Wednesday, February 5, 2014

The Tale of Revati

Revati, goddess of love and war, this be her tale
There was sunset in her navel there was ginger in her ale. 

far away, where sunlight meets moonlight and sunlight and moonlight meet twilight and sunlight and moonlight and twilight swim across this river made of monograms and epitaphs of coldly dead ghosts of the city, 
drenched in blood of love and hate 
waters rose like waters rise
i was to keep the keys hidden
i was to speak to the guts of silence 
when the nights were naked and the days were silver 
and she stood at the shores, and she hummed a tune or two
and we offered little flowers to the mist 
and there were kisses for mercy to befall. 
this was long long ago
ask the relics, they might know. 

and then the plague came
footsteps drowned
angry ants marched out from hell
i saw ballerina as she swam across
i saw dogs dodging the booms 
it was a lot and it wasn't much
for nothing to be and for everything to not-be
Mr Sorrow, he wore his hat in style
and smoked his last cigar
as balloons flew all night by the sea
and tears dripped down the cherry tree
and the shadow rang its bells of doom
and the lovers hated and the haters loved 
and the last kisses were kissed and the last daggers were drawn
the phone rang at 5
the phone rang at 6
the earth was a cake
the sky was a sky
and thus it all happened
before the houses marched out
and there was music in the leper colonies
and there was music in the heart of guts 
and there was music in the guts of heart
and there was music. 
and then there was more music
and everything was music 
and everywhere was music
and everyone was music

Revati, she raises her glass of blue wine
and she sheds her clothes one by one
and she walks up to me
and she is a princess from picture-books on Egyptian history 
and my head is tied to the canvasses
my feet are stuck on the windchimes
my teeth beget stoic laments 
for the ghosts sing songs of places were sunlight and moonlight and twilight become one
and there isn't anything else 
but for strange places to go
and deep inside there's this bright bordello 
where the women don smiles of sorrow
and the world drowns in their fond folds
that's where lonely people go
when the ants march back 
and find rice of love 
in places with faces 
that they have never looked at before
and Revati, she closes her door
and i lug my shadow down
and you lug your shadow down
and we lug our shadows down
to the edges of this ghost-town
where the stars lose their trumpets tonight. 

Sunday, February 2, 2014

Stalingrad, 1943

letters aren't written anymore but i opened this make believe envelope and read this make-believe letter of words and blood and roses that wilt in November because they don't have much to do 
despite the chimneys 
and the rundown plastic diorama 
our songs of love
shall become one
and creatures of the night
shall perish by the light
and everything is dusk and everywhere there's this mad daze that aims for the star and dies in cold defeat
home, the last time as i saw it, 
was a place of much dust and sunset
and now i hear of Stalingrad
they have named it something else
i don't remember
i'm bad with names
i don't remember your name
so, they fought and won
and they fought and lost
and the sun rises in pain
and the moon drowns in pain
and monkeys chatter on tenement roofs
and people invent radios and plaster of Paris 
and soldiers stare at sweaty mermaids with boobs of gold
and sailors sway with sunflowers and daffodils in dandy delirium
and cannonballs bring news of hunger to blue and yellow sonnets of doom
for tonight we shall speak of love, dogs, James Dean and antibiotics
tonight we shall not unleash Stalingrad  

speak, if you can
tides rise, like mercy, they worship your name
like mercy, they adore ghostcandles and timeworn jazz
sisters of love and brothers of love locked in one endless kiss
and a little Ferris Wheel whirls past the ears 
on naked hours of night when there's no sound or fury
and a big eye moves our shadows across 
the town of the dead
where rats from gutters send light of life to clouds of death 
beware the monsters who ate your roses
beware my eyebrows fixed on you
beware Orion when he chases the seven sisters
and they won in Stalingrad when all was lost
and they lost in Stalingrad when all was won
empty, like life and death,
i stand at the center and await your wisdom
you stand at the center and await my sword
a ruby shines in its smokey hilt
a princess smiles through the windows
as flies buzz in from unknown shores
and sit on these frames of flesh and stone
like sunlight, in eternal agony
glory be thine, burn this letter
for Stalingrad shall ever be
like Stalingrad that never was.