Copper heart

I’m empty in a crowd sometimes Their is a little sadness in my mind 

A phase of the fellowship we shared 

Now gone to a place I cannot find 
Else your taking the path of pains

Iced winds digging veins on my face

Unless close to this faded cloud 
Copper my heart, cross my mind

Blind to the thoughts that crafted

Still as a photograph it’s me
Dust and molted pain flows on winds 

Cast gaze to me please I wisper

I’m going through it all day 
What’s the thing done with this play? 

Acrid lonelyness insisted 

I’m

Bathed

In a statement 

The acrid 

Stink

The acid lonelyness

I’m not like that 

I’m not sure what I am

Bells toll on your words

Acrid days 

On the insisted distance 

I’m lonely. Not one of each of the nine.

I’m not even one of those who have

Or haven’t

Where do I belong? 

Called. Cast. Culled. Places like a spit.

Fires on my skin

The acrid

Arid days

Insidious minds

They, tell, me, to….

Survive.

My acrid lonelyness is insisted

Like a ghostly connection 

I’m not going to be meeting perfection

Misreable kingdom of sticky things that hit

Turning a blind

I’m loneliness

So I wander

Wander and call

Forme kind to answer 

Their are none. None here. 

My acrid lonelyness insisted 



Cell on a dime

Last meals of dead dog fish

It’s a peculiar dish

Walebone spoon, the atomic clouds loom

Dimes of soil, raining from the sky. 

All those silly little lies, lies, lies.
Capsules of hate, grading the best thoughts

I’m sure you’ve all bought

A ticket, to your own distarster

Don’t blame us, you were the fathers

All those silly little lies, lies, lies
Haven’t heeded the warning warming

Filling up the beach, 

little patter of feet

Worth and toils, to the sound of the meek

All those silly little lies, lies, lies
(Chorus)

Cell on a dime 

One last time 

Will we survive 

This fire filled time

All those silly little lies, lies, lies

  

Ovipositor

– This is a poem about dysphoria I felt in high school and how it returns to me sometimes,
even post transition. It’s about my past, present and my future. Its one of the poems I have tried to get into a poetry journal without success. I search for feedback on how to make thing better.

0. Ovipositor

It’s like a ovipositor

It’s not one thing or the over

It looks like them

The ones who have made me cry, alienated me from myself

1. Wasp

I’m like a wasp

All the hive is buzzing

All of them busy grey things in this nest

I’m trying to be like them

Trying

I’m doing the same things

I’m wearing the same full body grey suit

I’m helping with this grey mass we build

Mud, it’s so perfect a metaphor for my life

I’m like the sunshine on this mud

Heating it, hating it, making it solid

Into more hive

Strife, in a hive is dealt with quickly

I’m not sure why I wasn’t

They did that thing, the attack

The strike

The clipping

I’m not sure I can fly anymore

But they didn’t kill me

Like all the others

Ovipositor

I’m sure of it

2. Hive

On this day

This hateful day

Our grey bodies

Ready to go outside

I’m stuck in hear, in my mind at least

Leave the hive, but not really

I’m still grey

3. Cave

It’s dark

Cliff above us to the outside

One of them

Those others that pretend that I’m one of them

They drop a knife

It falls millimeters from my head

Anyone else see it?

That I was nearly dead?

Nope

I’m told to take the knife back

All the way up the cliffs

Carry the weapons of my enemies

I’m broken inside

I’m dead inside

I’m never going to escape the grey

4. Hyena

I’m in the library?

Not a wasp right now

I’m a reader

Reading about a hyena

Vagina that’s like mine

I’m a hyena?

I’m not, but I am

My piece, my bit feels like that

On the outside it looks like

On the inside

In my mind

It’s not

5. Escape

I’m out of the hive

Not in grey

I’m out

I’m me

I’m no longer pretending

But how long?

How long was it before?

I was outside

Still in their grasp

Like a dog?
6. Dog

I’m trained

I’m trying to be them

I’m pretending

I’m also trained

Like me, barking, sniffing, digging, pissing

But secret, shhhh I’m not. I just pretend

I’m not a good barker

7. Ovipositor (2)

I’m not pretending anymore

I still have my ovipositor

But I’m me

In many ways

One day, one day I can

Be all me

All I want to be

For now?

I’m as me as I can be

Ask me and I will say so

Windy back flanked by a hot argument 

  • The meeting 

Into the dark room, full of clapping skeletons 

Living person of the future sees this moment as one to change

It replays, a broken record of failure 

They all sit in the room

None take the action needed

Feasting on their own flesh

Cannibalizing their own business

Never seeing beyond a quality of a quarter year

  • The absence 

They call it something new, a foamy thing

Sucks that carbon right up

Sun powers it like a little engine that could

Will it be enough?

The absence of our own lives is perhaps what we will notice the most
We have been exhumed, exiled and exhausted by the fixing 

Building of the jelly 

  • Hearing the winds 

Out of the gusty trips, the winds are strong hear 

Burning the sky a brilliant red this evening 

Political winds will never curse us

Their is a better way, technology has responded to this curse

The wind directs its power, the change comes like the sands

We survive in our exhibition of new

I’m no expert, but human we are no longer, we have not been since before the clapping of those skeletons 

Grey concrete 

The grounds of the places

Walking lonely like a lost little sole

Unsure of myself and others

I’m a wanderer really

Lost in this great grey game

Bricks and metals cold and icy rain

Grey trees, bear leaf

I’m not in grief 

Implying I have lost

How can you loose what your never sure you had

The past is a dream 

Concrete 

Gray and lonely, slowly slowly going mad

Then that hate

Red and stright 

First and fists

Down and smelt

The fire won’t start

I’m given a chance 

I pick up a bit of your broken pieces 

I’m armed 

Fighting for my life

Then escape

Grey concrete, never seemed so full of color 

Bloated firestorm 

Every fire in my stomach 

Tired of the drive from this place

Gloating firefly in the doorway

Shutting down the black marble road

Crowds shoutout for anguish and drama 

Them are surprise to get it, is that the social karma?

Fifty fires, down inside, empathy of the day 

Just the frosty icing licks, just the hatful knife that wil kiss 

Postcard from a old God 

sweet pear

Missing one with some care

Attach to a soul without scrutinizing your foundation

Silver circle in the sky, green cross on your arm 

Eating, at a sensual cafe, it says that on yelp

Their barista could do with some considerable help

Red light, speed, wireless fidelity without a byte to spare

Down to the callar, for some wine and stake. discuss the demise of the shark.

Taking a breadstick in my pocket. I sigh as I leave. I notice the stark look of the man who closes up shop. Back later for his pity and maybe some plonk. 

I’m not one to pass judgement on those unpleasant men, whose bleeding makes my job so easy. Every cut taken in vain succles the essence I can tap it.

I ramble so long. You don’t even know my name. Or do you. 

Hope this card finds you well, though I rather doubt it. You know who I am by now.