march 1st, 2011

organic angst

Kelley's head nearly burst into flames when he first saw Harbinger's library. The collection was massive and the lacquer hugged the worn wood beneath it like an older brother protecting his frostbitten sister. Simply put-- it was impressive, causing Kelley to plant himself.

"Would you like a drink?" Harbinger asked, holding back a smug chuckle.

"Ummm... yes. Please. Yes please, sir," Kelley answered boyishly. A drink was exactly what his nerves required.

Harbinger's hired penguin arrived instantaneously, gracefully hoisting an intricately carved silver platter supporting two glasses of golden whisky on ice.

"To you, Kelley," said Harbinger, raising his glass to the ceiling. "And to the infinite possibilities that lie ahead. Cheers." Both men smiled as their drinks collided crisply in mid-air, sending a brooding and extended "ting" into the opulent air around them.

The aged amber whisky burned Kelley's lips upon impact and left an aftertaste behind; an aftertaste so strong and present he felt it tingling in the cracks of his weathered lips on the drive home.

Morning came and the sting was gone. Kelley felt abandoned and brushed his teeth with discernable apprehension.

february 27th, 2011

biutiful

Both of us in shades

watch the sidewalk split apart.

Lovers and weepers,

virgins and sleepers

reject catastrophe;

a Coney Island of the mind

deteriorates, decays

and seeps from the ears

of cowards who

                                                             flee

for barren mountain-tops,

leaving dogs who

harness the power of a thousand men

to roam the streets,

challenged only by the wind.

february 2nd, 2011

I'm not sure if this poem is finished or not, but I feel like posting something. The title also isn't my favorite, but again, this one is essentially "in the works."

caressing the supple ankles of the lonely

The King lay upon his deathbed, poisoning the delight brought forth from the recent victory on the battlefield. His remaining men had every reason to celebrate, but returned home in conflicted spirits. They were passionate defenders of a beleaguered land and protected it with electric class… but tonight their triumph was accompanied by the possible end of an era.

Each warrior was encouraged to visit the castle and speak brief words of encouragement. His majesty was expected to pass before sunrise.

Formulaic blessings and buckets of cheesy rhymes floated through Dominic’s cranium. He had never met the King but respected him beyond words, beyond vocal capabilities. He had a tendency of freezing up when nervous and was experiencing unknown, terrifying levels of uneasiness. Dominic predicted a complete disaster, which ironically forced him into shedding layer after layer of discomfort. Because of his horribly malnourished expectations he soon supported not a single worry. But of course, Dominic was too ignorant to realize he was wearing a costume crafted from such a placid touch. All he could focus on was the blinding glow of a distant and degrading neon fate. Or so he thought.