Silent Killer

•November 28, 2014 • 6 Comments

Sitting quiet, still and stoic
Does not mean
That the stab wound did not sting
That it did not fester and infect
Since I have so long allowed it
To be painfully inflicted
Time and time again
In the same soft spot where it began
As I sat unmoved, sick and distracted
Doped by numbing non-reaction
An illusion of compassion
I have been strong, and have stayed silent
But I am human, spent, and sore
Benefit of doubt becoming septic
Soon to rot from inside out
If I do not get up off this cushion,
Turned doormat, and scream once more
While I cut out this infection
Starting at the source

-a.r.

IMG_1681.JPG
Digital art: Silent Killer by Phillip Straub

Barometer

•November 26, 2014 • Leave a Comment

My body feels it
When the dew point drops drastic
Brain deviations

-a.r.

image

Photo: The Barometer by NILCO

Outside Chance

•November 25, 2014 • 7 Comments

Tonight
I find myself choosing
Between a tough fight
And a soft relinquishing

I have no fear of sweat and blood
Especially my own
I have blinked away the salt and sting before
I have tasted that sanguine tincture on my tongue
Just as I have gritted and grinned
Guffawed even at the shattering
Of my own sanity
While I shook it off
And got to the business
Of setting it back into place
With a quick jerk, and a wince

Harder still is this, stepping back
And letting his fist fly just beyond me
Leaving only that slight breeze
Which carries with it a faint scent of sweat
And deflated fury
Directing my swollen gaze downward
I let myself listen, for an instant

To shocked silence
A moment of pure possibility
While we wait
To see what move I choose next

Tonight I find myself

-a.r.

Boxing-2 Kalel

Photograph: Boxing-2, by Kalel Koven

Pieces

•November 24, 2014 • Leave a Comment

The scattered season
Has arrived I realize
As I lose pieces

-a.r.

image

Artwork: Scattered by loccus on deviantart.com

Caught

•November 23, 2014 • 3 Comments

Too close to home to deploy my umbrella

Too far from the door to avoid getting wet

The timing’s not right so I find myself pelted

By droplets of choices I haven’t made yet

-a.r.

image

Image: artist unknown

Inked (again)

•November 22, 2014 • 5 Comments

How does one choose
When and where
To let a stranger draw blood
To leave their mark
How does one choose
Which creator
Is experienced, qualified
To balance care with skillful harm
How does one choose
Based on previous work
Proudly displayed
When this could be the carving
That never makes it to their wall
How does one choose
To take a risk
Say yes to pain, a scar
Expression
Rebellion
Or simply sake of art?

-a.r.

image

Artwork: Tattoo by Mike Welch

Evolution (continues)

•November 21, 2014 • 2 Comments

This week has toyed with me
So I decided to play back
I ripped the curtain open
Not content with just a crack

Magic mumbling in the air
Greedy grumbling from beyond
I could not handle only hints of rain
At least not for very long

Drapery drowning at my feet
Shards of window shattered wide
I stepped into the world’s downpour
No drop of will to stay inside

I looked up and let it pelt me
Saturate my dusty clothes
Another animal inside a storm
I became wild and one of those

Let’s run and hunt, forage and fuck
To spite the cracking of the sky
Just another evolution
Shedding “should be” skin am I

-a.r.

image

Artwork: Becoming Animal by Antony Micallef

In Concert

•November 20, 2014 • 9 Comments

Live and loud and lusty chords
Screamed all my demons loose
Today they’ve traveled too far gone
Leaving me drained, of little use

I’m not supposed to love them
But we’ve danced together long
Those devils fill out empty skin
Feeding my organs, fueling song

The only way to woo them back
Is to stay boring still and wait
In silence they show up again
Come nightmares nuzzle, face to face

-a.r.

IMG_1641.JPG
Demon oil painting, artist unknown

A Human Practice

•November 18, 2014 • 2 Comments

Craving and desire
Buddhists deny while it keeps
All of us alive

-a.r.

image

Painting: Inner Flight 2 by Stevan Daluz

A Fucku

•November 17, 2014 • 12 Comments

As my birthday nears
I notice newly formed skin
Layers of fuck you

And it feels just fine

-a.r.

image

Painting: Fuck you by Marion Peck

Is it age, maturity, meditation, or simply filling out my own skin that makes me more and more comfortable telling those who expressly don’t like me, but choose to still hang around and judge me, to fuck off? Well…

Happy Birthday to me, and…