Nostalgia Wears Red with a Black Belt

I am six.
But first I am a Power Ranger.
My friends and I protect imaginary lands from
Imaginary things.

I am six.
But first I am watching Aladdin.
I see with wild-wind eyes the tale of
Bravery and beauty.

I am six.
But first I am a LEGO architect
Constructing illustrious castles which
Are reserved for long dead kings

I am six.
But first I am a student
School is out, let summer sound, for I am
Forever free from duty

I am seventeen.
But first I am alive
And finally I understand that
Imaginary things
Bravery and beauty
Are reserved for long dead kings
Forever free from duty.


Maverick
11:39:41 PM

Photosynthesis

Would her eye blink,
The sound would be a whisper to her frenzied footsteps
So black a blanket she wraps ‘round her ancient Mother
The waves (both shoes and shore) hurl her masochistic tears toward heaven.
And Grendel’s teeth do gnash in kind

Second hand smoke echoes second hand shine
Bidding apocalyptic turpentine
And that same fire, that brilliance, that ire
Blinds the sky with blood of dawn
And Hyperion’s gaze so fierce flares on

Accelerated ambition, shadowless and brave
Mature both in lens and length
A whisper to the grave
This is the din in your mouth
And this is the double helix spiraling towards the sky


Maverick
11:31:49 PM

At the peak of my pendulum I
felt the flash in your soft, indefinite
colored hair. And your lips burned
at the corners (I could tell) where
the spittle had leaked out of your con-
temptuous smile and froze.

The phoenix left your throat as you
yawned wide your facial chasm
and streaked into space like quick
fire. For a moment I hung at the bottom—
inertia is not—and saw the meaning of
your burning song in my ear, the nuance
of your vocal penetration.

Wet sand on my feet, friction melting
me like glass and then I stopped and stood
under the blue fluorescents and glanced at
you: male form in relief against the green-red
diamond field. I said “let’s get some nachos” and
you laughed, not understanding. You paid for them.


Anonymous
07:58:08 PM

I’d Sooner Date Your Shadow

If only Fate would commit
To what irony would see fit,
But then you’d be smothered by your own wasted breath.
So in honor of your perfection,
And to prevent a resurrection,
I’d love to mark your time of death.

You would want that right?
For me to pay attention to details?

You were always right.
You were always right.
You were always right.
You were always rightfully ignored by all of your imaginary friends
Despite your desperate attempts to impress them.

But
I will support you.
I’ll be the couch you’re laying down on
When the psychologists announce that
You’re clinically insane.

I will heal you
I’ll be the surgeon for your heart transplant
Because studies show that black holes
Fail to give adequate circulation
Fear not. As always,
The bill’s on me.

I’d give you the best care.
I’d give you the best care.
I’d give you the best care.
I’d give you the best charismatically aggressive anthem that my vocal chords ever would have dared to recite.
With a tone that could reach your elegant ears
and words that would ignite the airwaves ferrying them.
And your eyes will see truth.

You have the most beautiful eyes.
You have the most colorful eyes.
You have the most sobering eyes.
You have the most sadistic isolating stare that would cause God Himself to cry…
Out of self-pity

We are both train wrecks
But I will stop dead on my tracks
And in a shower of sparks and deafening din
I will shout to the world of mice and men
“I am no Jesus”
And I will proclaim to the cities
“I am no Caesar”
And I will tell to the people
“I am no James Dean”
And I will whisper to myself, most quietly of all:
“I am no better than you”


Maverick
02:52:12 PM

Owed to Love

Oh Love,
Rear not your hoary head.
Wander not with wretched rags
From plagued paupers bought.

How faithful are you, Love,
To leap and jump from
Couples to couplets,
Never staying longer than a last breath.

Were you so noble Love?
Selling your soul to
Patrons and patriots
Under the eyes of eagle, souls, and sun.

Where is your saga now, Love?
You launched a thousand ships,
Drove souls to drink poison
And propelled odysseys

Men once died for you, Love.
Now they but spit and grind roses in your name.
Have you sunk so low as Hell,
To do all but obsess o’er Heaven’s gate?


Maverick
08:48:53 PM

"Cookie Jar" by Jack Johnson

Now we turn on the tv
But it’s so embarrassing
To see all the little people
I don’t know what they mean
And it was magic at first
When they spoke without sound
But now this world is gonna hurt
You better turn that thing down
Turn it around.

Well it wasn’t me says the boy with the gun
Sure I pulled the trigger but it needed to be done
because life’s been killing me ever since it begun
You can’t blame me cause I’m too young.

You can’t blame me sure the killer was my son
But I didn’t teach him to pull the trigger of the gun
It’s the killin on this tv screen
You can’t blame me it’s those images he sees

You can’t blame says the media man
Well I wasn’t the one who came up with the plan
No I just point my camera at what the people wanna see
Man it’s a two way mirror and you can’t blame me

You can’t blame me says the singer of the song
Or the maker of the movie which he based his life on
It’s only entertainment, and as anyone can see
The smoke machines are making man you can’t fool me

It was you it was me
It was everyman
We’ve all got blood on our hands
We only receive what we demand
And if we want hell then hell is what we’ll have

Now we’ll turn on the tv, but it’s so embarrassing
To see all the other people
Don’t even know what they mean
And it was magic at first
But let everyone down
And now this world is gonna hurt
You gotta turn it around.
Turn it around.


Anonymous
05:41:47 PM