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Cut To The Chase pt. II: Ugly Art
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Extended Poetry Fear swells, boils
Like an infant’s cry mouth
Like an anthill
Overflow with troops
Fear is a fog
Yellowed like dead cheese
Relaxed as a cloud
In your shivered throat
Our shivered eyes
Dripped with fearfog
As we wait in slow patience
Will he come to drain the bubble bath?
Of all the cotton candy suds
That warm us bonfire-warm
And sharpen us cleaver-sharp
To split the stick of butter
And spread to the stiff toast
Split and spread
He’ll munch away
And bury us into the snow
Slowly trotting down the powdered trail
We catch his glimpse with eagle eyes
He cracks our spirits by the whip
And spreads the yolk out to the pan
As he exhales an evil laugh
Oh, how life struggles on
Underneath my skin
When the battle ends and fades
What canvas has I
To paint my eyes upon and see
What have I to be?
Winter is worn rotten
Termites overflown
As I can only wait
Until he’ll strike the dart again
Overflow, overflown, overflown
Words kneel down the paper
Like battered raindrops
Down my fear-fogged window
As thunder grumbles
Underneath the yellowed cloud
Welling forward to strike
Yet another baseball over our poor heads
And beyond the boundless boundary
Farewell is not goodbye
So long as fare is well enough alone
All I ever knew was a deep-tunneled struggle
Trenching toward the middle of my heart
That the planets orbit round
And breathe so slowly
Bent upon its beating back
Oh, the day chokes close inside
And quakes away
Swallows by the night
Thin, as it is thick
We all see the applaudience
See them clap hands like cymbals
But never have I heard
The hissing rain of gratitude spray in my face
As the cranky storm winds down
Slowly and surely as my mind’s made up
Mascara
The works
As tree shades hug me tight
Safe underneath
From the evil rain cloud
Black from many tears
Oh, grievances
Oh, desperate despairs
He’s always there to tell me who I really am
For that company I keep
Is the company I bear
Oh, thread, pull me close
And clasp my wounds right up the seam
Before he wakes from a Cyclops slumber
The early birds are perched
To view the vision’s sunrise
To soak up all the shivered cold shoulder mourns
Like a greedy sponge
Always eating more
With eyes too big for his poor stomach
The early birds flap on
To arrive before the crowds infest the sky
Oh, grievances to pull up with
Oh, grievances that shove out my nice feelings
And cause an avalanche of tears
Landsliding down
Is the bully inside me?
Slipping through my skin
And bleeding through my blood?
Is he free to roam?
As my horrible creation
Of ugly art?
I am the tongue that says “ah”
And stretches after a long sleep
I’ll just sit between the jaws
Where it’s dark and safe
And it never rains
