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aayoung

Poetry, Prose, Art, Photography, Random Shit

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human behavior

war by candlelight

amidst the curiosities

of my yet to be packed up

roll top desk

i found a diamond bracelet

you had given me

hiding in one of

the apothecary drawers

it reminded me immediately

how you waged

war by candlelight

instinctively i pulled the pin

on that gauche grenade

lobbing the tacky bauble

into the goose shit encircled pond

behind the house

your weaponry

is not welcome here

anymore

primitive

my desire becomes primitive

when i consider the way

loving him is more than emotion

it is biological

chemical

our own space on the periodic table

elemental

i want him

with the parts of me that desire

to nurse children

eat meat

wear fur

find warmth in firelight

especially when

i am beneath him

skin wet

my hands in his beard

watching the muscles ripple

from his shoulders

down his arms

certain

i could remain there

until the next ice age

trick candle

when life has taught you

all love ends

in pain

it becomes easy

to extinguish every flame

but not him

he’s my trick candle

he burns brighter

the more i try to blow

i have learned

to stop blustering

enjoy the party

and eat

the damned cake

surface noise

45s

somehow

it’s enough

that i caused you

surface noise

scratched triumphant

across vinyl records of your soul

&

on the way out

kicked in

your precious speakers

left you

dying for one more song

 

sociopath (n.)-

a person

covered in the blood of others

who believes themselves

to be the victim

over

and

over

and

over

again

the unbearable lightness of shaving

monk

i’m not shaving

my pubic hair anymore

i’m tired of the grow out phase

looking like my pussy

should be a monk

in a medieval

priory

murakami-o-rama

This piece will only appeal to avid readers of Haruki Murakami. If you don’t read him, you should. The following poem, written for his fans, will act much like Jeffrey Lebowski’s rug, it will tie the whole room together.

 

coffee

tea

tofu

someone bearing the name

of a food or a spice

elephants

cats

vanishing elephants and cats

spouses

vanishing spouses

empty wells

vacant houses

tokyo at night

prostitutes

suicide

strangulation

coffee houses

motorcycles

inheritance

ironing

world war II

earthquakes

faceless men

mysterious women

creepy psychics

train stations

abandonment

noisy birds

alternate realities

parallel universes

massage

coming in your pants

rape

dowagers

groceries

bad dreams

creepy investigators

all knowing uncles

erections

whiskey

scotch

beer

NHK television

someone who wants to have sex you

for a mystical reason

water

rain

verandas

brothels

odd teenagers

chaotic jazz

depressing classical music

vinyl records

dormitories

letter writing

ear fetish

cooking

sofa naps

contemplating death

still more contemplating death

clothing

footwear

sitting on benches

stars

moon

unexpected phone calls

sleep

The Inevitability of Cherry Blossoms

“Every mile is two in winter.” – George Herbert

 

January

has a way…

of making atheists

of Englishmen,

country folk,

and poets.

 

It’s as though

they have forgotten

their prayers

and the inevitability

of cherry blossoms.

to spit or to swallow

the patience and wisdom

coming with age

are fast becoming

my favorite shoes to wear

.

as my own horseshit

and the shenanigans of others

become less excusable

with each passing day

every birthday candle wished upon and blown

.

there comes a point

when you’ve been told

you know better

.

repeated behaviors are either psychosis

or selfish forms of masturbation

such as the poets who write

their daily vengeance poem

scribbled in shit and crayon

on unsuspecting

psych ward facebook walls

.

god

grant me the serenity

to zip my lips when called for

.

to know when to spit

and when to swallow

.

but mostly

when to say

fuck off

dipshit

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