Content to be alone,
I had zoned myself an island
Shattered by swash to stain resonance
And…scattered pieces of rock, my footstool
Speaks of conscience, battered by tide and
Splinters of driftwood spill
Upon slate of dissected shorelines
To still whipped froth of solitude
Yearning within my soul
…mate.
Then horizon east had conceived,
Given birth to she, though deceived,
Would persist in serene gesture
And stream forth to rest a bruised cheek
Upon a rugged shoulder of mine.
Eyes like craters bordering lakes,
Bellowing, and breaks enclosure to pour
Gaseous plasma condensing to pearls,
I endure…her nature fragile,
Paradoxically sterile by law
That should I flinch
And a tear strike the floor,Her soul would shatter.
Exhaling deep,
Breath, asleep within chambers of a castle…
Grief, aged in mist of “love”
Countless doves, released to complex
A search for Prince Charming
Never to come
Restrained gag reflex, failing
Shut my eyes to blind witness to a dying Alice
Who regurgitates rotting fragments of she
And should the stench of it speak,
It would only cry “innocent”.
Surmounting the strength,S
he concedes, to confess the source
Of her distress...
A rabbit hole given dimensions, dug deep
By desires…metal wires that bend to regress
And suspend a surreal chess board
With knights to guard the brittle heart of a
Crimson queen
Whose gameplay would seem to be
Fan-fares driven by dreams…of a mad hatter.
I shrug,
But her grip fixed, precision,
Fingers making incisions
Upon a toughened skin of mine
To infuse a potion sublime in truth, yet fiction
IV route, setting motion a chemical trance
And enticing my soul to a dance
To unlock a world of unknown,
Toes tapping a séance of her obsession…
The rabbit hole.
She has seduced me,
Trap, stacked by wit
I awaken, to witness myth unfolding of her
An exhibition of art that appears to incur
A Da Vinci essence between us.
For then, perhaps, my soul were a canvas,
And a brush of her choked innocence
Would submit to a rush of her…breath again
Tapering unsteady strokes to unhinge, with power
A greater meaning to her words alone,
Undulating tone adjusting font size
And gestures giving colour.
To prove herself, even greater
Her vision, spectacular
Eyes glistened heavenward
Leaping toes of imagination
Toward a sky whose womb gives birth by will
And still, be her steps upon icebergs
That fill to brim a floating castle
Harboring mixed intention of wedding feast…
She and IBut accursed be a turbulent sky
That aborts a fetal marriage,
To spell m-i-s-c-a-r-r-i-a-g-e
And then, love within a womb
Crashes…to earth again.
My soul, shut tight to screen a canvas
And she would no longer speak
To paint portrait of ourInfatuation state and sever ties.
Never again do eyes meet to seek
A clogged rabbit hole, that conceals
Memories of the weary and weak.
In finality of time, she is contented
By pyramidal vision through glasses of wine
And my soul be at rest by allegiance to none
Though her tears cannot help but dissolve my indifference
In the battering blink of an eyelid…
My dear Alice, perhaps, had too much to drink.
Copyright © 2009 by Brandon Sandy
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Alice and I
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
cArD gAmE
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Space
Steuuuups.....this world too big, and yet rediculously small.
They say a call to one is a call to all but...
Please gimme some space in this place.
Somebody untie d red, white and black bandanna wrapped around mih mouth
And let me breathe...out into the open so ah could expell mih frustration.
Tell THEM to stop buryin d reality of an indifferent society and for goodness sake,
Let mih SPEAK...for once...or twice....
Thrice might be too much for too many to handle,
And four will make things even, but the reality is odd.
Ah could lament the whole of human civilization, and lambaste God's creation
Till thy Kingdom come to take mih away...and salvation could finally numb mih flickering tongue. Tell mih how long ah must wait for the lungs of society to heal, so they could finally exhale
...Mih innocence?
And consequence is a conditioned reflex to experience...
But ah tired wait on the pretense of a backward system to dictate times and dates....
Ah could debate against a wall of false integrity
And get them to change mih identity
But why should i change me?
And if yuh silence mih voice then ah have no choice but to mime...me....
So i'm quittin with all this gameplay,
'Cause i'm breakin d stone tablet that forbids me to say...what ah have to say.
Mediocrity is sin, but for now i'll bear it
As of tomorrow, i'm having none of it. ah done.
Copyright © 2009 by Brandon Sandy
David
His footprints deep
Gashed into cliffs cut steep and hanging
Brief stops at the edges to weep…
A grief-stricken heart of his
Could speak
Of society, shaken
Perhaps taken too far to redeem
Awakened by winds of mistrust
A sense of worth adrift, by immoral gusts
Invisibly tossed by spells of pride...
And lost…in the eye of beast that creates
A history of riots,
A Goliath who regurgitates
Splinters of mankind, too broken to ride a storm
Of swells.
Perhaps our fallen ancestors
Do create this mist, enfolding humanity
And blinding our tracks to eternity, with
Clouds of cataracts...and our only hope is through
A David, looking past
Untainted cracks of glass
To visualize our pain
And reverse damage done by a bloodstained Cain
Whose marriage would only spell…
Miscarriage of integrity
And he…stripped humanity of dignity
So he…fathered iniquity
He…dissected harmony
He…is prince of gluttony
He’s vanity
He’s tyranny
He’s apathy
…insanity.
He…is David’s adversary
Goliath of society that chars
Bits of our innocence…into ashes
And a kiss of fate perpetuates perception that we’re…
Locked in a war between deception...and redemption
Holding our mortal breath,
To erase painful memories, so we forget...
That greater is He who holds the key
To our salvation
…but regret stirs anger
That brims upon a future of ours
And hours spent in battle with a beast
Who devours and feasts on morality
Wears, and tears a fabric of culture
In check-check mate on chess board
Of global affairs.
We are descendants of a David
Whose war cry is a sentence that outlasts
The fabric of time
So let our ear become a canvas,
And his tongue, a brush
That whips by the hand of justice
And may a thrust of his words feed
A mustard seed of faith that becomes
Our projectile rock to lunge forth from slings
Of truthfulness…
And steps of patience be our harness
To channel the crosshairs of hope
Retract and release, with precision
A rock of faith in flight…
Strike to spell death of a giant slave master
And ripples disperse, thereafter
Through depth of a gene pool
To salvage, remnants of a trapped generation…
Regeneration by He whose victory
Brings liberation…from an epoch of slavery.
Copyright © 2009 by Brandon Sandy
Breaking her in
Break…of dawn
Heralds morning to begin
And mourning within, a furnace of passion
Speaks, a blacksmith who seeks
To meld alloy of man and beast
And heat that radiates from compact sheets of asphalt
Ascends with incense of mud mas, J’ouvert
Giving way to haze of putrid masquerade
Foul stench of human desire, untamed
On the streets.
Takin a wine and brushing a slate
To agitate, the two-third animal in yuh waist
And exfoliate morality by friction
To expose a skin of original innocence,
Indifference preserved, in a layer of saline trust
Sinful lust…
Sinful lost souls of carnal feast,
Carnival.
Drops of passion like sweat beads
Sputter, infused desire and spill
Down a gutter of free will
And vaporize to mist blinding conscience
To silence, a spirit of self control
Brim filled, and overflow with vengeance
To dispense, the Obeah man’s prescription
With a cauldron teeming sensations of “love”
…potion preserved by infatuation
And stir, to sweeten for consumption by
A couple that stayed
A couple of minutes together.
Wicked eyes of a man’s temptation
Deceives perception of her,
And blurs judgement, swayed
To diminish restraint of a predator
Stalking prey
And watch a body of her’s gyrate
To a drum of rhythm sections
That summate a deceptive infusion of
Anesthetic to entrance and create
The animate images of her in a box
With trap doors of mirrors to envision
Satisfaction, and rolling the dice
Will reflect how you played surgeon
To fiddle with her life
And she with yours.
Tossed onto a bed of lies
Carved into a coffin that sets,
Her dignity, undressed
And you request, an instrument of incision
With ligatures for tying consequences
Of your decision to inoculate this patient
And seal, scars of a lost virginity,
Unhealed by seconds of pleasure
Ending in debt
And death by non-sterile injection
Of your soul into her’s, to beget
Infection of perpetual connection to disease
Perplexed by STDs eroding the fabric
Of a social womb at stake
And a culture that menstruates a tomb
To gestate a poisoned future…
Generations decay by grit of seeds
In polycystic ovaries, brewing death
From a graveyard of premature consent, stained
Fertile weeds of sexual vice
And taint repute of a nation that feeds
A prostitute paid by the wages of sin
…And a pill, the morning after
Doth help to conceal remnants of she
Broken apart…
Broken…heart stirs regret
And a broken her
Elevates to a pew, front row
To play Wednesday Mass
Slip silent nods to a homily
That alas, condemns her soul
And bold reception of cold ashes
Have sealed patches of innocence…broken in
…and broken down.
Copyright © 2009 by Brandon Sandy
