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Last Dance at Babylonia
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Bad poetry 10/30/11
'no one ever really reads this shit'
I love Gymnopedie. I love Erik Satie.
I love the piano, I want to watch all of the lovers of my life
walk away from me to the sound of Gnossiennes. Jubilee
plays constantly in my heart
wrapped between my brain like it were a piece of tinfoil
just passing along the heat.
I like all the pretty colors on a human being
besides all that pink mess
the black maw unfolds over itself
ballooning outward to say a word or sing
some French tune, the wild card of the eyeballs
circling two black holes like colored water around drains
seeking some lower point to live in.
The penis is often darker than the body around it
in some cosmetic mechanism I don't understand
standing up like a painted finger
or hanging it's head.
I enjoy the sounds of the human voice
when men sound like women and women
sound like small birds
missing the wilderness, the gender study
of an operetta set down on a stage
to be walked away from. A man's life is like
a spider's life, hanging on a tree branch
by a small bird. One of them should eat the other.
I don't think still that there is a god,
or if there is one than he is still waiting to be created
like we were, once. I don't think the ocean ever split
or waited to swallow a man or a woman. These two things
are both soluble gelatin blocks
against great rocks. I don't think
the Earth has ever touched a heavenly body
that wasn't sent to destroy it. I think that
we're all here dancing in moonlight
under songs about the moonlight
waiting for the tide to be pulled in about our brains
and the only sounds we'll hear
will be human voices.
