MACHINEGUN POETRY: The thing about 4-lettered words
My mind fails to process that skin is already covering my beautiful skull
And I don't know this but they know I shouldn't be shy when I'm naked
Nails in my pulse
The scratches in my breasts
They can't see these that's why they don't understand
Even I don't know why
I'm complicated
And I know this
I've told everyone...
But I'm not someone who knows everything
(In contrary to what they see)
Tears...
Tears...
I'm crying
And then a whisper
"You're Beautiful"
Am I?
grasseseatcows
12/23/2004 07:01:00 PM
MACHINEGUN POETRY: The Tree Genoflects in Front of an Unidentified Flying Object
Her heart throbs through a guillotine
And the gate through it is her small breasts
Be too careful and you’ll find out it’s not that fragile
Her moan breathes poison
And her cunt does get wet
Mix blood with alcohol
And she’s going to stand on her toes
Spread her arms
Look above the sky as if she was crucified
And she’s going to bring out a smile
Her smile is to die for
It is as dead as it could get
grasseseatcows
12/06/2004 06:49:00 PM
MACHINEGUN POETRY: CECILIA (1. Noun: Plural form of Cecilium)
What the pupil sees is simple: Meat
An additive is to be an ingredient: Saliva
Fur and skin coincide
Blood rushes down low
Suck the blood from it
And the white of your teeth will get stained
By want and whim
The hand of Midas is for me to own
Every touch felt like gold
For a minute-long second
Liquid has never been this tangible
And you have tasted it
Now, the vulnerable cloth of pain and pleasure is about to feel
I could imagine eyelashes meeting
While the wind listens to names thrown into space
The muscle felt like a bone
And worst, it felt like a wall
But the drive of emotion and individuality kept pushing
So the heart moaned as the lung screamed
The spine kept twisting and turning and bending
For all what the nerves felt
Aesthetic pleasure is no more
For the eye is blind at the moment
And when all these are mixed altogether
Voices of want and pain and suffering and delight
They’re going to come all at once to your ears
Deafening the mind
So all you can hear is silence
The undoable has been done
The hands of time have ran
And in the end, CO2 fills the room in
That’s the moment amnesia strikes
grasseseatcows
12/06/2004 06:47:00 PM
MACHINEGUN POETRY: When You Don't Eat Veggies
The knife isn’t sharp anymore—that’s nothing new…
When you use it on me, you’ll find out my blood is blue
The unwanted but anticipated death is just a few days away
And yes, I can feel it with my fur…
The veins running through my body are closing
And the lung is running out of air (specially the left one)
I remember when I first saw you through stained glasses
But you were fading in your own mirror
When I asked you if 25 months were worth of life
The answer was 25 seconds of yellow green beauty
Today audibles made the mind work
While figures attacked the eye that see
As the marrow in my bones grow
As the body decays, the soul is left dying
When the only solute for anger is blood
Therefore, the only thing left for me to do is take a look through binoculars
Even though I know it could only see the world rotate
(I would not like to see the world revolve anyway)
What is left to be further dissolved? It doesn’t matter
For when you turn the other cheek they will still slap the other
And even though the sea of love is ten fathoms deep
It isn’t enough to drown her pink-nippled breasts
But it’s more than enough to wash her feet
Coveted everything without saying anything
Karma strikes back, it buries everything in one month’s time
On a ground with no soil but brain
My hands are still holding yours (the fingers at least)
But you keep on pulling so I’m pushed
Don’t worry, my hands aren’t sweaty… YET
How about good news for a change?
Grasses ate me, dead head and allBut cows spitted me back out…
grasseseatcows
12/06/2004 06:45:00 PM
CHERRY BLOSSOMS ON CANVASS
I’m tired. I’m lying on my bed faced down with nothing on. I feel so heavy yet so light. They emptied my bones of its marrow then made it steel. The bronchus has been stuffed with anvil and the lung is inflamed. It seems like oxygen has never been this polluted. Two sledgehammers, the jousting of knights and horses are pulling the hair out of the scalp. The right breast breathes better than the left one because it thinks that there should be a balance of weight. Blood is going to explode out of the nipples as the diaphragm presses upward. All these… all these are making the muscle stiff. As a matter of fact, the hand doesn’t even want to write.
Questions… they’re just too many. And I have an answer and it doesn’t even qualify as one. I don’t know. When did I start filling my back with clay? And when did I start biting lips? It seems like the aorta pumped more blood than what it was supposed to. Inhaled smog when I didn’t have to while I went making footsteps on quicksand made of concrete. Had reading glasses on but closed my eyes. Got a stake in my heart but I was no vampire. How stupid of me… no, how me.
Eyebrows are stapled on the fore head and it hurts. The chest is being too flexible that it‘s boxing me. My cheeks have died of waiting and anticipation, I feel sorry for them. I am walled by my own reflection and it’s driving more nails. The inflamed lung growls even more. Oh, have I become so prone and vulnerable that my knees are going to crumble…
And then my eyelids covered my vision. They went down to shut me up. There were lines of purple and pills of yellow-red and blue-orange combinations. There were shades of grey too! And then it was all black… just… black, pitch black. The eardrums slowly moved below while the mind has stopped from dreaming. Muscles have reached the optimum level of stiffness. That’s what I feel and don’t feel. The bed is slowly soaked with spilled passion, laughter, grief, delight, tears, suffering, excitement, dreams, voices, images, memories, everything! And all of them are in complete harmony with silence. And now I go to only-God-knows-where and I drift peacefully with the humming of birds and leaves in the sky as the chest finally clears the phlegm out of the esophagus. I’ve never been lighter before, never been so smooth, so swift, so… so… perfect. I’ve never been intangible, so out of shape yet so beautiful. The land gives me one final hug as I look towards the new plateau of only-God-knows-what. The sky gives me a kiss in the forehead then bids me “good-bye”.
Now, I am in rest…finally. The fatigue that every muscle felt has now subsided into a vast hole of nothingness. I am in complete unity with the rocks who did nothing but be hard and the seeds who did nothing but grow. And as I lay in purgatory’s embrace, I know I’ll learn when to wash my hands and when to soil them in dirt. I’ll know when to sink or when to swim, when to fly or when to fall, when to laugh and when to cry, when to run and when to walk, when to get up and when to give up, when to live and when to die… again.
Angels with scabbed wings… pull my feet. Gardeners of the clouds… lift my arms. Stretch me until I become a blanket that will warm the world. And when I moan, kiss me, and when I scream, hug me. But when I close my eyes and expose the spirit of my wings, let me go for that is the time I have decided to cross the fork on the road. That is the time when I’ll lose all my energy that I’ll kneel and give in to the load on the back of my head. It’s the time to feel the molecules around me with my fur and taste my tongue with my tongue.
I have always dried off raindrops that fall in the cheek and I have always stopped them from forming the gorgeous rainbow everybody wants to see. I have always done so many things which made mud hungry so it swallowed me. And all I had to say was her name. God, I wish I drew cherry blossoms on canvass.
I thank you womb.
I thank you flesh.
I thank you blood.
I thank you teeth and gum.
I thank you New York.
I thank you tongue.
I thank the goldfish caught on a frame.
I thank you katana and the tree that carried a bullet.
I thank you snowflake. I thank you very much.
I thank you vagina.
I thank the yellow green color for all the reason the world has to give.
I thank you God.
grasseseatcows
12/06/2004 06:43:00 PM
MACHINEGUN POETRY: I am both the sun and the son
Here I am
Standing in the garden of Eden
Feeling the soothing breath of God
A finite entity that is
The very reason for existence, for life, for death, for eternal life
The start and end of everything beautiful and ugly in the face of the earth
The owner of the land and its soil
Of flowers and its nectar
Of time and its hours
Of the body and its rigor mortise
I own them and yet, there is no such thing as property (true)
For we are but paint on canvass that comes off with paint thinner
We are but dew that will dry in the afternoon
So look at my face
Picture me, kiss me
Hold me by my calves and try pulling me downward
Now hang me
Have me suspended in the air
You see... good things in life are at the very end of it
grasseseatcows
12/01/2004 12:05:00 PM