altruisticlies

Just Cause

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A Poem About

I hate you, which is hard when you're twenty feet tall, and I'm only average. I can't crash a car into you, and feel assured that you'll be crushed, and I'll be crushed. That'll be that. I was waking up when I remembered on the day you died a giant toxic cloud was released. We are good together, you wrote once, and it's true. You never died or released your cloud of death on my watch, bright green so the city knew right off it's bad. Like Gojira, they'll blame you for your wanton destruction, and I'll shrug until the fingers turn. "My fault?" Well, fuck. Loving you was hard when you were a giant, and prone to panic attacks.

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A Poem About by altruisticlies, literature

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A Poem About

Understated by altruisticlies, literature

Literature

Understated

It's hard to know what masculine is. There was a winter breath, a night when the car wouldn't start and I was fresh from her, alive to prove what I had to offer. Which to me was a jump start and in hindsight remains the same though I think of the Shins song she played, ethereal "Gold teeth and a curse for this town..." and her back which I touched and knew I could leave. Winter air tells me I can prove myself. Summer says we're here, a testament to upbringing and the human bodies inevitable... work.

So Soon, Subsume, Kaboom by altruisticlies, literature

Literature

So Soon, Subsume, Kaboom

What if I can't keep this and I'm lost without it. Because it can be all I have, and there is a tick, a tick, tick, in my kitchen. There is a clock which has no hands that whirs all day long, and I never noticed until I was happy. I subsume my past to look at yours. There is a picnic, a party, a parade. Was I, was I ever in a parade? And I'm not. Just words. Don't smile before we meet.

In Entropy by altruisticlies, literature

Literature

In Entropy

As barren as the sea, roiling endless and turning, I am here. The sun like a blessing; hurts, and I'll start at the end so you mark it: I die. Cycles abound, cycles, circles, and like chess there is an equality to movement, the same two moves and an exponential growth. A winking trump, legs crossed over an unclosing wound. The hall and mirrors, a nascent Republic founded, failed. Bleeding with the ordered chaos that birthed it. A bridge, a mirror, a sun-wracked plane; things are building. I'm at a gap in a suit on a windy day and this land is falling. Falling around my knees.

Caesar by altruisticlies, literature

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Caesar

I watched the waves pile for three years before I decided that a bag and a ticket were needed for the here and now of life. I left in a car and the desert she opened to me like a flash of powder, the ghost of an afterimage, or the eclipse you must not watch. Quiet is a concept I have to notice or it never exists. And on the road is where I feel we'll see. I grab Caesar and say: we'll see. Veni... I drive through the desert in the time between 7 and 8 almost night when the sun is shooting down and at an angle to blind, illuminate red fires in both directions. I keep on the road, ignore the blaze, thumb the radio and see:

The Maker by altruisticlies, literature

A mirror, a mirrored edge. by altruisticlies, literature

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A mirror, a mirrored edge.

I am nothing but a vagrant, and a hobo always with the tramping, no noir hinge on which we intuit a solution. He could say we are a slaughterhouse, child-brides who mark, hate and work braile into our speech. His vanity unquestioned. I could say no, no, not possible and hear the response so clearly in it is not. can / will never be. Profiles, busts, elemental! you shout. A migraine always on my left brain, spanish conquistadors marking time and a salute to the Weimar, a chancellor I hear. In factual error the sun mists on the horizon towards me an ethereal concept which is coming my way. I duck, a mistake for which I hea

but it also means by altruisticlies, literature

Literature

but it also means

It's mundane, the soda aisle and my wandering, walking up then down. I frown to distract. Look intense. And buy the soda you love because you might, you might be here to have it. Though with I need a drink. I don't need a drink. The same strength, faux-weak ness that I will always have, and tell myself I learned from you. I buy it, afraid I won't like the taste, or maybe I will and it'll be there for a few days squishing along inside me. It's just fucking soda, but it also means I still love you.

In the ghetto, on the streets by altruisticlies, literature

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In the ghetto, on the streets

I'm twenty two and all I can think of are Chess musicals and Bobby Fischer though sometimes when I'm a little guilty I think of Dad, one day when I'm twelve and he hands me posters, winks and says 'Don't tell your mom.' I don't want them, I want Fischer, who looks like a grouchy troll, or an aryan viking with a sword. I'd accept a greataxe too. Something heroic, you know. And I felt like a disappointment until I couldn't take it anymore, and now I'm wondering where I'll fit in without a family to put up posters for; or a ghetto to howl in, my father looking on.

Modulation in 8.5 by altruisticlies, literature

Literature

Modulation in 8.5

The earnest hope is that writing will make me a better man. That you and I will be standing on a summer day in the park. I will see you smile, imagine a pen slash she grinned crookedly and my response alright, yes as we watch white-suited marines march past and pinions washed in cold summer air. --- I seek knowledge of an ancient sort bristle-back, arched and quivering to marvel at, turn and repose the beauty of fact, and I'll hang it on my face, smiling. Why, yes, I think I shall, the world will thank me, and my smile and the sultry fact it brought.

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