Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Sunday, May 15, 2016

an encounter with a vampire

It was two years ago today,
exactly at three a.m. that I saw him approaching from the future.
We were in the middle of yet another time war,
past vs. future, and all that crap.
I always sided with the future because I had to,
I, of course instantly, sided with him too...

What I didn't know back then in the future was
the nature of vampires,
how they shimmered with life they drink,
how they were tortuously caught in between times,
how they operated within the delay,
there, the reason for their myth of eternal youth lay.

There he was, stroking me with his shine,
Irresistibly full of shit, incomparably attractive.
I had to ask breathlessly,
"From the depth of which grave you rose up to get me?
"What was that strong enough to kill you?
"What do you want from me?"

He said, "We have no graves," with an ever more radiant beam,
"We have no mortis causa,
"We do have sticks full of powerful life residue to offer."
He was amused with my stupidity,
all the while playing his trick on me with that stick,
to take my becoming, digest it and make it stink.

The war was still going on,
I had taken a break, exhausted of all the lonely battles,
We ran and hopped and jumped around
on the immense green fields of the future.
No need for war, we said,
we'll enjoy the cosmic play of joy from here.

Then one day, as I looked in his eyes intensely, he said, "Honestly!"
"You can't possibly be that ignorant of me,
you had to shut your intensity down to enjoy the cosmic mockery."
There, he named the game what it was not.
In "honesty" he must have fallen into the crack of times.
In "honesty" he was sure I'd fall too...

I felt as heavy as the earth itself,
and the earth itself felt heavier than me.
We both could only croak, "Sincerely..."
"We who sided with the future, our game was sincerity.
Now you cast me the role, now you imprison me.
Now you push me into the grave of dead meats,
full with facts, and matters, and things.
Now I am blinded, now I truly see
how horrible your life must be."

His ears were soundproof with bricks of facts,
death itself was looking through his now-impersonal eyes.
As the earth and I were losing all our folds,
he turned his back and walked away.
Out of the corner of my crusting eye
I caught a glimpse of his depart,
it was a little too late, a little early, eternally.
In the twilight of my body, his figure was just a lump.
"How could a lump walk?" I thought for the last time, painfully...

There we were, the earth and me, in the land of delay,
the earth; reduced to its surface, stretched infinitely...
me; bloodless, lifeless, helpless, achingly less...
Unable to send a signal from this immense prison,
there, I laid flat, squirming with torment,
there, I was a little hysteric, a little dead.

Thus the vampire had bitten me
to turn all the imperceptible signs of life in my flesh
into impersonal death messengers.
For a moment that felt like forever
the earth was a howling desert,
For a moment, my flesh was a gaping wound.
For a moment, there I was no more.

Then, the moment passed, as it does, in a thousand years,
finally the future commanded me to unfuck myself, to break free
and sent me the pass to write this story.
Now, I keep rocking my chair in the sun
all the while I sense sincerity giving shape to the earth again,
and healing all that is me,
but once in a while
I think I hear the chair sigh...

Friday, December 11, 2015

the tragedy of an inconclusive death


to my dark precursor, that peculiar Mark...


In the line of flight that is love
there is a sign,
in the sign a crack,
an abyss,
the bottomless depth of an open wound...
as the wound throbs with emptiness,
the full body of death devours everything that flows,
tides no more,
flights no more,
dives no more.
matter forgets itself,
its plenum remains,
just nothingness of not-thing-ness
just nowhere of now-hereness

the wound heals
scabbing over the mouth of that very intimate exclamation mark
punctuation screams no more
language lost
time stripped from its future
its fundamental layer
becomes heavy with the load of everything-there-was
everything-there-was becomes a piece of flesh
flesh with no bone(r)s to penetrate it
nothing to hold it together
nothing in it to stand up for it
flesh
now nameless
flesh
heavy
flesh
out in the open
flesh
flashing out
flesh
still feeling
flesh
sweating cold
flesh
shivering
flesh
desolate
flesh
mute
flesh
scratching its insides
flesh
can't get out
flesh still living
...

a drooling mouth comes out of nowhere
with big hands and feet and a grotesque body and a giant hump
looking familiar in its atrocity
properly humanly ugly
picks it up
spits in it
wipes his mouth
puts it in his pocket
in the pocket a giant hole
in the hole a gummy dick sticking his head out 
the human beast hobbles on...

a scorching pain follows
stamping it with a mark reading
[not over yet]