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Song about the Wild Car Schizophrenia
….the winter runs though your hair…the car moves through lairs of dreams and darkness…cuts the night in deathly cubes of ice…the dice spins upon her body…spinning infinite pieces of the city in your throat…the road reveals the laughter of hidden ghosts….and after the memory is shaken…after the panther is born…you suddenly feel alone…you are the only pulse in the sky….
And you throb among the skyline…your wings shine…a vampire slips into your mind…around you now is the forest…where guitars charm the graves…electric trees sink into the poem…and find the keys to the soul of winds…the car gathers speed….broken city offers its homes…its windows…its cold forgetfulness…
It is good to be forgotten…to be an ancient king’s sword in the museum…it is good to be forgotten at times.
the smells of the day linger in her veins…and won’t let her die…
so you kiss her endlessly…remembering the birth of deserts…the sands hide too many secrets...you must not learn of…the cold mystery burns like sweet incense…you want to unlearn the meaning of words…
the car moves through the sleeping souls…a mole tunneling into the bones of lone women…who clasp the vampire’s teeth to their breasts…even the skyline is unaware of their secrets…the guitar stabs his muscles…his memory tussles between windscreens and the smell of panthers…
and may the city never wake again…never take its morning tea with friend and enemy…never mend its torn shoes…never remember whose hands were crushed by the machine…
and my enemies are dead now…I can see their ghosts dining in the old
And among the music…among the fragments of the dead sky…among the windows and the shadows of trees…the road unfolds like her skin…tonight her smells remind you of the meaning of time…of the soon-to-die forests in your blood…
But you choose the blade…and make a cut on your forehead…so the winter seeps in with its own stories…my enemies are dead.
6 comments:
luv the 1st and the last 2 lines best...yeah..u asked for a read-aloud..but i wud stil prefer an-all-round feeling of the entire writing..cuz u've played romantically n cruelly with a lot of disjointed images dat r striking...a lot of sounds n music has been used thru out and a recurrent hollowness with a latent desire throughout is wat makes the writing wat it is.....
Push yourself to the edge of the rooftop..so you can see the vast abyss of imagination….and chance accidents that finish off dreams so easily….come back a few steps and then fly to your world again…
Its nirvana again….you are not really being its mirror…or are you?
There…close your eyes…a lot of people..and few in the crowd will have prominent faces in your mind….trance…over and over again…
Control the music of the dove-soul and yet never stop it from turning orange with the first dawn of desire.....theres violence in this writing as well.....an entire piece of many cut pieces put together perhaps to create 1 symphony that resounds ur own song...
...........disjointed images strung together with a common thread of harmony and poetry.. like always another great writing from yu.. but why schizophrenia?
alluring..keep writing, will read all some day!! great work, keep it up :)
The poem has almost lulled me into a pleasant state of numbness... these simple sentences, not over burdened with difficult words or phrases are very effective in conjuring up breath-taking visions. Needless to say the rhythm is fantastic. The part where the 'broken city' is dealt with:
"and may the city never wake again…never take its morning tea with friend and enemy…never mend its torn shoes…never remember whose hands were crushed by the machine..."
is amazing, as it uses images and incidents common enough, yet fits so easily in this poem.
Looking forward to more such creative pieces!
tremendous
pinning infinite pieces of the city in your throat - my favorite line..
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