Sonnettics

It’s not my face I see; my soul is cracked
but What the hell?! nobody looks that good
I’m in retreat; my heart has been attacked
and yet it functions like I guess it should
No coated glass will ever tell me shit!
Nobody’s eyes reflect the way I feel
A sliver or a shard will shine, will fit
will serve to show I’m also made of steel
And yet there’s doubt; the fog is made of tears
There’s always doubt in everything I see
What’s liquid and what’s solid disappears
Their vapors will become reality.
From where I stand, the light is hard and cruel
And there, in front of me, I see a fool.

She stands and sings; her mouth is like a drink
Her voice is low and sexy, must be aimed
at someone who put money on the brink
And if I’m not seduced, I will be maimed
by falling in the parking lot I guess
She’ll say she likes my kiss and likes it more
I’ll kiss her once again and wish her dress
was always pure and white. I might implore
her ladyship to come, descend her throne
My body’s bruised and wants to feel her skin
I’m by myself, but I am not alone;
My brain has memories of her within
I’m not a fool, I’d call her “angel” too
Though black and white, I know her eyes are blue.

The force of fate is just a force of joy
The force of joy is water on the sand
The waves all ebb and flow as they destroy
the majesty of castles built by hand
The metaphors are mixed in god’s reply
to man, who thinks his image is divine
They sink like seaweed as the foam drifts by
reminding men of vinegar and wine
The bitterness of death is sometimes sweet
like similes of angels earning wings
or bread, symbolic flesh the righteous eat
The force of fate can justify such things
To justify my life I’ll call on fate
to force my joy while solemnly I wait.

My god, I saw forever in a flash
I only closed my eyes to try and sleep
Omniscience grabbed my mind and made it crash
erased my thoughts and only let me keep
perceptions of the present and a few
emotions and a fewer memories
The sharpest of them both combine and you
are in my cloudy thoughts. If I could seize
one thing from all the clutter in my brain
I have no doubt I’d take my lover’s hand
and tell her.”You’re my lover.” I’m insane
I think I know exactly where I stand
I have to let you know; I love you still
Regardless of your words, I always will.

Each night I chase the clock until I sleep
The Oxycodone, Ambien combine
to strip the vital neurons I would keep
to walk upright and in a straighter line
than those I walk when meds possess my soul
I try to read, but words must be defined
and so I write; four sonnets is my goal
My verses prove my spirit’s not inclined
to praise or be above the shit you’ll read
“Go fuck yourself,” it sounds just like applause
Such actions will release you; you’ll be freed
You’ll wander to another stage and cause
my meds to lose their potency; awake
I’ll wander, lost forever, and I’ll make

the words within the stanzas of my song
The words, you wanted nothing of their dues
If I can write, my words will all be wrong
And all my words will serve to coat, abuse
the readers who will fall asleep and read
The sleepers who will read and close their eyes
The management of poetry is speed
with words that only serve to compromise.

I still remember Mari’s Riesling kiss
and how she taught my legs to run a race
I want to give my Mari more than this:
a memory of pain upon my face.
She saved my life when I was almost dead
I needed her and she was there for me
She curled herself beside me, in my bed
and cried some tears that I would never see.
My Mari’s beauty haunts my sweetest dreams
I miss my Mari now; she’s far away
but every day I talk to her, it seems
that she remembers everything I say.
I love her words and love their sound, their flow:
“I love you more than you could ever know.”

My lust is still an infant in her arms
It suckles when it’s hungry, at her breast
She gives it hope by using all her charms
Within my lust my love for her’s expressed
I still recall the day it was conceived
We gave ourselves to fertile intercourse
Our wants were filled and almost every need
responded to her strong maternal force
My lust will grow as long as she will keep
her tender arms around its tiny form
I love it when she rocks my lust to sleep
or deviates my lust from every norm
My lover is the only one I trust
to hold within her arms my infant lust.

I need what I have lost; a part of me
was stripped from my possession, like the trees
that lie within the clear cut, blasphemy
of nature, like a crippling disease
I didn’t choose to die or to be born
Free agency allows me right or wrong
But god can choose to prick me with a thorn
or say the trees are down, where they belong
I wonder if the forest is in pain
When trees grow back I wonder if it’s glad
I hope the forest doesn’t have a brain
to try to reason out why I am sad
A forest without trees is just a field
But I have seeds and I will never yield.

I wish I had a name to give my pet
a name that only I can use with her
It should be something sweet; she won’t forget
Each time I use it, something will occur
By “something” I am picturing her lips
they’re beautiful and moving t’ward my own
and if, perchance, the name I give her slips
when kissing her, I’ll know I should have known
Her name, within my mouth, beside her tongue
becomes the way I taste her love; it’s more
than I have ever felt; I’ve just begun
to feel her name within my very core
The sound associated with the name
entices her and makes me feel the same.

Complete, the way is dark; the sky is wet
They call it night and rain; their words are short
Remembering their sounds, the minds forget
like separating bullet and report
The pain is fast; the melody is slow
but no one cares when exit holes appear
They call them words that everyone can know
and poetry is formed of all they fear
Complete, the house is empty, nerves contain
the consequence of medicine, the doors
can only open when the minds retain
the shapes of keys and everyone abhors
the words that make all meanings seem complete
and every mind is burned by meaning’s heat.