Sunday, December 6, 2009

BeautifulBad Omen Day


BeautifulBad omen day

I walk
accosted by ghosts living dead.
black haze intuding on white wisp of dreams

a meditation cigarette
the first of one too many
thinking about
what I have been
something different than unusual
hints the influence echoes of the streets

The memory of you as I get lost in your image-ination
stikes the soul as it is tender
that ache that loves immersed in the loss of you
where the heart does not grow or expand
but is annihilated by the constant pounding
compelling unavoidable reminder that its purpose
was to beat for you.

Wait. It was my perception that got me into this to begin with.

There was unrest among the natives
the girl with no shoes (they make her cry)
Dressed in white soiled by the streets
lay on the sidewalk as the cop asked her where she lived
Here, she screamed, as she rolled on the sidewalk
Or somewhere else for some change and a cigarette.

The onlookers laughed, Noone obliged.

they devoured want still want -
an omen of a nature which partakes of no change
happiness a weakness something sentimental once lived Here,
See a spare view on airflow following those who use her

into not human.

whispers shape the place there where you are not.
Is there such a thing as a spare cigarette?
her mean laughter moves through the streets where she lays a whore.

Existence exists to trample hearts, crush souls

I cut down the didn't follow path
where the world is still breathing.
finches fly free

Why would anyone lock them in a cage?

© 2009~SophieD

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Love.... in the most perfect way

The man with graveyard eyes looked blank and said
There is a woman who cleans toilets
somewhere in the deserts of California

She often sees the Messiah
while making a living in last chance gas stations
on her knees.

I could see he was trapped alone
within the privacy of his own impulses

You are my saviour he said.
I have been looking everywhere.
I arrive nowhere and I meet you here.
On a rundown deserted street corner
at the appointed time of desolation.

the embodiment of false humility
eyes cast downward
His body shrugged with insecurity.
The Gods must be angry......he whispered

Jesus punched me in the face today
It was really a tap on the brain
But when he does it. well,
It leaves a mark

Sad truths imparted often incur trifling problems
But I knew what needed to be said:
Jesus is not who he pretends to be

He laughed
it was like sunshine on the edge of hatred
at the waters of bubonic bliss

with tear soaked vocal cords he said
I must be into bondage...
hard to explain without any form of visuals
freaks me out I am a disciple of discipline

the key to understanding that thing
that can mean so many things.

Usually something else.

You are my saviour he echoed
I don't know what I would have done
If you hadn't been here NOW

(These singular moments are meant to be
as stretching to forever always is.)

Infinite solitary eternities

grounded by reality
trapped in the physicality of nothing
I smiled

if he only knew me

© 2009~SophieD

Saturday, August 22, 2009


Waiting for the next line
Life as is on the fringe, the edge
the verge of something

He looked at me and said:
"You are so free...without inhibitions.
You scare me."

I don't understand your nuances yet...
but i will.

"You." he said. "You are an angel.
I am talking to an angel. Me?
I'm just trying to get my life together."

Be nice to me.
Tell me everything is going to be alright.
If it's not the truth.
Lie to me (like this was the only time.)
It makes me feel as if I am doomed.

As he gazed at me, eyes dewy from narcotic reverie,
I said, " You are trapped in a woman surrounded by women."
Morpheus wept.

"You are a chemical imbalance" he replied
"but then, all humans are."

They are all drunks and junkies and eternal losers
these men I like. I am not a forever kind of woman.

who could stay beside me long enough to spend forever with?

He looked at me and said with an air of complete bewilderment:
"I thought I knew what you were all about. But
you are not what I had you figured out to be at all."

Waiting for reaction where there is none.

We are complete rational insanity
That makes the two of us sane. (Doesn't it?)
We are all just moments pieced together
trying to make something whole.
Life is tough. Love.

Love still lingers

© 2009~SophieD

Friday, July 10, 2009


I thought we were all on the verge
of a nervous breakdown
For someone so tied up you are beyond out of control
with anyone, any where, why or how
there is never a reason.
He saw you consumed by his will
the fiery tumultuous ice cold volcano

We exchange laughter on the edge of hysteria
sitting together thinking under the pain
the lies tiny injustices that flow through blood
making our veins one truth
so we smile when it seems most inappropriate to do so.
those times when we should
I'm compulsive
Like I said
My life is an open shut book
some of the chapters are obscure
but it's my truth without flinching
Reality. I live it.
If I merely judged a man by what came out of his mouth
I'd be in big trouble.

We screamed at each other in public places
A romantic notion of an excuse to say fuck you
but what we meant was fuck this world
that is so devoid of life, of soul
there is no emotion anymore
We screamed at each other
same words, same thoughts
and we liked it.

There was no beginning
we never told each other what to think
both of us were already there
in some sort of unsettling happiness.
We understood each other.

© 2009~SophieD

Sunday, July 5, 2009

In truth,
the only time I have ever slept with a Poet
is when I have slept alone...

It is funny those things we are forced to remember
and those which we are compelled to forget

I don't think we should talk about love.


I don't think that is a place that either of us are at,
Have we ever been there?
If I tell you I have love in my heart
and I believe. I believe
But my mind betrays me. Was it ever really there?
I can't tell you the answer.
I can only show you where we are.
Here, love is not here.
And if I hurt you. If I crush you
If I walk away. WHat would you call that?
That is the mind screaming to stay away.
Stay. Go away. Stay.
Don't love me. Love me. ME,
We live our lives the best we can.
I suppose the only way possible.
And in spite of everything we try to create something
that has meaning. Means something.
To me it doesn't matter for what.
It just is for the sake of is.
All it is are my thoughts
and thoughts are just the mind's way
of trying to define reality.
So you want to know what mine is?

Read my mind.


Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Monday, June 15, 2009


What shall i tell you?
Anything but the truth.

He walked behind me and said:
i can't believe
how honest you are about your life.
And he laughed in a strange way
that i did not understand
even though i did.
and he turned his face away so i could see no expression
just an ear turning red made more intense by the silver blonde
pulled away from his fragile pale skin
braided crooked and tight against the sun worn creases of the nape
of his slender neck resting tenuously upon strong shoulders
that slumped from the weight of his life
he laughed in a way that faded into the hot still air
the mirthless sound getting lost in the quiet of a dying day
In that silence he suddenly turned
and looked deep in my eyes with angry piercing black pupils
surrounded by the deepest blue of a cloudless summer sky
that glowed with the intensity of a nuclear explosion
We were locked in that moment that seemed like forever
His angry defiance at the world met with my own...
a melancholic smile acknowledging the truth

a scream filled the air from nowhere collapsing the vortex
the moment was broken
there was no meaning left to be found anywhere
but it did not matter. we didn't care.

we sat back wordlessly
watching the flames burn to dust
when night fell the universe stopped the insult
and mercifully ceased to exist


Thursday, June 11, 2009


.....(to whatever place you will)

So I was reading Burroughs
and he was talking about what compelled him to be a writer
the accidental shooting of his wife
the one that left her dead
And in that act he met the entity that possesses him the Ugly Spirit

which it is. It is the hungry void
the bottomless black
that draws the silent scream from the soul
tearing at the throat like a wild beast
eyes wide open about to pop
and you can't look away
just deeper
until nothing surrounds you but the infinite nothing
that dark angel of evil

and maybe you pull away when you are on the precipice
there ready to lose yourself in the insanity
that eternal hell
but it leaves its mark
and you know, you know
that it can reach out and find you at anytime.
Filling you with itself
Possession of the cruelest kind

But some of us are not ready to surrender
and we have in some sort of perverted cowardice
planted our fingers in the dirt of our thoughts
Our past, our encounter
our flirtation, unwilling as it might have been
some of us don't ask to be participants
in the circus of human degradation
But there we are
ready for the taking

We write in ritual
as some protection from the ghosts that haunt us
those small evil things wanting to drag us
to our bloody cold grave dug at our birth.
that embryonic swamp which washed over us,
drowning us, expelling us into the filth
our nostrils filled with the stench of people
all the people who with bad intent adorned as angelic
that illusion that passes us in the street each day
attempted with every calculated sadistic action
often mistaken for stupidity
to crush the last glimmer of light in our eyes
the fragile love guarded in our heart
that only the purity of innocence could ever hold
they wanted to see it drained from us
because it was never theirs to own

We write as ritual
To make sense of it all
Maybe God is there listening
nodding in agreement at the effort to understanding
what the fatal error in the garden was really all about
and as we read back
we see the caveat to all the temptation
the ease of being like all the sickened others
not caring not seeing not moving in any direction
but the one that requires the least effort
with the greatest indulgence in the rewards
garnered by the perversion of flesh and mind
not to mention some remnant of soul that fades
with the memory of what might have been
if they had only barely tried.

Burroughs in his genius plain spoken way
said he had no choice but to write his way out of it.
I understood as it hit me in the solar plexus
That breathless overwhelming pain when lightning strikes
the flesh burns,all the nerves in your body catch fire,
detonating an explosion in the brain.
Revelatory vision in the most human sense.

I have to write my way out of it...
It is the truest forced thought I have ever understood.


Thursday, June 4, 2009


Why don't you ever seek me out
when you are moving along the night streets
along the paths of here I am?

I like walking in darkness
alone with someone who is alone
eyes to the sky
hoping to avoid the sleeping masses
that lay huddled
in rags and dirty discarded soiled sleeping bags
on the cement sidewalks they call home

I look to the trees
whose branches take on another form
waving in the slight cool wind
that blows in from the restless ocean
Murmers of life from another place
some other time

I know you have quietly passed by
thinking inwardly of a question
to which you fear any reply.

For that could lead to the path of who knows where
that might end at perhaps forever


Saturday, May 30, 2009


Life is about having, in reality, no control over anything.
That idea that we do have control is just an illusion held together
only so long as nothing happens as to shatter the delicate fabric
of the comforting illusion we all create.

In the end I suppose we must all just simply live the best we can
for as long as we follow this path of existence
in this dimension of life;
this interlude in eternity.

And how beautiful, horrible, strange and fascinating it is.
It is the brief moments of brilliant light,
that taste of nirvana,
that makes this stop off point worthwhile.

The little moments.
So few and far between
the endless stretches of the vast desert of here.

Those smallest, most fragile of moments.
In truth, that's all there are.....


Tuesday, May 19, 2009


I still believe in me

I am long past
That emptiness of cruel complacency foolish weakness love
My failing is an acceptance of the sound
of forgiveness

I so desired
that there could be an understanding to understanding

my truth is a burial ground of hardened, scarred hearts

I wanted
an embrace of reason
Solitary silent acts of penance
in exchange for the comfort
of the barely living

My weakness is my understanding
that quiet loss of everything long past

I wanted to believe in everything and less
I found myself surrounded by nothing and more

Haunted by the illusionary echoes of my perceived transgressions

Knowing there could be an end
to the end of me
I wanted to be the only thing destroyed
I wanted

Something that made sense


Saturday, May 16, 2009

breakaway life of alone

We are lost in this place that we are.

I never used to laugh or smile he said
That changed when I met you
I guess you broke me...

Love as reality, hours long.
I navigate the night
Your words at that time moved me

When nothing stood between heaven and earth.
That dimension of senses you knew so well.
Where we were the only one.

So many hearts you have consumed
I guess you insist upon yours

stop and remember

Golden rays shadow across my door to the second hand's return
I reckoned how i missed yours
Slowly the minutes ticked past

Black rays shooting from golden face
Not a replica but an original of what you are
There you paint that place where love was altered
where when I met you broke me...

But as the hour eyes gentle and forgiving
Gaze misty into what you were

Why don't you laugh or smile? he said
Love in your own time has a different meaning
I guess this night reminds me

how i loved to hold the sunburst close
while looking to the hour when we met ....

stop and flow
Golden rays shooting from shadowed face
Not an original but a reflection of what we were

A distraction of time, fallen hearts in the path
Interrupting this breakaway life of alone


Friday, May 15, 2009

petite idiocies

If you are right about everything then I am the stupid one.
Less than a nothing.
Because I try to understand and believe
even though any rational person would say
that the watermark of the end was passed long ago.
What is beyond is but a fool without a lifesaver
floating motionless in a black stagnant pool
waiting for a sign of life
where there can be none

No light, no sound
where the mind thinks there should be
just thoughts that perhaps cross over
that fine line of physical reality
to the cerebral reconstruction of perception
filling in the blank slate with something
for there must always be
at least that is what our minds desire
it is not necessarily what is

For we are trapped in this flesh...aren't we
this is the prison, our penance
And we cling to it, worship it
hold on to the decay even as our soul has the chance
to slip away. escape. be free
but we would rather be trapped in our cage
I found this out the hard way

That our minds are limited so long as we remain
trapped in the confines of flesh and bone
Limited by what we see and feel
as it relates to our mortal existence
We are out of touch
I thought someone loved me (didn't you?)
but, if I had listened to my soul.
I would have known this was not true.
I heard, but my mortality chose to ignore it all

People cannot feel until they break free
past the boundaries of the skin.
Look, and you will see.
People who pretend at something
to get what they think they need, want
But it is hollow, just like them,

You smile? You laugh? You mouth pretty words
heartfelt promises; a curse or a blessing
What does it mean?
What do you mean?
You cannot tell me because you don't know.
Stupified by convenience.
How lucky it is that life is full of those.
veils of petite idiocies


Tuesday, May 12, 2009


To be anywhere but here Anywhere
but here. beyond
it is the want to run. Disappear.
Destroy myself. Some days everything is nothingness perverse
I need a fan to cool what is happening around me
The bloodsuckers. they are falling apart
I look for a vision.
I just couldn't wrap my mind around it. That's all.
if the path was made up of the flesh amd bone
wanting to exceed the bounds of human thought
understand what happened but everything of matter is gone
there is no grass dewy with a strange bounce beneath my feet
just the bottom feeders.
Everything is never enough. I feel hate
I can't find the keys
It is impossible to create solutions simply by decree
I can't.
prayer. what else is there. hate. Crush them from my sight?
I think I am drowning
I feel myself fueling the breeze
I think of asphalt as some sick legacy
My higher nature flows through Reality.
The center has collapsed metaphysically or not
at them I'm angry and disgusted, Repulsed.
anywhere but here not there
beyond the imaginations the ultimate state of freedom
out from the noise.Don't think back
Maybe I want to. I don't want to.
concrete unforgiving to skin which flinches against the sun. fired.
seems suspended. My body, crumbling under the weight
looking behind everywhere
the trees stood thick, shading of modern surface and I can't find my way sinking beneath the kind of gravity that human oppression feels pressed down
hard to stop what is
There are branches dying everywhere
I can't fix understanding
we can only glimpse at our self


Sunday, May 10, 2009

Saturday, May 2, 2009


The rules prohibit me from saying what I want
So i will be what i will
exhibited most prominently in the divine
i dare you in
to doing something about it

Even though my will has been blackened, bound.
My spirit Cast out to some tradewind chosen by my executioners
never openly identified

i reverberate with i know
gilded with pheromones of feral spirit
my eyes an aural kaleidoscope that pierces the ears

the queue having been determined
i depart the massacre

musing upon rain
waiting for red pools brighter than the last
Mute: all i know stops you
Why pursue ghosts of what could never be

lamenting you in lyrics~ version 3
spread out into shadows
fears of what i want echoed by what you get
sighs held back by blue in my heart

something new and strange
foretells the woman who casts no shadows:

My heart keeps you
and me all i do is dwell on think of you
troubled by what i remember
rushes out into disturbed horror
speaking to the carnage

welcome to your world opinion
there is no defeat to be found in something i haven't memorized

turned upward from stars
troubled my life it all falls to me
it frightens one insane running
a brainless mad seditious thug

Here enclosed is a form of vengeance
words reach for the projection of my own error of thought

i stay in a weird thinkquest waiting for an intro
away from any disclaimer that might appear
so drag a cigarette
to breathe
to stand
to look
to watch
to see you getting punched in the chest

We pace about the long river flowing to the edge of sky
followed by some type of world that runs softly

in reaching out to the pyre
a study of the human impulse to self nihilation
a vision endless green waiting for blank screen
that glows into safeness


Sunday, April 26, 2009


He said he did not want to die alone
as he sat next to me in the coffee house
where people alone in crowds gather
Sitting in groups isolated by the lure of a laptop
and a cup of something trendy.
He sighed as his head fell quietly to my shoulder
bringing back an old memory from my youth
when on a crowded bus passing a bad part of town
the boy next to me fell asleep
and his head fell on my shoulder the same way.
An older woman took pity on my paralyzing confusion
opening the window she laughed and said:
He's nodded off baby. He's high...high....high
I was stupid then. (Not to say I'm not now.)
But something was different this time around
I looked and felt him moving dense into the curve of my shoulder without a pulse.
No breath. No life. And I knew he was dead
for his soul moved through my body as he passed.
I sat there for a moment wondering why.
Then, for some reason I cannot really explain,
for this person was a stranger. No face. No name.
As all the other no ones annoyed by the interruption stared
I cried. inconsolable, i cried.