Self-Portrait

Monday

Nonsense from the hospital bed.

It's been a while... I just thought I'd share with you some words from the hospital bed.

Glowworm

Beautiful beetle, did you mean to deceive?
Or is it our fault for the thoughts we conceived?
Beauty is only as we allow it to be
And only appears when we choose to see

But we have not your compound eyes,
Just retinas dumbly repelled from the skies.
Maybe we envy for this larval skin
And our hopeless inability to emerge from within

Maybe it's for your lunar beam
Because miracles of nature are here unseen...
You are blameless for your gorgeous glow
You give and you take, and you reap as you sow

Mankind could learn from the lessons you teach
But our arrogant forms themselves would preach
And in the night when we come around
And our artificial azure intrudes your ground

And bedazzles your beauty in destructive contempt
Remember we lack the beauty you've spent
Shameless as we leave your fresh cadavers:
Glowing faintly, metamorphosed martyrs

In my heart you will always glow
And my mind was open to the secrets you know.
At least now your name corresponds your place
The Earth is used to dying stars from space...

As your life glows away from your brand new skin,
I wish you'd have taught me how to emerge from within.

_____________________________________________

Constellations of Riddles
Burning in Verse and the Universe

Tonight the moon wears her Cheshire Cat face
Grinning at the lycanthropes' groans
They crawl beneath her encrusted space
Bathing in the purity she emanates alone.

The nymphalid spreads cerulean wings
With flutters chiming into the chorus.
Sinister, sincere, or some other thing?
Is Lunar's smile truly beaming for us?

Borrowed light on this rock in the sky
Does she charm, bribe, or blackmail the sun?
If one night she decides not to shine
The ink will be staining all but one.

The stars spell out ridiculous riddles
By the bid of the Cheshire moon,
And with conjectures men have fiddled
But they won't be solving them soon.

_____________________________________________

Inky papers of sympathy,
Like wasps a'buzzing, chewing trees
All I see, cheap imitations of nature
You're just the way the surgeons made ya'.

_____________________________________________

A Prayer for the Prey

As I set forth to sail on the watercolour sky
And feel the world fall beneath my wings
I hardly supposed one as insignificant as I
Would be entangled in the collector's strings.

My patterns are not the most pleasing to the eye
But that was no matter to him.
To the flowers and sky, I bid good bye,
Preparing for the worst of the cataclysm.

From the net to the jar, transferred was I
Despite my failed methods of escape;
Removed again, he pierced my owl eyes
In order to scrutinize their shape.

I strained to see the walls aligned
With my predecessors sharing a tomb:
Stolen from the sky, beatific butterflies
Signaling to me my doom.

Now perfumed with formaldehyde
In the butterfly collector's lair,
All the world we are denied
Yet spectres live on to scare.

_____________________________________________

Congealed rubies around my wrists,
The jewels which feed me: unwanted gifts.

_____________________________________________

Narwhal, Ad Infinitum

Equine monstrum of the waters
With horns calling to your daughters

Such a threat to primal man
Who drove the creatures off the land

The unicorn swimming within the sea
The predator calling out to me

Because immortality never dies
The rapist waits beneath the tides.

_____________________________________________

A Song of Solitude

Scratching down the days on the walls of my cell
Aligned with the scratches on the walls of my skin
Strangers scratching pens to wish me well
Doctors scratch their heads and scorn the djinn
They feign to help and pretend to listen.

There's one week spent and three to spare
To fix this bug which was never mine.
My mood corresponds to the blue of my hair,
As I apply my maquillage for the pantomime.
Was it a worm or nymphalid butterfly?

Jack had some beans which never grew,
As Cinderella slumbered atop the pea;
I could sure do with a magic bean or two,
But what my tongue craves most is sweet liberty-
For the butterfly collector to set me free.

It would taste like kisses, smiles, vodka and coke,
And reckless decadence with Mickey Finn.
"I wish I'd gone to Toy Town," I choke,
As my eyes embrace that lonely djinn,
As I scratch away at my larval skin.

With laughter lost, words are all I own
So with them I build my vital escape:
An empire I rule, yet I'm here alone
Because it's only myself in these fictional walls I've shaped
It's only myself in these fictional walls I've shaped.