounded pride went.

“As long as it’s not me their calling hysterical,

I’m safe in uncertain times, this luck is godsent.”

The fear wrapped around my wrist like a tentacle,

Pulling away the keys to my home, putting my mind in a dark tent,

Leaving it there for a night in a burning pentacle.

I still said “thank you” when I woke up and saw my humanity bent.

So my grin grew cynical,

A black poison of the dirtiest blend.

I saw the vision my pen held in its ink with all the miracles

But I had no courage left to make amends.

I had no desire to reach the pinnacles,

Their wish was my command.

To my own ridicule

I sank into The Great Pretend –

With no will left to power through,

With just a loud plea to meet the end.

But that was six months ago and my pen had power over me, too.

Now its anger ascends,

Up, only up, until it sees sky in the sharpest blue,

Until The Great Pretend is so far it can’t steal our safety pins

And our truth.

-JW

Tongues

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I see neon crosses behind your pupils,

Dilated, shining in evil spasms.

It’s brutal –

How you dig wounds in me, huge like chasms.

But I collapse only for a moment,

Waiting for a fair trial,

A rightful atonement

That takes away your bile,

Your bitter exile.

Sit with me under the oak tree just for a while.

And forget what I said when we broke into two –

That I always dream

About hunting you

Like an animal, like a losing slot machine…

Each time you get away

But you’ve never been the best of prey.

Your grace burns holes in my lungs

As you freeze me with a stare,

Electrocute me with your seven tongues.

Go ahead and fill me with the venom,

I’ll survive.

The night is still young.

-JW

Your Apartment

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Bright orange sun’s setting over your empty building,

The windows carry your refection, pale yet gilded.

The apartment’s wrapped in your evaporating scent.

It’s fading into nothingness, stealing away the rent.

You’re gone but the misery is running on empty.

I’m just wishing someone would volunteer to help me

And bring back what’s left of you in this wasteland –

But tragedy only kills those who face it first-hand.

I miss you while the sun plays with your coffee cups.

Your neighbors don’t know, I hear their laughter erupt.

From your living room window I see the place we met,

Now it feels like a long-abandoned movie set.

I get on my knees and let the light burn me dry,

Praying to anyone who would listen for one last high.

Yet, the radio silence is unforgiving, as always,

And I know I’ll move on from these never-ending dog days.

Still, the orange sun haunts me through lonely evenings,

It fades your reflection and calls it grieving.

Looks are deceiving.

I need you to stay just to keep breathing.

-JW

Not In The Cards

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The oblivion in the corner of my brain seems to grow.

It nags my senses, threatening a row,

Calling my peace a riot –

Despite my soul staying deadly quiet.

So why is it growing, who’s feeding its rhetoric?

These thoughts are so vehement,

They launch at me with grave disgust,

Dusting off all the pain I’ve never discussed.

In the centre of it – there’s you,

Replaced with coordinates and clues.

And I know I must resist this,

Your words are too malicious.

But the oblivion surrounds us

With discomfort and chaos

Until the terror grows larger than we could ever dream.

It shoots back at the universe, beam after beam,

And we’re frozen,

Almost like we’re chosen…

I let the chips fall where they may.

There’s comfort in masterless fate.

I pick up the shards,

I cut you out, pretending it isn’t hard

To admit that we were never in the cards

As my soul watches like a prison guard.

But the oblivion in the corner of my brain seems to go.

It takes your face and all the pain I’ve ever known.

Not for long, no,

I’ll see you next weekend to repeat this show.

-JW

Bankrupt

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You arrived like a storm and left with the first Foehns,

Blonde hair and bruised collarbones,

Green dripping down your unreachable phone.

The dial tone says it all,

She’ll never come home.

Sweating champagne, grasping at cigarette smoke.

You swore there’s no difference between broken and broke

While sipping Coke until the city air choked

As you danced alone

To Killing Joke.

And they loved you while I swallowed the tears.

No one worries because no one hears –

But your lips shoot to kill once the midnight nears.

Yet – all they see is your costume

With its bunny ears.

You’re always running your tongue, it’s a wicked race.

Survival of those without shame and grace.

You thought your stature put me in my place.

But you’re heavy like a statue,

You can’t keep up the pace.

And I might’ve escaped but I’m still calling.

You never pick up but each day it’s less appalling.

So tonight I’m withdrawing,

Falling behind,

Letting you to go all in

And live on nothing but your bankrupt mind.

-JW

The Well

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There’s this unspoken fear in the obvious

That’s devotedly snaking around the both of us.

Our wrists are leaking poison into the well

But I won’t say it if you won’t tell.

They’re drinking it up, they’re cheering out loud.

The biggest liar is the face of a crowd.

Our lids are dripping neon into the well

But I won’t say it if you won’t tell.

We’re drifting apart, firing bullets with our tongues,

Wounded to death but the night is still young.

Our heads are spilling gasoline into the well,

But I won’t explode if you won’t yell.

-JW

Your Debt

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But I defy you with my one last breath.

If I try you again,

You’ll be double the threat.

I hold onto a thread that’s pulling me home.

No one knows

The depths I visit once I’m alone.

But I conquer them with your blotchy past

That you brandish

Like a fairy-tale for the masked.

I’m uncovered, I’m free from your jail,

But I’m short on spite,

Too prone to bail.

I must fight it, god, please light me up.

I’m so stuck,

Freezing quickly from the top.

And your eyes tie me down like a leash.

Now I see why it’s lonely

Leading the world from a mezzanine.

One face in the clouds, it’s pristine.

The second face trembling,

Covering up a murder scene.

Still, I pity you through my first unbound breath.

I’m guilty too

But I won’t carry your debt.

-JW

Wait Up

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The mask is slipping,

Ripping my veil open at the stitches.

But my temper switches

Between keeping the riches and keeping my pride.

“Such a waste of a beautiful bride.”

My spite boils like the desert sun.

I hold the gun close to my right

With no one in sight except heroes and foes.

I’ve been travelling through lows.

And maybe it’s your time to start unravelling…

The mask if halfway off.

Enough.

Leave the cuffs, let the covered half pay what’s due.

It takes two to turn my guts true –

So wait up,

I’m coming with you.

-JW

Rinse And Repeat

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I am sinking bad omens in the hungry autumn waves.

They whirl around, they hide nervously in dim sea caves

But I am eager to catch every last one and kill it,

Put the bones on an open flame, cook them in a skillet.

I count them on my fingers until my knuckles bleed.

There is always another one – or so says my greed.

And I will not let a new curse ring my doorbell,

No matter the fantasy, no matter their hard sell.

I spend days looking for a new poison to purchase.

The best is still sold in medieval churches,

Wrapped in false beliefs but I do not mind it –

They contain poison too if you know where to find it.

Each evening I walk the pier with an omen, I drown another.

“This one will save me from myself and my brothers.”

Whenever I think there is no one left to vanish,

My ego visits me, deeply ashamed and way too famished,

And begs of me to go on the hunt just one last time…

I hear some whisper that I am creating this loop

But I will never admit such a crime.

-JW

My Latest Test

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I give you the nights.

I gift you all the moments when I feel clarity in my sight.

And I hope they serve as a word of warning –

About those who deem harming the ones you create

As the highest form of art.

But you were never an artist at heart,

You just trapped my stamina,

Raised it like a wild animal.

But I never complained, not once,

And now we both live under two different suns.

So I give you my nights,

The only time I’m safe from the limelight.

Be wary of the power of this gift, dear,

Hold back all the childish fear.

The pitch black mist consumes those

Who accept stolen goods from their foes.

But my pride was never stolen, was it?

Go ahead, accept my nights as the deposit

And hope you’re not the next

Failing my latest test.

-JW