Issues

Issues

When you mentioned that you had a few
I admit, my first thought was magazines.
Followed by random bleeding.

But to find out it was about me all along?
Darling -- I would have instantly renewed
my subscription to Modern Mindreader.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Sans Suffering

Sans Suffering

When a young boy shoots a robin
[as they all do] via slingshot
there is an unthought thought amok.
It's all about death sans suffering.
He thinks it, approaching his quarry.

There he finds much squirming.
A beak saying nothing, but distended.
Legs a'kick, entrails exposed.
Much death delayed.
Beaucoup de morte a retarde.

And I say to you that if in that moment
the lad does not throw the weaponry from his body
he shall find it a hard thing indeed
to become a man.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Late Night Toast

Late Night Toast

You read the title, and think
-- nocturnal alcoholics --
One more nip at the bottle.

But the truth is, one snore
woke the other.
And turning to her, he said:

Jesus Christ, are you as hungry
as I am right now?

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

you make me

you make me

believe in electricity / see junk in clouds
laugh at the simple / not fear crowds
wish every day were ten / gasp for air

dream good dreams / miss your scent
salivate wet / not regret money spent
fortunate beyond measure / hard there

own the world and environs / think deep
walk slightly behind you / quietly weep
long for your ankles / hate your enemy

love the next sentence / conquer fear
know what art is / smile, when near
surround who I am / me, me, me --- me

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

The Stone

The Stone

chill into his teeth rattled
mountain stream traversed
he found a slice of bliss

this was placed here for her
making a way to his pocket
-- she needs to have this

back in the boat feeling
the white equator in his hand
faint ridge needing no eye

two blackened halves
drawn together before either
knew why

-- he became a believer
-- she needs to have this

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Arcturus: Two Ages

 
Arcturus: Two Ages

On a night, follow the arm of The Big Dipper, left
and down. The next brightest thing you observe
has two ages, thirty-seven -- and many billions.

Much larger than our own sun, and older, bright
before anything ever known, was. Exploding
prior to a flagella quivering on Earth -- it burned.

Two ages. Thirty-seven -- and many billions.
The first has everything to do with your eyes.
The latter, a reminder, that the universe itself

is doing
quite well -- whether
we exist
or not.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Desire: The Impossible

Desire: The Impossible

There is no power equal to what we want.
The excuses that come to mind, are just that.
For good or ill, we end up doing what we want.

We do what we do. How silly to think otherwise.
You have within you the potential to accomplish
the very impossible.

Whether you will or not, is desire, nothing else.
The truest thing in the Bible, is Satan's lust.
A want for something -- contrary.

Freedom -- free will -- something of a curse?
Everything done, since this inception
-- an all-too-human eventuality.

Before any lung breathed air, Something
decided that the rest of anything
should return upon desire.

Think on this, friend, for longer than a moment.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

What I Am

What I Am

Passionate when meeting passion.
Fascinated with fascination.
Interested in interest.
Found when lost.

A garbled cry of a crow unsettles me
for want of translation.
Sudden alignment of cityscape
causes me to stop walking --
Pages in a beloved book, to cry.

To me, each day is an easel --
Something unfathomable is being drawn
and the scent of firewood is freedom.
Music moves me. I am unpretentious.
I mean no one any harm.

All of the above are exactly what I am.
But re-reading those stanzas, I pause.
None of it means as much as is said
without someone I love, agreeing.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Velvet?

Velvet?

There has never been another time
I wished a word, not finding it.
SufferingFromACurelessDisease I
For instance, pristine forearms
followed by otherside of knees.
HopeThereIsNeverAnyFundingFor
Lip on lip on inner thigh.
Just below the throat : no dictionary
shows a word for this tactile whisper.
MuchLessACure--I SufferOn
YouContinueToSufferThis -- her her.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Everything

Everything

Smell the burning oak, trail elusive
-- smoke joining atmosphere.
Hear the rain, photos on the mantel.
Do not open the closet and see her.
Make breakfast, one needs to eat.
Walk, hating every unspoken echo.
Sew your buttons back into place.
Leave those beloved records alone.
A magazine arrives, but not for him.
Weep. Heave when tears are no more.
She is gone. His own breath stinks
thrown upon the scarf, ghost within.
She was ______. He falls to the floor.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

The Third Ailment

The Third Ailment

One thing worse than not talking to yourself
is two people staring. Look at those geese
or headlines, none of these becoming words.
The second is when you speak and do think
someone hears, your own ears wanting to
be on a non-existent head.
But a third ailment blares louder than others.

It is a jet streaming an atmosphere with white.
Looking up, you see the cause -- but no one
ever sips coffee up there. No person snores.
A woman asking for a refill. Another, a pillow.
The pilot announces a revised arrival time.
None of this exists for you. It is a malady --
or as one writer put it, "world without fiction."

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

so smooth

so smooth

tree-bark anger gritty decibels asphalt
your hand in mine along the boardwalk

cat-tongue bricks wind-on-water gravel
your neck and the laughter in the throat

elephant the moon burlap roof-shingles
you are the opposite of everything rough

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

The Greatest Lie

The Greatest Lie

Our first memories have a precedent --
intimations of something better than a struggle.
Otherwise, we would not breathe a second time.

These can be hard to recall, but good living,
Life, intends for you to make the effort.
Entropy denotes a good start. But we forget.

Light and darkness are not absolutes,
they are contingencies. Accidents.
So easy to look up and see black, at night.

What if the greatest lie was a sudden appearance
of light, at a certain time. Shining upon what.
A preferred galaxy?
-- darkness, perhaps our creation.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

The Room

The Room

You sat on my lap and my own jeans got wet from whatever
was happening in you. Yet, nothing happened, of it all.
You laughed at my jokes and even then it seemed you were
amused with my capabilities, instead of with what I had said.
We dined upon the best food and yet we were hungry.

You said you had never had a better time, and I doubted you.
Because I had. [Had a better time.]
And if I did, surely you did. Much better looking than I was.
And younger. And capable of so much more, than I am.
Perhaps we should blame the room. As in, what were we doing,

in the same one?

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Old Mr. Prickly Pin

Old Mr. Prickly Pin
[For Beatrix]

You know that the blue is clashing so.
Tell us all who loaned you those shoes.
Hiding the sides of them now, are you?

Not a bit of it...

Brother, how your heels were clicking.
The jigs reeled, and you swung many a miss.
Whence the reticence now then, Prickly?

Let me catch my breath...

The grandness of it all caught up to you?
Rising above your station you were. Tell us.
Thinking yourself above the species rodent?

Please, lads… [Accepts a drink offered.]

The last one you swung sailed off in a swoon.
By God, the one before fainted straightaway.
I daresay I see sweat on your whiskers.

Hush. Give me some air, you imbeciles.

He grabs a girl as the fiddler strings his bow.
My back paws were sore is all.
The sun rose before Prickly danced them all.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

No and Yes

No and Yes

Was I wrong to question the wobbly nature
of your No as a waffling in the maybe?
A quivering in the perhaps of it all?

The eight yeses of your fingertips on my
back, thumbs reaching into heaven
say what I refuse to conclude, yet know.

I make you mine, just then.
An iceberg hitting the unpenetrated vessel.
How good that I am already, forever yours.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Take Me To The Mercury

Take Me To The Mercury

My therapist says I need more time in the cooker.
A decent living, this talking is. She's an advocate
of electricity as a last resort.
When all the while I've been saying Take me to
The Mercury --
and I'll be fine.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Blue

Blue

Green of the sky, green of your eyes.
Blue of the grass, blue.

Of treetops purple seems right.
A boat passing, of no colour
rips waves of grey.

What can I see, for what it is
without you?

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

The Black Part

The Black Part

There are those photos so vivid you can see
the camera with an iris as its target reflected.

Or is it the pupil? -- Yes, the black part.
Someone clicking a shutter is captured.

Tonight, as a certain ray from the marquee lit
yours, I saw myself there. And it was no photo.

This was the real thing, the darkest part of you.
You answered a question with only your eyes.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

These Arguments

These Arguments

We have had some Academy award-winners, for sure.
And that last one had a built-in acceptance speech.
A red carpet made so because of blue hitting oxygen.

You would have drawn it from me, the very blood,
but mercy had me passing out -- a terrific screenplay.
I fainted from exertion, shouting I hate these arguments.

In the morning I awoke on the couch, and there was
a blanket around me. But I had not placed it there.
And instantly I knew, you had won yet another Oscar.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

In Lieu of Rhetoric

In Lieu of Rhetoric

To be separately evangelized is a common thing.
Tonight, together, a trifle unique.
If at any time a cosmic occurrence occurred,
would you agree it involved our eyes?

How, without a spoken word, we knew enough
to not speak one? Good listeners, we did so --
Until my faint smile was courage, and you said
The love you speak of seems very conditional.

My right hand upon your left, as lamplights
guide us home to our adulterous lair, Love --
The entirety of my being is so filled with words
that I opt for silence, and your wondrous hearing.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Gravity Gone

Gravity Gone

You cannot press against me, bringing worry
into my leisure. This is not all I have to say --

As I think of it, the nights when your embrace
was a trick, are over. You were ever, a moon.

Using me. Granted, we all have a hidden side.
I wish I had seen yours, because what I got

was cratered. And so, un-spinning, I send you.
-- why could you not have turned toward me?

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Scatterbrain

Scatterbrain

It was your voice, darling, rising from below
that brought me to the balcony. Lock the safe.
I do not know how to leave a room on vacation?
Lingering there, I watched you reach your chair

as someone paddled out to a then cresting wave.
Watched him ride it to a shore near your feet.
Some manner of dance session on the beach
caught my attention before I grabbed my towel.

Leaving, halfway down the hall, I remembered --
returning to 409 as the elevator arrived and left.
Without even trying to do it you show me. Always.
The three words I owe you tonight, duly earned.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Birds

 
Birds

One thing about birds.
Not a one of them smiles.
Not ever.

Yet, give me wings
and I imagine my face ripping
off from the smiling alone.

Not to mention the wind itself
hollowing out my jowls
as I swoop and dive

defying what I know about gravity
in a macabre smile
thinking thoughts

no bird, anywhere, has
ever thunk.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --

Contagious

Contagious

Again, the best day, yesterday, happened not.
Will Shakespeare would have fashioned it thus
as a grinning lover leaned forward to hear of it.
He would switch around those last two words --
creating a scenario less tragic. Adding a sense
of poetry -- diverting thoughts of rats and plague.

Truth dimmed via language. This, I allow, is a gift.
In keeping, as a curtain rises on a morrow's sun,
two words regarding your own talent warrant a bow.
My dear, I have caught from you a wanted disease.
An ever unfurrow'ed brow upon what shall come
after a shared breakfast. Your optimism infects me.

- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2012 --