un-entitled

i
Aphrodite lit another torch,
watched smoke gather, dissipate
faster than mortality
in the pretty afterglow of war,
of mossy islands, unkempt beds,
cute lives blind-folded.
She had time enough to kill
a quiet night at home, brooding
on the nature of volcanic ash.

The torch burned low – like him;
she ground it out on her favourite iris,
delighted at how petals fold and fry.

ii
Geraldine patched up her wound,
the latest in a city of bad luck;
she lit a cigarette, watched
smoke whirl and weave
slower than the time it took
to self-destruct in loathsome beds
though vibrant chaos promised
otherwise … come closer, now

The cigarette burned low – like her;
she ground it out on her arm,
enchanted that she felt – nothing

10 thoughts on “un-entitled

  1. Shell says:

    Welcome Anh and thank you for your kindest of words … i don’t mean to haunt you .. i’m a strange mix of Light ‘n’ Dark .. who isn’t? *smiles

  2. Anh says:

    Beautiful, beautiful words. Your words can paint a picture, a painting, dark and gothic in my head. Hard to get it out now, seriously.
    Will come back to read more from you.

  3. Shell says:

    Emilio, you are a good and courageous soul; look at how you are living, true to yourself and not harming anyone or thing … on the contrary you work hard to put things right, wherever you are it seems to me. This much i have seen from reading you over the last couple of years. Your support of my writing has been a precious gift as well.

    Your super-bowl post is awesome; gutsy yet ringing with clarity and all the horrors that must and will be faced, though not necessarily in the gentlest of ways because humans have generated so much negativity and damage not just to each other but the planet too – though i suspect a lot of the climate change stuff is about manipulation and power games .. oh, and maybe cash too … just perhaps? a teeny tiny bit?

    Please don’t drown in global karma, Emilio, but thank you for your magnificent post. Now look inside yourself and smile at who you see there …

    (am going to post this over at yours too)

  4. punatik says:

    I swore when I began blogging , I would never write about this stuff, but after yesterday, I couldn’t sleep…too many images… I hope you like it . Thanks for giving me the courage.
    http://punatik.blogspot.com/2010/02/super-bowl.html

  5. Shell says:

    thanks for that link, Emilio … your poem growls of yet another monument to the power/dollar mad, built on blood and innocence …

  6. Shell says:

    punatik – your words touched me deeply, friend. thank you.
    i’m also unsure if i like this but it wouldn’t let go ’til it had its say

    my scars are inner but no less self-destructive (while, paradoxically, i was trying to be/do the opposite)

    from ancients to presents, it’s monumentally harsh trying to move beyond the situations we co-create as efforts to Live get more extreme

    we write lifepoems with our bodies, hope to understand them later, maybe?

    *hugs

  7. punatik says:

    I kept asking myself…why I do I like this one so much ? Although it’s been hard to suppress the memories, The reason I like it so much , is because I’ve been there…I will always have the burn mark on the inside of my forearm 3 inches from my wrist. Also the scars of the wounds I patched myself in those hotel rooms of bad luck cities… Great post.

  8. Shell says:

    thanks Disco! your blog looks like a good read too!

  9. Disco says:

    “The cigarette burned low – like her.”

    Love it!

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