Crossing Over
I can only stare at this ceiling fan for so long
The revolutions are consistent and remain strong
But progresses no where as it tears through the stale air
Deep breaths grow shallow but it seems all too fair
Action needs life and I’m entrapped in a check mate
Too many unmet escapes and indebted breaks
But I guess it’s worth packing my bags once more
Even with last trip’s baggage at the door
It’s heavier than I remember
Sharper edges, additional ghosts at the center
The impressions on the handle shows the grip I lost
I feel attempt’s cost but push aside those thoughts
Take one last breathe of the familiarity
And just Have it be left to scarcity
And step into the depths of this impaired city
With a sandpaper façade, attempting to be gritty
But its already wearing down from all of the outtakes
As I view re-runs of life with different commercial breaks
No remote, no way to change the channel
No product manual, control remains intangible
I understand everyone should learn to fall
But everyday I feel farther from the skies shawl
And Darwin failed; no wings were installed
And I can’t recall seeing rock bottom at all
No crossroads or borders to any changes
Just a light speed trip with millions of faces
Faces like jack-o-lanterns for demons
Faces with beautiful colors like leaves in Autumn
Faces remaining stoic like sculptures
Faces ready to rupture until punctured
My face; I would imagine as haggard and well used
Ready for all the others to judge and abuse
We’re all just yelling to the sky like Lear
Hell is empty and all our devil’s are here
I seem to keep collecting them off of these paths
And adding them to all of the baggage I have
Leaving me exhausted; low on gas
Knuckles dragging; spinal column collapsed
It’s obvious I’m no one’s destination
Looking for mine has become my vocation
But with no smoke signals or road side flares
I don’t know where to start this self-imposed dare
Peering through the cracks of disheveled city walls
Or my isolated corridors and echoing beveled halls
All which lead to some vintage picture frames
A few of you that don’t need to be mentioned by name
Displayed as inspiration and to feed my blame
Either way, I need to move and not stay the same
I just wish you were crossing with me to the next day
But I guess you crossed over, just in your own way
The revolutions are consistent and remain strong
But progresses no where as it tears through the stale air
Deep breaths grow shallow but it seems all too fair
Action needs life and I’m entrapped in a check mate
Too many unmet escapes and indebted breaks
But I guess it’s worth packing my bags once more
Even with last trip’s baggage at the door
It’s heavier than I remember
Sharper edges, additional ghosts at the center
The impressions on the handle shows the grip I lost
I feel attempt’s cost but push aside those thoughts
Take one last breathe of the familiarity
And just Have it be left to scarcity
And step into the depths of this impaired city
With a sandpaper façade, attempting to be gritty
But its already wearing down from all of the outtakes
As I view re-runs of life with different commercial breaks
No remote, no way to change the channel
No product manual, control remains intangible
I understand everyone should learn to fall
But everyday I feel farther from the skies shawl
And Darwin failed; no wings were installed
And I can’t recall seeing rock bottom at all
No crossroads or borders to any changes
Just a light speed trip with millions of faces
Faces like jack-o-lanterns for demons
Faces with beautiful colors like leaves in Autumn
Faces remaining stoic like sculptures
Faces ready to rupture until punctured
My face; I would imagine as haggard and well used
Ready for all the others to judge and abuse
We’re all just yelling to the sky like Lear
Hell is empty and all our devil’s are here
I seem to keep collecting them off of these paths
And adding them to all of the baggage I have
Leaving me exhausted; low on gas
Knuckles dragging; spinal column collapsed
It’s obvious I’m no one’s destination
Looking for mine has become my vocation
But with no smoke signals or road side flares
I don’t know where to start this self-imposed dare
Peering through the cracks of disheveled city walls
Or my isolated corridors and echoing beveled halls
All which lead to some vintage picture frames
A few of you that don’t need to be mentioned by name
Displayed as inspiration and to feed my blame
Either way, I need to move and not stay the same
I just wish you were crossing with me to the next day
But I guess you crossed over, just in your own way
A Jester's Chance in Hell - Spoken Word
You know that hell that everyone says they will visit
Or recommends that someone else should visit?
I feel it is directly in my head
Where introverted screams wear facades of
Crescent moon eyelids
When it attempts to communicate through me
To everyone else
Who don’t speak creaking floor board
As for why, everyone can tell
Ever since the first angel fell
But that isn’t the main attraction
Far below hell is a circus
Where clowns juggle their last meals
And the crowd roars in excitement
On the edge of their seats
Waiting for the ringleader to expose themselves
The anticipation is almost too much
It has a burning fluid touch
The outside of the tent goes paler
Supports shake and become weaker
A drum roll builds and the lights focus on the entrance
And with immense tumult,
The ringleader exposes their androgynous self
Leaving me in pieces of myself
Completing the test of my weaknesses
Assembly Line - Spoken Word
A familiar stranger pulled the heart strings
I start bleeding due to the harsh dealings
The conductor uses the art of misleading
It’s my fault I’m out of tune with my feelings
That’s at least what she said at our meetings
Now an angel with broken wings, staring at the ceiling
Wishing for the sky to fall into the confines
And bring in sunlight to my eclipsed eyes
Transfixed by a bright smile: those lips lied
Utilized for effect like strobe lights
To hide the knife hidden in her mouth
By the forked tongue that pierces with each shout
Cutting the legs out from under me
Even though she said she wanted to speak bluntly
She decided to continue the dissection
and rebuild the parts that failed inspection
Until this bobble head followed her direction
Made of misconceptions and built-up tension
Her insecurity secured me into position
And flooded my ear canals with future missions
Destinations I couldn’t picture traveling toward
But still moved forward with a loss for words
Wearing my physical like a tie for formality purpose
Internally entombed with a bit of color on the surface
With no escape from the funeral that remained merciless
Where the world became the procession for something worthless
They just don’t know their attending a death behind the curtain
But it’s certain, if they did, I would end up being the only person
Consumed like a cancer, told me you had the answers
Took it as it was “mind over matter”
You were the glossary to assist me in life
An information center in the form of a guiding light
Little did I know they outsourced that job long ago
And you just held on to the remnants of old
You’re really just as broken as me
but our pieces don’t fit, no familiarity
Only emotional scarcity, opposing personalities
Entrusting investments with the support of mercenaries
But you’re leading the Coup De-tat to the end
So don’t blame me when the bridges can’t be mended
And those in the middle fall to oblivion
Into your shadow of black obsidian
While I go to follow my own candle
That I burned at both ends beyond what I could handle
The one I pray I can get the ends to meet
And rebuild it from the flesh of my own beasts
So keep trying to piece back together your mirrors
Let the cuts you inflict to yourself make it clear
There is no such thing as a clean break……
Exhaling the Thief - Poem
The oscillations create a benevolent sense
Sheltering a context of a Nero complex
Burning bridges that were loosely kept
Learning the ridge is enlarging with each step
My track record of running out of patience
Lost its footing and fired its agents
Molding that exact same pain
To control its own campaign
Sabotaging while gaining endorsements
Convincing itself opponents were unfortunate
Giving pieces of his existence and risks health
A con artist, merely fooling himself
Ill let you walk in my shoes and have your last meal
And still remain the one that’s the heel
I’m being buried alive in my own body
And the gravedigger has found me
Staring at the withered remains fondly
Dying to see the final punishment for the felony
My own hands clasped around my throat
Attempting to get a grip, hands mimicking a rope
It leaves me hanging for an end to what I just wrote
Whether it’s a shovel for hope or an excuse note
I can’t swallow my words, only swallow the envelope
And hope for an overnight delivery of sorts
Please don’t deify this tortured carcass
These eyes are the only portrait of darkness
The Christians wear a symbol of their savior’s death
I would wear a locket with a picture of myself
With the desire to grind it into dust
Palming it gently only to disrupt
By blowing it into the autumn leaves
Cleansing myself by exhaling the thief
In The Dark During Red Lights - Spoken Word
Your heart rapidly skips a marching step
Loving the trek, counting spoke rotations you attempt
Adjusting the rearview to the edge of the map you kept
With your contempt based upon the hours you slept
In the morning and bleak evenings,
Your shadow’s inspiration keeps increasing
This road is only big enough for you
Traveling on, even when the support withdrew
Your doing figure 8s winning a losing race
Like reading Zeno with a grin on your face
But you wouldn’t know even in the 1st place
That idea was cut short like commercial breaks
Unlike the mistakes of the short cuts you partake
I would plead for you to apply the breaks
But you’re too transfixed on what effort is at stake
There would be ink blot tire tracks
Leading back to your next anxiety attack
But it never calls to your senses with a broken telephone jack
Which you conceal behind headlights that are cracked
They’re bloodshot, only blinding your vision
Only focusing on your possessors skin deep decision
Being brutally traced across with the word commitment
Conducting the notes with each disturbed incision
You’re a string quartet played on a guitar with one string
Where the player’s finger tip is profusely bleeding
Constructing the traffic flow of the types that keep fleeing
You are that fleeting glance that remains feeding
Leaching from the other positives and negatives to keep leading
The bow of this ship that ironically enough, you’re seeking
You’re exhausted from plastic bag oxygen masks
Just to kill time but the clock is intact
Seeing first hand, life ticking away from the second hand
Breathing in the noxious acceptance that beckons life span
But resurfacing the terrain in retrogression to how it began
Depicting familiarity in resurrected crayons
Circling the neighborhood, to create a loop hole
In order to bury yourself and avoid the nooses control
Until then, your key ring keeps everything together
With a statement whispering in bold letters
“You’re just scratching the surface with wool sweaters”
You turn up the radio, convinced you’re too clever
But then why do you speed to the final red light
If you wanted a dead end insight,
You should have committed suicide
Skin - Poem
How many cadavers of thought separate pessimist from suicidal
On the center of this thin line remaining idle
Waiting for my weekly ration of improved health
While being the answer to everyone’s problem but a riddle to myself
Why cant the solution be planted while my minds still furtile
Instead of jumping these hurdles to save you only to hurt you
Landing face first onto our own weakness’
These scars pave the way to finding what perseverance’s secret is
Dad’s experimental child, mom’s reason for living
Was I given life or am I just stealing
It seems the deeper the conversation the shallower the breath
The more I’m dying to see life the closer I am to death
Does being myself help the metamorphosis into angel
Or facing these demons that I try to strangle
My heart is on my sleeve only to bleed these words onto paper
A time where hemorrhaging becomes a savior
Balancing between bellicose and pacifist
I patiently wait for a unity to manifest
But how long must I be in these trenches of purgatory
Awaiting the final sentence to emerge in this story
At the end of a shore contemplating in dismay
When will that model life in a bottle be thrown my way
The past has gotten me stuck
Following a guiding light from Prometheus
Is this intellect or is my mouth filled with circumlocution
Not the guillotine but my reflection shall be my execution
Drowning my eyes in self-consciousness
Self inflicted sickness ensnaring my furtive movements
How many emotions can I cut and paste
Mix and match with the days beneath this face
How much worth is part of my fluent speech
Until a perfect picture breaches the boundaries of my reach
Detrimental to defenses
Heart beat, a synchronized instrumental with my descendants
Incremental depression is relentless
My soul joins the vengeful howling in aggression
Sentimental bonds dwindle their benevolence
Demonic creatures give sardonic plaudits and malevolence
Fortunes derelict, laying squalid beneath the stars
While Orion remains staring at me with passionless regard
As I tread through shadowed plateaus
Sought knowledge but found pain though
Ephesus Celcius library is where my thoughts run
Icarus hopes of successfully surviving the sun
Wounds become inscriptions on the flesh paper
Blood wells into ink, flaws of the maker
Aura remains tenebrous, Horrors retain man in its clutch
An angels chorus replays the dreaded touch
Pencil is the eye, Paper the mirror, Words my reflection
The eraser is the time I wasted seeking perfection
Copyright 2012 EAnderson